#And taking responsibility and punishment for the sins of all who would let him - tortured on earth and in Hell

[thefaestolemyname]

Just posted a bunch of doom&gloom political stuff so I want to remind my followers that the sun still shines, flowers still Bloom, children still laugh, and every day is still an opportunity to be kind and do something meaningful.

I promise life is worthwhile, hope is just around the corner, and that humanity was made to love and, underneath the hurt, you can still tell.

[hardlyinteresting]

Love, Guilt and Other Wounds

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.

Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k  Request here! | Masterlist

"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes. 

He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches. 

Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself. 

The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser. 

After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out. 

The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate. 

It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing. 

“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you. 

“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”. 

It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.

“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse. 

Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?” 

“I told you. She’s a colleague”. 

Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on. 

The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are. 

It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people. 

The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing. 

“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want.  Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life. 

“Please, Hotc--”. 

He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it. 

But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage? 

Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.

 At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.  

Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave. 

“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. 

“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”. 

He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now. 

“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes. 

He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that. 

Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself. 

He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off. 

You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you. 

For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals. 

He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees--  healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same. 

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.

Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist. 

Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss. 

A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be. 

Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear. 

Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words. 

The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.

“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say. 

Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron. 

“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet. 

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic. 

The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay. 

You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you. 

With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with. 

“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.  

“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him. 

“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough. 

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 16

a guy who is just an idiot

—  

masterlist

warnings: past torture, blood, whumpee thinking caretaker is new whumper, self-harm references (he's aggravating his own injuries), vague dissociation references

—  

I just wanted them to respect me.

Words he’d never dared to utter out loud before. Hell was a vicious place where weakness wasn’t tolerated, and vulnerability got you nowhere. So he’d learned to keep his thoughts to himself, and to manifest his more…envious desires in other ways.

He’d never have admitted it to himself if all this hadn’t happened. He spent long hours working in his study just to occupy his mind so that he wouldn’t have to think of such things. And yet there it was, the undeniable proof that he was weak. That he had to resort to base means in order to try and garner respect when his other siblings were capable of it just by virtue of their very existence.

Hah, virtue.

His brothers had the lesser demons looking up to them as if they were gods and all they had to do was walk into a room. Pride especially was a perfect example of this. He was like the sun—he drew attention to himself as if his presence was itself a gravitational pull. Envy hated it. He wanted it. He didn’t have the ability for that sort of thing and had to take the scraps of attention that he was owed, grasping and strangling.

He thought the other demons would be awed or at least cowed by his display of brutality in the human realm, but then Lust had gone and one-upped him without even trying. Envy, as always, faded into the background. His actions forgotten by all the people he wanted to have remembered, yet was brought up again now only to serve as a reminder of his failings.

It was such a stupid farce. All of it.

He clenched his hair in his hands, disregarding the broken fingers. He let the pain consume him. He wanted to disappear.

Throwing his hands down in frustration did nothing to stop the riotous feelings welling inside. Did nothing to stop the voice of the angel. That burning, stinging, cooing voice. It told him he was a sinner. That he should suffer, that he should be punished, that he should live his days in fear and regret and utter misery. The angel made him believe it to be true.

The angel’s voice played out in his thoughts, telling him to be afraid.

Warm hands wrapped around his thin wrists. Envy drew in a sharp intake of breath, his gaze locking onto the witch’s.

Oh, Haven.

Why had he told her who he was? She was going to hurt him now, surely. She said she wouldn’t—many times, in fact—but how could he believe that? How could she not want to?

And yet. She held his wrists in her hands but did not squeeze the bruises there. She did not yank him forward or send him tumbling to the floor. She continued to surprise him by showing familiar actions that usually preceded violence and replacing them with kindness and Envy didn’t know what to do about it.

He wanted to be free of pain. He wanted to be free of his thoughts. He wanted to pay for his sins. He wanted to rest.

He tried to think of what to say as an excuse for his actions, and what had tumbled off his lips were truer thoughts than any he had said in years. Perhaps ever. He struggled to think of anyone he’d ever told his deepest secrets to and came up blank. Such was his life, what he used to think so highly of and yet what crumbled in mere moments.

He was crying again, goddammit. His eyes stung and the back of his throat burned, the feeling distinct from that of holy water being forced down it. Sharper, deeper. Utterly humiliating.

Haven wiped a stray tear from his cheek. Envy allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he savored the touch. When had anyone ever touched him like that? Like he was something worthy of being held so gently, like he was more precious than all the gemstones in his court?

“You’re bleeding again.”

Envy blinked dumbly at her in response to the statement. Finally catching up after a moment too long, he processed the words and turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, the lashes from the silver whip had turned the gauze a cherry-red. He was in less pain than he’d been in since…well, the beginning of his imprisonment, so this could actually have been seen as an improvement that he hadn’t noticed.

“Ah, I see,” he said, with utmost intelligence. Clearly.

Haven settled herself on the bed next to him, more carefully than before. He knew it wasn’t because of his injuries, but because of who he was. She was afraid of him. He’d seen it in her eyes when she jumped from the bed, instinct urging her to run from him. He almost wished she had. He only wanted her to be happy, not afraid.

But he was a selfish creature, and he couldn’t stop himself from the need that raged in him, that which made him desperately not want to be left alone. It was the same desire that made him grab her wrist earlier, and what had compelled him to think he could order her to stay while he bathed even when he knew she would have preferred to be elsewhere. He just couldn’t stop himself from causing problems for her.

And know she knew who he was. What he’d done.

Worse, she was a witch. She was of the ilk that he had carelessly slaughtered for amusement and recognition, and now Envy was at the mercy of her decisions. He wondered if she would take revenge for her kind that had died at his hands, or at those of his brothers’. The thought made his chest ache something fierce, but he couldn’t tell her not to. He didn’t have the right. After everything, he was still the same awful being that he was always was and he didn’t want her to treat him any differently than she had been.

He knew he didn’t deserve her kindness. Oh, he knew. The angel had made sure that he believed every awful thing she ever said about him, but by everything he was borne of, he wanted nothing more than for Haven to remain as she was.

“I’ll need to stitch them. The wounds on your back,” she said to him.

There was no malice in her voice, nor fear. The second emotion, however, was plain on her face even as she tried to hide it.

Envy nodded listlessly. “Alright.”

He realized this going to be a long night and that he wouldn’t get to drift off so soon. If he got lucky, she’d let him sleep while she worked. He might even be able to—he’d gotten lots of practice in sleeping in uncomfortable positions while in terrible pain.

Envy nodded, the motion stilted. He braced himself for what was to come and whether or not the witch—Haven, lovely Haven, such an apropos name—would take this as her opportunity to turn on him.

She didn’t, at least not right at that moment. Instead, she pursed her lips, forming them into a mildly displeased moue. Envy winced and cursed his tendency to nod rather than reply with actual words. That must have been what had done it. She was angry with him now for not being treated with the proper respect, of course. Because he was a demon prince, fallen so far, now at the mercy of those once considered beneath him and of course, of course she would want him to demonstrate just how much their positions had changed. He was just so tired, so it was easier to opt for a nod rather than to force the sounds from his throat that was still so raw from begging, screaming, pleading, pleading—

“We should get some rest.”

Haven set her hands down on her lap and stood, then brushed off her skirts. Envy watched her. Blinked once, twice. The witch began collecting the bandages and rolls of gauze from the bed.

“What?” Envy asked, confused.

Haven paused, then looked at him. “We’re both tired, you’re not going to bleed out, and I’m sure you would appreciate not being stuck with a needle while I try to sew you up half-asleep. We can do it tomorrow.”

Envy couldn’t seem to process the information he was hearing. She was going to let him sleep? Not just that, but to let him sleep unhindered by additional pain? What was the catch?

Haven bent down to pick up a bandage roll that had fallen, but Envy slipped off the bed to get it for her. He didn’t account for the fact that he could barely use his legs, and ended up falling ever-so-gracefully to the floor like an utter disgrace. His knees hit first, cracking loudly on the wood slats, and the rest of him followed soon after, crumpling like wet paper. His chest pitched forward and he, thankfully, turned his head to the side so that his cheek hit the floor instead of cracking his chin on it, though it still smarted. The pain shot into his broken ribs had him keening, sending out a high-pitched whine as if he’d become a tea kettle. The angel had humiliated him plenty, but this really did it for him.

He at least managed to wrap his fingers uselessly around the stray bandage he’d meant to offer to Haven.

The witch herself had released her burden entirely, dropping her arms to her sides so that all the gauze she’d previously gathered now fell at her feet and rolled away, adding to the existing mess on the floor. She knelt in front of Envy and gingerly placed her hands on his upper arms, and she was saying something he couldn’t make out. The world was incessantly loud all of a sudden, ringing in his ears. Pain, his only sensation.

“H-help—” Envy croaked.

Fear rose in his throat, burned in his belly, and inflamed the space of his chest. It beat against the inside of his damaged ribcage, fighting to get free as if it were a trapped animal. Envy thought it was kind of funny, to think of it like that. To understand and sympathize with an emotion itself, because he too, was once a trapped animal.

His hands shook.

“-vy! Envy! Your Highness! Prince whatever!”

The witch called out to him. Envy struggled to take in a breath. He felt her rubbing her thumbs up and down where she held his arms, and that too, made an emotion well inside him. He couldn’t place the name of it.

“P-prince whatever,” he said, once he could take in a full breath.

His throat felt raw and scratchy.

“I didn’t know what to call you,” Haven replied, sheepishly.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave him a wobbly smile. Envy tried to maneuver his lips into doing the same, but he felt…odd. Disconnected from his body in a way that was not unfamiliar to his time spent in the cell with the angel, on the days where he would go someplace faraway into his mind when the pain became too much to bear. Even before, to a lesser degree, the numbness would come for him without warning. He saw it as being better than the torture, at least.

“Are you…” Haven said, but trailed off and bit her lip.

“Fine.”

Envy was not fine, had never been fine, and likely would never be fine again for as long as he lived. But he was just that—living, and that was all that likely mattered to the witch, if she even cared at all.

He regretted that last thought when he saw her face all scrunched up, appearing at once both sad and irate. Her eyes became red and misty, though no tears fell. She bunched her hands into fists at her sides and Envy thought she meant to hit him, though she only glared.

“Why did you do that?” she yelled.

Envy opened his mouth, but found he didn’t have an answer, or even any idea to what she was referring.

“I—” He remembered the bandage roll grasped loosely in his damaged fingers. “Oh.”

He held it up to Haven as far as his arm would give him the strength to, which to his dismay, wasn’t more than a few inches.

“I wanted to help,” he said.

Haven put a hand to her face and closed her eyes, then exhaled. When she looked at him again, her expression had softened. Envy noticed her unclench her fists and his shoulders sagged in relief.

“Just focus on getting better. Okay? That’s how you can help.”

—

next

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[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Credit: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/71251860#big_0

Final one. Hopefully.

//Let's do this.

Makoto is Sir Bedivere, one of last Knights of the Round Table who survived to the end and is the one who King Arthur gave Excalibur to to throw back to the Lake so it can be returned to the Lady of Lake. Of course Makoto gets the good boy character.

//As it should be.

Kyoko is Artoria Pendragon Lancer. Idk why Kyoko is the a lot more busty adult version of genderbent King Arthur, the face of the franchise, but I guess it makes sense for Kyoko to be Makoto's King/Queen.

//I mean, as I've said before a few times, people seriously underestimate just how important the original protag trio (Makoto, Kyoko, and Byakuya) are to this series. Even when they don't show up physically, their presence is everywhere. And yeah, sure, KOMARU is actually the first proper female protagonist, but Kyoko is far more integral to the series than she is, and I think she looks gorgeous here. Also, unless I'm remembering this wrong, Lancer dies a lot in the Fate series? And so does Kyoko in DR, lol.

Junko is Kiara Sessyoin. I FUCKING HATE KIARA. Kiara is defined by two things: 1. Her desire to reach Buddhist Enlightenment via actual Universal Menstruation/Orgasm/Inserting the universe into her vagina for some fucked up Vagina Vore bullshit and 2. Her desperate wish for a sequel to The Little Mermaid. No not the movie. The actual book. Kiara can NOT stop being a constantly dirty minded absolute bitch whore NUN of all things about everything we do and she keeps getting in our way. Sigh... Yeah it fits Junko due to how much detestable they are...Junko does have an alternative as Suzuka Gongen. This is solely due to them just being actual Gyaru girls. I'm not getting into the backstory of Suzuka.

//This is just a guess, but I think that MIIIIIGHT be why she's represented through the literal worst person to ever be born? Also, I was aware of all this before, but it's no secret that Junko doesn't just want to cause despair because it makes her feel excited. She has admitted several times that it makes her straight up AROUSED! So yeah, this makes far too much sense if that's the case.

Mukuro is Hassan of Serenity. You can say Mukuro may have a touch of death but this is stretching it. I'm not sure Mukuro has anything to do with someone with literally poisonous skin, hair, body fluids, breath, and etc. Although I guess they are both precious girls who want to be loved. Also, i doubt Mukuro would dress that scantily.

//Taking it into a metaphorical perspective, Mukuro might not have ever been poisonous, but the ideas that Junko drilled into her sure made her feel like she was.

Byakuya is Gilgamesh Caster. Formerly super arrogant? Check. Overly worked to death for being responsible for being the leader of his people? Check. Still an arrogant douche with LOTS of resources at his disposal? Check. I can see this.

//I actually do know a bit about Gilgamesh, and yeah, while I wouldn't say Byakuya is THAT bad of a person, it does check out.

Toko is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. I don't even need to explain.

//No you don't.

Mondo is Sakata Kintoki Rider. Flaming Motorcycles, baby! I'm not getting into the lore. I don't think that's relevant.

//It doesn't matter to me. I saw the word "rider" and I got it.

Chihiro is Chevalier D'Eon. Of course. D'Eon is known for being a spy whose gender we could never ever figure out. You can see how this kinda relates to Chihiro.

//I LOVE the way that outfit looks on Chihiro too though? And the idea of him being an androgynous spy is fucking awesome actually.

Taka is Gilles De Rais. Now this is just insulting. Taka is no soldier general to Jeanne D'Arc who, after Jeanne was burned at the stake, turned to kidnapping, raping, mutilating, and torturing little boys for years to prove that God exists cuz god would punish him for his sins. Taka is not a person who dabbles in Lovecraftian tentacle magic.

//Yeah, that basically goes against everything Taka is, besides the loyalty part. I don't vibe with that.

Yasuhiro is Tawara Touta. Not sure how much Hagakure loves rice. And I mean, REALLY loves rice and wants to give to everyone.

//I think it's more got to do with the fact he looks like a hobo.

Sakura is Heracles/Hercules. FUCK YEAH. I approve. We made Hercules her Persona in my headcanon for a reason.

