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youryanderedaddy · 4 years

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Bewitched

I say fuck writing schedule m’rite hahaHa...

Dynamic: Yan!witch hunter x witch darling

Summary: You get captured by the village’s witch hunter but he might just let you live if you prove to be useful.

tw: nsfw, non-con, threats, mention of religous themes (God, Devil, etc), kindapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, slight violence, degradation, vulgar language

You could hear something. It was different from the sweet songs of the birds early in the morning or the restless howl of the wolves just before the clock hit midnight. And the smell was different too. There were no daisies, roses, magnolia or herbs to cleanse the air from the nasty smell of humans. Your clothes reeked of someone unknown, someone mortal and cruel, foolish down to their heart. Your hands were tightly bound, your shoulders pushed back in a way it was hard to feel the energy running in your own veins. There was a leather blindfold over your eyes, dulling your senses until you felt like nothing more than an animal trapped in a cage. As soon as despair managed to find its way into your lungs he entered the room and you knew instantly it had been him who had captured you.

"You are awake." The man noted quietly as his heavy yet careful steps got louder, closer. Soon his hand was resting on your thigh, drawing small pictures, initials, anything to throw you off balance and keep your mind closed and your inner vision too blurry to focus more on killing him and less on the shame his touch brought. "The village paid me to kill you. We know you are a filthy creature of the night." He spoke trough his teeth in a eery, off-putting way. You could feel the cold sharp end of his silver dagger poking at your exposed collarbone, near to your neck. One inch away from a fatal wound, one move away from taking your life forever.

"Go on then." You taunted the hunter while licking your scarlet lips, your heartbeat still violent with no sign of slowing down any time soon. "Kill me." You whispered despite the fear tearing at your insides like a wild beast. The blade suddenly pressed harder against your skin, enough to make you still frozen but lacking the actual strength to pierce. The human knelt down next to you, never dropping the deadly weapon from its sacred spot on your vulnerable neck. "You are a witch. The Devil's own spawn and blood. I just can't let you live among us." The man uttered quickly like a curse yet made no attempt to move the edge deeper. And you wanted to tell him everything about the sisterhood and the way all of you lived in peace and quiet until the villagers started killing off your friends for existing. The way you loved nature and harmony and despised violence, but of course the human would never listen to a dirty sorceress, a witch. So you just stayed there motionless on the ground, reconciled with your terrifying fate and its twisted ways.

Meanwhile the hunter let the dagger penetrate into the warm flesh, drawing a few drops of fresh blood, and it dripped onto the floor like a brook of suffering. But the man was hesitating - his palms were sweaty and his eyes were hazy, he was unsure. After a few painful moments of indecisiveness he finally pulled the blade away and threw it in the dark corner of the room. The following silence filled the space with tension so heavy it could suffocate until the villager opened his mouth. "You have seduced me with this unholy body of yours." Adam said sternly and clenched his fists. "That's why I can't kill you." His voice was low and dangerous yet desperate and defeated. "I saw you back then in the forest." He started off as his hand traveled to your cheek and stroked it gently. "You were dancing around and picking flowers. You looked so pure and beautiful - like an angel. I couldn't stop watching you." The hunter confessed quietly and you felt his cold lips on yours. The kiss was bitter, soaked with the humiliation of his advances and the knowledge he had you at his mercy. "Damn your evil magic for making me feel this way". The man dragged his teeth through your lower lip and bit down in anger, moaning into the forced act of fake intimacy.

He pushed you down aggressively, the ropes digging into your bruised flesh even more now. You couldn't move your limbs at all and you felt too tired to argue or yell at the man. It was clearer than a day that he was obsessed with you but it was far from your doing. If you had known just how easily humans became fascinated by beauty and youth you would have thought twice before using their forest as a home. And as much as you wanted to curse the cruel man forever your heart just couldn't let you harm someone with a beating heart. You were stuck and he was touching you everywhere with a palm so warm it felt like wax on your sensitive skin. Your long black dress was ripped to shreds and all the red beads from your necklace were rolling on the floor as a mockery to your title. You were stripped down to your bones and left with nowhere to hide from the monster trying to break you. The energy in your body was gray and filthy, too weak to do more than upset you even further.

"I am going to make you mine tonight. I will use you like the dirty pagan slut you are." Adam cupped your breasts together in a swift move and you shivered at the contact of flesh. His words were painful and didn't help ease the fact that it was the first time someone had touched you in such a private place. In no time your eyes had filled with tears you were too proud to spill but too scared to hold back. "Aww, are you crying, wench? Go on, cry some more for me. When I'm done with you no one will want you. You'll be ruined for anyone other than me." He cooed at you and took hold of your naked legs, spreading them apart which caused you to break down in a pitiful mess of tears, snot and hushed breathes. "You should be greatful I am letting you live. If you weren't so beautiful I would have killed you in an instance." The hunter kept going, his voice low and deprived, his hot fingers brushing against your belly, the disgusting feeling in your guts making your chest tighten, caging your bleeding heart inside. "You are lucky I like taming wild animals." He continued harshly, a crazy look in his enlarged pupils so blue and clear, yet so intimidating and suffocating to its victims.

You inhaled sharply in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves and begged the villager with any strength left in your trembling body. "Please stop, please, for the love of the universe, just don't do it, just let me go and you shall never see me again." In reply the man simply smirked maliciously and licked his lips as he positioned himself over your open, exposed folds. His hands were rough and grabby, roaming over your frame and groping, digging, pinching every little curve. You prayed to both nature and the Gods above someone would come and take you away from this nightmare but to no avail. "No one will save you, witch. If they find you, you're dead, so you better be nice and quiet like a corpse while I take you." Adam spat out with poison and without any warning thrust his massive manhood into your tight entrance. The pain was sharp and piercing, white and hot. This time you started crying out loud in despair finally having realized you were truly alone. The humans wanted nothing more than to see you burn and now you were getting punished for being different.

The man didn't spare you any moment of suffering. He would place wet kisses all over your body, bite at the soft flesh until red and scratch any time he felt the need to hear your miserable whines. "Look at the way I'm splitting you open on my cock, you are so damn tight. I wouldn't have guessed you were a virgin if you weren't bleeding like a little bitch." Adam chuckled darkly and hit your cervix over and over again until the pain turned into something else you were too ashamed to name. "If you ever try to tempt someone else with this sinful body of yours I'll fucking kill you." The man cursed under his breath and brought two finger over your clit, stroking it gently and drawing cicles. You threw your head back at the sudden jolt of pleasure and closed your eyes, trying to distance your mind from what was being forcefully done to your anatomy.

"You feel so good around my cock, so pretty with your tits bouncing every time I pound into you. I love you so much." The hunter suddenly uttered as he slowed down the pace, driving into you with careful thrusts before going back to roughly shoving his length into your sensitive hole. "Say it back." He ordered lowly and smashed his lips on yours pushing his wet tongue all the way in, his hands messaging your breasts and toying with the stiff little nipples on top. You gained the courage to shake your head no so the villager wrapped his fist around your slender neck, giving it a light squeeze as a warning. You had no choice but to mumble a soft "I love you." when your survival instincts took over your dignity. Your sweet broken voice was enough to send the man over the edge and he came violently in your tight channel while whsipering all sorts of terrible, filthy words into your ear.

You thought the torture was finally over but your hopes were quickly shattered when Adam pressed his fingers over your overestimulated bud and flicked it around, your mind finding it hard to copperhead the intense pleasure after the pain. "Cum for me, wench." He commanded you harshly and kept playing with your love button until your pussy clamped down and you experienced your first orgasm at the hands of a filthy, egotistical human.

The male stroked your hair gently but still didn't move to undo the ropes keeping you restrained on the hard floor. "I've always wanted you." The hunter admitted in the next moment. You wondered whether you wanted him to shut up or keep rambling to distract you from the shame and humiliation. Your eyes were red and puffy from the sobbing and your head pulsated with dull pain. "I'll never let them catch you." Adam reassured you quietly as he drew small circles on your arm with his knuckles. "I will keep you forever, my love. It doesn't matter that you have succumbed to the Devil because from now own you are only going to serve me." He kissed your neck softly.

"I'll become your God."

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere x you #yandere witch hunter #witch darling

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duskholland · 4 years

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throwing a fucking fit on mob!toms dick bc you’re needy for attention and he’s making u cockwarm him and he lets you until you tire yourself out and he grabs you by the face and says now that you’re done being a brat it’s daddy’s turn and he fucking plows you oh to be a puddle for this man

+ if he makes reader go back to cockwarming when he’s done and she’s just a fucked out subby mess for him sitting on his lap full of his cum and all marked up

18+ nsfw content. extended warnings beneath the cut! I took a couple creative liberties with this one but the core ideas are still the same... I can only say... yikes.

extended warnings: this is genuinely just atrocious who gave me the right to create it. your mind, anon, truly. anyways. d/s dynamics, mean!dom!tom, one instance of mild spanking, cockwarming, unprotected mxf sex (please wrap before you tap; condoms act as barriers against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy). he’s really mean lol.

---

Maybe you brought it on yourself, but it’s not like Tom’s completely blameless, either.

He’s been strutting around the house all day, dress shirt pushed up to his elbows, Rolex glinting off his wrist. Following behind him has been an air of confidence so pronounced it’s made you wet, subconsciously clenching your thighs together every time you find yourself in the same room as your boyfriend. The infuriating thing about Tom is that he knows he looks good - he knows just how much you like it when he wears his curls loosely like that, and how much you enjoy it when he kisses your cheek and lingers by your face long enough for his cologne to sweep over you.

He knows his effect on you, and he’s abused it all day. Teasing you, with small touches on your waist, your back. Kissing you briefly, barely letting his lips linger against yours for more than a second. Using that deep, husky voice of his. You’d tired of it quickly, growing impatient and frisky, which has led you here, to your current predicament.

You’re sitting in Tom’s lap, straddling his thighs. The two of you are alone in his office, and when you’d walked in, he’d been preoccupied with contracts and accounts. Now, his focus has shifted.

“Darling,” Tom’s voice is clipped, terse. He’s frustrated with you, that much is obvious, but he doesn’t push you away as you spend time nibbling at his neck, letting your tongue lap over his pale skin. “Y/N.”

You pull back, innocently looking up at him. “Yes, Tom?”

Tom’s eyes are dark, glinting almost black with restrained lust. In one hand is a glistening ballpoint pen, and his other holds your waist. His expression is familiar, features carved with a blend of irritation, intrigue, and arousal.

“I told you I’m busy,” he says, accent pronounced. He gestures to his desk and the stacks of papers. “What don’t you understand about that?”

You run your hands over the front of his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warm torso against your palms.

“But I want you to pay attention to me.” You lean closer and press a wet kiss to the sharp line of Tom’s jaw, inhaling his musky scent and feeling your core clench in response. “I know you want to.”

“Not now.” His voice is firm. “Wait.”

You groan, letting your forehead drop to rest against his shoulder. Tom passes a hand over your back, stroking gently. “But-”

“You know, I don’t think I like your attitude today.”

Biting your lip to hide the successful smile that springs to your lips, you pull away from Tom’s neck to look at him. One of his eyebrows stands higher, quirked as irritation holds fast over the rest of his face. Something has changed in his demeanour, and you know that you have gotten exactly what you want: you’ve riled him up to the point where he’ll touch you.

“What do you mean?” You ask, rolling your hands over his shoulders. “I’m just trying to show you some affection.”

“No, you’re being a bloody brat.”

You raise your eyebrows, letting your tongue draw across your lower lip. Tom’s holding your waist firmer now, and you inch a little nearer, gasping softly as you feel the line of his erect cock pushing up against his trousers.

“Seems as though you like it,” you point out, unhelpfully. With a grin on your face, you grind down against him, enjoying the way Tom groans in response, pleasure flickering out across his face.

“Take off your clothes.”

You swallow, the smile on your face faltering a little as you note the lack of playfulness to his tone. Tom likes being in charge, likes to be the one to call the shots, but usually, he’s warmer with you. You frown as you stand up and start to shed your clothes, wondering if, for the first time, you’ve pushed him a little too far.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask as you kick your panties aside. Tom’s back to looking at his papers, a focused expression on his face. He glances up, eyes briefly flickering out across your naked form, and he licks his lips. His nimble fingers go to his belt, and you enjoy the sound of metal ringing in the air as he undoes it.

“Come and keep my cock warm,” he asks, voice firm. “If you’re going to be a fucking brat, I may as well get something out of it.”

You swallow dryly, walking forward and folding into his lap when Tom opens up his arms. He pulls his length from his trousers, not bothering to fully take them down, and his hands pad over your bare back. He kisses your temple a few times, the warmth of his mouth reminding you that he’s still your boyfriend, he still loves you, and then he pushes your hair away from your face.

“C’mon, then,” he urges, a smirk biting at his pink lips. “Thought you wanted to feel me, hmm?”

You almost whine because he’s being so cruel to you, but both of you know that you love it when he acts like this. So you reach out and take hold of his length, sitting up a little straighter. You guide his flushed tip through your folds, spreading around the wetness that’s been pooled at your entrance all day. You take a moment to press his member against your clit, gasping softly at the arcs of pleasure that roll up your spine in response, but then his grip on your waist tightens, and you return to the task at hand. With a low moan, you slowly sink down onto Tom’s cock, feeling your walls expand as you settle there completely.

“Good girl,” he coos. Tom bottoms out and he runs a hand over your cheek, his touch soft. “Feels so warm for me, angel. So good.” Tom grabs your chin, angling your face up to look at him. His eyes are still stern, but they’re floating with appreciation too. “You’re going to stay still and hold me until you calm down, okay?”

You nod your head, biting wordlessly at your lip. It’s hard to focus with his cock buried in you up to the hilt. Arousal courses through your veins, your cunt feeling hot and wet. Out of instinct, you clench your pelvic floor and Tom grunts. “Sorry,” you mutter, letting your forehead go back to his shoulder. You shy away in his neck, and he kisses your temple again.

Tom returns to his work, and for the first thirty seconds, you manage to stay quiet. But then - then - he reaches for something on his desk, and his cock moves inside you, his tip brushing up against your g-spot, and you find yourself moaning. It just feels so good.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Can’t help it,” you reply, moaning again when Tom moves and a different part of your cunt feels the hard veins of his cock. “I’m trying.”

“Try a bit harder, yeah? Don’t want to string this out any longer than is necessary.”

Whatever papers Tom’s attending to, his examination of them is very thorough. You lose track of how long you sit on his cock, biting your lower lip, eyes prickling with frustrated tears. Every now and again, one of you shifts and you’re reminded of his presence deep inside you, and it just makes the burn worse. It’s the highest form of temptation, to sit there motionless, waiting on Tom’s command, and though you try to comply, you don’t quite manage to.

You end up too fucked-up and restless to stay still. The result of this is you find yourself squirming, shifting around in his lap, clenching your walls around his cock, craving stimulation. You can hear in his exasperated sighs and grunts that Tom doesn’t like it, but it feels too good to quit.

“Right.” Tom throws his pen onto the desk. A moment later, one of his hands is in your hair, and the other goes to your chin. You squeal as he pulls you closer, taken aback by the sudden shift in pace, and Tom stares at you, hard. “I thought doing this would stop you from being a brat, but apparently I was wrong. You just couldn’t stay still, could you?” He runs his fingers over your back, hand grabbing at the curve of your bum. You gasp softly, and Tom chuckles. “Guess I’ll just need to teach you a lesson another way, hmm?”

You open your mouth to reply, only for Tom to lift you up and push you onto his desk. The cool glass burns into your back, and you cry out as he stands up, his cock falling away from your pulsing hole. It feels strange to be without him, your passage nice and acclimated to him, but it isn’t long before Tom’s pushing back into you.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, throwing your head back. Tom sets a punishing pace, pushing your legs to the sides until he’s able to pound into you, immense strength behind his thrusts as he stands by the edge of the table. Your eyes roll back into your head as you adjust to the sudden onslaught of pleasure, coming down over you in waves.

“So bloody warm,” Tom grunts. His face is flushed, eyes greedily taking in every part of your body as he fucks you relentlessly. Sounds of skin against skin fly through the room. “So wet, too, angel.” He runs his fingers roughly over your thighs, slapping one of them and causing you to cry out. “Always take me so well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan. Your hands are in fists at your sides, and you wish he was closer so you could touch him properly. “Feels so good, Tom.”

Tom pounds into you, over and over again, his cock feeling so fucking good inside your tight passage that it isn’t long until you’re moaning loudly, your body shaking with anticipation. But he doesn’t go near your clit, and one look at the dark twinkle in his eyes dissuades you from asking him to. Instead, you bask in the feeling of him releasing his frustrations, moaning loudly every time the tip of his cock brushes up against your g-spot, knowing that this is probably as good as it’s going to get.

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, speaking almost to himself. He’s got a beautiful rosy blush on his cheeks, his eyes wide, and you recognise the stammering movements to his hips all too well. Tom looks up at you, licking his lips as he grins wildly. “Are you going to take me, darling?” He rasps, words falling together. “Going to let me fill you up with my cum?”

You nod, whining loudly. You can feel your climax, swirling around in the pit of your stomach, but it’s hanging out of reach. As you watch Tom’s face screw into an expression of bliss and feel his cock pulse inside you, you can’t help but pout, knowing this is all he’s going to give you, dreading the second he stops moving because you’re clinging desperately to everything he’s giving you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tom groans. His cum seeps into you, and you shudder at the sensation, clenching around his length as if to prolong the experience. He’s so handsome when he climaxes - face pinched into an expression of tight enjoyment, his grip on your thighs hard and unrelenting. As he starts to slow his thrusts, you groan, irritation replacing your lust as Tom stills, softening cock still lodged inside you.

“Tom,” you whine, sitting up on your elbows. You look at your boyfriend, a frown on your face. “Let me cum too,” you ask, rolling your lip into a proper pout.

He raises an eyebrow, breathless. “Are you joking?” Your hand twitches in the direction of your clit and Tom reaches out to snatch your wrist, pulling it to his mouth. He hums as he kisses the palm of your hand, eyes flickering back to the stacks of his papers. “I don’t trust that I can leave you alone and not have you stuff your fingers in your cunt,” he mutters, processing his thoughts aloud, “But I’m not done yet…”

With a mischievous grin on his face, Tom steps away from the desk, holding up a hand to tell you to stay still as he grabs a few tissues and cleans up his cock. He tucks it back into his trousers and sits down in his desk chair, beckoning you forward with a hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask, puzzled. You wince as you stand up, an enjoyable ache running through your tired body as you move towards him. You glance down and see his cum dripping down beneath your thighs, and moan at the arousing sight.

Tom holds up two fingers and inclines his head back at his thighs. You gasp, understanding immediately what he wants.

“C’mon,” he urges. He pats his thigh with one hand and picks up the office phone with the other. “You’re going to stay here whilst I make some calls.” You slowly straddle his lap again and groan when Tom drags two fingers through your weeping slit, teasing your clit for a moment before sliding them into your tender cunt. You’re so wet, your hole a mess of your arousal and his milky cum, and you find yourself growing tearful as you feel him pump his fingers a few times.