//Strongest human is the strongest human; it's really quite simple.

Aoi is Miyamoto Musashi. Genderbent Musashi is a weird case. Aoi clearly is no master of the sword nor is she a battle nutcase. Hey at least both of them have very sexy bikinis and lots of fanservice.

//Yeah, she's no master of the sword, but she IS pretty competitive. And yes, lot's of fanservice. I can definitely see her wearing that outfiot.

Leon is Jason. Idk why. Jason is kinda racist douchebag in Fgo. I mean, we eventually like him cuz he's a gag character who gets screwed over all the time and he does help us a lot when times call for professionalism but nah. Not seeing it.

//An asshole, douchebag gag character who gets screwed over so much, and you DON'T see the connection to Leon!?

Sayaka is Mata Hari. Sayaka may be able to dance and allure people with her sexiness and nice sexy figure, but I'm not sure Sayaka is one for being a professional stripper. Then again, maybe? Mata Hari is actually a super sweet and very nice person.

//I mean, Survivor Sayaka would be exclusively for Makoto; we had this conversation like, a few days ago, lol. And yeah, Sayaka is a very sweet and nice person.

Celes is Semiramis. Of course Celes is the dommy queen character who poisoned her husband. Semiramis is weird story.

//Fair. Also, that is a FUCKING look for her.

And I think Hifumi has just been relegated to being one of Semiramis Celes's laser coffin things.

//I had a feeling right from the get go that Hifumi's would be related to Celeste, but honestly, it would have made more sense, based on what you just described, for Celeste to be Jeanne D'Arc, and Hifumi to be Gilles De Rais. I don't, under any form or circumstance, think Hifumi is worthy of being likened to a serial killer/rapist either, god no, but if it was this way, it would make a lot more sense given these two's in-game relationship with each other.

[blueskiesbleakeyes]

We all live, make babies, work and die.

Well, maybe not all of us. Maybe you adopt. Or don’t have kids at all. We have to make a living somehow. We all have community of some sort.

Everything just...is the same for everyone. We’ve been doing this for CENTURIES. FOREVER, basically.

And then we die.

“Okay, okay, angsty edge-lord. Thanks for playing the role of Captain Obvious. But what’s your point?”

Have you ever laid in your bed, stared at the ceiling, and you can’t help but ask yourself, “is this it? Is this all there is? Do we just wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat?”

Don’t you ever wish that there was more to life than what we see?

There’s this emptiness to that state of mind, don’t you see? One that could lead to an existential crisis, which I’m sure you’ve had before (so have I). So we try to fill that emptiness up with stuff. Could be anything.

Entertainment, material items, goods, approval and validation from others. It’s all to fill up that void we got in ourselves. But it isn’t always enough.

Here’s the part where you might not like where this is going.

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” - C.S Lewis

“Well, okay, it’s called daydreams, stupid.”

Actually? I think that void we got in our hearts was always meant to be there. Because I think we were made for Heaven. That there’s a God out there who didn’t just make this world and leave it to its own devices, but is patiently waiting yet actively working to bring us back to Him.

What do I mean by, “bring us back to Him”?

God made us to have a close relationship with us. 

We all strayed.

You see all the bad stuff that happens in this planet. All the evil that you see, the greed of rich men, the pride of people who don’t admit their wrongs, the gossip behind friends’ backs, comes from who?

Us. 

If God wanted us to want to pursue goodness, to love the things of God (all that which is good) no matter what, He would’ve made us robots. But love isn’t forced. It has free will. And so He gave us free will. But when we chose to go our own way and against the way of love, we get the word nobody likes, called sin. 

God has a standard of goodness. And sin...is when we miss the mark of reaching that standard.

But God would not be a good God, if He were to allow for injustice to go unpunished at all, right? So there’s a place of punishment for that, called Hell. A place of eternal torture. Though we may not see evil people get punished in this lifetime, God has promised that all the evils of humanity, including the people who’ve committed them, will be judged for accordingly (as shown in Psalm 37:9-10).

So, when humans fail to hold each other accountable for their actions, know that God will hold them accountable. Which sounds good, but...there’s just one problem. A big one, for us. What is it?

The fact that God is perfectly good.

Because me and you? We’re not perfectly good. I can tell you honestly, I’ve lied more than I can count, I’ve gossiped about others, I’ve been the judgmental person, and I’ve failed to take responsibility for when I’ve hurt others. Because I have hurt others before.

And maybe your wrongs aren’t exactly like mine, but you can probably name several times you’ve done bad yourself. There’s no judgment here, not from me.

But I figured I should say something, because since God is perfectly good? Even our wrongs will be accounted for. And because the standard for heaven is perfection? We can’t get there. I think you know what I’m trying to say, but I’ll say it anyway, because sometimes the uncomfortable is the truth.

We’re all screwed. On our own works, our own goodness? We can’t get to heaven. And there’s only one other destination for our souls when we die.

See? I told you that you wouldn’t like it.

If you stayed until this point, then I’m happy for you. Because 2 things: 

1) you didn’t let the discomfort get in the way of reading something you probably don’t like hearing. But more importantly 2) there’s a solution. And it happened about 2000 years ago.

God is good because He will judge everyone. But God is also good because He still loves us. Like, a lot. How do I know?

God came down and died. But He died in the flesh, by coming to earth as a baby named Jesus, who grew up to live the life nobody could live: a perfectly moral and selfless life. He healed, did miracles, called out the “holier-than-thou” religious folk of His time, and died for those same “holier-than-thou” religious folk on a cross, in humiliation.

But He didn’t just die for the “holier than thou” folks. Not just the “best”. He died for the worst of the worst. And if you don’t think you’re that bad, know that He died for the ones in the middle too. He died for you and me.

And because He could do miracles while He lived, He did another great miracle after death as well: He rose from the dead, and conquered the grave.

But why, you might ask? What’s it all supposed to mean? All this was needed to be enough for our sins to be accounted for by God. Sin must be paid for, in order to be properly dealt with. The cost was death.

And by believing in Jesus’ death and resurrection to be enough compensation for all the sins you’ve committed and will commit, you will be saved from your own punishment. Because Jesus took the punishment for you.

And that folks, is how God is bringing us back to Him. That, is what the void is for. When you accept Jesus’ work on the cross as the payment for your sin debt, He fills that void to make a home for Himself in your heart and will be with you everywhere you go, and everything you go through. In other words, you will have the God’s spirit, the Holy Spirit dwelling within you, helping and teaching you to walk away from sin and evil, and towards the way of love, the way of goodness and peace, the way of God. 

We can love, because He first loved us.

We were all made for eternity. Of course there’s more to all this, beyond what we can see.

[bratkook]

quiet, baby. (m) jjk

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. smut, pwp warnings. exhibitionism, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, slightly teasing/mean kook turns into whiny kook at the end lol word count. 3.2k note. today on jlin spews together a smutty drabble while ignoring her other wips just bc that one specific photo of jungkook is eating away at her brain, i give you this, it’s not edited, idk if i hate it or not and i wrote it all on tumblr mobile so..yeah🤩

leave feedback/reblog/send an ask okie bye❣️

“That’s it, slow and steady baby.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, husky and teasing, edges of his lips ghosting around your ear as he sighs when you do exactly as he asks. 

Your head falls forward with a choked groan as his hand slips under your skirt, fingers finding their desired target as he begins to circle your clit, your skin feeling hot from his sinful hands. Everything feels stuffy now, the sweat accumulating behind your neck, your face burning in embarrassment at you actually doing this, the thrill of where you were making another gush of arousal escape you. 

When you had jokingly teased your boyfriend during dinner, your hand lightly ghosting over his cock through the thick denim he wore, you were lying if you said you didn’t think it would lead to anything besides seeing him flustered as he asked for the check. Jungkook always had something up his sleeve whenever you decided to be bold and you knew your actions would be well worth it.

Apparently you were right, your boyfriend did in fact have plans, the gears turning in his mind as you walked hand in hand down the streets, his half hard cock pressing against his jeans so prominently it was a blessing he wore long enough layers to cover it up. Jungkook wasn’t a sucker, if you thought you could tease him and act coy without getting similar treatment in return you had another thing coming. 

As he stepped onto the subway and glanced around he smiled when he took note of one other person occupying the car, tucked away in a far corner with their eyes shut and earbuds blasting who knows what. It was perfect, you were completely unaware of the filthy plan he had as he guided you to the very back, but as soon as the subway started moving so did his hands. 

Slowly at first, trailing along the exposed skin of your thighs, playing with the hem of your pleated skirt in a way so innocent you allowed yourself to get comfortable in your seat. Then came the teasing words, knowing just what your fantasies were and using them to his advantage, wrapped neatly with a ribbon on top, beautifully disguised to make you think it was in your favor. 

You in fact were a sucker, which is exactly how you found yourself perched on top of Jungkook with your skirt bunched up, thighs held apart and hooked over his knees as you creamed his cock, taking him completely without a care in the world. Each roll of your sensitive clit makes you shudder above him, needing to shut your eyes to stop the possibility of making eye contact with the only other person here, if you couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see you. That’s the mentality that kept you going. 

Jungkook simply chuckles when you rest your forehead against the seat in front of you, enjoying the way your body trembles with pleasure, your own hands tightly clutching onto the arm circling around your waist as you do your best to keep your moans in. The pleasure was slowly bubbling inside of you, the roll of his fingers lulling you further under the haze of it all and thats when he speaks.

“Let’s play a game hm?” he whispers, voice sounding steady and unaffected, only making you feel like more of a mess at how you were behaving. 

“A game?” Your voice is soft, slurred at the ends as it spills out of your mouth, curling over your tongue as you struggle to speak. Jungkook knows he has you now, your competitive streak mixed with the lust clouding your brain made for the perfect scenario for Jungkook’s plan, there was no way you would say no. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek, rutting his hips up into you and smirking when you whimper in response from his cock rubbing against your g-spot. “If you can be a good girl and make me cum before our stop, I won’t punish you for your little stunt during dinner.”

“I didn’t–“ you start, the lie catching in your throat before it can even fully form, your nails digging into the leather of his jacket when he spreads your thighs further apart and delivers a swift smack against your aching clit, laughing meanly when your body twitches at the sensation. 

“You did.” Jungkook continues to mouth along your skin, kissing down your jaw and onto your neck. When the automated voice fills the car and alerts you of the coming exit you feel the way he smiles against your skin, a small hum reaching your ears at the thought of you running out of time. The shadow of his bucket hat not allowing you to see his eyes when you turn back to look at him in curiosity, but you don’t need to see them to know the evil glint he’s sporting. “Better hurry up baby, we’re a few stops away.”

“Jungkook,” you whine, the first fully audible response from you so far. Could you make him cum in that amount of time? Possibly, but when Jungkook was determined to tease you he could hold off his own orgasm without a hitch, you on the other hand couldn’t and you knew if you came before him whatever punishment he had planned would only stretch out, it could go in your favor but you were too needy to test it out. 

“C’mon, this is what you wanted isn’t it?” His hands roam up until he’s gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin and beginning to guide you to grind on top of him, the torturous glide of his cock rubbing all the right spots inside of you making you gasp. 

“No,” you whimper, but the way your hips start to move once more show otherwise, a steady roll of your hips continuing and Jungkook doesn’t need to see the mess you’re making to know just how turned on you are by this. The base of his cock had a pool of your arousal around it, sticky and shiny each time you slid off before rolling back, no doubt ruining his underwear pushed a few inches down but that didn’t matter when you felt this good around him. 

The disinterested sigh he lets out only makes you speed up, the loosening grip on your hips as he leans back into his seat has you desperate to keep his attention on you, show him how good you could be for him. With newfound determination your hands move to grip onto the back of the seat a few inches in front of you, holding yourself steady as you begin to bounce on top of him, hoping your actions are discreet enough to conceal what you were doing from wandering eyes. 

Jungkook smirks when he feels your velvety walls tighten with each raise of your hips, lifting up until the head of his cock was the only thing nuzzled within you before your warmth took him in once more as you sank back down with a light thump. The rumbling of the subway wheels conceal the noise enough but he isn’t even sure he would care if anyone bares witness to this, seeing you lose yourself on top of him, desperate to make him cum despite being in public. 

This had been a fantasy for both of you for so long and as the subway approaches the following stop you feel the tiny sense of panic begin to set in, the bright lights of the station grabbing your attention as you spot a handful of people lingering by the tracks. You still your hips as you wait, hoping none of them would step foot onto the car you were in, not entirely sure if you’d be able to pass off riding your boyfriend as innocently sitting on his lap. 

“Is my baby shy now?” His words snap you back, a tilt of his head finally allowing you to see his eyes as he stares at you, a genuine look of understanding being passed between you, knowing if you had become too uncomfortable to continue he’d stop with no questions asked. 

Your eyes move to stare out of the window once more, sighing in relief when the passengers board the car in front of you instead and the train resumes moving. “Just don’t want anyone to see.” 

Jungkook laughs lightly at your words, sitting straighter as he circles his arms around your waist again, holding you still on top of him with his cock buried deep within you as his right hand creeps under your skirt once more. “Don’t want anyone to see what a needy slut you are?”

His words have the desired effect on you, whimpering and dropping your head back as his deft fingers find your clit like second nature, rubbing tight circles around your hardened nub as you tightened around his length. 

“No,” you gasp, “only w-want you to see that.” The desperation laced in your voice makes it hard to recognize yourself but he revels in it, let’s himself soak in your words, the small tingles of pleasure spreading throughout his body before he’s planting his feet firmly onto the floor and thrusting up into you. A squeal of surprise fills the space, piercing through the silence it's a shock the single passenger was still sound asleep with his earbuds popped in. 

“Quiet, baby.” he mocks with a teasing tilt to his voice, continuing to rut up into you, loving every moan that slips out of your plush lips, swollen from the way you bit down on them. Jungkook knew neither of you were being discreet now, with the way your body jostled each time he thrust up, your face twisted up in pleasure, illuminated by the bright lights, if anyone glanced in your direction it would be clear as day.

You didn’t care anymore, too lost in the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, the sensation of the denim rubbing along the back of your thighs with each roll of his hips, the familiar scent of your boyfriend's cologne wrapping around you as he held you close. Paired with the way his fingers continued to flick against your clit, it was too much, already feeling your climax approaching. 

Jungkook knows, can feel the way your walls get tighter, the tremble in your body as it starts to take over you, the breathy whines of his name as it gets closer. The need to cum has you quickening up your hips, meeting his thrusts in tandem, the two of you so lost in your pleasure you don’t notice the approaching stop. The automated voice doesn’t register in your head, your ears full of the rhythmic thumping of your heart, eyes once again shut and the prettiest pout on your lips that Jungkook could faintly see in the reflection of the window. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” he groans, eyes locked onto your reflection, seeing your brows furrow together as your mouth drops open in a silent moan. Just as your orgasm is about to wash over you he pulls his hand away from your clit and stills your hips entirely with an iron grip, with all the stimulation gone your orgasm is ripped away from you, a whiny plea making Jungkook chuckle. 