“Please,” you beg, burying your face in his neck. You feel more desperate than you’ve ever felt in your life - your cunt clenching around Tom’s fingers. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as he curls his digits and nudges up against your g-spot, stimulating you torturously slowly.

“Please what?”

Your fingers wrap around the front of Tom’s expensive designer shirt, and your tears soak the material covering his shoulders.

“Give me more.”

Tom tuts, and you feel the vibrations in his chest as he follows it up with a chuckle. A moment later, he kisses your forehead.

“Haven’t you learnt your lesson yet, love?” He coos, voice cold. “I’ll give you whatever I feel like giving you.” Tom pauses, slowly teasing your walls with his fingers. You clench desperately, but it’s not enough - it’s not enough by far. “So you’re going to keep my fingers warm, and you’re going to keep my cum inside your hot little pussy. Maybe after I’m finished my calls, I’ll let you sit on my dick again.” He chuckles. “I might even fuck you.” You whimper, your entire body shaking. “But if you think I’m seriously about to let you cum?” Tom breaks off, laughing. “Think again.”

#2.4k....yeah....this one messed me up #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland blurb #goodnight #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #myblurbs #tomblurbs #anonymous #tom.filth #smut

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vizowrites · 3 years

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“We” vs “Me”| or “Why BlitzStrike Works So Well For Me But Stolitz [as of episode 6].....Doesn’t”

Alright my Loves, so I said that I was going to talk in further detail about my feelings regarding Stolas and the multi-layered portrayal of his relationship with Blitz in the new episode, and today’s the day where that happens!! First of all, though, before I really get into my feelings about things, I want to just make it ABUNDANTLY clear that I’m not trying to sway anyone from one side to the other, or trying to shame anyone for shipping two fictional characters. I’m fully in the boat that you are completely entitled to ship whoever you want, but I also think it’s wise to at least be able to recognize the faults and flaws in a pairing--and especially to be able to recognize them in the context of an IRL relationship. In this analysis in particular, I’m specifically focusing on these two relationships within the realm of the Helluva Boss universe [......Hell] and within the specific context of their characters as they’ve been portrayed in the show thus far. And, my biggest disclaimer of all: I’m doing this for no other reason than I felt like putting my jumbled thoughts together into a cohesive post so that they don’t have to stay bouncing and buzzing around in my head. Please keep that in mind that this is just pure personal opinion and interpretation before anyone comes at me with torches and pitchforks. <3 <3

SO WITH THAT LONG ASS DISCLAIMER OUT OF THE WAY

Let’s finally get to the good stuff. And the not so good stuff. :D

So I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone who follows me here that I’m a huge BlitzStrike fan. What I think fewer people know is that when I first entered the fandom a few months ago, I actually was on board the Stolitz train like so many others that I’ve met here in the fandom. Naturally Stolitz was the first major pairing I was introduced to, and I did find both the characters of Blitz and Stolas incredibly interesting and compelling in their own rights AND saw the potential in how they could really come to grow into one hell of a relationshp over time. I was honestly really excited to see it happen, too.

And then I watched Episode 5 [still my favorite episode, btw] for the first time and had this sudden question hit me like a truck that even now is still relentlessly burning in the back of my mind because I still haven’t found a legitimate answer for it: Why in the FUCK wasn’t Blitz falling head-over-heels in attraction to Striker throughout this fucking episode??

And I don’t mean that in a “They’re so hot and I ship them now why didn’t they get together?? DX DX” kind of way--I mean that in the genuinely perplexed “I don’t understand based on what has been presented to me thus far about Blitz as a character and the storyline overall why he’s reacting so nonchalantly to this whole thing”. To Note: This is me wondering this from the context of what’s in the show itself, not from any extra fan materials like the Instas or Twitter or just straight up knowing that the most likely answer is that there are people on the creative team that ship Stolitz really hard and realistically wouldn’t have probably written Blitz as being attracted to Striker because that would just be--to quote Jack Sparrow--blowing holes in their own ship. No, this is me disregarding ALL of that and trying to rationalize this with myself from the perspective of a fan whose entire knowledge of the show and its characters comes exclusively from what’s in the episodes themselves. .....And that’s where I just can’t find my answer, except for the Stolitz positive “He’s not attracted to Striker because he’s in love with Stolas” answer. Which really doesn’t even feel like a satisfying answer, because the entire vibe I’ve gotten from Stolitz in the show has just felt.....strangely.....off. Like, the framework is there and the elements are there, but I’d felt as though they had so far to go still that it would be entire SEASONS before they got there.

And THEN the new episode [Episode 6] came out and I’d heard a handful of fans going crazy because the show was finally addressing Stolitz in full, and I thought to myself, “Well, maybe if the show really is going to go with saying that the reason Blitz wasn’t interested in Striker is because he’s in love with Stolas.....sure. I’m curious to see how they finally establish it in an episode, especially since there’s only two more episodes left in the entire first season.” And then I watched the episode. And then it hit me why Stolitz just does not do a damn thing for me but BlitzStrike does despite the fact that we’ve had 4/6 episodes [5/7 if you count the Pilot] of Stolitz but only 1/6 [1/7] of potential--not even canonical--BlitzStrike:

When Striker talks about Blitz, or interacts with Blitz, he always talks about them as a “we”. As a team. A partnership. OR he just straight up puts the entire focus on Blitz and his accomplishments and keeps himself out of it entirely.

When Stolas talks about Blitz, he always talks about them within the context of “me”--of himself--of what Blitz does or should do for him. Even here in episode 6, in the most “selfless” instance we’ve seen yet, where he does ask about Blitz’s safety first BEFORE going right back into how Blitz’s actions affect him and what Blitz should be doing in response for him. Stolas’s focus is always automatically set to himself--and even when it comes to the people he supposedly loves the most.

To explain what I mean here, let me give some examples directly from the show itself, starting with the Stolas side of things:

Episode 1

Blitz, in the middle of trying to hide so much that he actually clamps both of his hands over his mouth just to muffle the sound of his own breathing, knowing damn well that this psychotic bitch who already shot him once won’t hesitate to do it again if she finds him.....gets a call from Stolas. Stolas, who we clearly see from his leisurely hang out time in his bubble bath, is literally watching this happen and is fully aware that calling Blitz right then was potentially putting him in danger. But what does he say when he gets Blitz on the phone? He offers--not help--but Blitz the use of his book in exchange for monthly sex. Stolas literally uses Blitz’s peril as leverage here--consciously or not, though given the fact that he knows the situation at hand, I’d find it very hard to argue that he didn’t do this on purpose--just to get him to agree to be his bootycall until further notice.

Stolas not only doesn’t lift a finger to help Blitz once in all of this--even at the moment where he and Millie are about to be shot in the face--but instead continues to stay on the phone talking about all of the things he wants for their upcoming future rendezvous. He already got exactly what he wanted out of this and he still just continues to go for more for himself.

Episode 2

.....There are honestly so many fucked up things that happen here as far as Stolas and his relationship with Blitz goes but honestly the thing I want to draw the MOST attention to is actually Stolas’s storyline with his daughter, Octavia. I know it’s a little left field, but bear with me--this is actually something I want to use as comparison for Stolas’s relationship to Blitz as we go along:

When Stolas first decides that he’s going to take his daughter to Loo Loo Land, he does so while completey setting aside the fact that she doesn’t want to go. He just offers her assurances that it’s going to be so much fun because he remembers that she loved it so much when she was a little girl--effectively putting his memory above her wishes even as she’s sitting right there and telling him that she doesn’t enjoy the idea of going now.

Stolas doesn’t actually notice just how uncomfortable he’s making Octavia throuhought their entire trip by spending his time sexually harassing paying more attention to Blitz than he is trying to cheer her up. This tells me that Stolas--though I do believe he genuinely wanted to do something to make her happy--still wasn’t able to completely overcome his own self-centered tendencies at first even when it’s for her. And this is the person that Stolas loves more than anyone or anything else in the entire world. It still wasn’t enough.

It’s only when Octavia runs off and completely breaks down that Stolas finally gets the much needed slap-to-the-face of reality to understand just what he’s putting his daughter through--and, for the first time in the entire show, he actually puts someone else’s needs and well being above himself. It’s the one solid honest display of love that we see from Stolas in the entire show--and it’s how we as the audience come to learn that that’s how Stolas shows that he loves someone: When he puts their needs above his own with no strings attached or expectations of something in return. A true selfless act just because he loves them. **Keep in mind the parallel of Stolas carrying Octavia out of Loo Loo Land at the end, and how it compares to Stolas carrying Blitz out of D.H.O.R.K.S headquarters.

Episode 5

The. Fucking. Cigarette. I had no idea that something so small and quick would be able to infuriate me as much as it did, but the fact that Blitz used the post sex cigarette to free Stolas from his wrist bondage but then Stolas turned around and put the cigarette out on Blitz’s horn which is literally a part of Blitz’s body just.....honestly it sums up exactly what I’m trying to get across in this entire huge ass post: Stolas only ever thinks of himself first and anything pertaining to anyone else just doesn’t cross his mind at all unless you blatantly put it there in front of his face. And the fact that he’s still at this point with Blitz all the way here in Episode 5 is not.....promising for their relationship.

The fact that Stolas literally cannot stop himself from calling Blitz “Blitzy” or talking to him in such a condescending way no matter how frustrated Blitz gets and how many times he asks him to stop. I just--how is that supposed to be interpreted as someone talking to a person that they love? There’s no respect or dignity given to Blitz at all on Stolas’s part, and the fact that it seems to be presented as a “Oh teehee it’s just their cute couple thing” is just.....I really, really don’t like that. It also doesn’t match with the Stolas in the very next episode which I quite frankly think is because the creators have been listening to the feedback from fans and were like “We need to SHOW THEM that Stolas actually does speak to Blitz respectfully!!” but that’s just my personal opinion there and, also, it still didn’t happen.

Episode 6

Keeping in mind that THIS is finally the episode where we see Stolas actually save Blitz from danger and demonstrate even the slightest inclination towards his well-being.....I think that honestly makes the next few things here even more fucked up

First and foremost: “WE”. The second after Stolas asks if Blitz is alright and gets the assurance that he is, he roughly grabs his cheek and points out that “If you get in trouble, I get in trouble! WE don’t want that”. The fact that this is the first time that Stolas ever talks about Blitz in the context of “we”--when really what he’s really saying is that him [Stolas] getting in trouble is going to be a bad thing for all of them--is just.....so, so disappointing. At least with this I could hope that perhaps the idea here is that Stolas is genuinely afraid that if he gets in trouble, he won’t be able to protect Blitz from the undoubtedly much worse trouble that he would be in as an imp, but still. The fact that Stolas immediately reverts back to his self-centered perspective so quickly after supposedly being so worried about Blitz’s wellbeing, really makes it seem as though it’s just his own ass that he’s trying to protect. And that.....isn’t exactly what I’d been expecting from “the episode that confirms Stolitz is canon” feedback I’d been hearing.

"Am I going to get ANY thank you for the rescue Bltizy?” This for me was kind of what actually lead to me having this whole epiphany over Stolas’s selfish perspective in the first place. I realized that even here--even when he’s just been the most “romantic” towards Blitz that he’s ever been in any previous episodes up until now [and yes this shift in his character was incredibly jarring for me because of that]--Stolas still goes right back to thinking about what he’s going to get out of this now that he knows Blitz is safe. Let’s take this back to that thing I was saying about Episode 2 and comparing how Stolas rescued Octavia and how he rescues Blitz. Obviously they’re going to be different because it’s Stolas’s daughter vs his hook up BUT just think about where the focus is for Stolas in both of these scenes. With Octavia, Stolas is entirely focused on making things up to her--taking her to do something she wants to do--even if it’s something that he himself doesn’t fully understand or isn’t fully into. That doesn’t matter though, because the entire point is that he’s doing something just for her. It doesn’t have to be about him. But now go back to the scene where Stolas is carrying Blitz out of the room. What does he do? Ask what Blitz is going to do for him. That just takes the idea that this scene was a confirmation of their love and throws it right out the window. Stolas--as we’ve been shown before--would never ask for something in return from someone that he actually loves.

Now let’s take a look at the one and only episode we have of Striker and Blitz interacting together, with an honorary shout out at hallucination!Striker’s appearance in Episode 6:

Episode 5:

Striker knows Blitz’s name.....and he uses it. He’s literally the ONLY other character that we’ve seen so far refer to Blitz as “Blitz” instead of “Blitzo” or “Blitzy” by someone who wasn’t a member of I.M.P.. Aka someone who wasn’t a member of Blitz’s family. He shows Blitz respect at that basest level, and only builds on that from there going forward.

Striker first recognizes Blitz for being “the bold imp that started his own killin’ biz”. Not his hotness, not his skills in the Harvest Moon games because at that point he hasn’t seen them yet.....but for his accomplishment in starting up his own successful business down in Hell. He treats it as an accomplishment. With the kind of respect that comes with acknowledging another person for their accomplishments. Right there, within two seconds of meeting him, Striker demonstrates more respect for Blitz than Stolas has yet to do in the entire show.

The Harvest Moon Festival Games. Now this is something I find fascinating to think about from Striker’s perspective in particular. We as the audience are shown pretty early on that Striker has a strong desire to be the one who comes out on top. He likes the idea of being superior and he openly relishes in the praise and attention he gets for being better than everybody else. ....Except Blitz. When they tie in the games, Striker doesn’t seem bothered with sharing the spotlight with him at all. If anything, he--again--respects just how skilled Blitz is in rightfully earning his place beside him on the stage. That, to me, is HUGE. I’m not going to go so far as to say that Striker necessarily sees them as equals because I think that might be going a bit too far for his ego but he does still fully acknowledge that Blitz is in the same general class as him: that is to say, better than most. Worthy of the same kind of acknowledgement and praise that Striker gets. I literally can’t get over just how big of a thing that is for what we’ve been shown of Striker’s character, and I think it’s unfortunately something that’s incredibly easy to miss or gloss over. :(

And now--for what I personally think is the most significant thing of all--we have: “We”. How many times does Striker suggest during that final scene between them that he really wants Blitz to join forces with him as equals? He never demands that Blitz join up with him, he doesn’t threaten him into joining up with him--Striker barely even hurts Blitz at all during their fight scene compared to how he tried to straight up murder Moxxie--and, most of all, Striker continues to acknowledge that Blitz deserves better than his current arrangement with Stolas. And he’s right. But instead of putting it as “I’M right and this is why you should do this”, he always puts his focus on Blitz himself, or the two of them together as a partnership: “You are so above sucking on a a digusting rich pompous Goetia” | “We could be the most dangerous beings in Hell, Blitz” | “You could partner up with me and klll the unkillable--starting with the one that treats you like a plaything”. It’s just--I honestly can’t believe it’s taken me this long to put together why Striker appeals so much more to me as a romantic interest for Blitz, but really breaking it down episode by episode and comparing the differences in wording between Striker and Stolas’s dialogue when it comes to Blitz is just.....holy shit.

Honorary ShoutOut of Episode 6:

The fact that the only thing hallucination Striker has to say to him is “But you don’t want to do things alone Blitzo!” is really, really interesting to me in the fact that he’s.....not......wrong?? Like, To be fair, Striker, RoboFizz, and Verosika all spill their harsh truths, but the thing is.....Striker’s is markedly different in that his wording really isn’t harsh or aggressive at all the way the other two are. He’s just kinda stating a fact in an overexaggerated way because tripping balls hallucination sequence. It’s very interesting to me that that’s the worst that Blitz can imagine him to say--as well as the fact that halluci!Striker calls him “Blitzo”, which is really weird considering that Striker’s never called him “Blitzo” once in the entire show. Makes me kinda wonder where that came from tbh.

Alright so, in conclusion of this very long and rambly styie post: I want to take things back to where I started by reiterating that this is not me trying to convince anyone that BlitzStrike is “right” and Stolitz is “wrong”, or that you should stop shipping what you’re shipping in the fandom. This was just me honestly getting way more excited than I should’ve been over having my “Eureka!” moment for realizing why this new episode didn’t put me back on the Stolitz train like it did for so many other people--and why, in fact, it actually made me think even more favorably of the idea of Blitz and Striker being together.

Thanks for sticking around with me for this very long read, I hope you found it interesting, and I really really hope that it didn’t piss anyone off or rub too many people the wrong way. Like I said at the beginning, ship who you want to ship!! That’s part of the fun of being in a fandom. I’m just hoping that this might help make it easier to understand at least one perspective on why Stolitz is seen as being so problematic as a ship [as of where they are right now].

Here’s to seeing where things go from here!!

#vizowritesthoughts #BlitzStrike #Stolitz #Helluva Boss #hahahahaha I've been dreading posting this because I know it's going to lead to shit even though it's all just personal opinion :'D #but since I went to the trouble of writing this entire thing up I figure what the hell #might as well post it now #anti Stolitz

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hongism · 4 years

Text

under my skin - khj x jwy 18+

pairing; jung wooyoung x kim hongjoong genre; pwp, smut, 18+ wc; 7.2k summary; wooyoung should never have admitted that he liked hongjoong bossing him around, and he most definitely shouldn't have done it so publicly. aka hongjoong knows how to get under his skin and god damn if he doesn't do it fucking well. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint a/n; hi 😳 so uh this was an impulse writing moment whoopsie but also yeah this is my first mxm work as well as my first mxm smut so yeehaw im going all out on the first one huh :’D as always feedback is appreciated esp since this is something new to me and idek if it did it well 😳

On the list of things Wooyoung knows he definitely should not have done, openly admitting that he is both attracted to Hongjoong and enjoys it when the leader bosses him around on a Christmas live of all things is at the very top.

“He was just sitting on the couch, and I was about to go back to my room then he goes ‘Hey Wooyoung, get my meal ready’. I thought ‘this is the first time someone has treated me like this’. It was — it was attractive.”

Seonghwa’s eyes had flashed with panic the moment the words left Wooyoung’s mouth, clearly picking up on exactly what he meant behind those words. He managed to bite out a strained and awkward laugh that grated against Wooyoung’s ears for far too long. Then, if he hadn’t done enough damage, not even two minutes later was he opening his mouth to spew some further nonsense after staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“In that instance, I was attracted to Hongjoong when he treated me badly.”

Except it was not merely that instance. It was – is – far more than that, and the coy smirk that had stretched over Hongjoong’s lips spilled the truth. That Hongjoong knew his power over Wooyoung well before he even admitted it.

That instance had indeed started it all, but Wooyoung does not know how he had spiraled with such haste and intensity. Sometimes, it isn’t even his fault. His body just reacts to something his hyung has said, and he has to force ugly thoughts to the front of his mind or grab the thing closest to him to conceal the raging boner he’s left with. Wooyoung distinctly remembers the first time it became a serious issue though.

It was during a dance practice, another one of those awfully late nights that had everyone on edge, and Wooyoung was already dizzy with exertion before Hongjoong even opened his mouth. Then Yunho and Mingi decided to start fucking around with the choreography and making funny faces at each other in the mirror. Wooyoung knew he was in for it the moment he saw Hongjoong’s normally soft and gentle features flash with a barely contained rage. Then Hongjoong reeled on the pair, eyes flashing a bit of anger as he told both boys off, before shifting back to face Wooyoung now. The younger had choked on his saliva just from the intense eye contact.

“Go reset the music, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame to think back on it now because he had most definitely squeaked out the most pathetic “yes sir” known to all mankind and scampered over to the computer to do as told. He had to shove the palm of his hand down so hard against his growing erection that it physically hurt, but it got the job done, and that’s all Wooyoung could have hoped for in the heat of the moment. If anyone noticed his dramatic reaction or thought it to be odd, they decided to spare him the embarrassment and did not mention it.

Then came the practice a few weeks later when Hongjoong was working twice as hard as usual to prepare for awards season. Everything had to be squeaky clean for all the performances. That led to Wooyoung being both blessed and cursed by the sight of a certain Kim Hongjoong in an all too tight-fitting black tee with sleeves rolled up over his shoulders and sweat dripping from his chin to the floor.

Now Hongjoong may not be the most muscular or lean among the group, but god, Wooyoung was positively salivating at even the barest glimpse of tantalizing skin under that shirt. It felt wrong and dirty to thirst after his bandmate – his leader – in such a public way. Hongjoong made things ten times worse by shifting to look Wooyoung in the eyes, brow arched dangerously high and a sharp gleam to his eye that had Wooyoung sweating more than he was before.

“Hey Wooyoung, grab me a water.”

Just simple and straight to the point. Not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Wooyoung didn’t need one. He was rushing to follow the order like a good little boy in mere seconds, and the smirk Hongjoong awarded him with nearly made him blackout on the spot. A smart little quirk to one corner of his lips, the other side staying completely still. Hongjoong looked so mean and condescending in that moment, yet Wooyoung ate it right up without even batting a lash. His cock twitched to full attention behind the confines of his grey sweatpants, then he was moving out of the practice room at breakneck speed, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He had slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock with desperate fingers before stumbling towards the sink to splash his face with cold water. In the reflection of the mirror, he could see how red his face had gotten, the red hue deepened to a scarlet that was only accentuated by the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Embarrassing. It was so fucking embarrassing to get off to the idea of Hongjoong bossing him around and being mean to him. Wooyoung had hoped that the water would quell him enough to bring him back to the practice room without being weak enough to jerk off in the company bathroom. Those hopes were dashed when the dastardly image of Hongjoong standing across from him with that cruel smirk floated to mind.

Wooyoung slipped his leaking member out and fucked the tight ring he formed with his hand at record-breaking speed, not stopping until he painted his fingers white with hot cum. And if not for thinking to lock the door, he would have been caught in the act too, because not even ten seconds later was someone knocking and banging at the door.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

Thank fuck it had just been San and not Hongjoong himself. If it were Hongjoong, then Wooyoung is certain that he would have caved and told the man exactly what he was doing without any resistance whatsoever.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just needed to pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He thought that that instance would be the worst of it.

Hongjoong proved him sorely wrong.

In fact, if anything, those instances seemed to increase in frequency. Hongjoong would corner him just to deliver a sharply-spoken order then grin as Wooyoung fervently followed the order without complaint or whining. Wooyoung would be forced to dart off to the nearest bathroom and cum into the palm of his hand to curb the raging horniness in his system. And after he was done, he would pull himself out of the bathroom with his head hung low in shame, not ever noticing the way Hongjoong stood not far off with that same smirk as always painting his pretty lips. If Wooyoung ever whispered a breathless “hyung, please” to himself while jerking off, then he would deny it with his dying breath because that would be too close to admitting how desperately he wants Hongjoong.

Such a stark contrast to how he behaves with Seonghwa, as San noted one day. Sure, Seonghwa would ask him to do things but Seonghwa would ask, accentuating his words with a ‘please’ and making sure to thank Wooyoung afterward. And Wooyoung would always whine no matter what Seonghwa would ask of him. The reason being — well, for two reasons actually. One: Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong, and two: Wooyoung secretly (read very secretly) loves being ordered around like he’s not good for anything else.

The full admission on Vlive must have been the breaking point for both of them though. Hongjoong was trying to hide himself behind his hands as a faux sign of embarrassment, but Wooyoung could clearly see the curling smirk and hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw past those small fingers. It felt almost like Hongjoong could eat him alive on the spot, and Wooyoung would just roll over and let him.

Whatever Wooyoung had expected to happen after that fateful live left him sorely disappointed because Hongjoong did absolutely nothing. Didn’t comment on it, didn’t tease him about it, acted like it didn’t even happen. Even when Seonghwa granted him a sharp slap upside the back of the head and Yeosang muttered something about Wooyoung being into some kinky shit, Hongjoong huffed out a quiet laugh and led the way out of the room.

Was Wooyoung upset? Both yes and no. He saved himself from heaps of humiliation even though he admitted it in such a public manner, but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he was somewhat trying to egg Hongjoong on a little. All these months of teasing and playing only for him to do nothing? This had to be some sort of blue balling, at least that’s what Wooyoung whined into his pillow before Yeosang and Jongho entered the shared room behind him.

“Who’s blue balling who?”

“No one, Yeo! No one! I didn’t say that!”

Wooyoung is tipping closer and closer to his breaking point, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he absolutely snaps. That fact is what finds him hesitating by the back of the couch a few days after the aforementioned Fateful Vlive. Hongjoong sits on the cushions, arm slung casually behind his head as always, and Wooyoung is truly trying his hardest not to drool over the sheer attractiveness the position exudes. It doesn’t help that Hongjoong has been driving Wooyoung up a wall all day with his teasing.

First, it was light touches during breakfast, ghosting fingers over his bare forearm that sent goosebumps all over his body.

“Is something wrong, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong had asked like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“No, no, hyung. Just haven’t fully woken up yet.”

That was a lie but oh well. Wooyoung has lied about worse things in his life.

Then after breakfast, Hongjoong had leveled him with a sharp stare and ordered him to pick up the dishes for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn’t even have time to jerk off in the bathroom afterward because San and Seonghwa dragged him off to play some game before he could make a hasty escape to the bathroom.

“You called for me, hyung?” Wooyoung manages to ask without a stutter to his tone. It’s a miracle truly because when Hongjoong’s voice boomed through the hallway and found him in the bedroom, Wooyoung almost melted.

“Yeah, get me some coffee from the kitchen.”

Now, if it were Seonghwa asking him, Wooyoung would whine and complain. Say that he’s on the fucking couch which is literal steps away from the kitchen and he has two perfectly (sexy) functioning legs that could easily get him a cup of coffee himself without needing to call Wooyoung all the way from his bedroom to get it for him. It is, in fact, not Seonghwa asking him, however; it is Hongjoong, and Wooyoung will be damned if he doesn’t obey the order without even a breath of complaint.

“Sure, of course, hyung!” He chirps in response to hide the shaky smile on his lips. His legs feel like jello but he puts them to use anyway, carrying his body to the kitchen to prepare a mug of coffee just the way Hongjoong likes because of course, he knows exactly how Hongjoong likes his coffee. Once he has finished perfectly preparing the drink, Wooyoung carries it back to the couch and goes as far as to step around the armrest to deliver the mug directly into Hongjoong’s hands.

“Good boy.”

The words are unmistakable. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung pulled his hand away when he did otherwise he would have most definitely dumped piping hot coffee all over Hongjoong without being able to stop himself.

“H-Huh!?”

Hongjoong blinks up from the rim of the ceramic mug. Not an ounce of shame coats his features. Wooyoung knows that hiding behind that cup is his trademark cruel smirk, and that sends him reeling.

“I said good job. You made it just the way I like.”

Wooyoung needs whatever deity or spirit or entity out there in the universe to backhand slap him to high heaven. Hongjoong did not say good job. He said good boy, loud and clear without so much as a stutter to his tone. Wooyoung stumbles back regardless and excuses himself with a hasty mumble about needing to go to the bathroom. He can only hope that his flustered state of embarrassment mixed with tingling humiliation is not as noticeable as it feels like it is.

“I wasn’t done with you.”

Wooyoung has to bite down on his tongue to keep from whimpering at the tone of Hongjoong’s voice combined with those words. He dares to glance back at Hongjoong over his shoulder. The leader is now on his feet, mug of coffee left forgotten on the table in front of the couch, and Wooyoung can find only a single word to describe the look in the man’s eyes.

Hungry.

“Go to my room. We need to talk in private.”

Wooyoung should experience a surge of panic – any normal person would be petrified to hear those words from their leader – but the words go directly to his dick instead. He whips his head forward once more and makes the short trek to the end of the hall without once looking back to see if Hongjoong is following him. He knows the man is though, the steady shuffle of socks on the wood floor tells him that much. Wooyoung half expects Seonghwa to be inside the room when he enters, ready to defend himself and say he has no clue what’s going on, but his taller hyung is nowhere to be found. Hongjoong doesn’t let Wooyoung stay distracted or confused for long; he trails a daring hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s shoulders, lifting off at his bicep as he steps past the younger man to get into the room. He then drops to the edge of his mattress with blazing eyes and regards Wooyoung with a full-body stare.

“Shut and lock the door.”

There is so much potential behind those words. All the months of sexual tension and teasing and practical blue balling could all be paid off right now, and Wooyoung is not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers. He jerks into action, spinning around and slamming the door shut with more force than is necessary, and the lock clicks into place a moment later.

“Hyung—”

“It’s always hyung, isn’t it?” Hongjoong taunts, cutting Wooyoung’s thought short. Frankly, Wooyoung has no clue what he was going to say anyway so thank goodness for Hongjoong interrupting him before he made a bigger fool of himself. Hongjoong pushes himself off the bed to step closer to Wooyoung. He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and Wooyoung is still too slack-jawed to react even a little bit. “With Seonghwa hyung, you are always so whiny and bratty. Can’t do anything he says when he tells you to. Always need to talk back and mock him in return. But with hyung, you are so needy. Pliant. Obedient.”

Hongjoong is not bigger than Wooyoung. Not by much at least. He is hardly taller than him, but Wooyoung has shoulders that are a tad broader, features that are a bit sharper, and a face that is just naturally more stern when all his muscles are relaxed. But in this moment? Wooyoung feels impossibly small. Like Hongjoong is meters taller than him, bigger than him, stronger than him, better than him in all ways. His leader has power and control over him. He’s able to make him do whatever he wants with a simple command, and Wooyoung could combust from the mere thought. It gives him a sick rush, one that makes him want to get on his knees and beg for Hongjoong, but he won’t dare do that unless Hongjoong asks him to.

“What is it you want from hyung, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong catches a finger on the underside of his chin, lifting his head just enough so that he can look the other man in the eye. Wooyoung forgets every word in existence as he meets Hongjoong’s burning gaze. His jaw stutters, he blinks dumbly at the brunette, and nothing comes out of him. Hongjoong twists his finger into two now, squeezing down on either side of Wooyoung’s chin until the impact burns a little. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-You,” Wooyoung breathes out shakily. “I just — I want you.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right, darling.” The words catch Wooyoung a bit off-guard at first, and the use of the small pet name has his gut blossoming with too much warmth to be normal. Hongjoong tugs him closer just to drape his pretty lips over the curve of Wooyoung’s ear. Hot breath sends shivers down his spine, and Wooyoung does his best to keep his knees from buckling when Hongjoong speaks again. “That doesn’t sound like the begging I hear coming from the bathroom so often these days.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks are alight with both embarrassment and shame. Hongjoong heard him. Heard him jerking off quietly in the bathroom after every single time he taunted the younger man. Heard his desperate pleas and wishes that it were his hyung touching him and not the warmth of his own shameful hand. Hongjoong pulls back to look him in the eye again, but this time it feels ten times more intimate and inviting.

“Try again, baby. And this time, tell me a safe word so I know when to stop.”

Oh, Wooyoung is fucked, and he’s fucked in more ways than one, that’s for certain.

“I, uh, red. Yeah, red. Red for stop, green for go,” he rambles while blinking like a madman. Hongjoong huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s step one,” he says, tone as even and steady as ever. “Now tell me what it is you want from me, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung truly wishes he could put up more of a fight. He wants to complain or whine or be even a little bit of a brat in response rather than just caving without pressure. Yet here stands Hongjoong, maintaining that iron-tight hold over him without the slightest bit of effort and forcing Wooyoung into complete and utter submission with a simple command.

“W-Want hyung to – to kiss me and tell me that I’m his good boy. Want him to stuff my mouth full of cock and fingers until I can’t speak be-because I talk too much. And for him to order me around l-like it’s the only thing I’m good for. T-Talk down to me and – and humiliate me because it feels good when hyung taunts me. I… I r-really want hyung to fuck me open and use me until he’s filled me to the brim with cum.” Hongjoong’s pupils are dangerously large, so blown out with lust and desire that Wooyoung feels himself slipping deeper and deeper into their embrace. Even though the words came from his lips and he spoke them into existence, it feels as though Hongjoong reached down his throat and pulled them out himself. It has to be that because otherwise, Wooyoung would not have the confidence to be so bold about his desires.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong sneers. His tone turns mocking in the blink of an eye, and it causes Wooyoung so much whiplash that his head actually spins even though he hasn’t moved an inch. Hongjoong’s free hand snakes downward, finding the jutted bone of Wooyoung’s hip and brushing over it in a taunting way. The leader caresses the soft band of his underwear, then suddenly Wooyoung is positively choking because the man cups the prominent bulge of his erection and gives a teasing squeeze. “So hard just from following orders? Are you so pathetic and desperate to be a good little boy that you would do this for anyone? Or is it only hyung?”

“J-Just hyung,” Wooyoung squeaks out, pressing his thighs together to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his underwear. That answer isn’t enough to satisfy Hongjoong though, and he tugs a bit harder at the younger’s chin.

“Which one? Last I checked, you had more than one hyung.”

“You! You, hyung. Hongjoong hyung.”

“Good boy,” comes the taunting coo from Hongjoong’s lips. Wooyoung really does whimper this time, lower lip jutting out as he releases the shaky sound, and he practically falls in on himself. He probably would too if Hongjoong weren’t holding him so tightly. “If I had known that would have such a strong effect over you, I would’ve said it much sooner.”

There’s a certain insinuation to his words, one that tells Wooyoung that Hongjoong has been purposefully riling him up for a long while now. Hongjoong drops his chin and lets his hand fall away from the other’s cock. Wooyoung misses the pressure immediately, reaching down to replace the hand with one of his own, but Hongjoong slaps the back of his wrist harshly.

“Don’t you want to be good?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” That little word slips out against his will. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide for half a second before settling back into their steady, hungry stare. When he smiles this time, it is a full and blinding gesture that has Wooyoung’s stomach doing little somersaults. That must be the boiling point for Hongjoong’s desire though; next thing Wooyoung knows, Hongjoong has a hand clasped tight around the back of his neck and the man is yanking him forward until their lips collide in a mess of teeth and saliva. It feels positively filthy, but Wooyoung takes it in stride. He lets a surprised moan slip through, and Hongjoong swallows the sound with his mouth, tongue not wasting any time in dancing over Wooyoung’s lip. The younger grants him access to his waiting mouth. His jaw falls slack and his tongue would probably loll out if Hongjoong were not pressing so fervently against him at the moment.

Wooyoung truly is fully pliant before Hongjoong, and he can’t even get his arms to function enough to wrap around the older. So he just stands there, applying an ample amount of pressure to Hongjoong’s lips when the other isn’t fucking his tongue into his mouth, and waits until Hongjoong pulls back to breathe. As it turns out, he doesn’t get much time to catch his breath because his hyung’s mouth and hands are back on him moments later.

Cold hands brush at the skin near Wooyoung’s hips, slipping under the fabric of his shirt to gain more access. Hongjoong mouths his way down to Wooyoung’s jaw where he nips and sucks gently at the skin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but something tells Wooyoung that the marking will come later. The older hoists his shirt up, tugging and pulling until it’s over Wooyoung’s head and tossed off to the side. Seonghwa will most likely complain later. Although if this is going the direction Wooyoung thinks it is, Seonghwa will have many other things to complain about so he doesn’t dwell on it much.

Besides, Hongjoong’s hands are far too distracting for that, currently tracing soft patterns over the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed skin until dipping lower to grab both his sweatpants and underwear in one go. Wooyoung helps him tug the material down and bends a bit at the waist to fully discard the garments. He finally processes how he is now fully nude and Hongjoong has not taken even an ounce of clothing off, and when that sinks in, embarrassment burns at his skin. He withdraws his hands to his body, curling tight around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself up. Hongjoong is still attached to his jaw by the lips, but he can feel the movements between their bodies enough to know what is going on.

Fingers latch around Wooyoung’s forearms.

“Sweet angel, you have no need to cover up around me,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin. His hot breath meeting the cool trail of saliva over Wooyoung’s jaw causes goosebumps to rush over his body, along with the sudden lack of clothes to keep him even a tiny bit warm. “Let me show you how pretty you are.”

Hongjoong pulls off his neck with a wet pop and steps an arm’s width away. He makes a full show out of the way he strips himself. Splayed fingers drag down his sides before catching on the hem of his shirt. Inch by inch, he exposes more supple skin, lean muscles straining and working under the movements, and when he tugs his shirt loose at last, Wooyoung ogles the way the tendons in his neck bulge a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe though because Hongjoong fumbles with the buckle of his belt and tugs the leather loose. He doesn’t toss it off to join their shirts off to the side; rather, he throws it onto the bed, eyes holding something that leaves Wooyoung with the sweet taste of anticipation. Although that might just be the taste of Hongjoong on his tongue because he is still dizzy from the short kiss. He continues to stand as still as a statue as Hongjoong tugs his pants down, thumbs hooked around the band of his underwear too. Slowly but surely, the man exposes himself to Wooyoung, and the younger would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t go straight to Hongjoong’s cock.

It’s a bit shameful to admit, but Wooyoung has spent many times in those frequent bathroom trips fantasizing about what Hongjoong might look like underneath all those clothes. Seeing each other nude is something that happens often; however, Hongjoong always makes a habit of taking showers last or coming home so late that no one can see him. Wooyoung initially thought that it was an, for lack of a better term, insecurity about size deficit but looking at him like this now, Wooyoung can clearly see that that is not the case.

He’s a bit thicker than Wooyoung, not so much longer, but definitely holding more girth and curve to his member. A lump rises in Wooyoung’s throat at the thought of finally having the man in his mouth among other places. He has to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from openly drooling over the sight of Hongjoong’s body. The bit of solidarity in being fully nude helps Wooyoung’s confidence quite a bit, but it’s Hongjoong’s next comment that sends him spiraling.

“I wonder how pretty my little Wooyoung would look on his knees for me, hm?” His little Wooyoung. Yeah, Seonghwa is gonna have to cart Wooyoung’s dead body out of this bedroom once this is all said and done, because he is close to a heart attack as it is and Hongjoong has hardly done anything. Hongjoong picks up on the way Wooyoung’s breath hitches at those words and lets that dangerous smirk slip through before turning back to his bed. He moves to it without hesitation, and Wooyoung just watches on without daring to move before he is told to, eyes wide with curiosity as Hongjoong pulls a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. In the same motion, Hongjoong props himself on the edge of the mattress and nods his head towards the pillow. Wooyoung’s brain doesn’t process the action quick enough because he stands there with a dumbfounded expression on his face for far too long before it sinks in that oh Hongjoong wants him to kneel between his legs on a pillow.