“No, no Jungkook please.” Your hips fight against his grip, desperately searching for any friction to relieve the ache of your ruined orgasm, rutting against him with a frown, head dropping forward as you stare down. With shaky hands you lift up your skirt and sigh when you see the way his fingers are covered in your slick, inches from your throbbing clit, choosing to deny you your pleasure like the teasing asshole he was. 

“Did you forget already?” he asks, bringing a hand up to gently rub along your cheek as you whimper, leaning into his touch. When the doors close and the subway takes off again he chuckles, knowing your time was running out, already planning all the ways he would tease you the minute you got home. “One more stop baby.”

Taking a deep breath you try to ignore the flutters in your stomach, knowing exactly what you had to do to make Jungkook fall apart underneath you. When his hand loosens up on your hip you begin moving again, not holding back the moans that spill from your mouth anymore, making a show of grabbing his hands and trailing them up your thighs and under your shirt, knowing just how much he loved your tits. 

He grunts against your shoulder in appreciation when his large palm grabs a handful of your boobs over the flimsy bralette you’re wearing, giving them a rough squeeze as you mewl above him.  “Fuck, Jungkook,” you sigh dreamily, humming when the tip of his cock nudges along your g-spot. “You always make me so messy.”

Jungkook groans now, your words and the soft wet smacks of your messy pussy sinking onto his cock affecting him, making his head swim with desire as you whine when he pulls at your hardened nipple. “Shit, you feel so warm.” He’s speaking softly, almost like his thoughts are spilling out without warning, always losing himself whenever you become vocal, needing to hear just how good he made you feel to allow himself to bask in it. 

His eyes flutter shut, enjoying the drag of your walls on his cock with each roll of your hips, your chest heaving as you panted, his hand still cupping your breast, teasingly tugging and twisting at the pebbled bud, wanting nothing more than to lick and suck his way around your chest but this would have to do. 

“Kookie,” you breathe, “wanna feel you, please.” Your earlier orgasm starts to rise once more, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold it back before him and with the stop approaching soon he had to cum now to save you from whatever torture he had planned. 

“Yeah?” He huffs out a moan, whiny and needy, a complete contrast to the unaffected demeanor he had earlier. Jungkook couldn’t play calm and collected anymore, already diving head first into this, too far gone to be able to pull back now. 

“I’m gonna make you even messier for me, s-show you–“ he’s cut off with a gasp when you start to pulse your walls around him, head falling back as a deep groan escapes him, his own orgasm crawling up his spine. “Fuck, show you how good girls get rewarded.”

“Please, I’ve been good, just wanna make you cum.” An unrestrained moan fills the air as he starts to thrust up into you in desperation, the only thought in his mind being filling you up full of his cum, wanting to see it dripping around your ruined underwear, slicked along your inner thighs and concealed by that tiny skirt you wore. You were always so hell bent on teasing him, knowing just how much he loved to ruin you afterwards, turning you into a delirious mess all because of his cock. He loves it. 

“Don’t worry baby,” he grunts, the added layers he wore only making it stuffier for him as he begins to sweat, clinging to his body as he pants behind you. “Gonna fill you up.”

Trailing your own hand down your torso your fingers meet your throbbing clit, shuddering on top of him as you start to rub against it, jolts of pleasure coursing through you as your climax inches closer. Jungkook isn’t far off, the coil inside of him tightening as you whimper each time his cock hits the back of your cervix, his brain heady with lust, not being able to hold back the increased volume of his moans. 

“Fuck, almost there.” You hum in confirmation, nodding along as your body heats up, muscles beginning to tense, mind starting to float with each flick of your wrist. 

“Show me I’m a good girl Kook,” you whine out so beautifully, so needy and desperate for him, and he loses it, rutting into you sloppily until he’s cumming, ribbons of white stuffing you full and warming you up as he fuck you. The feeling of his cum inside you sends you over the edge as well, your thighs giving out on you as you fully plop on top of him, your fingers continuing to rub along your sensitive clit as you shudder and twitch above him. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, panting by your ear and mixing in with the small ringing you hear from the strength of your orgasm. Slowly, his hand slips out from underneath your shirt, rubbing along the skin of your hips to help calm you down as your body trembles. With a small groan you pull yourself off of his softening cock, readjusting your messy underwear before scooting back onto the seat beside him. 

Jungkook watches as your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, shiny with your arousal, coated in globs of his cum, looking just as inviting as always. He chokes on a moan when you instantly bend forward and slip it into your mouth, the sensitivity making him whine as you lick his cock clean, pulling off with a pop and a smirk. “Was I good?”

He narrows his eyes at your teasing tone, the devious look on your face showing him that you weren’t done yet. Jungkook thought he had one upped you, caught you by surprise after you teased him and took you on a run for your money by doing this, but you looked completely satisfied with yourself as he slid his cock back into his underwear and pulled his jeans back up. 

“You’re evil.”

Jungkook smiles when you laugh, both of you pausing when the automated voice alerts you of your stop approaching in a few seconds. As the two of you stand up from the seats your eyes roam the car once more, a gasp escaping when you realize the only other person here has stepped off. 

“Oh my god, when did they leave?”

“Last stop, don’t worry they left before it got good.” He clutches your hands when you go to swat at him, laughing heartily as you approach the car doors. “They totally knew too.”

Jungkook had seen the moment they left, earbuds still pushed in, but the way they had glanced in their direction shaking their head with a smile let him know that he was completely aware of the filthy things you two were doing. 

“Jungkook!” you whine, stepping off the subway and onto the platform, grimacing when you feel the way your sticky underwear rubs against you. 

“What? This was all part of your scheme you little devil, at least we didn’t have a massive audience.”

Well he had a point, it could’ve been worse, at least this way you were able to tick off the box beside this fantasy. “We’re never doing this again, I don’t care how hot it was.”

Your boyfriend just smiles, intertwining your hands together as you exit the station. He knew you better than anyone so he knew you were absolutely doing this again.

[chanelsebbie]

𝗩𝗶𝗰𝗲 | 𝘀.𝗿.

✝ Warnings: SMUT, manipulation, dub-con, innocent!reader, age-gap, dark!bishop!steve rogers, branding. 

✝ Masterlist

✝ Summary: After being caught committing lustful acts, y/n is brought to the bishop for reconcile. 

✝ A/n:  Reader just turned 18, this is sinful, if you are offended, please don’t read. With that being said, after reading this, you best chug a gallon of holy water. 

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖌 𝖌𝖔𝖉

𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖚𝖕

Florence + the Machine, Big God

“No! Let me go!” the girl with a small voice ordered futily, the sound echoing off the large corridors as the nuns pulling her along payed no mind. 

She fought against them, but it was useless, for it would only make their conviction worse. She had sinned, and like everything, sinning came with a grave price. Especially at the young woman’s academy. 

She knew the bishop would be cross. Not only for her sin but for the timing. It was in the late hours of the night, but there she was, caught red-handed and in nothing but a snow-white bra and panty set, being dragged through the empty halls of the institution, everyone else sleeping. 

Soon enough, she was faced with the large wooden double-doors of the bishop’s office, the lion knocker on the door seeming to snarl smugly at the girl as if it knew her fate. 

One of the nun’s calloused old fingers wrapped around the handle clutched in the metal feline’s mouth, before knocking three times, the young girl counting absentmindedly. 

A harsh and inharmonious voice called out an ill-toned ‘Come in’. The girl could have sworn she was on the verge of a panic attack. What she had done was wrong, but why did it feel so good?

The door was opened by one of her captors, walking her in before throwing her to the ground, her knees scraping up against the stone floors as she let out a pained yelp. She refused to look up, knowing that his eyes would be trained on her. 

“Archbishop Rogers,” one of the nun’s began, “We caught this young lady committing an act of lust, and demand her to repent and save her faith plagued with desire.”

The man stood up from his working desk, setting his pen down, stepping in front of the trembling girl, almost anticipating her to look up at him. 

“Leave us, sisters,” 

His voice sent a tight shock through her spine, making her scramble to her knees, her ass resting on her heels, folding her hands in front of her, waiting as if she were about to be struck. 

As soon as the great wooden doors closed, the bishop took a deep breath and began to speak. 

“Tell me,” he starts, “what is your vice?”

She quivered at the question, embarrassed to admit what she had truly did wrong. But in knowing that the longer it took to get it out of her, the more torturous the punishment would be.

“I-” she cleared her throat, “I h-have committed a lustful act,” she swallowed hard as she heard the man above her sigh, beckoning her to continue, “I feel as if I’ve been consumed by demons. The devil has put thoughts into my head... scandalous thoughts... and it creates such a tension between my legs,” she took in a shaky breath, “I can’t help but touch myself to relieve the pain.”

His jaw clenched at her confession, crossing his arms. 

“Do you understand the gravity of your actions?” he catechized her, making her nod her head ‘yes’.

“Yes, Archbishop Rogers, I do.” she now had the courage to look up at the man above her, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to be right by the Lord’s name,”

His crossed arms unraveled, one of his hands going down to cradle the girl’s cheek as she leaned into his touch like an obedient dog, desperate for the relief and to bear no malice to her God. 

When she looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, full of hope, there was a glint of guilt. 

“First, recite ‘Hail Mary’,” he commanded, her head now hanging low again, not noticing that his hands were now reaching his pants, the leather of his belt coming undone. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she began, “The lord is with thee-”

Her face was suddenly jerked up, his hand wrapping around her head before pushing her forward, her open mouth suddenly filled with the mass of his cock, only half of her mouth consuming it. 

Her tongue squirmed as she tried to pull away, but the archbishop’s strength was unparalleled to hers, her struggles futile. Her hands went to his thighs to anchor herself. 

“A demon had infiltrated your mind, my child,” he grunted, “I know how to rid you of this evil, but you must do as I say.”

She did the best she could to nod her head, before getting pulled back by her hair. 

“Did I tell you to stop reciting?” he growled, “Don’t make me start you over,”

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit-” she was pulled forward violently back on his cock, deeper his time, his tip touching the back of her throat as she gagged, tears welling up in her eyes, doing her best not to bite down. 

She was pulled back once again, “of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary-”

Tears were now spilling down her face like a river, her face flushed as his cock seemingly went down her throat, the groans of her superior above her making her whimper. 

“Mother of God, pray for us sinners now,”

He didn’t pull her in this time like she was expecting, “and at the hour of our death.” she finished, panting as she winced at the archbishop’s killer grip on her hair, “Amen.”

“Remarkable job,” he praised, before standing her up, taking her hand and leading her to his desk, before harshly pushing her down against it, smirking at her gasping reaction. 

“P-Please? Haven’t we done enough?” she questioned, pleaded, earning her a slap on her ass, getting pulled up chest to back with him as his lips reached her ear. 

“I am a vessel of God,” he hissed, “And he lives through me as I do him. I’m cleansing you...,”

His fingers made their way under the hem of her underwear, pulling them down, her dripping cunt coming into view, the archbishop squatting down after pushing her back on the desk. She whimpered at the feeling of his breath against her sex, Rogers letting out a dark chuckle before leaning forward, licking a torturous strip across her slit. 

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned against her pussy, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” his rhetorical question made her clench. 

She let out a soft moan at the sexual touch that was for once, not her own. He did this several more times before he stood straight back up again. 

She whined when she felt his wide tip tease her entrance, circling his cock, the anticipation almost painful, his breathing echoing off the expanse of his large office. The moonlight shown through the stained glass windows, reflecting on the expanse of her back, making the archbishop all the more attracted to her seemingly supernatural glow. 

“Plea-” she was cut off by a loud moan ripping its way through her throat, the feeling of being stretched out so far painful.

“Fuck! Fuck, you’re so tight-” he cursed into the open air, his hands latching onto her hips when he bottomed out. 

He didn’t grace her with the opportunity to adjust, before he started to move, slowly, making her feel every ridge and vein. 

“You better start praying,” he coaxed, her head nodding.

“O-Our father, who art in h-heaven, gl-glory be thy name,” she whined out, making the man behind her rut his hips harder and harder with each verse, “hallowed be th-thy name. Thy kingdom c-come,” she paused to catch her breath, earning her a harsh tug on her scalp.

“Didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled, bushing harder and faster inside her. 

“thy will be done, on earth, as it is in h-heaven, g-give us this day our da-ily bread and... and...,” her brain was fogged with pleasure as he was getting pounded into, Rogers annoyed at her reluctance. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” he degraded, “don’t make me start you over,” his pace slowing down. 

She whined before starting again, “forgive us our tr-trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against u-us-”

She clenched around him, making him let out a genuine moan, and it was the most angelic sound she had ever heard, a coil tightening inside her as she cursed silently. 

“Come on, princess, we can finish it together,” he offered. 

“P-Please,” she gasped, gagging on air as she did her best to keep a level head and know what she was supposed to say next. 

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” they said in perfect sync. 

“Come on, so close, just-” before he could finish, he released inside of her with a yell, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

The warm feeling in her gut made the coil inside her snap as well as she fell off the deep end, long and passionate moans leaving her lips as she trembled and tensed from such an earth-shattering orgasm. 

The archbishop walked in front of the lit fireplace, poking at it with a fire poker before setting it down, the pointy end positioned over the fire. 

The girl thought nothing of it as she sat in an armchair, covered in nothing but a blanket as she gave a dopey smile to the nude man approaching her. He picked her up, before sitting himself down, placing her in his lap. 

Her head rested against his chest as he gently played with her hair. 

“Am I cleansed?” she questioned, nudging herself closer into him. 

After a small amount of time, he gave a quick, lack-luster response. 

“Yes.”

“What happens if the demons come back? If my thoughts turn sinful again?” she whimpered at the thought. 

“Well, I have a way I can make sure they don’t.” he smirked to himself, “Stand up, will you?”

She did as she was told; his perfect little obedient pet. Before she could question anything, she was grabbed by the wrists and slammed up above her head, her back against the wall next to the fire place, Steve reaching over and grabbing the bow heated fire poker.

It clicked for her as her eyes widened.

“W-Wait!” she squeaked, looking at the red-hot end of the fire poker, his fingers wrapped around it tightly. 

When the scalding metal touched the skin of her breast, she let out a pained cry, a sickening sizzle ringing through her ears as she sobbed. The burning touch seemed to last for ages, before it was finally brought away, but the pain never ceased. 

The shape made her stomach turn, the man pulling the girl in an embrace as she sobbed, shushing her.

There, over her right breast, was the mark of the lord. A blistering cross, that would be an eternal reminder of their shared moment together.

“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Steve spoke, right before her world went black from shock.