He moves towards the bed on shaky legs, all but collapsing on the pillow once he reaches it, and Hongjoong greets him by dropping a hand to his hair and carding his fingers through the dark locks there. His hair has grown a bit, just enough to have his bangs fall into his eyes whenever the hair isn’t tucked back. Hongjoong tucks a few of the stray locks behind his ear before reaching lower to cup Wooyoung’s chin in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want another command, baby boy?” Now that has Wooyoung’s gut turning every which way, and he nearly squirms where he sits because goddammit there is not enough pressure on his cock and he is nearing desperation.

“Y-Yes, hyung.”

“Then suck me off, yeah? I bet you’d look so pretty all wrecked and fucked out with a cock between your lips.” Those words are oh so sinful and go directly to Wooyoung’s gut, knocking the air out of him with ease. Hongjoong doesn’t stop there though. He curls his fingers up to press against Wooyoung’s lower lip where he teases and tugs at the skin until it’s swollen. Wooyoung drops his jaw to let those same fingers push down hard against his tongue, and he almost gags at the sensation, but fuck, it’s so worth it. Hongjoong’s fingers are heavy on his tongue, a steady and tantalizing weight that begs what is to come with his member. Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to swirl his tongue between the digits and takes them a bit deeper. He sucks softly at Hongjoong’s skin all while blinking up at the man, his leader, his hyung with wide and shining eyes.

When Wooyoung locks gazes with him, he could cry on the spot because that little half-hearted smirk is back on his lips, and this is exactly what Wooyoung fantasized about in these past weeks. Being leveled only with that stare, forced into submission with mere words — Wooyoung is truly living the dream.

Hongjoong retracts his hand, pulling his fingers loose of Wooyoung’s lips too soon for the latter’s liking, but he doesn’t have room or time to complain. A hand threads through the hair at the back of his neck and drags him forward until Wooyoung is met by Hongjoong’s fully erect member. The unspoken command is there but still Wooyoung waits until he gets the verbal one, so desperate to be told what to do in that condescending tone Hongjoong holds.

“Well, go on. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s cheeks could not possibly flush any darker, but if Hongjoong keeps this up, he might just find a way. The burning sting in the corners of his eyes is practically euphoric, the taste of humiliation on his tongue as he leans forward to give a single, testing lick to the head of Hongjoong’s cock, and Wooyoung is the one to moan when he closes his lips around Hongjoong. The older simply lets his head fall back, hand still tangled in Wooyoung’s hair as he begins to sink deeper on his cock.

Hongjoong tastes of sweat, a stark saltiness on his tongue as he gets about halfway down his member, but Wooyoung’s brain is so high on arousal that he also tastes somewhat sweet. Wooyoung can’t get enough of it. He drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s member, feeling for each vein and ridge along his shaft as though trying to memorize the feel. Hongjoong grips Wooyoung’s hair a little tighter. His nails scrape over the younger’s scalp, and a distinctly pleasant burn throbs in that same spot. The idea of Hongjoong’s dainty, painted nails dragging over his skin is too much for his imagination, and Wooyoung reaches a hand up to grasp the base of Hongjoong’s cock before sinking as far down on him as he can go. He chokes around him there, throat pulsing at the sensation of the tip pushing deeper, and Hongjoong releases a loud groan. The sound sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung along with the knowledge that he drew that noise out of Hongjoong, he made him feel good, he did a good job. He whines weakly around Hongjoong, sucking in as much air through his nose as he can, then he returns to bobbing his head along the length of him.

“Fuck, look at you. Somehow still so noisy even with a cock to keep you busy,” Hongjoong mumbles, biting back another groan. Wooyoung squirms thanks to the words and sneaks a hand down to palm at his weeping cock. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” Hongjoong spats the words with such vehemence that a bit of spit slips from his lip and catches on Wooyoung’s hair. If he didn’t jerk his hand away from his cock, Wooyoung might have cum right then and there because of how damn hot the action is.

Hongjoong tugs hard at the younger’s hair and pulls him off his cock, leaving only a thin strand of saliva to connect Wooyoung to his member. The sight is as intoxicating for Hongjoong as it is for Wooyoung because the older hisses between his teeth then descends to plant a kiss directly over Wooyoung’s lips. He kisses back with a hunger and fervor that begs for more, begs for Hongjoong to do more, and it seems that that is exactly what the elder has in mind because he hoists Wooyoung up enough to trade places with him on the bed.

Wooyoung finds himself splayed out on the bed with Hongjoong looming over him, hair fallen forward to shroud his forehead and eyebrows, and he can safely say that his hyung looks positively menacing in the best way possible. Hongjoong presses a single gentle kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose – an action that has his heart constricting painfully in his chest before Hongjoong drags his lips down the curve of his cheek. He mouths at the sharp edge of the younger’s jaw, letting out a quiet exhale that has Wooyoung shivering. He dares to be bold enough to bring a hand to the older’s hair as Hongjoong reaches the curve of his neck and bites at the skin there.

“F-Fuck, Hong — hyung,” Wooyoung whimpers, hips bucking up to meet nothing but air. Hongjoong presses the heel of his hand down hard against Wooyoung’s hip and keeps him pinned to the bed with that simple touch. The way Wooyoung unravels under him is nothing short of beautiful and mesmerizing, the perfect catastrophe to watch unfold piece by piece until he is writhing and begging with his body for more. The younger doesn’t even see Hongjoong move his arm, but when he sits back, he holds a small bottle of lube in his hand, lid popping open to squirt the clear liquid over two fingers.

“Color?”

“Green,” Wooyoung exhales quickly. “So fucking green, hyung, please just hurry up.” Hongjoong arches a brow then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You waited weeks for me to corner you like this. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”

“If you recall, I was jerking off in the bathroom begging for you to fuck me senseless every other day, so no. I don’t think I can wait any longer,” Wooyoung huffs out in response, resituating a bit on the bed so Hongjoong can spread him open properly. The other man bends over him with teeth flashing as he grins. He catches Wooyoung’s lobe between those same teeth and nips at the skin until Wooyoung moans loudly.

“Next time you try to do that I’ll be sure to follow you. And maybe make you scream a bit for good measure. You’d do that for hyung, wouldn’t you?” Hongjoong sinfully enunciates the word, and it affects Wooyoung so much that his vision goes spotty for a few seconds.

Fuck, Wooyoung is not going to survive. His heart is gonna give out before he can even get fucked. Hongjoong chuckles under his breath as he gauges the younger’s reaction. His lubed fingers slip between Wooyoung’s legs and trail lower until he brushes over his puckered hole. He starts with just one finger, pushing into Wooyoung so slowly that the younger thinks he’s gonna die of old age by the time Hongjoong finally settles the digit inside him. He squirms a little under the man’s weight.

“I’m not gonna break, hyung. You can go harder than that.”

“And I will. Be patient.” Wooyoung lets his body go slack at the sound of that; it’s a half-hearted command at best but still a command nonetheless, and it continues to have the same dastardly effect over him as always. Hongjoong continues to wiggle his finger around bit by bit until he deems Wooyoung comfortable enough for another, and the next stretch is so pleasant that Wooyoung’s lashes flutter as he pushes a second finger in.

“Hyung,” he whispers, tone so breathless that it almost sounds like just a sigh and nothing else. Hongjoong lifts his chin to look the younger in the eye.

“Hm? What it is my baby wants?” There Hongjoong goes again with that little possessive word that has Wooyoung melting under him.

“Want – want you to kiss me please.”

Hongjoong answers by dropping his lips atop Wooyoung’s, starting out with a barely-there pressure that only grows in force as he starts to fuck his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. The younger can only gasp and moan into the kiss. He forgets what it means to be quiet as the pleasure takes over, too lost in the sensation of Hongjoong’s lips and body and everything. They’ll surely get an earful later, but Wooyoung is not about to let them take this away from him so he is going to be as loud as possible while he can.

A third finger finds its way into Wooyoung. It draws an even louder moan from his lips, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers brushing just shy of that elusive spot where he wants to be touched so badly.

“P-Please, please fuck me, hyung. I can’t – I can’t wait any longer, I just n-need you in me now.”

Apparently, Wooyoung should have led with that because Hongjoong almost growls and pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, snatching up the lube again and squirting more onto his palm. He jerks hastily at his cock and warms the liquid on his member before guiding himself to Wooyoung’s eagerly awaiting hole. When Hongjoong at last starts pushing into Wooyoung, the younger sees stars in his vision and his brain empties of all coherent thought. It is everything that he could have dreamed of and better, for fuck’s sake, it’s the best feeling Wooyoung has ever felt in his life and he might cum after just a single thrust of Hongjoong’s hips.

He manages – by sheer miracle for certain – to last a bit longer than that. Hongjoong starts slow, rocking his hips gently against the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs. In time though, the pace grows until it’s hasty and absolutely brutal. Wooyoung can barely catch his breath long enough to moan between thrusts with the speed Hongjoong keeps up. Skin slaps hard against skin and leaves the lewd sound to resonate alongside Wooyoung’s high-pitched moans and Hongjoong’s much softer grunts.

Words continue to tumble from Wooyoung’s lips in the height of his pleasure, but it’s just nonsensical ramblings that range from “more, more, fucking more” to “yes, hyung, there, right there”. He grips desperately at the sheets under his body in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the dizzying amount of euphoria running through his veins. Every nerve in his body is alight with all sorts of sensations, and despite still not having cum once, Wooyoung truly feels like he’s being overstimulated to absolute filth.

He doesn’t even feel it when he actually does reach his high – cock twitching and spurting hot ropes of cum over his stomach completely untouched by either himself or Hongjoong. It’s almost embarrassing how easily Hongjoong made him orgasm; Wooyoung brings his hands up to cover his reddened face in the humiliation of the action. A choked and dry sob rips through his parched throat, cock weeping uselessly against the vee of his abdomen.

“F-Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong grunts through his thrusts. Wooyoung’s body reacts on its own, preening at the sound of the praise despite his neverending embarrassment. That sends Hongjoong over the edge right then and there. His hips stutter in their quick thrusts, then he’s pressing flush against Wooyoung and cumming hard in him. His elbows buckle, causing him to topple on top of Wooyoung’s chest and smear the semen painting his stomach and chest. It doesn’t seem to bother the man one bit though as he just lifts his chin and drapes his lips over Wooyoung’s like the softest and warmest blanket on a cold day.

They stay like that for too long probably, just kissing and nipping at each other’s lips in the laziest manner, and Wooyoung doesn’t even mind when the cum between them starts to grow sticky. He releases a content sigh as Hongjoong slips his lips back down to the underside of his jaw – apparently his favorite place to kiss given how much he’s done so already – and dares to speak.

“Good talk, hyung,” he rasps out, throat burning from the mere effort of the words.

“The fact that you had the balls to say something while we were live but not the first hundred times I cornered you,” Hongjoong grumbles against his skin, and Wooyoung huffs out a weak laugh.

“You could’ve interrupted my, erm, bathroom trips at any time.” Wooyoung smiles a bit to himself and draws a hand up to comb through Hongjoong’s sweat-slick hair.

“Next time I will.”

“N-Next time?”

“I can think of many other ways I’d like to have you, and many other things I’d like to do to you. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Yep! Yes, yeah, you got it, sign me up, I am on board. Don’t even need to convince me,” Wooyoung rambles, cheeks flushing dark again at the insinuation in Hongjoong’s words.

“Good. Now, let’s get cleaned up before Seonghwa gets back.”

“Where’d you send him off to anyways?”

“I just told him we were gonna talk and he disappeared.” Hongjoong shrugs as he pulls his body free of Wooyoung’s and climbs to his feet, albeit on shaky legs. The younger tilts his head to the side with a bit of confusion gracing his features.

“That’s all it took?”

“Well, I told him I would be doing a majority of the talking and it would include my mouth doing positively sinful things to your body, but… we had a change of plans, didn’t we?” Hongjoong glances down at Wooyoung, passing a teasing wink his way, and for the last time (at least Wooyoung hopes it is the last time otherwise he really will pass out) his lips curl into that signature smirk.

“We can make up for it in the shower.”

...

#ateez smut #ateez mxm #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #wooyoung x hongjoong #hongjoong x wooyoung #wooyoung smut #hongjoong smut #wooyoung imagines #hongjoong imagines #wooyoung oneshot #hongjoong oneshot #sweet baby jesus #fic; under my skin

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #bakugou x gn!reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #gn reader #mha x gn!reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

What A Day 💝

Sykkuno x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Going to the store at any point between the 1st and the 21st of February is a literal nightmare for anyone without a significant other. All products in shades of red and pink, made especially to steal money from love-struck people. Sykkuno has honestly had it with having to deal with the shelves at stores laughing at him and his relationship status. Luckily, on a trip to Target, exactly on Valentine’s Day, he runs into someone who thinks the same.

Requested by Anon. Hello lovely person! Thank you so much for this wonderful request you’ve sent me! I’m so happy to be able to fulfill it and I hope it does your idea justice and I hope you enjoy the read! Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Vy 💝

Sykkuno feels like he has entered a red and pink maze. His head is spinning slightly, his eyes only seeing shades of the bold color all around him. It’s downright impossible to ignore and combined with the mob of people rushing to get their hands on a last minute gift for their significant other, it’s suffocating. He couldn’t have run out of shampoo on a more inconvenient day than today. Valentine’s Day. Or as him and his friends like to think of it - anti single people day. I mean seriously, going to a store on Valentine’s Day while single has to be the most nightmarish experience.

Sykkuno isn’t one to care about relationships much, he has come to terms with the concept that no one is really interested in him - a concept of his own creation, mind you. A concept he blindly believes despite there being so many people to convince otherwise and change his mind. He has grown accustomed to the single life and if asked he always replies with the standard ‘Alone and happy’ response, accompanied by a small smile as if to prove that he is indeed happy. And he is, as long as he doesn’t start spiraling in thought he is rather content with what he’s got - an amazing group of fans, thousands and thousands of loyal fans, a job he loves. A romantic relationship has never been in his top priorities. But every now and then, he wishes he had it.

This is an example of one of those times.

Though everyone around him is mildly stressed and in a rush, they each have a place to be. A place where a person of importance to them is waiting for them. A person who will greet them with a smile, hug and kiss. A person they’ll spend the rest of the day with, sharing laughs and memorable moments that will make this day special. Cause that’s what it’s really about - chocolates and gifts aside, the most meaningful thing about today is spending time with someone you love. Someone you maybe see everyday yet every time you see them it feels like it’s been long since you last saw each other. Someone you maybe haven’t seen in a long time and this is a way for you two to be brought together. Someone you haven’t been spending enough quality time with and today’s your chance to change that.

He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest at the thought that hits him like a cannonball straight to the chest:

I will never have someone like that

“I KID YOU NOT, IF YOU HANG UP ON ME AGAIN I’M GONNA- HELLO?!“ His spiraling deprecating thoughts are cut off by an angry shriek from the other side of the shelves of products he’s standing in front of.

Sykkuno instinctively backs away from the voice, startled, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. There’s an empty spot in the shelves from where products had been snatched rather quickly, not leaving a single item. Given that it was the perfume section it makes sense. The lack of products allows for a peek on the other side of the shelves, or in the other aisle, to be more precise where he catches a glimpse of a person walking past in one direction, then comes back, then passes by again and so on until they catch him looking and stop dead in their tracks.

The hole is eye-level so the two are staring at one another like a pair of deer caught in headlights. Sykkuno feels the need to apologize for peeping in on their frustration breakdown which was probably supposed to be private, but then again it happened in the middle of a damn supermarket so he can’t really be blamed for checking to see what the commotion was about. But him being himself, apologizing is his first instinct.

Just as he opens his mouth, the person on the other side lifts two heart shaped boxes, “Hey stranger, sorry to interrupt your spying, but I’ve already called like three people to ask which of these is better at curing a lonely heart but they all hung up on me without giving me an answer so...” they trail off, shaking the two boxes of chocolates as if to attract his attention to them, “what do you think?”

He’s caught off-guard, to say the least. They dropped so much on him in a single breath he suspects they are now seeing spots in their vision due to momentary lack of oxygen. He wants to laugh it off but something tells him they are serious, “Oh, um, sorry, I’ve never had either.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Try eenie meenie miney mo?” He suggests, giving them a slight shrug of his shoulders.

They look between the two boxes, a in-thought expression on their face, “Screw it!” They finally say, “I’m getting both.” They secure the chocolates under one arm, flashing him with a bright smile, “What are you getting your significant other? Need a second opinion? Being the only single friend in a friend group has gifted me a peculiar but, oddly enough, useful skillset in giving second opinions.”

Once again, so much said so quickly, Sykkuno can barely keep up with them. It’s been a slow day for him so his brain was basically on airplane mode up until now. Thanks to this ball of energy looking back at him his brain has kicked into mega gear, each cell working to remain in step with his correspondent. It’s a nice change of pace - too slow and he gets too self-deprecating, too fast and he feels lost amongst the words being said but with this person, no matter how quickly they’re speaking, the pace seems just right to lighten up his mood and return some liveliness to his being that was taken away by the broody thoughts that were coursing his head moments ago.

“If I could get a significant other, that’d be great. I’ll make sure to ask you for a second opinion then.” He admits timidly, looking away from the bright eyes that keep up bold eye-contact with no hesitation or doubts. He wishes he had at least half their confidence, but sadly he doesn’t. Especially not when faced with someone so courageous and upbeat, someone who seems to always want to be making the most of the time they’re offered, making every second count, making it memorable. He’s never been good at reading people, but this person is an open book with audio to go along with it. A show and tell book of vibrant colors and details that make them stand out and blend in simultaneously. But as they themselves said - they’re lonely. Does it show? Absolutely not. That speaks volumes about what kind of person is standing opposite him right now. Perhaps one he’d like to get to know better.

Or maybe he’s become just a tad too desperate.

“So should I give you my phone number so you can give me a ring when the time comes?“ The sneaky smirk that appears on their face brings a blush to his cheeks, a rush of blood so intense he’s embarrassed to admit it. Though one thing he’d have to admit is: that was a smooth line. “Oh sorry! People usually offer names before phone numbers, right?” They face-palm, shaking their head slightly before extending their hand to him through the hole in the shelves, “I’m Y/N.”

He takes their hand, cheeks still burning but a smile he couldn’t prevent is also gracing his features now, “Sykkuno.”

He can’t help but notice the words written on the inside of their wrist: chocolates, wine, ice-cream, chips and dip; the discovery provokes a chuckle from him which slips out before he could as much as think twice about it. Y/N’s gaze follows where his eyes are looking, stopping on the blue ink on their skin of their wrist and laughs, pulling their arm back, “Yeah, I’m rather forgetful.” They wave their hand nonchalantly before their eyes widen and they reach in their pocket, “Hold on! Give me your hand.”

He’d be a fool not to oblige. They pull out a pen, uncapping it with their teeth and writing a string of numbers on the side of the back of his hand going from the middle of his thumb to his wrist, each number written nicely and boldly, like their personality. It’s not an exaggeration when people say handwriting says a lot about a person - theirs is pretty outspoken that way.