[sunlightnmoonshine]

Maybe now is the most ideal time to point it out but Yohan has never, never claimed that his actions are the right ones. He just claims that he'll do things this way because its the best (if not the only) way to get results. We aren't supposed to be affirming that his actions are right because for all intents and purposes they aren't morally right. But again morals are what we make of it? It's what we are taught to believe- the norms of society.

This brings me to the radical nature of all the punishments that ultimately comes to a Juk Chang being placed on the electric chair and zapped as many watched him. When you think about it as appalling as flogging and the death penalty are, weirdly in these cases they suit the crime. Juk Chang repeatedly beat people up for selfish reasons and didn't show an ounce of remorse. He quite literally tortured people to get a point across and all for what because this lame loud president told him to. He laughed hearing the doctor is dead knowing full well who was behind it and showed absolutely no regard for the people he hurt. Heck an apartment and bitcoin is good enough for him to become a sacrificial lamb - yes he decided he'd become the sacrificial lamb. By all means torturing him is the most equivalent of punishments that exists but my moral compass would never allow siding with it because every life is precious and blah blah and so Yohan's actions are cruel but they are equivalent and make sense.

Retrospectively speaking the scene made me feel sick because no one wants to watch someone being tortured let alone with the suggestion that it is the viewers who are contributing to his death (that to me was the selling point in that scene- the commentary on society's responsibility). What can be considered the evil part of this entire procedure is placing this responsibility on an unknowing population who are being fed information through a TV show (the use of media to manipulate is a whole topic in itself). Putting someone's life in the hands of unknowing others who are simply pressing the button because they seemed amused by the narrative they were being fed can never be justified. And Yohan being the sneaky lil shit that he is, very conveniently projected the responsibility on the people itself really embodying the notion "people are power" but not everyone is worthy of power over another.

Adding to this, the show highlights the effects radicalism has on children who truly do not know better and are just taken up by violence, indirectly nurturing a generation of chaos. By all means something of this intensity whether a character might be deserving of it or not should not be left to the eyes of the public who are not educated enough to understand the repercussions of their actions. To not understand what precedent they are setting.

To the point on radicalism though being the most appropriate of punishments, yes in many ways it is the most equivalent and best reflects the pain the victim goes through but does it really change the grand scale of circumstances? Minister Cha's son doesn't seem to have learned anything and primarily felt guilt toward his mother. If anything there's some fear imbued in him for as long as Yohan is in control. Juk Chang on the other hand got chased and beaten and still learnt nothing he's not going to learn anything after being nearly shocked to death either. So the long term effects are fruitless and only promotes a system of chaos.

It makes sense then that the justice system seeks to follow certain principles in preserving humanity but arguably this often gives criminals the easy way out. As yohan rightfully pointed out - do we wait for him to kill two or three more. Why wait for the number, why is more important than one - every life is precious. What then would happen to the few that continue to abuse the system, like the many we have seen who can essentially get away with slaps on the wrist by simply being given prison sentences (which is the only acceptable punishment and rehabilitation for those who need it) which will never carry the severity of their crimes. What can be done? I don't think this world has that answer.

Ultimately the suggestion exists that if the bad apples are removed the doors are open for a new system to be established with virtues but for these values to ever gain traction those that abuse it must be removed. That's essentially what Yohan is doing. Putting the responsibility on the people? It's all a facade to him. Ultimately he will take the responsibility himself. The weight of his sins eh? I wonder what a blow that will deal him.

[hargrove-mayfields]

more religious Billy pls

trigger warnings for homophobia, child abuse and religious trauma.

From family, to friends, to neighbors, everyone around Billy always said, people like Billy were never supposed to get their happy endings. You sin, you repent, you get to live it up in paradise. But if you don’t repent, you go to hell. It was simple the way they taught it.

And that’s exactly the problem. Billy never knew exactly how he was supposed to earn forgiveness when his sin was just being himself, simply existing, but he tried, for years he did.

He went to every Sunday service and prayed each night like a good Christian boy was supposed to. He did everything he could to make up for being the way he was, from asking out all the pretty good girls at school to participating in the anti-homosexual pushback at the town hall even if he did go home and cry so hard he threw up after that, but those things were all just a performance, cowardly, futile attempts at pleasing the big man in the sky (and at home) that were getting him nowhere near any closer to the pearly gates.

Eventually he breaks. He starts drinking and smoking and screwing around with as many men as will take him out for the night. He grows his hair out long and pierces his ear, gets a tattoo and wears makeup he stole from the church store to sneak it to a gay bar. But still in the end, he just feels worse.

In the moment it’s like a high, like he’s finally getting to see even just a glimpse of who he, who Billy Hargrove really is and not just he was told he had to be, but Neil makes sure to remind him how wrong he is. He cuts his hair with a knife and beats him bruised and bloody, he makes the family go to church on Wednesdays instead of just Sunday, he puts the Bible on his night stand every night and he prays and prays and prays the gay out of that boy, most nights making Billy do it too through his tears.

And Billy tried, desperately he did to believe that all they said and did to him was wrong, that he could be who he wanted without all these rules just to please some unseen dictator that may or may not even be real, but the things he had been taught were so deeply ingrained into his mind. He knew he wasn’t bound for anything better, and he blamed himself for that.

On the floor of the mall, he doesn’t mean to think about it, what will happen after the fact.

He knows he should be thinking about how Max’s life is going to be once he’s not there to protect her, how everyone’s lives will be plagued with all of the destruction he caused, the grief that would come from the deaths of the people he killed. The irony of the Saint-Christopher pendant around his neck when he’d attempted to carry a child to her death instead of to safety.

As much as he’d like to see a familiar face, between everything he’d done, what he put Max and her friends through, all that had happened this past week, he knows he doesn’t have a place in paradise. Not that any of that even matters. He’d had a special spot in hell reserved just for him since he told his momma he had a crush on a curly headed boy named PJ in the second grade and the poor woman almost fainted.

Billy is terrified to be facing it now, but all his life he’d known this was coming, and he thinks he deserves it all the same.

Except, the next time he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see that he’s surrounded by hellfire and tortured souls, instead he’s staring up at a white tiled ceiling, the sound of the steady-unsteady beeping and whirring of machinery filling his head.

He tries to speak, but he doesn’t think anything comes out. A panicky little redhead leans over him in the bed to press one of the buttons. He looks at her face and he concentrates hard, and thinks he knows her, but he doesn’t know her.

A nurse comes at his sister's signal, and they first make sure he’s fully responsive, which is somewhat hard when he can’t speak, and then they inform him he’s been in an induced coma for months. They tell him that anything he saw on the other side wasn’t real, and he was alive that whole time. It doesn’t do much at all to comfort him though. How can it, when he doesn’t even know who he is?

He learns that his name is William, Billy according to the snappy girl who he knows is his little sister now, but whose name he can never seem to remember. His name feels strange in his throat when he repeats it back like a question, “Billy..?” That doesn’t feel like who he is, not anymore at least.

They have to teach him literally everything all over again. All he knew how to do when he woke up was facial expressions and vague, but very painful as he learned, gestures with his hands. Anything else was fair game.

It takes a whole year in the hospital, things going so slowly because of the pain, but even more so because of the setbacks he faces.

Two days after he woke up, when he still couldn’t speak, Neil had showed up. It wasn’t for a visit or even to see his son was going now that he’s finally awake. Neil is there to first ask him what he saw when he died, and when Billy just stares blankly, his vocabulary still too small to articulate anything, to accuse him of being the devil and deliberately mocking Him by coming back.

Needless to say, Neil isn’t allowed in for many more visits.

But it still resets those two days of progress they’d made, and it was like he’d just woken up that same day. This would keep happening every time anything distressing happened around Billy, and they had to find the perfect balance between having too many nurses and visitors in the room at once that he’d get overwhelmed and distracted, or not enough and get lonely and regress.

But once they’re out of the woods with that, things go mostly smoothly. Eating and drinking and walking, he’s gets that all down pat pretty easily, but his memories just aren’t coming back to him. He remembers a few insignificant childhood memories, but it’s mostly the bad things, things like his mother leaving or his father kicking him out for a week when he was fifteen, and so on. He still has no idea what happened to him though, and Max and her mom and the nurses are all telling him these stories, trying to persuade him into remembering, but something is just not clicking.

That is, at least, until he’s allowed to visit with Steve again.

Doctors worried showing him someone who had so many bad memories associated with him might be confusing to Billy, so they held off on allowing visitation from Steve, or anyone else who wasn’t immediate family, but he was at the hospital a few times dropping Max off when Susan was working, and he wasn’t allowed to see Billy then either.

They planned on keeping it that way until they could either be sure Billy’s identity was more secure, or if they were really desperate to get Billy's gears turning, and unfortunately the latter came first, so seven whole months after Billy woke up, Steve is allowed in his room.

The thought process was that the boys were on the basketball team together, at least until Neil pulled Billy as a punishment just before the season ended, and even if all he remembers is beating Steve up, he’s still a familiar face, and it might help, so once when Steve’s about to turn around and walk out like he always does, Max comes back out, wide eyed and flustered looking, and tells him he’s allowed to come visit with her brother.

Nobody can understand why Steve is so teary eyed, or why he says Billy's name with so much desperation, but his reaction quickly gets ignored when Billy responds with a simple, “Stevie.”

It shocks everyone, Steve was the first person who Billy remembered without months of work, sometimes he still called Max by her mother’s name if he was having a hard day, but with Steve it was like there was nothing even wrong. Like it had only been a couple of days since he’d seen him.

Before, if they asked Billy anything about high school, he couldn’t tell them much other than the bad things. But with Steve, those memories that had once been impossible to touch, the blurry images of a past he wasn’t even sure belonged to him, were unlocked, and with time Billy returns to himself. Remembers everything.

His overall progress goes much quicker after that, to the point where they’re planning on letting him out as soon as his medications are all in order, and still nobody can figure out what is so special about this boy.

That is, until a nurse walks in on them, holding hands and sitting on the bed, foreheads pressed together like they’d just been kissing. She goes a little pale in the face, but she says she’s not going to tell. That doesn’t stop half the ward from knowing in less than a week.

Nurses refuse to care for him. Susan starts standing by the door in case anyone comes in. They are told their love was sinful, but it was exactly that that had saved Billy.

Without Steve and what they had, Billy still would have no idea who he was. This wasn’t something the hospital would ever actually admit to Max or his parents, but after so long, they were sure he was never going to have his sense of self back. Because while physically he was recovering, until he had that extra push, he just wasn’t himself.

That was more of a blessing than any holy figurehead could offer. When he finally, after a year and a half in the hospital, got to come home, into Steve’s care because Susan refused to take her stepson back to Neil, his space with Steve offers Billy more comfort and safety than any isolated house of God or reformation camp ever could.

And most of all, Billy isn’t afraid to be himself anymore.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 4.

and we’re back to the main plot! This ep was good & visually expressive.

-Isuzu ( Akito’s perfect abused toy):

Isuzu embodies everything Akito hates; She’s the exact image of Akito’s mom; the dark long hair, sexy body, womanly charms, the steaming explicit love relationship with Haru) but unlike akito’s mom who’s hard to control & torture, Isuzu is a helpless zodiac who can’t fight back against the zodiac Ruler! Akito can hurt Isuzu verbally & physically while projecting it all on Ren. Through hurting Isuzu, Akito can fantasize on getting back on her mother for neglecting, hating her & stealing a zodiac (sleeping with Shigure ).

In Akito’s delusional mind: ISUZU IS REN. Therefore,

cutting Isuzu’s floating seductive hair (means cutting her mom’s control over her. deforming her mom’s image & “uglifying” it. “Ren” can no longer be prettier than “me”.

Hurting Isuzu’s body (means deforming the seductive womanly charms that Ren used with Shigure). Shigure won’t find “Ren” sexy now with her “short hair & scarred body”, he’ll stay faithful to “me”. No ugly creature will “steal” him or anyone of “them” anymore.

locking Isuzu in the cat’s room (means that in Akito’s mind, REN is the zodiacs monster! locking her away meaning gaining control over her status. “The horrible monster is locked away, the majestic ruler saves the poor zodiacs”.

Isuzu is locked while everybody “suspects” sth bad has happened to her & are “advised” against investigating (means the policy of obeying the family heads, turning their back on the abused & enabling abuse is still going on).

Even when Isuzu was saved, it took some time before anybody dared to take action. Even while taking action to save Isuzu, it is only for saving this current victim, the abuser still stands, still free to try again, still able to punish others.

-Kureno taking action or protecting an abuser?

There’s no doubt that kureno is kind & wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to Isuzu or anybody for that matter. However, Kureno’s brand of kindness has always been toxic & immensely harmful to him & others. While he indeed helped free Isuzu, he continued to shield Akito, holding her cheek kindly, softly lecturing “bad Akito, please no hurt/torture/kill poor zodiac girl”.  He waits for Akito to “realize” her wrongful deeds & “ heals” herself & “decides” to stop the abuse. Abusers don’t just decide to stop one day after they realize oops, I’m bad. Abusers must be stopped at once. Especially the ones with mental & emotional issues. I know it is hard for Kureno to stop protecting Akito, as you could argue that he’s “conditioned to obey” from young age. However, it doesn’t matter if his his intentions are good, he’ll either be Akito’s silent accomplice or get her fury.

-Isuzu’s quest to save kind haru:

Isuzu has always looked at her self as rotten/bad, while haru is good. She’s dirty & he’s clean. The theme of “ don’t take advantage of kind ppl as they’re too stupid to save themselves” has always tormented Isuzu. That’s why she was cold & mean to tohru, to save her from her foolish kindness. That’s why she was harsh to yuki, she believed haru’s kindness towards helpless yuki is harmful to haru. Above all, she wants to save kind haru from her “sinful” self! She wants kind ppl to be happy & away from rotten/ bad ppl like her! (does she reminds you of someone? kyo!). Alas, this self-condemning mentality led her to a locked room. Hurt, sad, in pain, tears, darkness, all alone & on the verge of death. That’s why when haru showed up, he said” is your journey over? come home to me” The quest is over. Rest & accept that you’re not a burden.