“There!“ They smile after capping the pen again, “Hope you find you’re other half. Whoever they’ll be, they will most definitely be a lucky soul.“ They giggle, readjusting the heart-shaped boxes under their other arm, “It was nice meeting you, Sykkuno. Have a nice day!“

Y/N starts walking away without waiting for him to respond to their goodbye, leaving him somewhat speechless on his end of the shelves. He’s still in the middle of processing what just happened when his eyes land on the phone number on his hand.

I’ll maybe call them, He thinks to himself, looking at the digits of Y/N’s phone number from several angles when suddenly, an idea pops into his head.

Maybe I won’t

Before he’s had time to contemplate his next move, Sykkuno finds himself jogging towards the end of the aisle in hopes he’s not too late. In hopes that he will come across the person he just let slip from his reach like an dummy. He’s had far too many instances in which he accidentally let go of good opportunities, good people, good relationships, he’d hate to repeat mistakes once again.

Luckily, his prayers are heard.

“Y/N?” He calls out to them, catching their attention immediately. They turn around, a curious expression on their face, waiting for him to continue, “Do you, um, have any plans for today?”

Their eyes sparkle as they answer with a laugh, “You saw my grocery list, it should tell you about enough of how I’ll be spending the day.”

That’s a relief like no other. He was actually expecting them to come up with something last minute but his stars are probably well-aligned today, gifting him this luck, “Would you maybe wanna...um, grab coffee? Or lunch? Anything you’d like.” There’s that embarrassing bush again, this time more wide-spread than before and - impressively enough - more intense.

He thought their previous smiles were bright. No, no, no, no. Oh boy, was he wrong. This one! This one smile of theirs puts the sun to shame with its brightness and warmth. With its authenticity and contagiousness. It’s one of a kind. As is Y/N. “I’d love that, Sykkuno. Catch you outside?” They ask, showing their own timid side for the first time adding another element to their cuteness.

“A-absolutely.“ Sykkuno nods energetically, giving them a small wave before booking it straight towards the exits. All the while thinking to himself:

Damn, what a day. Wait...I forgot to buy shampoo, didn’t I?

@khaoticbunny @smiithys @chaoticgayandnerdy

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Beach Day Blues༄ l.dh

�� Out on a day trip to the beach with your boyfriend and his friends, you’re anticipating a fun time filled with sunny memories and sand filled swimsuits. What you’re not expecting is the cold shoulder from your usually happy-go-lucky boyfriend, but you’re going to get to the root of this issue, even if it’ll kill you.

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader ft. yuta, mark & jaehyun

content: fluff, beach day, reverse comfort fic, jealousy fic, very mildly suggestive ending

word count: 2053 words

Request 36: Haechan + “I need a hug.” (42) + “You’re cute when you’re angry.” (47) + “You own my heart.” (59) + Jealousy

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Perhaps you’re being delusional. Perhaps you’re just dehydrated or, maybe, you rationalise, the scalding rays of the evening Sun have burned not only your skin but your brain cells too (if there were any to begin with). Maybe all of this is just in your head and you’re overthinking it.

“Hey,” someone hisses, “is it just me or is Donghyuck giving you the cold shoulder?”

At the question, or rather observation, your head swivels an almost sharp 90 degrees to stare Yuta straight in the eyes. “So, it wasn’t just me thinking that!”

Yuta chuckles. “Yeah, he definitely seems off…” He peers at Donghyuck discreetly from beneath his sunglasses before turning back towards you. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“A fight? No way!” You pause, suddenly doubting yourself. “At least, I don’t think so…”

Though you’re confident in your verdict of innocence regarding a fight, Yuta’s question prompts you to briefly run through the events of the day. To preface things, you, your boyfriend, Donghyuck, and a few of your friends—namely, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark—had decided around half a month ago to clear up one day in advance for a ‘beach day’ this week. The idea had sprung after someone had brought up how nice and sunny the weather had been lately, and everyone just unanimously came to the conclusion that sunny weather equals beach day.

You had begun packing for this trip a few days ahead to the surprise of everyone including yourself, which is a testament to your overwhelming excitement, because you rarely--if ever--pack that early for just a single day trip. But who can blame you? This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck. No, you should rephrase that. This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck as your boyfriend. You’ve been on plenty of trips before when you two were just ‘friends’, but now--and maybe this is the romanticist in you which you’ve successfully kept stored away up until recently speaking--it just feels different. You’re sure someone out there can relate, because you’ve never been one to obsess over something as feeble as a label, yet this trip has had your stomach in knots for ages.

The packing process had gone smoothly--neither you nor Donghyuck had forgotten anything--and so had the car ride over. As far as you can recall, your day at the beach so far has gone without a hitch too. You’d had a little picnic, dipped in the oddly warm sea, played some beach volleyball (badly) and gotten some icecream afterward. No fights, no issues, no nothing.

Maybe, you think, he found out I was involved in that little switch up with the sea water. You don’t entertain the idea for too long though immediately casting it away, because you know Donghyuck would never be the type to get so upset over a prank.

So, why the attitude?

You gaze at Donghyuck’s back, hoping that this mystery might just unravel itself if you stare long enough.

“Huh…” Yuta’s voice tears you from your zealous staring competition with Donghyuck’s shoulders. “Then I wonder what’s up…”

You sigh. You know you should confront him and have a mature conversation about what’s bothering him, but that’s so much easier said than done. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing you for ridiculing all those scenes in cheesy teen flicks where the couple would experience a major fall-out because of poor communication. During said scenes, you’d be pulling your hair out, internally screaming at the couple to just freaking talk already, yet now that you’ve been presented this obstacle for you to overcome yourself, you’re erring on the side of caution.

Come on, you reason, I’ve been friends with Donghyuck for over half-a-decade and we’ve gotten into our fair share of arguments during those five years. What’s so different about now?

Yeah, you’re right. You find yourself agreeing with your own thoughts, physically nodding along like you’re speaking to someone. Yuta raises a concerned eyebrow at you. Nothing’s different compared to then. You’re doing it again. He’s just my boyfriend, and that’s just a label. Stop. Obsessing. Over. Labels.

Admittedly, it’s a bit embarrassing having to psyche yourself up to do this, but that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is that little pep-talk, no matter how laughable it sounded, has gotten you to stand and saunter to Donghyuck with utmost confidence. In hindsight, you should’ve said something to Yuta beforehand instead of just springing from your seat and marching away. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind though, as it was obviously preoccupied with something arguably much more important than giving him the luxury of context.

You decide not to be too transparent about your feelings at first as you take a seat beside Donghyuck on the sand, leaning your head on his shoulder, hoping that all of this was really just your imagination getting the best of you. You silently plead that he’ll perhaps treat you like he normally would, giving you a little peck on the cheek or at least wrapping his arm around your waist. Unfortunately, your hopes are smothered just as quickly as they arise because Donghyuck doesn’t even bat an eye at you, continuing to chat with Jaehyun and flat-out ignoring your presence. Still optimistic for a reaction, you leave a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, just to let him know that “Hey, I’m here!”, but to no avail. Infuriatingly, he doesn’t even flinch. All he does is drone on to Jaehyun about something you couldn’t care less about.

You huff. Audibly. A last ditch effort in vying for Donghyuck’s attention. It goes just as well as your previous attempts. You cross your arms, glaring at the side of Donghyuck’s stubborn little head, hoping to bore a deep hole through his brain. Maybe then he’ll finally take notice of you. Sensing the undeniable tensity in the air, Jaehyun clears his throat awkwardly, offering Donghyuck some lame excuse about needing to take a piss, before shuffling away. Well, at least someone knows how to take a hint.

With Jaehyun’s departure, you’re left alone with Donghyuck. Usually, he’d be leaping to drown you in affection the second you two had privacy--or even if you two didn’t, to be frank--but all he does now is fiddle with the strings of his swimming shorts absentmindedly.

“What’s wrong, Hyuck?” you finally ask, desperate to break this frustratingly suffocating silence. “Is something wrong?”

Finally, after what seems like centuries, Donghyuck acknowledges your existence, though the look he gives you is not a pleasant one. In fact, it’s one of agitation. His tongue prods at his inner cheek before he says, tone bitter, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Evidently taken aback, you crease your eyebrows at him. “I… Did I do something wrong, babe?”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, scornful amusement overtaking his normally amiable features. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You can just come out and say it.”

“Say what, Hyuck?”

“How much more you’re into Mark than into me,” Donghyuck says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You can’t help but laugh, simply bewildered as to how on Earth he came to this conclusion. “I’m into who now?”

“Mark,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “don’t have to pretend like you’re surprised.”

“I’m not into--” you sigh, a smile of disbelief tugging at your lips. “Okay, tell me why you think I’m into Mark.”

“I don’t think. I know,” Donghyuck argues and you scoff, “but it’s obvious. And I have proof. Take when we were playing volleyball for instance. The whole time, you kept eyeing Mark up and laughing at his jokes. All of them. Even the weird ones that nobody gets.”

You snort. “Baby… I wasn’t ‘eyeing Mark up’, I was watching him just in case he missed the ball. And about the joke thing, to his credit, some of them were actually pretty funny! But, as for the the rest--and don’t tell Mark I said this--I felt kinda bad nobody else laughed at them, so I just laughed along with him. Trust me, I’ve been in his shoes before and it sucks. Not all of us are born as naturally as funny as you, Hyuck.” You’re a little remorseful that you’re essentially dissing Mark, but you’re sure he’d understand. Your relationship’s on the line here.

Donghyuck harrumphs, but you can tell by the slight quirk of his lip that he’s a little tickled by you poking fun at Mark and he’s totally been swayed by your compliment.

“Okay, fine that explains that, but how about when we went swimming just now? Why did you and Mark keep exchanging funny looks?”

“That?” You giggle. “You know how your drink was mysteriously replaced by seawater?”

“Yeah,” he trails off, his suspicion growing by the second.

“Who do you think that was?”

Donghyuck groans. “Wait, that was you? Seriously? That was mean, babe.”

“Aww, I know, Hyuck. I’m sorry,” you coo. Your hand inches its way closer to his as you attempt to intertwine your fingers together.

Donghyuck rejects your endeavour of fondness. “Nu-uh, no way. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh my God, Hyuck, there’s more?” you complain, though there’s a tint of amusement in your voice.

“Yes, there’s more, and you won’t be able to worm your way out of this one either,” he says smugly, as if it’d be a good thing if you in fact, couldn’t worm your way out of his next accusation. “How about when we went to get ice cream and you kept sliding up next to him?”

You pout. “I just wanted to try the watermelon popsicle he got.”

Donghyuck blinks at you, his once irritated expression dissolving. He seems dumbfounded as you hold his gaze, your mirthful smile never faltering. He turns away from you. “Oh, well… then whatever. I guess you aren’t into Mark.”

“Hyuck,” you say, hand crawling up his arm, “were you jealous?”

“Well, yeah, obviously,” he deadpans, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You giggle. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

His cold facade is immediately abandoned at your teasing intonation, and just like that, your cheery Hyuck is back. “Baby,” he whines, readjusting himself so he’s facing you head-on, “don’t tease me. I couldn’t help but be jealous, you know?”

“And why is that?”

Donghyuck purses his lips. “Why? What do you mean why?” He gestures up and down, eyes sweeping over you. “Look how pretty you are! What am I supposed to do when you look this good all the time? It’s unfair, really, that you’re this pretty.”

A blistering heat, one that is much hotter than the Sun, gathers in your cheeks. “Oh really now, Hyuck?”

“Yes, really,” he says, genuity seeping into his every word. “Literally, everyday I’m surprised you’re even real.” You grin bashfully and Donghyuck pounds his fist to his chest dramatically like he’s been shot. “See! You’re only smiling and I’m already having heart palpitations at just twenty years old.”

“Okay, okay, Hyuck. You can stop hyping me up now,” you chuckle. You’re beyond glad that your boyfriend has returned to his spirited self, but you know you should address what just happened seriously, just in case. “But hey, I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. Looking back, it definitely could’ve been misinterpreted as flirting and I would never want you to have any reason to feel insecure about our relationship because you own my heart, Hyuck.”

“Aw, babe, you can be really cheesy when you want to be,” says Donghyuck, pinching your cheeks. He plays what you said off casually, but you know that deep down, it resonates with him, and he honestly appreciates your sincerity. “Come here, I need a hug.”

“Right now? There are people around, Hyuck.”

“But you look so good right now. I can’t resist.”

“I don’t know, Hyuck…” You smile demurely.

“Alright, then what about,” Donghyuck reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, whispering, “we ditch the beach day and go cuddle in the car? My skin’s burning, anyway.”

You grin. “They’re gonna notice that we went missing, you know?”

“So?” Donghyuck challenges, leaning in to place a short but telling kiss on the juncture which connects your ear and your jaw. “Even better. I want them to know.”

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me, Chapter 2/10: Vaginal (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42

A/N: Continuing down the list--vaginal orgasm! This refers to orgasms achieved via penetration without direct/targeted stimulation to the g-spot.

As per usual, disclaimer: THIS FIC IS NOT SEX ED. It may be based on an infographic but it is NOT educational, it is FICTION!!!! If you want more info on anything in the fic, I recommend visiting scarleteen, it's a fantastic resource.

Thank you Holtz for beta-ing <3 <3 <3

“What do you mean you’ve never been fucked with a strap?”

Rosé shrinks under Denali and Mik’s gaze, cheeks burning scarlet as their mouths gape in shock at her. It wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal; just an offhand comment while they were cuddling, wondering out loud how it felt to be on the receiving end of the strap she so enjoyed using with her partners. She hadn’t expected Denali and Mik to react like this, to literally push themselves up to stare at her, completely flabbergasted.

“I just like wearing them so much, I never got around to actually being fucked with one,” she justifies, trying to sound as casual as possible, though she knows from the way both Mik and Denali soften that she’s not as successful at that as she was hoping. But that’s the truth, as dumb as it sounds; she’s always enjoyed wearing the strap so much that by the time she takes it off, she’s content with something else. It’s easier that way; no need to switch things around, stop to change condoms or re-fasten the strap.

Not to mention the small part of her that’s sort of relieved that she hasn’t tried, because if she has no feeling to reference, then she won’t have a reason to spend time fixating on whether she measures up to it or not; if she doesn’t have a standard in mind, then she can settle on taking Denali & Mik’s word for it that she’s any good. Like right now, for instance, when Denali is reaching out to grab Rosé’s hand and give it a kind squeeze.

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that,” the blonde reassures her, “It’s just that you’re so good at it, it’s hard to believe, that’s all.”

“Seriously, I’m like, so shook right now,” Mik agrees. It’s flattering, really, and for a moment, Rosé thinks the compliment is where things will end; deciding that they want her to keep being the one to wear the strap, that as long as she’s so good at it, there’s no need to switch things up.

Of course, she should’ve known both Mik and Denali better than to actually believe that.

“So, follow up question,” Denali’s brow knits into a frown as she looks Rosé up and down, locking eyes with her again before proposing, “Do you want to try getting fucked with a strap?”

“Not that you should feel pressured!” Mik interjects, casting a sidelong warning look at Denali. “We’re just wondering, are you ever like, curious? About what it feels like? ‘Cause we’re both pretty good too, I think--”

“Wow, you think?” Denali interjects, huffing indignantly. “Nice, Mik. Real nice.”

“You know what I mean.” Mik rolls his eyes theatrically, only to shriek when Denali decides to get revenge by jabbing him hard in the side.

“The point is, Rosé--”

“What I meant to say before Denali interrupted me--”

“No, let me ask!”

“Me!”

“Enough, both of you!” Rosé tries to sound stern, but has to pinch her own thigh to keep from laughing. She swears that sometimes, it’s like dating two toddlers; Denali and Mik freeze mid-spar, Denali’s hands halfway to Mik’s shoulders as if she’s preparing to push him down and slap a hand over his mouth so she could beat him to the punch by force. Which, judging from the way she slowly lowers her arms with a sheepish look in her eyes, is exactly what she was planning to do.

God.

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Rosé crosses her arms over her chest, “So one of you just get it over with already.”

Mercifully, Mik relents without a fight, sitting back on his heels as Denali scoots forward towards Rosé.

“Rosie. My beloved.” She slaps her hands over Rosé’s cheeks, cupping her face as she continues, “Next time we have sex, if you’re feeling it…” she pauses for effect, locking eyes with Rosé before continuing gravely, “Will you let us stick our dicks in your hole?”

“Or holes!” Mik interjects. “If you’re into that.”

“Jesus Christ.” Rosé groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Clowns, absolute clowns, the both of them. But despite her exasperation, neither Denali nor Mik seem particularly deterred; if anything, they become more expectant, Mik leaning in excitedly and Denali’s eyes taking on a further intensity as both of them wait for Rosé’s answer.

“Yes,” she finally sighs, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you can stick your… you can stick your dicks into my--my… God, I can’t believe I’m saying this-- hole . You can stick your dicks in my hole.”

When both of them begin to cheer in response, Rosé can’t help but wonder what the Hell she’s gotten herself into.

As it turns out, it’s almost two weeks until they actually wind up using the strap at all. It’s not that they don’t want to; in reality, the whole situation is out of their control. Things get busy at work for Mik, and Rosé has three auditions she needs to prepare for and recover from, and Denali is always so tired after practices these days that even if Mik and Rosé have the inclination to run to bed, it’s already taken up by her collapsed, already-sleeping body. In any case, sex--whether it involves dicking Rosé down or not--is the last thing on their minds in that time period.

At least, it’s the last thing on Denali and Mik’s minds, as far as Rosé knows. The truth is, while they’ve been occupying themselves with other things, Rosé’s mind has stayed on its usual one-track, their earlier conversation and the promises Mik and Denali had made playing in her mind over and over again. She finds herself drifting into fantasies even when she’s supposed to be focusing on something else, until by the end of their impromptu sex break, she finds herself almost constantly on edge, increasingly restless thanks to the thoughts that never quite seem to leave her head.

Thoughts like Mik kneeling over her wearing his strap, stroking the length of it as he trails his eyes over her body, delaying touching her knowing that any second, she’ll break and beg for it. Or Denali sliding into her while her mouth is latched to one of Rosé’s nipples, sucking and licking and making her come totally undone. Swallowing the length of it while Mik’s hand is tangled in her hair, or listening to Denali huff as she snaps her hips up against Rosé’s. How a strap might feel different from fingers, and exactly how Denali or Mik might make her thighs tremble, might fuck her so hard she can’t walk.

It’s a rainy Friday night when her dreams finally come to fruition. Dark clouds had been looming over the city for the last few days, and everyone had been waiting for the sky to unleash the storm they had been sure was coming. There’s no real warning, no initial spitting or dampness in the air; the sky had gone dark and let loose thunder, lightning, and a torrential downpour.

Given that, it’s no surprise that the power goes out less than thirty minutes later.

“Did you find the candles yet?” Rosé calls over to Denali, squinting through the darkness to watch her girlfriend scour the kitchen cabinets.

“ Did you find the candles yet?” Denali mocks as she whips around and shines her flashlight right in Rosé’s eyes, scowling at the two people piled on the couch. “It’d be a lot easier if you two bums helped, you know.”