-Guilt is the immense monster tearing you from the inside:

Hiro is a huge parallel to kyo this ep with kisa & isuzu paralleling tohru, Kyoko & kyo’s mom. He felt immense guilt towards kisa for thinking that he’d caused her physical & emotional suffering by confessing to Akito. Kisa’s journey for recovery from her physical & emotional scars was especially hard on hiro. Even when she smiled, he’d think if only I hadn’t caused her pain. He feels the same towards Isuzu. This is the exact situation where kyo’s at except it is amplified ten times cause of DEATH. tohru’s journey towards recovering from her mom’s sudden death is not easy despite all the smiles. Tohru talks to a framed picture as her mother for God’s sake!!!! this sad! so sad! It hurts to see her craving her mother’s presence & knowing that he is involved somehow. Kyo’s guilt amplifies each time tohru fake smiles. This guilt that kyo built inside him was drilled by a past experience of his moms death & the sohma’s, his dad verbal accusations. While kisa & hiro found escape from guilt’s vicious suffocating grap by confessing their fears, the fact that both kisa & hiro are younger somewhat less traumatized helped. The ppl hiro fears he hurt are saved, alive & will be happy. Kisa is surrounded by her family. Kyo can’t apologize to angry kyoko or his miserable mom. they’re dead. Tohru is an orphan who lives “ temporarily” with the sohma’s. The time where she MUST leave & pursue her life after graduation is near... where will tohru go?.. where is her own family? This is all a set up to the climax! Epic writing!

Side Notes:

Akito scared me with her, “ do you know what’s inside the box? it’s father” ! chills!! is it his ashes? This reminded me of tohru’s cold photo frame of her mom.  I see tohru/akito parallel in the making! love it!

Isuzu’s eps always full of good visual symbolism.

Dark haru is always a good sight! whether for comedy or for plot. It is always well-used!

“Pity love” is a theme here. Haru, a teenager, declared his true love, while kureno, a grown man, stood silent. watching. learn kureno learn!

The cat room is a hideous place! OMG! the cell’s /“cage’s” door is small & doesn’t fit a standing human, like a cat’s door! so, the prisoner crawls to get inside? ugh!

Isuzu was there for days even weeks. let this sink. She refused food. she was mentally crushed & blackmailed by Akito using her love for Haru (the same way she blackmailed kyo using his love for tohru). This is a huge crime. Hideous deed that deserves more than a gentle touch on the abuser’s cheek with soft reprimanding. Akito’s response when she lost haru was the childish behavior of screaming & piunding with her fists on the ground. Kazuma’s “ akito is like a spoiled child”.

The scars Akito inflected on the young sohma’s run deep. It would be interesting to see if akito gets redemption, how’ll they react? will the scars disappear cuz yay the baddie is goddie now? or the scars remain & they’ll choose forgiveness like yuki did? or they’ll hold  grudge? can’t wait to see.

So Isuzu got her hair cut... man, the only hair cut I wanted was yuki’s! I wanted part of his growth to be loosing the Akito’s look.

Speaking of looks, Hiro is the spitting image of kyo but with bigger eyes! He looks exactly like kyo in Kazuma’s flashback in se01 finale & in kagura’s memories in se02, ep, 11 with the exact uniform!

loved that haru avoided hitting Akito. Not for akito, but knowing haru, he’ll suffer once he cool down cuz he hurt someone.

The bond is tearing. I honestly thought that haru leaving akito will cause more than that & it will tear!

I hated that one shot of naked Isuz walking away. Why not clothed? She wasn’t on the bed with him, so it doesn’t make sense.

so, how did Kureno get Isuzu from the cat’s cage? She’ll transform??

Also, Hatori what will you do now that another victim was hospitalized? still carry screaming Akito, comforting her? Who will have to be hurt before you take action? silently treating the victims wounds is NOT action.

I knew Isuzu will run from the hospital as soon as they said she was hospitalized! XD. They should’ve kept an eye on her. she’s weak.

So, shigure’s “ love” didn’t heal Akito nor his “ love-making” toned her fury on Ren’s look alike. Feeling guilty shigure? No?

Also, while it is not directly his fault, but it is ironic that kureno’s meeting with tohru where he decided to “ stay” by akito & not leave, has led to Isuzu tracking him right into Ren’s trap & falling victim to Akito. In short, his passive choice to NOT take action has led to unintentional disaster. Take the right action kureno. Leaveeeeee~~~

please let the next ep continues the plot & not jump somewhere else. give me at least tow/three continuous eps, then jump.

[sucuretcannelle]

A little bit about the cults of The Divine Ones and Hell's Territories. I wrote this during class and forgot about it

Moira:

The territory of Iracour has quite a few churches. More churches devoted to a Sin means more cults. By far, Iracour has the most churches out of all of hell, devoted to one person.

Which is kind of strange, as Moira doesn't care about most of her supporters.

In fact, she ignores them unless they happen to catch her eye. A nice example of that is Luna; while she was barely a worshipper, she caught Moira's eye due to her passion and determination....and she was on lunch break.

But still, it just makes sense for her to have a huge following; remaining on her good side would benefit a demon in any situation, compared to being on the sides of the other Sins.

During times of war, she's in charge of that army. She's the most forgiving Goddess. She doesn't over govern Iracour in a way that would bother a majority of people. There are many other ways that being on her side could benefit someone.

However, she does ignore her worshippers most of the time as she thinks they're quite strange.

It's also very common for her to use her war shippers. As long as they benefit her, she's going to use them. However, she strays away from torturing them or bringing them actual pain unless they did something worth punishing.

Overall, she ignores her cults, and during times of hardship for them, she would basically let them suffer. She uses them to her advantage as much as she can, even using them as sacrifices when need be. She doesn’t have any personal cults that she leads, but as long as she has people that she can use, she doesn’t really care for it.

Xor'orek:

I swear this man doesn’t even acknowledge his cults

Like, no joke

Its probably because he rarely goes onto his territory. Pryto-fallire isn’t the most heartwarming place to be in anyway, so I can’t blame him for that

The only time he would really go in is if he felt the need to. like there was a serious issue there, but he really just doesn’t enjoy being there

Most of the time, he’s only there if he wants to say something important, like he claimed more of the surrounding area as territory

And when he’s there, he doesn’t present himself in the kindest way either, so he doesn’t really know why he would have any worshippers in that area after a while, but it happens

Still , he doesn’t really care about them. So much to the point that he forgot that they existed

And worshippers anywhere else? He doesn’t care, he just uses them t boost his pride, as he does with any other good thing he can get his hands on.

Overall, typical Nash bs. Nothing to expect out of him in this case.

Vespertine:

Unlike Nash, Kai visits his territory, Remedium, regularly. Which makes sense for him, he’s pretty responsible 

That also might be because he likes to have a ton of control over what he owns, no one will stop him. That would be okay, but its in a borderline obsessive manner; it just happens to be one of his many few flaws

And for the cults- his are actually pretty calm in the sense that they don’t do crazy shit for his sake

Therefore, he likes them, and actually uses them to his advantage

I mean, who can blame him? They’re respectful, they mind their damn business, who wouldn’t use them?

My problem with this is that he would probably take on the savior role as well

Like, having worshippers is one thing, but taking on the savior role in front of them as well is a whole other thing. It’s just seems...off

He does lead them quite well though, even if he doesn’t need to. Same with his churches, he controls them well, and he might have some of the most organized churches out of all three of The Divine ones

Though he doesn’t brag about it, he just gets what he needs to done and then moves on. He’s probably the last person to talk about those things, he just doesn’t find interest in talking about them.

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Hotspot | Pt.2 (Sheepish)

Genre: Smut 

Word Count: 2739

Warning: Sub!Yangyang, (Hard)Dom!Reader, Femdom, Degradation, Profanity, Edging, Overstimulation, Humiliation (Slight exhibitionism), Hair pulling, Light face slapping (where reader is being attentive), Spanking, Gagging (Pet muzzle), Vibrating butt plug, Pet play, Leaving marks, Bondage (Pet anchor), Neglect play, Pegging, Fake cum (YY chokes on it askghkdjs), YY cries lol

A/N: Happy sort of belated birthday to our bratty Yangyang! I hope this feeds the painstaking lack of sub!Yangyang smut on this app! Fellow doms (esp if you are a hard one) enjoy!

╔══════════════╗

  “Now what?” Yangyang grins upon locking the door to your usual playroom, yet despite his cheeky attitude, you can see how his expressions begin to falter as he sees the full-fledged equipment on display on the bed.

  "What? Use your smart ass brain to think yourself, brat." You hiss. "You know what's coming, strip."

  "Why should I?" Yangyang pouts.

  "Don't make me force you. You're smart enough to know that you shouldn't test my patience, hmm?" You coldly demand as you hand him the garments he’s going to wear during the play. “Remember the spankings you owe me?” You tease his chin with the paddle that you know which intimidates him so much as he gulps with somehow anticipation and fear while busy sliding clothes off.

  “O-o-of course.” Yangyang stutters, “But why this?” He motions at the white mesh undershirt you’re handing him, which is decorated with a few white fabric flowers that slightly resemble splotches of wool on it.

  “Aren’t you Mistress’ Slutty Little Lamb?” You smirk knowingly, while helping him slide the mesh over his head. “You need to be well-prepped for the play later that is going to make you hot and bothered like the hotspot you already are…” 

  “Ugghhh.” Yangyang facepalms at the thought of the embarrassing SSID you just made him change and all the humiliation he had just endured. “No way you’re making me feel like that when you’re being this heartlessly cruel on me-”

  “Oh really?” You cock your eyebrow as you’re palming his crotch, making the smart-mouthed boy gasp in response. “Already visibly hard just putting this fabric on, I find it hard to believe that you don’t like what’s coming next.”

  You then insert the white furry tail plug inside him after some profuse lubing, before commanding him to get on his knees, securing the white choker and chain on him and giving it a firm tug.

  “Now you’d better sit and behave like a sheepish little lamb you should be or otherwise there’d be more consequences-”

  “Consequences of what? More spankings? Is that the only type of punishment you can only think of?” Yangyang’s eyes gleams with defiance while he sneers. “Why would you think I would let you boss me around just because now you have me dressed in this stupid attire?”

  You shake your head in disappointment, “I thought I could go easier on you this time, brat. “ You hiss while giving a firm tug from the roots of the boy’s hair. “Guess the humiliation play on the SSID wasn’t enough, huh?”

  “So what exactly is the consequence, huh, O Mistress?” Yangyang still retorts with a smirk despite his wincing from your pull. “Bet you could never come up with a better one other than a spanking- hngghh!”

  Yangyang’s riposte is cut short by a slap across his face, with your other hand cradling the other side of his cheek as a secure, exactly like you two had agreed on. “Now you’ve wasted your chance of winning my gentleness.” You purr menancingly into the boy’s ear while still pulling on the chain. “You want to be a sharp-tongued brat? Go ahead and be one then even with this on.”

  You reach for the pet muzzle and white leather handcuffs hidden under the sheets on the bed, after taking a mental note to thank yourself for hiding it beforehand to win over that bratty boy, you immediately secure them around his snout and wrists, rendering him into a whiny struggling mess, glaring up at you.

  “Well?” You grin as you pull hard on the chain, forcing the boy to crawl forward in a pathetically restrained manner. “Are you satisfied with this little punishment now? My cocky little brat?”

  You then command him to follow your lead, to the silver wall anchor designated for this session and make a quick effort securing the chain to it, before dishing out another pair of handcuffs, cuffing both Yangyang’s hands to his ankles, and looking back to his indignant stare.

  “Aww no use glaring at me like that, you untamed little brat.” You smirk knowingly. Just then a notification popped up on your phone, it’s from your staff team groupchat, and your supervisor has tagged you in it, in order to ask you about the details of upcoming projects of new shootings.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” You simper while waving your phone at Yangyang. “Somehow I need to answer something important, and you’d better wait up-” A jolt goes through Yangyang’s body as he lets out a weak whimper and crumbles back on his knees. “Because I conveniently forgot to remind you, that this fucking plug fucking vibrates.” You smirk while turning the vibrations to the lowest settings via your phone app to tease the boy, before hopping on the bed far enough that the boy can never reach, and going back to your phone to make discussions with your supervisor.

  In just a few minutes, Yangyang is soon trapped in a haze of unfulfilled lust, the vibrator doing vicious tricks to his sweetest spot, yet he can’t fuss with his voice and words as usual to win your attention and make you do something about it. All he can do now is to fuck his dick against the soft mattress-covered side of the bed, his head hanging on the edge of it to stare at your focused form, eyes filled with frustration.

  But you soon noticed his misbehavior with the continuous rocking of the bed. “Stop it, you perverted little brat.” You come down from the bed to make a few more ties of the chain on the anchor to make him unable to reach the bed, obviously annoyed. “You are making me unable to focus on my job.” You icily state as you switch up the vibrator to the medium settings, making the boy arch his back and lower his head, with his cock twitching vulnerably, in response. “Dare to get yourself off without my permission earns more fucked-out rounds for you, understand, you fucking little bratty lamb?”

  You try hard to focus on responding to your supervisor’s demanding questions in time and with ease without the little snorts and pathetic noises Yangyang makes beside you to have any effect on your functioning rationality. Just when waiting for the response from the groupchat, you see the sinful sight of Yangyang fidgeting and pacing on the floor, giving you the most pleading and vulnerable look he’s ever gave you, the look so meek and cute which would’ve granted him sooner release if he’d always been this obedient. Internally giving yourself a gleeful smile of triumph, you originally decide to have your way with the suffering boy underneath. But then another message from your fellow colleague, who is also one of your best friends in the work field, happens to leap onto your screen. most likely complaining about the disparity of distribution of workload, and somehow this gives you another devilish idea to torture the smart-mouthed boy now pitifully leaking and moaning beside you.

  “Want some release, huh naughty boy?” You smirk down at him, as Yangyang fervently yet shakily nods. “If you want to cum, you’d better keep your voice down so you don’t embarrass yourself, brat.” You hiss before turning to voice call your colleague via the messaging app, making Yangyang’s body jump with warning.

  Streams of complaints soon begin to flow from the other side of your phone as you pretend to be fully attentive, yet your hand is drawing circles on the tip of Yangyang’s dripping length viciously slow, as the boy can do nothing but furrow his brows, indulging in the feeling but also refraining hard to not make any form of noise.

  Just when you and your colleague are too centered on picking out the wrongdoings of your supervisor, you can tell from the expressions of your boy that he’s close to his release, so you suddenly slip your hand away from Yangyang’s throbbing cock, making the boy whimper out loud of loss in response. Mortified by the sound he makes, he intends to back away, yet you just scoot even closer to him, simpering at his mishap.

  And of course, that sound didn’t go unnoticed by your friend, as she inquires about the whatabouts of it, while you just leisurely replies it’s just a loud grunt someone makes whist chit-chattering outside your window as if your other hand isn’t stained with your boyfriend’s pre-cum right now.

  The adding humiliation is making Yangyang blushing, sweating and radiating with heat of arousal, yet his inability to speak, move or even whine out is a plus-one to the exhilaration of the whole thing. Just when he thinks he’s going to combust due to the opprobrium, thankfully your friend decides to hang up and leave the playtime for the two of you.

  “Isn’t that fun?” You knowingly grin as you’re pumping his length teasingly slow. "You finally get to pay for trying to fluster me in public so many times?" You mockingly inquire as you lean closer to him. “Say, do you truly want to cum?” 