“I can’t get up, I have a Mik on my lap,” Rosé hums, the shit-eating grin spreading on her face spurred on by Mik giggling at the comment.

“And what’s his excuse?” Denali snorts, pointing her chin towards the man nestled up against Rosé.

“I’m huddling with Rosie for warmth!”

“And I’m very grateful,” Rosé pats Mik’s head, winking over at Denali, who huffs and grumbles something under her breath before turning back to her search. Finally, she finds what she’s looking for, and soon the living room is littered with candles that light the room in a soft glow.

It would almost be romantic, if it weren’t for the way Mik’s elbow is digging into Rosé’s ribs.

“So what now?” Denali shoves Rosé over, jostling Mik and dislodging his elbow in the process as she grabs Rosé around the waist, pulling her in while she settles. Rosé doesn’t particularly mind, though; Mik shifts closer, too, and it’s nice, getting to be in the middle of the cuddle-pile.

That is, until she feels something against her leg, and realizes with a jolt that Mik’s hips have started to squirm against it, her calf having unwittingly slipped between his legs.

“It hasn’t even been ten seconds,” she snorts, but when Mik looks up at her, there’s an almost pitiful desperation in his eyes, hunger and eagerness obvious even in the near-darkness.

“I can’t help it,” he whines, “It’s been so long…”

Without even meaning to, Rosé presses her leg up against her boyfriend a little more firmly, hardly noticing the fact that for just a moment, she loses her breath completely.

“What’s the matter?” Rosé savours the way Mik sighs out shakily, eyes closing as he chases the pressure she’s applying. “Can’t keep it in your pants anymore?”

“I think that means he’s been a good boy, Rosie.” Denali’s breath tickles at Rosé’s ear, and for a moment, she stops, frowning as she tries to figure out what Denali could possibly mean before it clicks suddenly.

“Not at all?” Rosé's eyes widen in surprise, and Mik’s blush becomes so fierce, she swears she can almost feel it from her place on the couch.

At least she’s jerked off a couple times in the last two weeks, when she’d been alone in the apartment and too horny to wait; she’d naturally assumed that Denali and Mik had done the same. Unless…

“Strap feels good against me,” Mik provides simply, grinding down against Rosé’s leg a little harder, “not enough to come, usually, but I thought…” he clears his throat, and Rosé has to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss the embarrassment from his face. “I wanted to save it for when we--when you--”

“What d’you say we take this to the bedroom, yeah?” Denali proposes, her hands sliding home to Rosé’s chest and palming her tits through her shirt. “I think Mik might explode if we keep him waiting any longer.”

Rosé moves so fast, she’s surprised she doesn’t accidentally knock over a candle.

It’s almost pitch-black in their bedroom, but Rosé finds that she doesn’t particularly care. As soon as they’ve crossed the threshold into the room, they go purely by feel, falling back onto the bed in a giggly, excited mess. Mik’s hands find their way to Rosé’s waist, his fingers splaying over her sides and nails digging in as Denali’s mouth meets Rosé’s own in a deep, perfect kiss. By the time Mik’s lips latch onto her neck, she can barely keep it together; she needs more, and she needs it now.

“Please,” Rose moans into Denali, who smirks against her lips.

“Please what, baby?” Denali plays dumb, biting down a little on her lip as Mik escalates his own teasing, licking and nipping up to her jaw, his hands wandering down to play with the hem of her shirt.

Fuck.

“More…”

It’s all Rosé can muster, but it’s enough; frantic hands begin to move over her body, tugging and grasping and peeling her clothes away until she’s in nothing but her underwear, Denali’s hands cupping her tits through her bra and Mik’s mouth marking her collarbone.

“Still up to taking my cock, angel?” Mik’s voice drips with hunger and need, but Rosé can hear the concern behind it, the need to hear that Rosé is still open to trying something new. But Rosé doesn’t even need to think before she nods, squirming with anticipation.

“I’m ready,” she breathes, locking eyes with her boyfriend and mirroring the want she finds in his own. “ Please .”

Mik answers her only with a chaste kiss on the lips before slipping away to get everything prepped.

“I want this off,” Denali brings Rosé’s attention away from Mik with a firm squeeze to her tits before one hand drops below the cup, a lazy finger tracing over the underwire.

Rosé wastes no time in granting the request, shimmying out of her bra and sighing in relief when Denali responds by latching her mouth onto one of Rosé’s nipples, tongue gentle and teasing. Not that she can focus on Denali’s ministrations for long--before she has a chance to lose herself in the feeling of Denali nipping and sucking on the hardened bud, she notices the bed dip and shift as Mik climbs back on, bottle of lube in hand. And the sight of Mik with a harness fastened tight on his hips, his favourite realistic cock waiting between his legs?

Rosé can’t think of a single thing she’d rather see right now.

“Can I--” she starts to reach forward before freezing, suddenly becoming aware of the bemused twinkle in Mik’s eyes as he watches her reaction. Denali picks up on it, too, and takes the opportunity to ghost a finger along the curve of Rosé’s spine, humming with satisfaction when Rosé shivers.

“Can you what, angel?” Denali teases, the hand on her back moving down again to rest on her ass. “Go on, don’t be shy. Tell daddy what you want.”

“Can…can I--” Rosé starts, but it’s too difficult; looking from the strap to the bottle in Mik’s hand back up to his cocky smirk, her embarrassment overtakes her, and she looks at him with pleading eyes, burning face a cry for help.

“Put your hand out, baby,” he softens, taking pity on her, and she smiles gratefully as she obeys, letting him squirt a generous amount of lube into her palm so that she can stroke it on for him, the mess covering her hand when she finally finishes well worth the lingering sensation of the toy in her grip. She wipes the excess lube off on her bare stomach, then scoots back, fitting straight into Denali’s waiting arms.

“Hips up,” Mik continues directing as Denali’s hands find their way back onto Rosé’s tits from behind, deft fingers circling and pinching while Rosé lets Mik slide her panties down and throw them aside.

“Think you can take daddy already, or do you need fingers first?” Denali whispers into Rosé’s ear before planting a soft kiss on her temple, and for a moment, Rosé pauses, frowning as she considers her options. The strap doesn’t look that thick, and Rosé trusts Mik to be gentle, to go slow and check in often. But at the same time, there’s a reason Denali asked; what if it really is different, and it hurts?

“Relax,” Denali cuts off Rosé’s spiral with a hand snaking down to her slit, playing with her folds gently to bring her out of her own head, focus on something else instead. “You have nothing to worry about, ‘kay?”

“We can go as slow as you want,” Mik adds with a soft, reassuring smile, and Rosé nods, letting out a shaky breath.

“Wanna feel you,” she decides. “Please, daddy.”

Mik says nothing, only leans forward to kiss Rosé sweetly, but she swears she can taste excitement on his lips. But the moment is over as soon as it began; Mik pulls away and gets to work lining himself up with Rosé’s cunt, flashing her one last lopsided smile before he begins to ease himself in.

“How’s that feel, angel?” he starts to thrust in and out shallowly, slowly, and Rosé has to admit--her boyfriend wasn’t lying when he said he was good. Between his teasing and Denali continuing to play with her nipples, craning down to kiss the curve of her neck, Rosé can’t help but squirm, chase Mik’s dick with her hips while pushing her chest up into Denali’s hands. But it’s to no avail; they both keep up the cruel game, working her up and practically radiating glee as she gets closer and closer to unravelling.

That is, until Denali brings a sharp slap to her tits, and she’s jerked out of her trance by the realization that she still hasn’t answered her boyfriend.

“Focus, baby girl,” she murmurs, “Use your words and tell daddy how you feel.”

“Good,” she breathes, “Feels good, daddy, so fucking good— ah,” she cuts off with a gasp as Mik speeds up a little, thrusting a little deeper as he smiles down at her approvingly.

“Good girl.”

Rosé has to admit--now that she’s actually on the receiving end on her lover’s strap, she gets the hype. Mik’s pace is relentless, yet fluid, the rhythm of his thrusts unbroken even when he leans down to attach his lips to her neck. His hands tighten around Rosé’s hips, grip bruising as it pulls her closer still, allowing him to hit exactly where he needs to. And Denali, in the meanwhile?

“God, I wish you could see yourself,” Denali’s voice is low in Rosé’s ear, hands traveling down her sides and nails scratching along her skin. “So pretty right now, our pretty little mess.”

As if to further tease Rosé, Denali brings one of her hands down between the redhead’s legs, laughing when Rosé immediately cries out in shock and overstimulation when Denali begins to circle Rosé’s clit with far-too-gentle fingers. But her moans turn into whines of protest when just as fast, Denali takes her fingers back again, this time bringing them to Rosé’s lips for her to suck into her mouth.

“There we go, good girl,” she purrs as Rosé licks the taste of herself from Denali’s fingertips. “See how wet you are, sweetheart? Poor baby,” she laughs a little, her other hand’s touch becoming soft on her waist as she teases, “can’t even control yourself, can you?”

Rosé can’t answer; she’s too far gone, too lost in the dizzying task of trying to take in every feeling, process everything being done to her. It’s a fact that neither Mik nor Denali fail to notice, but it’s Mik that finally says something after a few more moments of torment, his voice dripping with condescension as he goes in for the kill.

“You take daddy’s cock so well, baby,” he murmurs against her collarbone. “Doing so good for us.”

He moves one hand from her hip to her jaw, tipping her chin up to kiss him languidly, and fuck, she can’t hold on much longer, not when Denali’s hands are stroking the insides of her thighs and Mik’s tongue is against hers and all she wants is more.

“Please,” Rosé musters up all the strength she can to force the plea out, eyes screwing shut in effort, “Please, please let me come, please, I need to come, please!”

“Go ahead, angel,” Mik gives her one more sweet kiss before making one last particularly hard thrust, and that pushes her over the edge.

Rosé’s orgasm crashes over her all at once, knocking the air from her lungs and making the world spin. Mik fucks her through her orgasm, Denali whispering sweet praises all the while, and slowly, she comes down again, still feeling like she’s floating on air.

“How d’you feel, gorge?” Mik looks at Rosé with concern as he pulls out, and it’s cute, the little flash of insecurity that Rosé catches in his eyes. She laughs, opening her arms to beckon Mik towards her.

“I feel amazing.”

Mik beams as he shimmies out of the strap, crawling up towards Rosé and making room for himself between her and Denali. But as he does, he accidentally brushes himself against Rosé’s thigh, and the little gasp he lets out alerts her to something that isn’t quite right.

He’s wet, and swollen, and Rosé realizes with a jolt that she hadn’t heard him come like he thought he might.

She looks over at Denali, tipping her head towards Mik suggestively. The blonde frowns in confusion for just a moment before her face lights up in understanding, and she smiles as she puts a hand over Mik’s thigh, licking her lips when Rosé does the same on his other side.

“Open your legs, baby boy,” Rosé murmurs, kissing the blush that’s already burning at his cheeks. “It’s time for me to thank you.”

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #rosé #gottmik #denali foxx #denali x gottmik x rosé #f/f/m #poly #smut #trans character #thrill me chill me fulfill me #writworm42 #tw daddy kink

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it.

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.

word count: 5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal.

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting. You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral,

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step.

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once.

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license.

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back.

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young.

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place.

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA!

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you.

Fucking hilarious.

Just fanfuckingtastic.

You’d see about that.

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief.

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones.

You were going to get him back.

You will.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend.

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused.

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head.

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked.

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win.

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook.

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted. he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him.

“Are you even literate?” He joked.

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught.

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high.

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you.

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”.

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead.

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty.

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably.

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand.

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to.

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard.

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged.

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter.

“Fine,”

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard.

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope.

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing.

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it.

Jason owed you big time.

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup.

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug.

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug.

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it.

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets.

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much?

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration.

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked.

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you.

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared.

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open.

You were going to be sick.

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months.

Now, you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss.

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile.

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much.

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you.

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts.

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry.

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person.

Focus.

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further.

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything.

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue.

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun.

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt Jason.

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms.

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence.

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty.

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen.

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened.

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft.

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker.

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness. Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours.

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing.

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface.

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics.

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest.

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl.

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder. You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them. Seriously fuck them.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin.

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You woke up on the damp earth.

Everything ached.

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish.

Your mind even more so.

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes.

Your senses returned to you one by one.

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness.

Your fingers felt cold and numb.

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses.

That wasn’t right.

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago.

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint.

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically.

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone.

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you.

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself.

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought.

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing.

Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable.

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

He was dead.

He died.

He was in Ethiopia.

He was trying to save his mom.

Oh god.

Where is Bruce?

Where is he?

Why is it so dark?

Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in.

That’s when the smell of earth hit him.

Jason pressed his hands every which way.

He was literally boxed in.

Was he in a coffin?

He tried to scream.

His mouth was wired shut.

Oh god.

He was going to die.

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The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments.

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back.

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist:

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd #angst #My writing #attempts at humor #dc fanfiction #reader insert #imagine #hurt/comfort #kind of #more on hurt #have fun #batboys #batkids

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feliix · 4 years

Text

Patio Penetration ✦ PJM (18+)

✦ Pairing: Jimin x Reader ✦ Word count: 2k ✦ Rating: M

✦ Genre: Smut, Romance, Fluff(ish), Established Relationship!AU ✦ Warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, explicit sex, creampie, fingering, teasing, dirty talk(?), Jimin has a big dick, like no foreplay, semi-public sex (maybe?), dom/sub themes (dom!jimin),a tiny bit of begging ✦ Summary: you burn your tongue on some takeout food and Jimin kisses it better

✦ Requested by @hobiance “time to unleash all of the requests ive been wanting to send u but didnt know i could heheheheh okay lets get this started. JIMIN + WINE.” and this anon “Hello!! I saw the drabble and thought maybe I could request from one of my favorite writers? 🥺 Could I have wine with our Jiminie? Maybe something about dates too 👉👈”

✦ A/N: Posting this at 3am because I have 0 self control and because Lainey told me to. also not edited bc its 3am and I’m nothing if not a mess ✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland

It was a Saturday, and that meant it was date night. Tonight, Jimin had decided to pick up some takeout on his way home to have a little make-shift picnic on your patio. It wasn’t all that fancy, but it was intimate and it was special – just the way you like it.

Unfortunately, on Jimin’s venture home from the shop the food had become a little too cold for your liking. So naturally, you just threw what you could in the microwave for a minute or so and it was good as new.

Hot steam wafts off of your noodles and into the air, but that doesn’t stop you from digging in. Patience was a virtue, but it was not a virtue that you had ever learned.

Right on impact the hot noodles burned your mouth. Your immediate reaction is to suck air in through your teeth, attempting to cool down the temperature and relieve some of the pain from your burning tongue. An agitated groan leaves your mouth as you find the strength to chew and swallow your food – wincing from the burning feeling that was destroying your tastebuds.

Jimin glances in your direction, his eyes full of concern as his eyebrows quickly raise. By instinct he grabs the water placed beside you and hands you the glass. Graciously, you take it from his hand, chugging the ice cold liquid to soothe the blistering sensation garnering your mouth.

“Ow,” is the only word that you can muster out as you finish swishing the water around your mouth, momentarily easing the pain. With a deep sigh, Jimin raises from his seat, walking around the table to stand over you.

“Let me see,” he says, hand reaching for your chin to lift your head in his direction. As you tilt your head back you stick out your tongue for his viewing, the light chill of the air slightly easing the pain. He analyzes it closely, eyes narrowing in concentration as he looks at the affected area.

Sun still shining brightly onto your patio, you close your eyes. Once again you forgot to put on sunglasses before coming outside, big mistake. And then you feel it. His hot breath fanning over your face as he inches closer and closer. Your natural reaction to him being this close to you is to get turned on. How could you help yourself? He was just that attractive – even if he was just trying to be sweet and check your tongue for burns.

But you underestimate how sweet his intentions actually are. Or maybe they are, and the soft yet savory kiss that he leaves on your tongue was meant to be a sign of care. It could have been nothing more than just a nice gesture, but the arousal beginning to pool in your panties said otherwise.

You suck in a quick gust of air promptly in reaction to his plump lips meeting your tongue once again; you know this is no longer a gesture filled with good intentions. Snapping your head back into place, you meet his lust filled gaze. His eyes are narrowed and his tongue runs across his bottom lip enticingly. He’s taking in every inch of your body as he looks you up and down, and your stomach flips at the thought of him having you right here.

In an instance you are looping your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer to you. When your lips meet his you feel a rush of relief, the heat traveling through your veins and to your core awakening as his hands begin roaming your body. His fingers trace the hem of your top, lifting it swiftly while breaking your heated kiss to remove the garment. The light breeze brushes against your now bare stomach, small goosebumps rising to the surface as you connect your lips with his once more.

“Here?” You ask in a whisper, your foreheads pressed together as your gaze turns downward to his crotch. Just as you suspected – he was already growing hard.

A mumbled “yes” was Jimin’s only response – well that and ripping your pants off your body so fast that you almost fell off the chair you were seated on. “Flip over,” he says as his hand meets the small of your back, guiding you to stand up. Hands placed down on the chair you were just sitting in, you bend at the waist, ass pointed in his direction as he fumbles with the buckle of his jeans.

Your heart raced as you waited for him to make a move. Desire was growing high and arousal was dripping down your thighs. Of course, this didn’t go without Jimin noticing. His hand parted between your legs, grazing its way up your thighs as he made his way to your entrance. The last thing on your mind was the lingering burning sensation on your tongue.

“Already so wet for me,” you shiver at his words as his fingers circle your entrance. All you could focus on was his erect member rubbing at your ass as the pads of his fingers smeared the wetness along your slit. As a digit brushes past your clit you instinctively wince, so sensitive to his touch it was becoming difficult to control your body. A high pitched moan leaves your throat as he begins rolling your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly, making you keen over in pleasure.

His fingers trace the extent of your slit back until they meet your entrance once more. Swiftly, his fingers dip into the arousal pooling out of your core. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth. The slow movement of just one finger plunging into your depths taking your breath away in an instant.

As arousal drenched his fingertips butterflies erupt in your tummy. It was getting harder and harder for your legs to support you and your arms were wobbly and unstable. “I can’t hold out much longer,” you say between breaths , doing everything in your power not to lose control right then and there.

“Not yet,” he orders, an arm wrapping around your stomach to stabilize you as he hovered over your shaking body. With this new position you could feel his tip poking against your entrance, teasing you. And with that was the tip of the iceberg. Clamping your thighs together, Jimin’s hand became immobile; trapped between your legs and no longer able to tease you.

“Jimin if you don’t stop I’m going to cum,” you choke out, tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes from holding back your much needed release. With a sneer like laugh he retracts his hand, leaving a quick slap to your ass cheek on his way back. Your muscles tighten one again, the knot in your stomach slowly starting to dwindle as he takes his member in his hand.

Jimin slowly begins pumping his shaft, making sure to gather the precum at his tip and coat his member in a beautiful mixture of the both of your juices. Your legs remain clenched together as you try to suppress the desire flooding your system. All you wanted was him to fuck you right here and now, and you were in no mood to beg tonight.

Leaning slightly forward onto your elbows, you arched your back lower, lifting your ass higher to try and get his attention. He was taking far too long and focusing on catching your breath was more important than asking for what you wanted at this point. What better way to tell him to fuck you already than to rock your hips back, causing the tip of his cock to rest against your ass?

“Use your words, Princess,” a smirk grows onto his face as he takes notice of what you’re trying to do. An agitated whine soon leaves your mouth. You were too tired to beg, and he had already wound you up enough.

“Jimin please,” you moan, “please just fuck me already.” Leg bouncing impatiently as you wait for him, he finally lines himself up at your entrance. A steep gasp passes through your lips as his cock slides itself into you; your velvety walls squeeze the veiny ridges of his member as you take him in.

A string of curses leaves his mouth as his shaft slides into your cunt. The arousal spilling from your hole coating his cock as you clench around him. Jimin’s hands find their place on your hips, holding you steady as you adjust to his size. Even after all this time together, every time you have sex feels like the first. Maybe it was cliché to think so, but acclimating to his size would never be easy.

It was comfortable. Even though you were on your back patio where your neighbors could see you at any moment, the setting was beautiful and everything in this moment was perfect. The sun was just beginning to set and the passing breeze chilled the perspiration beginning to gather on your skin. You’ve never felt better than you do in this moment – speared on your boyfriend’s cock while you waited for your food to cool.

As Jimin began thrusting in and out of you, your hands took grip on the sides of the chair, holding on for dear life knowing what was in store. His movements were beginning to quicken rapidly, the sounds of his skin colliding with yours and the deep moans echoing from his throat filling your ears. Your chest heaves deeper and heavier with each of his movements, soft whines bubbling past your lips as he meets new places within your core.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he groans, teeth clenching as you squeeze tightly around him. The familiar knot in your stomach was making its way back to you. The repetitive tap of Jimin’s tip deep inside you had you too far gone. With one powerful thrust, you were coming undone around him. Your legs soon begin to crumble underneath you before his arms wrap around you to catch you from falling.

A gentle scream escapes your mouth as you ride out your high, Jimin’s pace only quickening to chase his own. The familiar tingling sensation begins to rush through your veins as oversensitivity starts to set in. When your eyes slam shut all you can see are stars, small white blotches blinding your vision as your pussy continues to spasm around him.

You aren't even able to catch your breath as your orgasm begins to subside. Jimin is too busy pounding into you, his hips meeting your ass with a slap as he bottoms out.

“Don’t pull out,” you say quietly. All that's on your mind is being filled to the brim with Jimin’s cum. You’re aching for his release, squeezing your core as hard as you can to ease it from him. The grip he holds on your waist tightens, his face scrunching as he focuses on chasing his high, “want you to fill me up.”

And with that, he was. Collapsing over you, he held you close as he reached his high. His heavy breathing fanned over the back of your neck, your shirt sticking to your back as beads of perspiration soiled the fabric.

“Love you,” he whispers in your ear, kissing just below it. You can feel the rise of his cheeks against your skin as he smiles. It was comfortable here, with him like this. Almost too comfortable for having sex out in the open like this, but it was past the point of caring as he held you tight in his arms.

“Love you more,” you whisper back as a grin stretches wide across your face.

“I think we might have to heat up the food again,” he chuckles before pulling out of you to look at the food placed neatly on the table.

“I’ll make sure I wait for it to cool down this time,” you giggle as you stand upright, legs still feeling jello-like as you search for your pants.

“I can think of something to do while we wait for it to cool,” Jimin smirks as you turn in his direction. His eyebrows are lifted suggestively, winking at you when you make eye contact. “Round two?”

#ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #bhqdrabbles #kpopuniversenet #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #jimin x reader #jimin pwp #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fanfiction #bts fanfction #jimin one shot

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star-spangledstud · 4 years

Text

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying.

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not.

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe.

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible.

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night.

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest.

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.”

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!”

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat.

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.”

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it.

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly.

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next.

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?”

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together.

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.”

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions.

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.”

“What’d you need help for?” he continues.

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer.

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down.

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night.

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening, you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much.

NEXT CHAPTER.

Taglist:

@foxyjwls007 @littlegasps @hurricane-abigail @idk123906

#Steve Rogers #marvel masterlist #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fic #captain america imagine #captain america imagines #cap #Marvel writing #marvel fic #marvel #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #jammywrites

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ghostietoasty · 4 years

Text

Why Sherlock Holmes FGO is Sus: Theories and More

Before I begin, I’d like to give thanks to my wonderful friend for all the points, art, and info searching that have been made to produce this piece, I can’t appreciate you enough for the effort you put in. 🥺🙏💕

Alright now on to it!

INTRODUCTION: Humble Beginnings (Identification of the Abnormal)

If you’ve played the app Fate/Grand Order for a while you’d know about the Heroic Spirit we first encounter in a hole within Camelot’s dessert whilst going to the Atlas Institute. Smart, handsome looking, and sharp enough to discern our True Name, this man of mystery has been seen as an oddball by many long time players of the game. There are many aspects about him that raise doubt about his credibility, is he truly what he wants us to think he is? That servant is Sherlock Holmes (Ruler) and there are many theories about him having some secrets, about him either being a Foreigner class, Beast class, or something else entirely. We are attempting to catalogue all this information in one place for maximum clarity.

SECTION 1: Other Character’s Reaction (First Impression is the Best Impression) *WARNING LOSTBELT 1 AND 2 SPOILERS AHEAD*

From the first encounter in Camelot right until the end of Lostbelt 2, there are many instances of characters reacting to his presence in….interesting ways.

Bedivere, when first coming in contact with Holmes in Camelot says that "I suppose I've never really been good with people like him. He reminds me of Merlin."

It could refer to the mysterious manner in which both Holmes and Merlin conduct themselves, but better to keep in mind that Merlin is a Grand Caster, and that he manifests as a servant due to specific circumstances (he is not dead).

In Camelot, Mash assumes that Holmes must be Caster class and that the original novels by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle must have been biographies penned by Dr. Watson under a pen name. Holmes corrects her, saying that: "My true identity, my essence, is slightly different from what you may think. And sad, but that is not the purpose of our gathering here today."

This dilemma is also present in the Sherlock Holmes Trial Quest (which mostly tackles the debate of whether he's a fictional character or someone who actually existed). Holmes has a line where he says:

"Ah, yes. I mentioned I was a Caster. Forgive me, I lied."

This is however immediately followed up by:

"A jest. My apologies. I couldn't help myself."

This sort of backpedalling raises a doubt as to whether he was really Caster class before, so the nature of his former class is still a mystery. He later mentions that his Ruler class is the World telling him that not all illusions and dreams need to be laid bare.

When meeting with Salieri in Lostbelt 1, Holmes introduces himself as such:"I'm Sherlock Holmes, Chaldea's administrative advisor. I became a servant through unusual means, just like you."

Salieri was only summonable as a servant because of his reputation caused by the fact that he killed Mozart. He is under the effect of Innocent Monster. It can also be said that Salieri is a lostbelt servant and is significantly more sane than he would have been in a normal summoning, that was the unusual summoning that Holmes was refering to. Does this mean Holmes is not from Proper Human History?

Sigurd (who's under the control of Surtur), while attacking us in Lostbelt 2 says this: "So, a human and two Heroic Spirits. No, wait. Neither of you are pure Heroic Spirits, are you? You've both got something else mixed in. Hehe, hybrids then. Interesting"

This is in reference to Holmes and Mash, who are alongside the master at this moment. Mash is a demiservant (human+servant) hence the "Hybrid" comment makes sense, but Holmes? What is the "something else" mixed in with Holmes?

Later in LB2, Holmes requests the assistance of Scáthach-Skadi in beating Surtur. Skadi says that normally she would never pay mind to what a mere Heroic Spirit had to say but: "...but in your particular case…I sense wisdom in those beautiful eyes. You remind me of Baldr, god of light." Quite a bit later, she also has this to say:"Perhaps those piercing eyes of yours in fact surpass Odin's? Mystic Eyes, perchance? ….No, that's not it. They merely reflect your wisdom born of human history's cumulative accomplishments."

She says that's not it, but the fact that it was the first thing she thought of shouldn't be ignored.

Baldr is the god of light. Holmes' attacks consist of beams of light, and his cane lights up when he's using it in battle.

In Norse legends, Odin is said to have sacrificed one eye to the spring of Mimir in order to get ancient wisdom, the ability to perceive everything in the world.

SECTION 1.5: More Reactions (From JP Only)

Since it is JP only and there is no official translation for NA yet, this information cannot be 100% confirmed in any way. (Most of this is from Reddit translation done by fans). But as these are also important, it's best to put this information separate section.

Moriarty's interlude involves him finding a micro-singularity in London. At some point the transmission between Chaldea and the master gets cut and Moriarty reveals he created this scenario, made the singularity and everything to get one on one time with the master. He tells us not to trust Holmes. When the time comes, we as master should choose Moriarty over Holmes.

It has to be kept in mind that Moriarty is not a good guy, he is a character created entirely to oppose Holmes so it is natural that he doesn't trust him. For all we know, it is just emotional manipulation.

Moriarty's very nature is tied to being the antithesis of Holmes. Holmes might theoretically go against us for the sake of humanity while also trying to keep us safe (the master is in a way, a Watson replacement to him after all) while Moriarty would gladly let humanity burn for the sake of us but also for the sake of being completely opposite to Holmes and keeping his identity as such.

However he does raise valid points, how was Holmes able to rayshift? This part was never explained, and he also mentions that his hypothesis has a fatal contradiction in the fact that Holmes risked his life to save ours. What can be inferred from this is that Holmes is a good man and is on our side, but there is something very weird about him that should not be ignored.

In Lostselt 5 it is mentioned at one point that Zeus called Holmes dangerous, he mustn't look at Zeus or the other gods and that his eyes are enemies of the world.

It has to be mentioned that this is some heavy emphasis on Holmes' eyes (Skadi mentioned Holmes' eyes twice, and she was a god as well). Is it because of the nature of Holmes that he is the one that reveals all truth? Is that in some way detrimental to gods, magic and the world in general?

Recently, from Holmes' skill upgrade interlude there was a section about Holmes saying that he is always an ally of justice and that while he may be on our side, he is still capable of evil but it doesn't change the fact that he is our ally. Even then it seems he has some secrets that can't be understood by himself.

By now with the presence of Dr. Jekyll and Helena and their recounts on what happened, it is confirmed that Holmes was actually "alive"(?)

Some of the adventures penned by Dr. Watson were actually censored versions of the original happenings, which were magical in nature.

Holmes was traumatised(?) by Helena's death back when they were both alive. He swears he would never let that happen again. (remember what happened in lostbelt 2…)

It seems that Holmes himself is not fully sure of what is secret about him. Since he utterly dislikes talking about something without being 100% sure about it (this tendency of his has gotten us in trouble before) plus his general secretive nature, it can be said that this is why he wouldn't talk about that.

SECTION 2: Weird Things That Holmes Does (And Other Questions)

Heroic Spirits are anything but normal, but there are few servants who break the norm even further, and Holmes is one of them.

Holmes is able to Rayshift (presumably) from London, to Camelot, and then to Shinjuku. There are very few servants who are able to manifest themselves.

Musashi also appears here and there, but it's not a deliberate choice on her part. She is not able to predetermine her next destination.

Arthur travels from a parallel world to this world, but this is due to "chasing after a certain powerful antagonist, evil omen" - so he tells.

Beast class has the skill of Independent Manifestation which would allow the servant to manifest anywhere they'd want. Merlin, Tamamo Vitch and Shiki possess it. However, it has to be noted that Holmes' rayshifts have a significant toll on his saint graph, as he is unable to fight or defend himself by the time we meet him in Camelot. While normal Independent Manifestation shouldn't lead to the depletion of the user's saint graph. Holmes' class is unknown at the time of his rayshifting.

At the time of summoning, Heroic Spirits usually reveal their class and True Name (there also are exceptions to the rule). At the time of his summoning, Holmes doesn't reveal his Class: "Are introductions necessary? I am a detective. If you were expecting a hero, my apologies...But if you wanted a detective or an investigator, you drew the right card."

In the case of EOR Servants whose names haven't been found, they reveal their class.

Who summoned Holmes? The only thing we know regarding his presence was that it was first clearly there when he tampered with information in London.

Holmes' illustrator is Yamanaka Kotetsu, who was also the illustrator of the beasts Tiamat and Goetia

The artists who design and illustrate the characters tend to do it in groups of servants who are related to each other in some way (Pako with Arjuna and Karna Chacha and Nobunaga; Miwa Shiro with Brynhildr and Sigurd). It is strange that Kotetsu designed only Holmes, Tiamat and Goetia.

(NEW ADDITION) It should also be noted that as an illustrator Kotetsu has had previous works in a Lovecraftian Guidebook and is also the artist to the Alien God Preistess, somewhat showing how their work leans more to the outerworldly.

SECTION 3: The Design

It is a very commonly noticed fact that Holmes' coat in his third ascension has a very similar shape to that of the Foreigner card artwork.

The pattern work on the coattails of the foreigner art and the inside (blue) part of Holmes' coattails have a very similar, if not exactly same pattern running down the entire length of it. The sphere summoned in Holmes' Noble Phantasm also has the same pattern on its sides and front.

There is a "fog" around Holmes in his third ascension, which is reminescent of the smoke in the card art. (Also can be the London smog).

The glowing section of the abdomen of the being reminds one of the metallic corset that Holmes wears.

There are 4 notches of smoke on either side of the being (total 8), under their cape. If we stretch our interpretation, then it could mean Holmes' arms and the metal arms that he has is also equal to 8.

In that tangent, the shape of the coat is also similar to that of Saver class Buddha, the fantasy trees from Lostbelt 3 and 4, and the Shadows made by the 6th imaginary element.

The Endless Knot / Shrivatsa symbol on his shoulders is one of the many references of his connection to Tibet (faking his death after the Final Problem). It is an important symbol in both Jainism and Buddhism.

Some of its interpretations include:

The eternal continuum of mind.

The union of wisdom and method.

Since the knot has no beginning or end it also symbolizes the wisdom of the Buddha

the endless cycle of suffering or birth, death and rebirth within Tibetan Buddhism.

The cane that Holmes wields has a pattern on its handle in the shape of a Prayer Wheel.

However, we are not able to find the meaning behind the script on the cane. Both of us attempted to translate it but failed. If anyone can translate the meaning it would be greatly appreciated.

The holographic books in the base of the unidentified sphere have a pattern on their front that greatly resembles a lotus.

In Holmes' third ascension, there are a number of magical circuits on his coat.

The circuits are almost only on his left side, with very few circuits on his right side. It's not like it was woven into it, were that the case the circuits would have been all over his coat in a more even distribution. It's almost like an impact radius.

The circuits are very similar to the ones visible on the title screen of the lostbelts, as well as the patterns seen on the fantasy trees.

CONCLUSION SECTION: Something's Up (It's Big Brain Time)

It's clear that something is very strange about Holmes, from his interactions to his design, it's clear that there is too much effort into throwing these hints that it's not just a red herring.

Is he a Foreigner? Beast? Counter Guardian? Some other unknown extra class? It cannot be said at the moment. Holmes' role as a revealer itself is dangerous to mystery and magic, so it can be anything.

It is also not necessarily true that just because Holmes has all these abnormalities, that he will betray us, or is on the side of evil. When has there been a clear cut side of good or evil anyway? It can be argued that we are the villains in some way, as we bring about the end of these timelines to safeguard our own proper human history.

Holmes has always been on the side of humanity and will continue to be, the question is what the reveal will be, why and how. That, only time and future chapters can answer, all we can do is speculate.

#fate #fate grand order #fgo #Sherlock Holmes #lostbelt spoilers #foreigner theories #fuccyoutumblrfuccyoutumblrfuccy #hope yall enjoyed!! feel free to give yalls thoughts!!#and again thank you soso much fremd🥺🥺🥺🙏🙏

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cardentist · 4 years

Text

I’m relatively new to the marble hornets fandom, but one thing I’ve noticed is that people don’t seem to realize just How affected jay was (by the operator and by the investigation in general) and how early on it started. which I really think is relevant when people point out some of jay’s apparent Poor Decision Making. this is Definitely because of how deemphasized it is in the show itself (Especially season 1) but you really can get a feel for it when you go digging.

I’ve talked before about how it’s Very Likely that jay already had some form of ptsd by the start of the series (Link) but what gives us the clearest picture of jay’s health is actually his twitter account. (Link) If you’ve never taken the time to read it before then I Highly suggest scrolling down to the bottom and working your way through, it’s a surprisingly fast read! but for the purposes of this post I made a Highlight Reel of really anything I saw that was relevant to either jay’s mental health, his physical health, or his obsession with the case that you can see in full here: (Link)

I’ll be using the most Pressing screenshots from that post to make my point here, but you really do get the full Effect scrolling through.

putting a readmore down to hopefully not spam people with screenshots ljksfad Warning for spoilers, talk of chronic illness, eating issues, difficulty with unreality, and other various mental and physical health issues

just as a note: this is going to have a Lot of focus on season 1 because this is where a lot of jay’s issues are established. I definitely have a Lot to say about the other two seasons but I won’t report on every instance where he’s paranoid or sick, I’ll be focusing more on the extremes!

looking through the whole series, videos tweets and all, it becomes Very apparent that jay has a Consistent pattern of behavior where he fixates on the investigation (and the people affected by it) to the detriment of his own health and safety. from the more mundane (digging through hundreds of hours worth of footage to exhaustion) to the more Extreme (following alex into the abandoned building Knowing he’s dangerous and that he’s probably going to hurt him because he Might find some answers).