  The boy pitifully nods again but is soon held back by you grasping on his shoulder and a motion of shush. “Okay okay I get it, but you would’ve looked much more beautiful cumming whilst getting fucked like an animal and punished like a bad little boy…now bend over” You devilishly grin as you reach for the paddle and take out the plug, making the boy whine out at the sense of loss, as you press down on his back, rendering him into an ass-up position.

  “Since you can’t count with your snout secured like that…how about you count out every spank with the movements of your butt? Hmm? Isn’t that a unique kind of punishment, you bratty little lamb?” You sneer as you’re tapping the paddle on his ass, hand still pressing hard down on his back. “Looks like I am able to conjure up with other forms of punishment aside from spanking judging from what you just endured huh? Now count until 40.”

  You then land a loud snap on his rear, as Yangyang, now desperate to end the ordeal, can do nothing but swivel his ass in a vertical movement, as if writing the number 1. “What a good little lamb...” You compliment as you land another smack on him, as your boyfriend soon writes the number 2 with his rear in response, while your hand comes down to soothe his rear that starts to reddishly glow, and plays with his cock from time to time.

  Spank after spank is Yangyang getting tearier and more humiliated, the sense of sting and restraints overwhelming him as you can’t help but kiss away the trickles of salty liquid. Finally reaching the fortieth spank, without much protest from your boyfriend, surprisingly, you decide to give him some physical pleasure he deserves.

  “Finally remorseful for talking back and being a nuisance, huh?” You inquire coquettishly while combing your fingers through his hair to comfort him down, at least a little. “Now, shall I fuck and pleasure your every possible orifice like an insatiable little lamb you are now hmm?”

  You quickly equip yourself with your squirting strap-on before releasing the muzzle off Yangyang’s face, just to immediately slam the dildo into his mouth. “Slick my cock that I am going to fuck you with with that filthy mouth of yours.” You gleefully command. “I’m gonna cleanse that brattiness out of my precious little lamb until he’s sorry and there’s no trace of it…” You smirk in delight as you resume fucking his face.

  Tears threaten to stream down Yangyang’s face again as you are roughing his mouth up while grabbing his head close to you, whilst attentively looking for any signs of distress or the safety gesture Yangyang would use if it’s going too much. After making sure there’s no warning signs from the boy, you decide to press onto the balls on the dildo to release some of the fake cum you had loaded in it beforehand, making the boy messily cough out in response as his mouth is filled with the lewd edible white liquid.

  “Such a filthy yet beautiful sight to see…” You praise the boy as you give him gentle headpats as he’s recovering from the choke. “Now, should I get to fuck the horny ass of my cute little lamb, hmm?”

  Not waiting for your boy to respond, you immediately grab your dark red lipstick with you, putting a generous shade of it on, holding it for later purposes as you begin thrusting into him after some necessary lubing again. Soon slick skin slapping sounds and Yangyang’s moans echo in the room, as you start bending down and kissing him on his sweetest sensitive spots, leaving red marks behind, as if claiming your precious boy yours.

  “Look at you, moaning and melting beneath my thrusts like this, you are truly a slutty little lamb aren’t you?”

  “No-ahh!” Yangyang’s retort is cut short by a harsh slap on his ass again.

  “No? Then I’m afraid this hard thing wouldn’t be granted any release too soon…” You mock disappointment in your voice.

  “Hannhh no… please I’m your little slut okay...your...hahhh,,,your little slutty lamb...mmmphh…” 

  “That’s my precious little lamb…” You compliment again as you toy with the hem of the mesh a couple of times, just to pool it at his shoulders to reveal his bare torso, and then you uncap your dark red lipstick, writing “Mistress’ Slutty Little Lamb” on his body, before leaning down to plant a kiss on his shoulder again and stroking his cock, while resuming pounding into him hard.

  You notice Yangyang is nearing his climax when his breathing accelerates into a ragged pattern. “Beg, my pretty little lamb, beg. Why is my smart-mouthed brat lost of words now?” 

  “Please, Mistress, make me cum...pleeaasseee…”

  “Good boy…” You coo as you fervently give him a few generous pumps, allowing hot spurts of white shoots ejaculating out of his cock. But while Yangyang thinks he’s escaped the ordeal, he doesn’t realize what you still have in store of him until he finds that your hand is still vehemently pumping his cock.

  Pain soon invades his body as his attempts to struggle away from your firm grip are proved futile. “I thought you said you want me to make you cum, isn’t it, my cute little lamb?” You chortle out ruthlessly.

  “Nonononono not like this…” Yangyang stammers out.

  “So you promise you would never talk back to me anymore?”

  “Y-yes for God’s sake!”   “You promise you would never ever try to make lame sexual jokes and attempt to fluster me in public?”

  “Yes p-please stop…” Yangyang practically wails out as he feels his next orgasm mixed with pain is nearing him.

  “You sure you would be my good little slutty pet lamb and only for me to use and play with?”

  “Y-yesss anything! P-pleeasseee!” Yangyang sobs as his whole body quivers at the overwhelming pleasure and affliction, as you finally grant him the second release that shudders through his whole body.

  “Finally, our sharp-tongued brat has learned his lesson, hasn’t he? Hmm? My sweetie boy…” You coo as you give gentle rubs on his head as Yangyang gradually comes down from his high, his breathing dropping back to normal again.

  “Why is my Mistress this cruel…” Yangyang meekly sobs while he leans into your chest, basking into the warmth of it.

  “Yet you love it,” You retort. “and plus you’re being the defiant one first here I’m-”

  “Shhh we’ve already spent most of our time having heated arguments, why should we ruin this perfect afterglow moment with those stupid fights?” Yangyang grins while still nuzzling your chest, making you feel absolutely fulfilled. “Save the bickering for later lol.”

  “Instant recovery, huh?” You can’t help but remark as you savor the moments of bliss where Yangyang is finally being a meek obedient boy nestled on your chest. As you are undoing his restraints, Yangyang asks, “What did you write on my back?”

  “Of course, your first SSID I made you change.” 

  “Ugghh you bossy...nevermind save that for later.” Yangyang bites back his riposte as he cuddles up close to you on the bed.

  You smile while embracing your now cutesy little lamb, glad that there’s finally a moment of peace and truce between you two. 

╚══════════════╝ 

Tagging: @wildernessuntothemselves​ because she’s Yangyang biased lmao

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Social Bunny

Hello!!! That’s so sweet of you to say and I most certainly CAN write up some mafia Tamaki for you! Funnily enough, last night while I was laying in bed, I kind of came up with a few scenario ideas for the days where I’ve got nothing in particular to write...and a mafia tamaki one just happened to be on there! Which means I had something fun to start off with, so, I hope you enjoy~

Also, absolutely loving the manners there, such a sweet anon!!! It made me really happy to see that you like my writing and even happier to get a request! (I don’t actually get a whole lot of them...?)

🥃 AO3 🥃

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

 “Bunny, come here”

 .

 You smiled at Tamaki as you walked into his office, closing the door behind you before making your way towards the mafia boss that you had fallen in love with; his eyes roaming your body without shame.

 “Mirio said that you were asking for me?” Tamaki stood up as you spoke, reaching out to pull you in close against his chest with his hands settling on your hips; refusing to let you put space between the two of you.

 “I wanted to talk to you, I’ve noticed that you’re getting along well with everyone” His voice was quiet as he began to trail kisses along your neck, making you shudder in anticipation; it was always impossible for you to tell if Tamaki was going to fuck you senseless or have a sweet moment with you.

 “Mm, you told me to…remember?” You leaned your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck before letting out a squeal when he spun you around to face his desk; pressing himself up against you from behind with his hands moving up to your chest. His fingers teasing your sensitive nipples leisurely.

 “I did, but I didn’t count on how much I would hate seeing you getting so close to other men” Tamaki pressed his lips to the spot behind your ear as he spoke, nudging you forwards until you stumbled into the desk; the only thing keeping you upright being his hands.

 “T-Tamaki, you’re looking into it too much is all…you know I’m only interested in you” You barely got the words out of your mouth before you found yourself pressed down against his desk, his hands guiding yours to the edge of the desk; a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 “Oh, I know that bunny…but my subordinates don’t, which is exactly why I’m going to fuck you like this and make you scream my name for everyone to hear” His words made you swallow loudly, peeking back at him with your face burning from the mere suggestion of such a thing. Though, you couldn’t say that you hated the idea of it, if anything you wanted him to treat you like that.

 It was hard for you not to love his rougher side. Sweet Tamaki was at home, but when he was at work, in this office; he was almost like a completely different person.

 “Now, unless you have any complaints…?” He trailed off quietly, giving you plenty of opportunity to deny him of the carnal desires that he wished to partake in; however, you merely shook your head, wiggling your butt back against him and making him groan out a quiet curse.

 .

 “Then hold on tight bunny.”

 .

 You shivered as Tamaki moved to push your dress up, quiet sounds of disapproval escaping him once it was revealed that you had decided against panties for your visit today; initially, you had been hoping to surprise him with some office fun. Now, it seemed like it was going to be a little more than you could handle.

 “Bunny” Tamaki paused, his hand slapping against your bare arse firmly while your body jolted from the contact, a cry of surprise falling from your lips.

 “We’re going to have a nice, long talk about this later on. Understand?” You nodded your head in agreement as his hand rubbed slow, gentle circles on the still-stinging flesh; soothing the pain that he had caused, though you had been the one to stir his possessiveness.

 “Good girl” He praised your willingness with a tender voice, shuffling behind you as he dropped his pants down to his ankles; freeing his now aching cock. Just the sight of you in such a way got him going, Tamaki had had you in his office too many times for his thoughts to be anything less than sinful when involving you and he had no regrets regarding such results.

 “Do you feel that bunny? How much I want you?” His words made you bite your bottom lip as he guided the tip of his dick to your dripping folds, making no comments about how you were already desperate for his touch when he had barely done a thing to you. Something you were entirely thankful for.

 “Y-Yes…” You pressed your forehead against the table as you spoke, knowing that if you didn’t respond to him somehow that he would find a way to punish you for it, whether that meant spanking, orgasm denial or otherwise. You didn’t particularly want to find out here, you’d much prefer to be at home for such activities.

 “And tell me, do you want it? Would you take my desire for you and scream my name for everyone to hear?” Your mouth fell open at his words, prompting you to look back at him with surprise written all over your features; the sight making him smile softly, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

 “Well?” You nodded your head slowly in response to his prompting, turning your head away when you felt him press against you more; teasing you for whatever reason he found appropriate.

 You moaned out quietly when he began to push into you, taking his time as he filled you with his throbbing cock, groaning at the way your body squeezed down around him; practically inviting him to lose himself within you.

 “You feel so good wrapped around me bunny” He leaned down to trail kisses along your neck, his words sending a shiver down your spine as they always seemed to. You could remember in the beginning, when Tamaki was so shy around you, scared to touch you in any way that might offend you; it was almost laughable when you considered how he acted now.

 “Tamaki…I thought you were gonna make me scream your name?” You moaned faintly while he rocked his hips, a low chuckle slipping past his lips; his hand going to your hair, his fingers tangling themselves into the soft locks. Yanking your head back so that he had better access to your neck, ignoring the way you winced beneath him.

 “I am bunny, I am…but you felt so good, I had to savour it. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it” He pressed his lips to your ear, his breath hot and his words far too appealing. Distracting you just long enough to allow him to completely remove himself from you before burying himself inside of you once again; this time with more force, rocking your entire body into the desk, putting all his weight behind the thrust.

 .

 “Don’t be so eager for me to break you.”

 .

 You cried out in pleasure as he continued to thrust his hips, squeezing your eyes shut while holding onto the table for dear life; bracing yourself for the roughness that you found yourself craving lately.

 “Don’t make it so enjoyable if you don’t want me to be eager!” You moaned out the words almost breathlessly while he chuckled above you, planting tender kisses on your skin; in complete opposition from the otherwise rough treatment that he gave you.

 Tamaki didn’t bother replying, instead, moving his hands down to your thighs, grabbing them firmly and using his hold on you to put even more strength behind his thrusts, bouncing you against his table until you were crying out his name over and over again. You knew it wasn’t as loud as Tamaki wanted, but then again, you also knew that he wasn’t anywhere near done just yet.

 “I want you to remember this, every time you speak to my men. Do you hear me bunny? Every time you smile, every time you laugh at whatever it is they’re saying, I want you to remember me fucking you like this!” Tamaki groaned low against your ear, his thrusts growing more erratic as he lost his focus, enjoying the feel of you wrapped around him rather than the whole point of his actions.

 “I-I will! I’ll remember…!” You whined out in pleasure loudly, pushing your hips back against his thrusts as best you could, choking out his name when you felt his dick drag over your sweet spot; reducing you to a whimpering mess almost immediately.

 “I know you will bunny, because I’m going to make sure of it” He slapped your thigh firmly as he spoke, groaning each time he buried himself inside of you; his cock throbbing as your body squeezed down on him, desperate for what he had to give.

 The moment his hand moved between your thighs, fingers ghosting over your sensitive clit, was the moment his name fell from your lips in a broken, choked out whimper of pleasure; the unexpected touch enough to push you over the edge of caring about who heard. It was inevitable for you to give in to his desires when he was so determined, but you could usually hold out until your orgasm.

 “That’s it bunny, you sound so perfect like that” Tamaki muttered out the praise into your ear, pinching your clit as he buried himself inside of you, purposely grinding his hips up until you whimpered out a desperate plea for him to keep moving his hips. The only thing you could think of now, was how to keep the pleasure going, dignity didn’t matter, neither did shame.

 Your desperate noises had Tamaki cursing, the sounds more than enough to push him closer to his release when paired up with the way your body squeezed his aching cock; he could feel his release growing closer than he cared for. Tamaki knew that it would only be a matter of moments before he was filling you with his seed and breeding you like you always seemed to enjoy.

 “Tama…Tama please…!” You whined out his name breathlessly, turning your head towards him and staring into his eyes pleadingly, whimpering when he moved his fingers faster; dragging your orgasm closer until you were screaming out his name at the top of your lungs with a searing, white-hot pleasure racing through your body.

 You trembled beneath him as he continued to thrust his hips, his fingers torturing you with their relentless ministrations. Giving you no rest despite how you needed it, especially given that he knew that he was going to have you many more times before you were allowed to leave his office.

 “Shh, relax bunny…let me take care of you” Tamaki stole your lips in a heated kiss, finally moving his fingers once he had decided that you had had enough; though his thrusts grew more frantic as your body pushed him over the edge.

 Tamaki cursed as he pulled his head away from your own, allowing you to catch your breath while his hips bucked uncontrollably, hot spurts of his cum filling you; your name on the tip of his tongue.

 .

 “Every time…every time, I underestimate how good you feel bunny…too bad it’s so addictive, I’m going to need you a few more times now to settle my craving.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

wrath. | sss | kth

seven sins series. Kinky smut themed around a deadly sin.

pairing(s): taehyung x reader | kink: dominance

warnings: idol!BTS; PWP; dom/sub; consent (?); Taehyung’s POV

--

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Kim Taehyung?”

She shoved him with such force that he stumbled into his apartment, rolling his eyes. Her voice was a little slurred from the alcohol and she barreled at him with her fists as he calmly closed his door and locked it. He wasn’t that drunk and, compared to his hands, she had tiny fists that did absolutely no damage.

“I almost had a chance, almost! Why did you butt in?” she wailed, still smacking him as he calmly kicked off his loafers and tossed his keys on the console table.

“It’s not my fault that Jimin was giving me the signs to save him,” Taehyung drawled, trying to shove his childhood friend away from him.

“Signs? What signs?”

“I could see it in his eyes.”

It was the wrong answer. She roared and punched him over and over, missing more often than not, stumbling as he shuffled away. It was starting to piss him off. She went on and on about how she almost had a chance with Jimin this time. Taehyung could remember the way Jimin admired her tight high-waisted black jeans, the way Jimin’s eyes lingered on the low-cut neckline of her nude satin crop top, so tight that it made her breasts bulge. He had made up some excuse about her being too drunk and that he needed to save her dignity.

He hated the way she threw herself at Jimin and how Jimin never seemed to get the fucking hint. Either both of them were idiots or Jimin was just trying to be polite by not fucking his childhood friend. And he better not, because Taehyung would rip his head off for even thinking about it.

“Are you even listening to me?”

He hated the way she never seemed to understand that she was his friend first; that she was his best friend even now that he was popular and traveling the world doing what he loved; that she was what he wanted; and, even just for one second, she could just pull her head out of Jimin’s ass and look somewhere else, anywhere else, maybe she would realize it.

He grabbed her wrist suddenly, glaring at her. She tried jerking her hand away, cheeks flushed from cocktails, pout puffed as she glared back.

“Stop it.”

She huffed and clicked her tongue. “I hate you, Taehyung.”

His grip on her wrist tightened. “You hate me? I saved you from making a fool of yourself!” It came out harsher than he intended, but at this point he didn’t care.

“Who cares? If I’m a fool and Jimin likes me, then I’ll take it,” she snapped back.

“Who cares?” he echoed, his voice dropping several octaves over. He voice was already deep, but it was becoming feral in his rage. Before she knew it, he was backing her up against the wall, pinning her wrists against it. He leaned down, breathing hard. It was only then that her eyes went wide, lips parting slightly as she looked up at him.

“Tae–Taehyung?” Her voice was unsteady, but in a different way now.

“Park Jimin this and Park Jimin that,” he grunted, slamming her wrists up against the wall, making her whimper at the force. “How beautiful and handsome you think he is. How you would like Jimin to fuck you, force you on your knees and spank you, call you dirty names – and I listened to all of this!” Maybe it was his annoyance or the alcohol but the words started tumbling out of his mouth, sharp and lashing, making her cower with every word. “You tortured me every time I told you we were meeting up with the guys, asking if Jimin would be there, putting on your sexiest clothes, asking me if it was good enough. And I told you and I watched you pine over him like a dog in heat, but guess what?” He brought his face close to hers, her lips quivering, pupils blown wide.

“I’ll never let him have you. Not even if I have to drag you away from him each time. Not even if you say you hate me,” he snarled. “You’re mine.”

He didn’t miss her breath hitching at his words. It didn’t matter that she was sputtering at him, saying, “W-what are you saying, Tae?”

“I’m saying I’m going to give you what you want and maybe then you’ll forget about Park Jimin for once,” he growled, letting go of her wrists suddenly and tearing the stupid thin straps off the useless top that barely covered her. Her breasts spilled out – of course, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Just two nude flower-shaped pasties to cover her nipples.

“Tae!”

“What?” he snapped. He looked up, expecting to see rage, annoyance, distaste. Any of those things would have made him stop. What he didn’t expect was her eyes glazed over with lust, hands planted against the wall to make her breasts jut out even more.

“You… you ripped it…”

He smirked. He leaned in close, breathing in her scent, lips against her ear.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

Without warning, he reached up and ripped the pasties off, throwing them across the living room. She moaned, knees almost buckling. He pinched her nipples hard, voice low and dangerous.

“You’re a bad, bad girl, so now it’s time for your punishment.”

She whined, crying out as he twisted her nipples with his fingers before letting them go. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the sofa.

“Take off your clothes. Now.”

She scrambled to wiggle out of her pants, kicking off her heels as she slipped her jeans over her ankles. He wasted no time, grabbing her by the hair again and pressing her face into the pillows, ass up in the air, the tiny strip of her thong barely covered her pink, swollen pussy lips. The scent of her sex hit him like a truck, intoxicating him and making him heady with excitement. He could see her pussy was slick and glistening with her juices.

“Such a dirty slut,” he drawled, running his large hands over her ass and squeezing it. She mewled in response, clutching the pillows as he kneaded her flesh. He reached for the thin strip of fabric and tugged up on it, watching it sink into the swollen lips, earning a wanton moan. “Ready to be a fucktoy for Taehyung? Or are you still thinking about Jimin, whore?”

She shook her head quickly, desperately. “N-no, Tae, only you…”

He clicked his tongue. “Really?” He tugged harder, making her squeal at the harshness of his actions. He began to slap her ass with his free hand. She whined and bucked with each slap, hips shuddering with need. He didn’t bother to take off his rings and faint bruises began to appear, along with her pussy leaking down her thighs.

“T-Tae… p-please…” She was sobbing now. He stopped, grinding the tiny strap of lace between her ass cheeks.

“I think I better make sure you remember you’re my little cockslut.”

He used two hands and ripped the thong apart, scraps falling onto the sofa. It took him seconds to drag her body along the sofa so her ass was facing him. Maybe he would let Jimin see her now, marked and bruised by his rings, sobbing and pleading for his cock, shoving her ass up and wiggling it in attempt to entice him. He barely registered her words, reaching into his pocket for the condom before unbuckling his pants and slapping his belt against her ass, tearing a guttural moan from her lips. How many times had he rehearsed this in his head? Maybe not quite like this, but it still felt like heaven.

“Let’s see if you can take me well,” he drawled.

Condom on and he entered her with force, grimacing at how tight she was, forcing himself in. She was doing it on purpose – he could feel her clench and tighten around him, squeezing her legs together to heighten the sensation. Hot, tight, pulsating. Fuck, it felt so fucking good, seeing her crawling at his cushions and moaning his name.

“I won’t stop unless I cum, so prepare your slutty pussy.”

Whether he meant it or not didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she believed him and she wanted it, shoving her hips back into him so that his balls smacked against her thighs. He could tell how deep he was, stretching her out and almost hitting her cervix. He grabbed her hips and slammed back into her. The sounds coming from her mouth were obscene, her moans reverberating off his walls mixing with the wet squelch of his repeated drilling into her pussy, her abused ass stinging every time his pelvis smacked against it.

And it felt good, so fucking good that he never wanted to stop. So good to make her shut up and moan his name, so good to hear her pleading for more, to fuck her harder. So good to hear her sobbing about how big and thick his cock was. So good to hear her whining about how full he made her feel. So good to fuck her pussy as hard as he wanted, fueled by his rage and frustration.

He dragged his nails down her skin and watched her back arch as she wailed, gushing cum down his thighs, squeezing him so hard that he came right then and there. A wicked grunt and he spilled himself into the condom, cock twitching inside her. His chest was heaving with effort, sweating because he was still mostly dressed. He stayed inside her for a good ten seconds before he pulled out.

“On your back.”

She flipped around weakly; legs splayed open. He tugged the condom off, breathing hard. He watched her face as he held it up to her and turned it around, spilling sticky, white, viscous liquid all over her chest and stomach.

“Now you know who you belong to.”

--

masterpost

[dangermousie]

Continuing with my reread

And got to the point where they visit the Rufeng Sect.

But before I get to the chapters-specific stuff, I wanted to talk about something that discussion between @moransumbrella and @momoliee (about SQT and RJ) made me think about.

And it’s that in 2ha, one of the big narrative points is that it is understandable to want to survive/get revenge/protect yourself or others but no goal however understandable or noble in the abstract can justify systematically hurting innocents and when you cross that line and keep crossing it, you become a monster. Maybe a tragic one or understandable one, but there is none of that “oh you poor thing, go on” attitude.

Is there any doubt that Shimei is fully justified in wanting to save his people from the horrors they are subjected to in the cultivation world? No, not at all. But leaving aside the irony of his plan wrecking both the one person we’ve seen who never ever went along with that behavior (CWN) and the person who IS part of those people and a special one at that (Moran), those two also being some of the few people who treated him so well, nobody in their right mind would think he’s justified to literally destroy a Universe he is in and then start working on the Universe of the main story. He is a monster pure and simple and nothing can justify what he does. Or, on a smaller scale take someone like Rong Jiu (mainly 0.5), Song QT, Nangong Xu or even that family in Butterfly Town. They all have reasons for doing the horrible things they do - desperation to get out of awful life (RJ, SQT), rightly wanting vengeance for having his place stolen (NX), or even understandable desire to get ahead as a family (Butterfly Town folks.) Shimei’s sister - same - she does the monstrous things she does because she loves her brother. Meatbun gets that very few people genuinely see themselves as villains - even as mad, as gone, as compelled, as broken TXJ was, he still clung to his “I was justified to torture CWN 0.5 because he killed Shimei″ like a life raft. Even a person who was not in any way in possession of free will in his actions or even his thoughts, still felt he needed to operate on a “just world” theory.

BUT the thing is, it makes their actions justified in their own heads but Meatbun never makes the mistake of letting us forget that even monsters with valid reasons are monsters. There is no justification in the world that can make what Shimei did OK, there is no justification in the world that can make anything any of the bad actors do to innocents OK. It relates to huge things (Hua Binan literally destroying the Universe) and little ones (Rong Jiu in the Underworld betraying Moran and CWN.) Sympathy and justice are two separate concepts.

But the other thing I love is nothing is static either. Meatbun doesn’t shie from calling a monster a monster but redemption is possible no matter what. We see this with Moran (until the twist, of course, that no redemption is necessary (sort of - about this more word vomit below) because he’s an even bigger victim than CWN), we see it with Shimei 2.0 - I will never warm up to Shimei for emotional reasons but there is zero question that he is working hard on his redemption at the end and is earning it. But the thing is - you have to possess moral consciousness to want to redeem yourself. That is what makes you salvageable. Moran possesses it, Shimei 2.0 possesses it (and I love the concept that no matter how high your sins, you CAN be redeemed. But that redemption doesn’t necessarily involve personal happiness or your victims forgiving you, it is basically hard work only for internal reward of the possibility of peace.) A lot of other monsters, large and small, do not. 

OK, the thing about whether Moran needs redemption that I just mentioned. The quick and easy answer is “of course not.” He was probably the biggest victim of them all and none of the monstrous things he did were his fault or within his control. But I love that the answer is actually more complicated because it rings emotionally true. Moran finding out the truth near the end is wonderful and will allow him not to perpetually drown in guilt, but just as TXJ sliver doesn’t really fade into the rest of his souls, I don’t think the guilt will go away fully, not for a while. Because, aside from the concept of utter lack of volition combined with utter lack of knowledge that you actually lacked volition and deludedly thought this was all your ideas, being a whole other different trauma, the fact remains that Moran remembers feeling rage/hatred/bitter satisfaction in murder and rape and torture and burning the world. He remembers all the awful things he’s done to his most loved ones. And he clearly gloms onto “the flower brings out all your darkest/worst/most insane desires and makes them conscious thoughts” aspect of the curse - he tells CWN that the flower made real things he sometimes thought of and so it only worked because it was him and not someone better like CWN - and some of it is trying to comfort CWN and make him feel less guilty that Moran took on the flower so CWN’s won’t be forced to to - but some of it is his genuine belief. And that is what is so insidious about that curse - it twists normal stray thoughts and healthy interests into murder and insanity (compare TXJ’s obsession with CWN because Moran had such strong positive feelings about CWN before the spell, to his utter lack interest in e.g., Nangong Liu who he let run off when he took Rufeng because as long as the man didn’t fight him, he couldn’t care less what he did, because flower couldn’t turn indifference into something negative.) So I do think in addition to knowing on intellectual level about not being responsible not being equal to getting it on emotional level, Moran clearly feels responsibility because it was his emotions only out of whack and insanely perverted that the flower based its compulsions on. Moran became such a monster precisely because he has such strong loves and such strong emotions in general - strong love and desire to protect became strong hate and endless appetite for torture. The flower changes the nature of emotion and thoughts, not the level of intensity. If Shimei actually found someone who was genuinely utterly indifferent to most things (not CWN who feels so intensely; he conceals himself so much precisely because he feels SO much, cares SO much, he’d have been as much of a monster as Moran if he was the flower recepient), I am not sure he’d have been as successful. If the most someone is capable of is mild “eh,” it’s hard to turn it into a drive for world-destruction. So in a way, Taxian Jun was such a monster and so successful because Moran was so good and had such drive. Anyway, as most of my thoughts, this has gone into a random direction but the thing is, whether Moran is guilty of what TXJ did, the answer is not but not for Moran, and that’s one of the reasons I love him.

To get back to the chapters I am at, I hate Nangong Liu, one of the most despicable characters out there. Even TXJ, as messed up as he was, still hated not people who fought him fair and square or other honest villains, but people who’d kiss up only to stab you in the back, doing anything to get ahead and that is what head of Rufeng is. (There is a sentence to that extent when Moran 2.0 meets Nangong Liu - that who he hated most as TXJ was not Xue Meng or MHX but people like Nangong Liu. That loathing, like his obsession with CWN, is one of the few things consistent across any version of Moran and shows how much his “gratitude for good, straightforward is good” is embedded in him that even the flower couldn’t shove it out of him.) CWN’s comment that the reason Rufeng Sect is so rich because they charge God knows how much as opposed to Siseng Peak which charges very little and sometimes nothing, sums up the difference between the Upper and Lower cultivation realms. Rufeng is the wealthiest and most powerful and most respected but morally they are far beneath Siseng (there is a reason CWN is very gentle when he tells this to Xue ZY - CWN has about the truest and most moral heart in the series; there is a reason he stayed at Siseng, an “inferior” sect, even though everyone would love to have him. It’s because Xue ZY is righteous and he sees the wealth of Rufeng and wishes he could use it to give villages protection instead of decorating like Rufeng, because he’s that type of person.)

One of the biggest injustices to me is that Nangong Liu survives the book but Meatbun’s world is often like that. Being good does not mean a good ending, being bad does not mean proper punishment. The main OTP will make it through despite hell she puts them through, but for secondaries even those bets are off.

OK, this is getting War and Peace level long so I am going to stop.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 7)

Title: An Arena to Watch Your Sins Fight (will they ever be free?)

Summary:  Purpled wakes up, and they have a discussion on where he'd been. (he hates his past) Ranboo looks around and realizes that this family is the best thing to happen to its members. (he needs it, too) Puffy snitches on how much Sam actually cares. (she does, as well) (and sam? sam finally snaps. but they don't have to know about that)

Part 1 Part 8 Masterlist

_______

Purpled woke up a day later. It was unexpected, mainly because he just… woke up out of nowhere. It had been a pretty slow day until that point, then he stumbled out of the room that he’d been put in, eyes glossy and breath panicked. 

Sam stood up immediately. “Whoa, hey, buddy. Are you okay? What are you doing up?”

Purpled had just looked up at him, no recognition in his eyes. “What..? Where am I?”

“You’re at my base, in the Dream SMP. Do you remember who I am?” Sam asked, putting an arm around him and guiding him to the couch. He removed his arm quickly though, at the flinch from Purpled.

“Yeah… you’re Sam, but… how did I get away?” 

“Get away from what?” Ranboo asked, just entering the room. “Fundy and I were hanging out in the woods and you just collapsed in front of us.”

Purpled appeared to get agitated. “I… Why’d they let me go?”

“Who?” Sam said softly. There was no response. “Hey, just start at the beginning if you want to, okay? Where were you… let’s start with what you remember, okay? What’s the first thing you remember?”

He gulped. “I remember Tommy and Tubbo leaving to… to go fight Dream. They were going to say goodbye to everyone, but I didn’t show up.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Purp, that was years ago.”

The younger man nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I left after that because I didn’t want to be there… I didn’t want to be there when Dream brought their bodies back.” Ranboo had left, and brought back the rest of the people who lived there. Purpled looked shocked to see Tommy and Tubbo. “How did you survive?”

Tommy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I can tell you later. What’s going on?”

“He’s telling us where he’s been.” Sam said, and motioned for Purpled to continue. “Go ahead.”

“I… I went to the Bedwars server to try and clear my mind a bit, get some practice. Take a break from this SMP, and such, but after one of the games…” He started shaking a bit, and Sam wanted to hug him, but held back. If the other physical contact was any indication, Purpled wouldn't appreciate it.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

He still did. The memories were coming back, faster now. He almost wished they didn’t, because they weren’t pleasant. “After one of the games, a group of men approached me.”

____________

Purpled sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. It had been a tough game, and he was tired. He just wanted to go home, wherever that was. Did he even have one? He wandered over to collect his prize, though he’d probably end up giving it to someone else since he didn’t really need it. It’d just get stolen from one of his chests in the SMP, anyway.

After, he stumbled towards the lobby with the intent of joining another game. He probably should’ve stopped a while ago. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop what happened next. 

Three men went up to him while he caught his breath on a bench. One of them had a long beard, and he was the one who spoke. “You look pretty tired, ay? I saw you fighting though, you look like a pro for someone so young.”

Purpled straightened his posture in an effort to look somewhat lively. “I’m not that tired. Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

One of the others, the one with a sick moustache, held out a water bottle. “Here, you want a drink?”

His mind was already foggy enough that he didn’t remember all of the warnings that he’d been told since he was young of the group that kidnapped Bedwars players to make them compete in illegal fighter rings. Purpled took the water, drinking it. Almost immediately, his legs started to give out. What kind of a potion was the water laced with?

“Whoa there, let me help you.”

Purpled didn’t know which one said that. He feebly tried hitting at them, but he could barely move. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. His nerves were going haywire, someone was taking his arm, he had to move-” 

He blacked out.

He woke up in a cell, and as his mind slowly came back to him, the panic set in. He knew the answers to all his questions, but he didn’t like it. It seemed like ages, but at some point, someone finally came to see him.

“Purpled, ay?” It was the one with the beard. He chuckled at Purpled’s silence. “Not much of a talker, huh? Well, I hope you’re more of a fighter in the arena than you were when we grabbed you, otherwise I might have to get a new source for information.”

“What?” 

The beard-man smiled. “Ah, he speaks! Well, I’ve got a source that told me you were a formidable competitor, and wouldn’t be all that missed, so having a fighter from the famous Dream SMP will bring in the big bucks. I’m taking chances with you, none of the others wanted to nab a kid. Somethin’ about morals.”

Purpled scowled. “What happens if I refuse to fight, or if someone comes to find me?”

“I don’t think that you’ll find either of those an issue. We’re well secluded, and if you don’t fight, well,” The beard-man held a sword to Purpled’s throat. “Suddenly it won’t be much of my issue, anyway, will it?”

Purpled swallowed thickly and fell silent. He hoped someone would look for him, maybe. 

They didn’t. 

Each competition was it’s own little hell. He tried to fight the first time he was brought out of the cell, but they learned that it was just easier to drug him. He’d wake up in a base, in an arena surrounded by an audience, and when the shrill alarm went off, the fighting began. The first few times, Purpled would refuse to fight, but he learned that the pain that came afterward wasn’t worth it. He grew used to looking away from his opponents. He hated seeing the light dim, knowing what they would go through for failing to win.

Better them than him, though. In this world, it was kill or be tortured. He was never given the luxury of death to dull the pain. 

He quickly rose in the ranks, challenging the best fighters in this underground arena. As he improved, so did the security. He learned to only use enough of his abilities to win. He’d let them underestimate him, because if no one was coming to rescue him, he’d have to do it himself. 

The first time he tried to escape was during a competition. About half-way through, when security was the weakest, he barged through the doors and overpowered the guards. He got pretty far, but he was tackled and hauled back to his cell in a muzzle and a straitjacket. He wasn’t given food for a while. He wasn’t even visited. 

The next time he saw someone, it was when they grabbed him to fight again. They had kept him constrained, so they didn’t bother with the drugs, which he liked. He felt alive again. 

He tried to get away again, and though he was stronger, the security was better. He managed to exit the stadium, only to be shot down. He was dragged back to his cell by his hair, which was greasy and dirty by now. They’d taken the arrow out of his leg, but they weren’t too gentle about it and didn’t bother bandaging it. He spent that night shivering, hands still bound, wondering if this was where he died, in a puddle of his own blood.

A medic came the next morning. They couldn’t have their biggest source of money dead, but they could let him suffer. 

He won the next competition, and the one after that, and the one after that. He didn’t hesitate anymore. It wasn’t worth it. He was hurt for any pausing of his blade, and it was just easier to win. 

Purpled became the crowd favorite. The noise of their cheers hurt his ears, and soon, he was broken. He came out of his cell willingly, he wasn’t tied up for movement, he just walked with his guards to the arena. He barely remembered life before the fighting ring.

It was only after he blacked out during a competition, woke up surrounded by bodies and liked it, that he realized he needed to leave. He would lose himself if he stayed any longer, and he was all he had left.

He started putting a plan together, but it took time for him to finally escape. He started blacking out more, waking up victorious. He started smiling at the bloodstains on his clothes. He hated himself for it. He knew his opponents would just respawn, but the punishment they faced for losing would be worse than death. 

Everything started to be worse than death. Maybe even life. 

Purpled took a different approach to escape the third time. It was years after he’d been taken. He doubted anyone outside even knew his name anymore. He waited until he’d won the competition to start going through the doors. They only sent one guard, because they thought he was compliant. 

He walked slowly, as if defeated. When he saw the big double doors, he sprinted. He had a head start, and the guard was taken by surprise. He took out a knife that he’d bought and hidden, and when he heard the footsteps behind him as he approached the portal to leave the arena, he held it out.

He spoke for the first time in what felt like forever. His voice was gravelly. “I know how much I am to you.” He flipped the blade to rest against his side. A stab there wouldn’t be fatal, but anything else would. They wouldn’t be able to hurt him if he stabbed himself, because they would risk him respawning alone, while everyone was here. “No one get closer, or I’ll do it.”

Purpled stepped into the portal. He set his destination as the Dream SMP. Maybe he’d be safe there. 

He made it pretty far until he heard someone chasing him. He didn’t hesitate, and plunged the blade into his side. It hurt like a bitch, but he needed to escape. Adrenaline flooded his body as the blood flowed out, and he heard a voice yell at everyone to stop running after him. If he died and respawned, they’d need people back in the Bedwars server to catch him. 

Purpled ran into the nearest forest he could find, hoping to lose the people still chasing him. He must’ve succeeded, and then he was just running blindly with no destination. 

His side was bleeding still, and his head was starting to become fuzzy again. Distantly, he heard voices, but they sounded soft. Not harsh. He took his chances and stumbled towards them. 

He emerged from the trees, and could feel himself fall. The voices sounded miles away, but he heard his name. The darkness called to him, and this time, he had hope that it would be better when he woke up.

_____________

“And, yeah. Then I woke up here.” Purpled laughed nervously. 

Sam exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe no one noticed how long you’d been gone. I’m so sorry, I should’ve realized.”

Purpled shrugged. “Not really your fault.”

It was silent for a moment, and Ranboo couldn’t help but sympathize with Purpled. He’d heard stories of the illegal fighting, but he never thought he’d know someone affected by it. He was horrified. 

As he looked around the room, Ranboo realized that so was everyone else. He was a very good noticer, he liked to think. He saw that everyone in the room was messed up in their own ways, but their dysfunctional family was a place for them to find comfort, recovery, and peace.

He saw it in Fundy, in the way that he always made himself smaller when someone raised their voice, and how he never liked to be left alone in the house, but he loved to curl up at the foot of one of the beds in the bedroom that everyone shared despite there being plenty of others. 

He saw it in Tommy and Tubbo and the way their eyes would get glassy while they dreamed and show reflections of battlefields and violence. He saw every time Tubbo woke up with a gasp from dreams colored red, white, and blue, and reached for Tommy. Tubbo would begin preening Tommy’s wings for comfort, slow and meticulously. Tommy always let his family touch his wings, but anyone else would get snarled at. When Tommy woke up to Tubbo petting his feathers, he always would wrap one around the smaller boy and snuggle back into the blankets. Their breathing was softer after that, when they clung to the other as if they would disappear. 

He saw it in Purpled, especially, in the next few days. Purpled always froze when someone touched him, and insisted on getting his own food, but he fit into the family dynamic well. He liked movie nights especially, particularly stupid comedies that made him laugh. Purpled let down his guard in the walls of Sam’s house, and didn’t feel the need to constantly be armed. He wasn’t scared of blacking out or liking the smell of blood.

He even saw it in himself. He wasn’t worried about being abandoned again, he wasn’t scared of his powers. He might forget to speak English in the mornings every now and then, he might wake up crying and need help to stop, but he let himself fall into the embrace of his family when he needed the help. There was always someone to help me.

He maybe saw it in Sam the most. No one was completely sure of Sam’s past, but the way he hissed every time someone startled him, or tried to hide how he coughed up gunpowder occasionally probably had something to do with it. Sam was so focused on building, whether it be with materials or a safe family, that there had to be something in his past with destruction. No one asked, though. They just leaned against his shoulder whenever he wedged himself on the couch between them.

Ranboo’s mind wandered further. He hadn’t seen Puffy or Niki in a few days, and though he wasn’t concerned, he missed them. 

“I think I’m going to see Puffy this afternoon. Does anyone want to come with me?” He asked, breaking the lengthy silence that had settled over the room. They were all just lounging, but Sam was looking out the window towards the woods. He was letting out a soft sizzling noise, and walked towards the door.

“I don’t think so, Ran. You wanna walk with me a little bit, though?” Sam asked, and Ranboo got up to follow.

“What you looking at, big man?” Ranboo asked, trying to ignore how Tommy was rubbing off on him.

“Oh, just thought I saw something that I want to double check, and you’re going this way anyway.”

They reached the edge of the forest, and Sam held out a hand to make Ranboo stop walking. He looked around a little, then lunged towards one of the bushes. He came out with one hand grasped around the collar of a man with a large moustache. 

“So you were the one I heard the other day. Are you one of the people who were hunting Purpled?” Sam hissed, and Ranboo knew his throat was burning with the feeling of gunpowder. 

The man flinched at the harshness of Sam’s voice. “I was just looking for him. He’s been staying with us for a while and he ran off, we were hoping you knew where he went?”

Sam crouched and squinted. “How much of an idiot do you think I am?” Ranboo was surprised at the coldness in Sam’s voice. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here for how much you hurt him. You’re lucky I don’t just slit your throat for coming here and threatening the safety of my family.”

The man cowered. “He doesn’t have any family. I don’t even know who you are.”

Sam laughed, but it wasn’t the kind one that Ranboo knew. This chuckle was harsh and unforgiving. “You wouldn’t have a reason to. I tend to stay in the shadows until something needs to be done. I suggest you leave now, and I suggest you don’t come back.”

Ranboo liked to think that he knew what Sam was planning on. So, once Sam had stood back up and let the man go, he asked, “How long of a head start are you giving him?”

Sam laughed and started leaving. “Not long.”

(Sam was gone for awhile. They got the news a few days later that someone had gotten into one of the fighting rings and dismantled the entire operation. No one was sure how, nor who it was. One was dead: the man with the long beard. There were small holes from explosions, and the air smelled of gunpowder. No one would come for Purpled after that.)

Ranboo shrugged and continued on his journey, eventually finding himself on the steps of Puffy and Niki’s house. He knocked on the door, and Niki opened it with a smile and pulled him into a hug. “Hey, Boo! It’s been a hot minute, where’ve you been?” 

“Just hanging out! Tubbo, Fundy, and Purpled have joined us, so the bedroom is getting a little crowded.”

Puffy walked over as Ranboo was ushered into the house. “Didn’t he spend an entire day renovating his base to have bedrooms for all of you guys though? I remember he showed me blueprints and they all had names on them.”

Ranboo paused. “You mean… He planned on housing us?”

Puffy shrugged. “Yeah, it was either him or me. We figured all you guys deserve a break, some peace, after all you’ve been through.”

Ranboo hummed. “Interesting.”

“Just don’t bring it up to him, though.” Niki piped up. “He’ll never admit to it. Too humble. Tea?”

“Yes, please, dear!” Puffy said, and Ranboo said he’d have some too. It was incredibly domestic, just sitting at the dining room table, sipping tea, and talking about everything. Niki mentioned how she was working on a garden, and Puffy said she was going to make an apiary, so Ranboo sat and listened to them chatting. 

He told them about the new additions to the family, and they said they’d have to bake cookies for them or something. They ended up making brownies that afternoon, and Ranboo helped. By the time they finished, it was dark, so the two women convinced Ranboo to stay the night and they’d go with him to deliver the brownies in the morning.

When the group of three did go back to Sam’s house, they stayed for most of the day. Why would they leave, when the couch was so comfy, and the laughs were plenty, and Tommy’s wings needed preening?