(which on that note, while it’s definitely due in no small part to the influence of the operator and the extreme stress of the situation, you could pretty easily interpret jay with adhd, hyperfixating on research and video making.)

while I knew I’d find that going in, but I wasn’t expecting it to be hammered in so Quickly. this was posted the Second Day after his twitter had gone up

this continues, with jay occasionally mentioning how tired he is from compiling entries, feeling disorganized, and not being able to sleep in between him actively posting about sifting through tapes on a near daily basis. Then in july he starts actively getting Sick

104 fever, not well enough to work for Three Days. and there’s no telling how long it’d been building up without him noticing until then. he mentions being sick throughout august for long stretches of time (at least a solid week once), and it only gets worse from there

And something of note here, while he Does mention when he’s feeling particularly awful sometimes, for the most part he mentions his health when it affects his ability to go through and post about the tapes. there’s no telling just how frequently he was sick or exhausted when it Wasn’t worth mentioning. He only mentioned the results of the doctor’s visit a week later after he was specifically asked about it

and it’s Very apparent that whatever’s going on is Pretty Severe

it’s after this point that he largely stops giving us specific updates on how sick he feels, but it’s also still very clear that he is sick. he mentions how out of it he is or how Bad a week’s been after he goes long stretches without updates. and he’s still going to the doctors in November

that leaves me with the impression that things haven’t improved, he’s just stopped mentioning it. he tried getting help for it with no luck, the sickness didn’t stop so there wasn’t much more he could do about it besides adapt. while I’m certain that his health would fluctuate over the course of the show, I don’t believe he stopped getting sick. tim’s sickness never really went away, and jay was bad enough by the end of the series that he was having seizures like he was (there’s really no telling if that was his first or if it was just the first time it’d been Caught).

so from here on out it’s a safe guess that everything jay does is with backdrop of sickness and exhaustion.

then, of course, this is where jay starts being more open about his paranoia (which has certainly been an undercurrent for a while now)

also of note: this isn’t the first time he’s mentioned having a difficult time trying to keep things straight in his head and it won’t be the last. he was already starting to doubt his memories and his senses back in 2009.

moreover, paranoia and fear (and possibly fixation) about the situation has him holling up in his house, to the point that he’s running out of food. how long has this been an issue? and if it’s an issue in 2009, then just how bad is it going to be when he’s running himself in and out of hotels too afraid to stay in one location? how often has he been forgetting to eat while burying himself in tapes and fear?

whether it’s from the operator, his slipping memory, the results of fixating on his work for as long as he has, his frequent sickness, the paranoia, or any combination therein, we can add brain fog to the list

and again, a case for jay’s fixation on finding answer. he wakes up in his house with no memory of how he got there, confused and in pain, digs through the footage on his camera, and has the entry up the same day. this was the point where he’d visited brian’s house again, only to be teleported around and meet the operator face to face. he says in the entry that he’s never going back to the house again, that he’s done with the case, but well.

much further down the timeline jay would say that he had no idea what he was doing with his life before he started down this rabbit hole, that he was miserable and directionless and alone. He didn’t know what he would do with himself when all of this was over, he just knew that while he was taking the case on he was at least doing Something. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that this was always true, that part of his obsession with it was tied to feeling absolutely nothing for his life without it.

and sure enough, a week later and we get the idea that his paranoia is only getting worse, followed by him breaking and going back to search through the footage.

He posts more about his paranoia in february, but it’s in march that he’s scared out of his house by totheark only to have his apartment burned down. he only seems to learn about this march 24th, and he uploads the entry with the news footage on the 25th

while it’s true that he seemed to have taken a break after that upload, he’s back again on 4th with the cryptic text message. It’s between then and the 18th that he’d start his Long tradition of hotel hopping.

the final entry for season 1 is up the next day. We can’t know for sure exactly how truthful jay was when he said he was feeling better in entry 26, operator sickness tends to fluctuate with exposure just like any other mental illness. what we Can say is that jay got exactly 10 days of quiet between his apartment burning down and alex contacting him again, and after he was contacted he was afraid enough to start hotel hopping.

if 10 days is what jay merrick describes as a break, then my god. the implication that in an entire year jay merrick hadn't gone a 10 day stretch without looking at the tapes is, Something.

this is where things take a real shift, both in the narrative and in jay’s tweeting patterns! this is the period where jay went radio silent working with alex for 7 months, only to forget everything. the only insight we have on how he was doing at this point is what came before, and the tapes he’d uncover in season 2. my best educated guess is to say that he is doing Not Great.

it’s of course after the operator wiped his and jessica’s memories that he starts up tweeting again, he doesn’t remember why he stopped at this point after all. but he’s also far less talkative between entries. in the beginning especially we’d Hear when he was sick, when he wasn’t sleeping, because he’d update frequently enough that he felt the need to explain when he wasn’t able to. this change is most likely due both in part to not feeling safe enough to be as talkative publically anymore, and on his focus on figuring out what’s going on.

that’s not to say that we don’t get Anything from this time period however.

we get quite a lot of talk about lack of sleep, exhaustion, etc throughout the beginning of the year. insomnia and jay staying up late to work on entries is to be expected, but this is the first time that we hear about jay Oversleeping. I’d say he’s long overdue for it considering how much he’s gone through at this point (and for how long), though it’s Also notable as possibly being a symptom of either illness or depression that we Aren’t hearing about.

this one just makes me sad

it’s Relatively quiet after this, with jay making light commentary here and there. the general vibe is that he’s hard at work when, of course, entry 32 comes along.

jay just Stops after jessica is taken. he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even start looking through the tapes for over three weeks. he couldn’t keep himself away from the tapes for that long after he was face to face with the monster or after his house was burned down. that says more about his state of mind than anything else could have.

there’s some mentions of possible sleep issues and jay feeling paranoid (more specifically, not feeling safe anywhere at all), but things don’t Really pick up until march

jay tries to upload entry 37 throughout the day, but no matter what he does he can’t remember the password for the account. this continues on into the 22 Until

“enttry #37“ is uploaded the next day, the footage of alex’s birthday, it’s linked on his twitter, and then six days later

He posts about how the footage he’d found earlier was deleted on his laptop and how he needs to get back Fast. he takes a rest stop on the 30th to charge his laptop and look through the red tower one more time to make sure he didn’t miss anything. and then Nothing until

he doesn’t get back for nearly an entire Week. now, it’s important to mention that there’s been speculation that this was going to be where the original skully reveal would take place, which is believable enough. but whether or not that’s what it was Going to be, the implications with what we have Now are, troubling to say the least. we’ll probably never know exactly what happened here but It’s Not Good. what did he eat? what did he drink? how did he sleep? Poorly, I’d Imagine.

this may also be what his earlier brain fog was leading into. losing track of the days of the week turning into losing track of the days entirely. but we’ll never know for sure

after this we actually get quite a lot about jay’s general discomfort, paranoia, memory loss, and regret scattered over the months. none of it is specific but a lot of it is tied directly to his discomfort with the tapes, which has turned into a constant with every upload. we can certainly tell that he isn’t doing well, but this message is particularly notable because it mentions a specific symptom that we haven’t seen before.

at this point jay’s paranoia and anxiety is bad enough that he can’t sit in silence anymore, and if he’s mentioning it so casually now it’s likely been an issue for a while. jay doesn’t tell us everything, and there’s almost certainly worse that hasn’t been said.

jay has Significant problems with sleeping throughout august that seep into september, to the point that he calls it “worse than usual.” but this is overtaken by his horror at entry 49. jay censored alex beating a man’s head in, but he had to watch it unedited, and it clearly took his toll. he didn’t even want to share it but ultimately decided that the world needed to have it if anything happened to him. but that wasn’t the end of it.

he spends nearly the entire month trying to find Any sign of who this man was. this is a specific aspect of jay’s personality that I think gets overshadowed by the perception of him as stupid. what he is is overworked, over his head, and impulsive, but he’s not stupid. but this is an Excellent example of jay’s dedication (bleeding into obsession).

this is obviously speculation on my part, but I think you can read this two ways (or a mix of them both): either jay is worried that something about the operator wiped away the man’s existence (like being taken made people forget about him somehow). Or he’s motivated by guilt, feeling responsible for having been there the day the man got crunched only to run away, desperately looking for any sign that Somebody had bothered to care about him.

things are relatively quiet after this until just after entry 50

something jay’s mental health really doesn’t need: more evidence of people breaking and entering while he’s asleep. what’s interesting here is that he went much quieter after this, just a handful of tweets relating directly to the next entry. I think you could either read jay being less open about how he’s doing on twitter as him being Well Aware that the people who want to hurt him (or who he Thinks want to hurt him in the case of hoodie and masky) have access to it, and in part because he’s doing so much Worse now.

the end of season two that the start of season three, of course, brings tim back into jay’s life and with it a Much needed distraction from his fear and paranoia. we’ll never know how jay reacted to the news that alex had tried to kill him in the moment, but we do know that it shifted his mindset from passively digging through the old tapes to actively trying to hunt alex down. tim was a Living Breathing lead, something he could actually Grasp Onto. and in light of what was likely something Very horrific that became a new fixation for jay.

he’d live blog about looking for tim from november 28th to march 8th, this was the most active he’d ever been on twitter and I think it absolutely speaks to how desperate he was for this to go somewhere. he even got to do some breaking and entering ! that said, having a distraction didn’t mean that there weren't a few noteworthy.

jay’s Current lack of trust is what’s going to lead to his and tim’s blowout later on. we can’t know how tim would’ve reacted if jay had been honest from the beginning (and it honestly would’ve gone poorly anyways), but tim’s confrontation with jay was honestly using his anger at being lied to as an outlet for the horror he felt at learning the truth of what’d been going on. he definitely would’ve still been angry and hurt, but he wouldn’t have had a direction for that anger. they might’ve started working together sooner.

however at this point jay doesn’t know who wants to hurt him and who doesn’t, he doesn’t feel safe talking to strangers on the street, let alone someone he already knew stalked him for two years. both of their reactions are understandable, and you can see the collision course coming when you step back far enough.

jay is Very quiet about what’s going on with him at this point. there are a few updates about his general paranoia and fear as well as him live tweeting about things relevant to the plot (thinking about coming clean to tim, posting tweets and pictures of trying to find tim after hoodie stole his medication, solving the totheark code that troy forgot to post a key for), but there’s only a handful of standout tweets that give us something new about his mental health scattered throughout the series.

this absolutely does not mean that he’s in a better place of mind, but what it does mean is that he’s being less open about it. tim didn’t know just how bad jay was and he’d been living with him. the fact that we have less to work with at this point is more an indication that he doesn’t feel safe sharing anymore (he hasn’t for a while) and a possible sign that he’s already gone into denial about his health (not wanting to connect it to the operator because of what that’d mean for him).

that said, we can take a look at what’s left for us.

this is from after jay had tim take him to the abandoned hospital for the first time and before the entry of it went up. this is notable because it’s one of if not the first time that it’s been directly stated that buildings associated with the operator can cause sickness. that or we can infer that the operator was actively strengthening its influence on them at the time (which might’ve also contributed to both of their irritability in the entry itself).

I don’t think this is notable because this is jay’s First nightmare, but rather I think it’s notable for him because his memory of it is totally gone. it’d make sense why this’d scare him at this point considering well, the entire series of marble hornets. but it does raise the question of how many more nightmares Weren’t worth sharing to him and how often they contributed to his sleeping problems.

next it’s worth noting that entry 67 messed jay up a lot. likely because it was solid evidence that alex was out there actively hunting them down (and just how close tim had gotten to being taken after he’d been throttled by the operator). He ends up posting about it Twice, as opposed to his previous strategy of not at all.

now finally, Finally. I’d like to talk about jay’s state of mind leading into his death. lets start with the timeline

jay doesn’t say anything at all between entry 74 and entry 75. tim had been running the account while jay was out of it, but jay had come to at least by august first, entry 75 was posted august 23rd. this is jay, and he has absolutely nothing to say.

he’s only just come out of his zombie state, he’s stolen the tape from tim (after trying to give him the chance to come clean), and he’s run off. we don’t get anything else out of him until september 3rd.

jay’s waited almost 2 weeks not only to watch the tape, but to even say anything at all. in my opinion? I think he’s afraid to not have anyone left to trust, let alone tim. he wouldn’t have given tim so much time to come clean himself otherwise, he wouldn’t be afraid of even looking at the tape otherwise. part of it is the sting of having his trust betrayed before, of closing himself off, and then trying to trust again. part of it is that he genuinely cared about tim. he wants to believe in tim, and he’s making it absolutely clear here.

it took him another 9 days to work up the courage to watch the tape, a full 20 days since the entry showing he got the tape was posted (and possibly longer, since we don’t know how long the video took to make). he was That afraid of not being able to trust tim anymore. of course, we know now that what’d actually get to him was realizing that jessica was gone. he’s mentioned before that he blamed himself for jessica being taken. that was what’d kept him going for years at this point and now she’s just, Gone. Gone For Good Gone.

the specific timeline here is a little harder to sus out. the gaps between some entries are too long to really make sense and what we’re getting on twitter aren’t as overt as they have been before. but here’s my best attempt to straighten it out.

jay sits on this for roughly a month, likely trying to process something that he’d used as a crutch to help him keep going bursting into smoke and grieving for someone he doesn’t really know but that he’d cared deeply for anyways. it eventually reached the point where the events of entry 82. he desperately goes back to the tunnel, the last place he saw jessica go in the video, for any last trace of her, any sign that she could still be alive, and doesn’t find any. he tries to reach out to tim, he tells him that he’s seeing things, that the world is shifting around him, that he’s sorry and that he understands why tim did what he did.

we don’t get an insight in what this month was like for jay, but it’s clear that he had a steady decline. he’s scared, he’s alone, he knows he needs help. and then the operator takes him. we never see exactly what happens to him after the seizure, and with the montages we’ve seen from tim’s titty cam it really could’ve been anything. but whatever it was it was enough to change jay’s entire attitude.

this is the last thing that jay posts before entry 77 goes up. it’s hard to say when this was posted for sure, because 77 was up 3 days later on the 16th, but I think it has to take place after jay was assaulted by the operator. jay thought he could call tim beforehand, we saw him try on video, and there’d be no reason to try to contact him through twitter if he knew he had an easier way. what this tells us is that jay woke up after the operator attack, tried to call him an unknown number of times, failed to reach him because the operator was still blocking his calls on tim’s end, tried to reach tim through twitter, and Then went out to try to confront tim likely believing that tim was intentionally trying to avoid him.

that mental image alone hurts me, but this means that even after everything jay was still trying to reach out to him.

at this point jay was in, some kind of denial just like everyone else. it hurt to feel like he was responsible for jessica’s death so he had to believe that she was still out there, he had to believe that it was someone else’s fault. he didn’t want to hurt tim like alex did, he didn’t want to push tim away like brian did, he wanted tim to laugh and pull jessica out of his closet where she’s been hiding this whole time. he wanted to believe the truth wasn’t real because it hurt.

the desperateness that he begs tim to leave his camera Also gets to me. jay’s mentioned for years that the point of recording and uploading footage was to make sure someone would know what happened if “something happened to him.” he pointed the camera away from jessica for 30 minutes and something Did happen to her. that's been weighing on him for years but never more than it has been for the past month.

then when hoodie comes for him, lets him free himself, and runs off one of the first things jay did was go to tim’s medicine cabinet and make a noise of frustration at finding all of the bottles empty. he knew that something was wrong, he knew that he wasn’t thinking straight anymore, and on some level he still believed tim. but there wasn’t anything there, everyone was gone, and he was running out of time.

now, I wanna paint another picture here. according to tim, the footage he found on jay’s laptop was dated the day before jay came to confront him. jay tried to reach tim through twitter at 8pm so it’s safe to assume that it was posted the day before he decided to meet him in person. jay spent october 13th getting his shit kicked in, he was hogtied on october 14th, and the entry showing their confrontation was up on october 16th.

jay follows tim, he searches through the school, and then chooses to keep watch in the building overnight.

jay’s had issues with food since the first day of marble hornets, Literally. it’s possible he snacked before he came to confront tim, or on the way to the school. it’s possible the upload dates are one off (the timeline certainly gets wonky going off of upload dates after this). but even still, at the time he was getting shot he was on at least day two without food (and likely much much longer), and at least 48 hours without sleep (again, almost certainly longer). On Top Of Everything.

jay merrick didn’t stand a chance

there’s so So much more I could get into, especially if I started poking more at the entries themselves or the Implications of some of the things I’ve talked about here. but that’ll have to come another time, I’m very tired jfklsd

#marble hornets #mh #jay merrick #slenderverse #creepypasta #spoilers #meta #god I hope tumblr doesn't block this from the tags again

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

Candle | MYG Oneshot

Inspired by: Cavetown’s “Candle”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You met him at the lowest point in your life. He was your candle, your light, and he helped you fly to the clouds.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (I write my emotions and my dark thoughts, I write my pain and sturggles, but please don’t hurt yourself, okay? If any of you readers need to talk, please just shoot me a message. I’m a listening ear.) Angst, Hurt/Recovery Au, Depressing thoughts, Thoughts of Suicide, and last but not least Fluff, Please if you are struggling, reach out :) (HOTLINES)

Word Count: 4.3k Words

A/N: Please reach out if you’re struggling. I understand because I’ve struggled with these thoughts and this is my form of release. I really don’t want to trigger anyone. I care for all my readers and I want you to know that this beginning part may be the darkest thing I’ve written in a while, but I swear to you, this has a happy ending.

Other: Masterlist

Every time I screw up I feel I've let down all my friends Stumbling through a thousand stars and neon cars break through my skull There's so much life out here in space it's crazy that we're here at all

You can skip this beginning part if you would just like to read about recovery

It seemed like running away from your problems was the only thing you could do. It wasn’t even just speculation, it was the truth, evident through many many occasions where you metaphorically and literally ran away.

The first instance would have been when you were just 10 years old. Your parents were fighting again; smashed plates, drunken screams. So you managed to slip out undetected and you ran. You ran so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Everyone at school had always spoken about how beautiful love is. How they want to fall in love, get married, maybe become famous.

But it was at this moment that you decided that love was awful. If that’s what love did to people, why would you want that? As result, you were...emotionally stunted. Rash, unreasonable, guarded.

You found yourself running again in seventh grade. Kim Seokjin gave you flowers and sheepishly asked you out. No. No. No. The words rang in your head. Love is awful. You thought as you curled into a ball. It was making you cry. And you feared the ache in your chest would never go away, a forever hole in your heart. Love hurt other people. Seokjin was hurting because of it, or maybe because of you, but your mind watered it down to it being because of love.

Throughout high school you refused to let love into your life, to even try. It wasn’t worth it to you. What was the point if you were just going to break it off anyway? Surely you would never survive college. Besides, it wasn’t like you had a line of people wanting to date you.

Then college came around and left. You spent the entire time huddled in your studies and maybe going out with friends. You still ran from your problems, your insecurities. You were terrified. Terrified that whatever unfathomable anger your parents had was also passed down to you, that you’d hurt people like they hurt each other.

It’s better this way. You thought to yourself as you returned to your empty apartment.

It’s better this way. You thought at you watched the happy couple order their coffees.

It’s better this way. You thought as you turned down a man with roses and a boxy smile.

It’s better if you don’t fuck up someone else’s life like you’ve fucked up your own. The world was a scary place and you just wanted to get by. Happiness meant nothing to you. Everything was black and white. The world felt heavy on your shoulders and you knew no one could possibly help you hold it up.

What’s the point anymore? A waste of space. Years of pushing everyone away had finally worked. Now you were alone. No new messages, no phone calls, just empty space. You were stuck in a dead end job and it wasn’t like anyone would notice if you disappeared.

You sat in the bathtub, water turning cold, knees drawn in. If you slid under, would anyone notice? Would your body even have the strength to struggle if you inhaled the soapy water? If you let it drown you?

What if you took the kitchen knife and...You shivered. No. Your subconscious whispered.

Shut up. The monster responded. The monster was dark, a curling shadow the infested your mind. It wouldn’t be long until it grew to fill all the space in your mind; every corner, every turn. Every time you locked it away, it burst back stronger than before. When would it end?

You didn’t want the pain anymore. You didn’t want to die, you just wanted it all to stop. Maybe that’s why you were in the hospital. Maybe that’s why you were now surrounded by a group of adults around your age, all dressed casually and sitting on plastic chairs in a circle.

“Mina, why don’t you go next?” The woman who ran the group smiled. Her name was slipping your mind. She had introduced herself a while ago, but you hadn’t been paying attention. Instead, your attention was on a boy you went to high school with. Min Yoongi.

The young girl known as Mina fidgeted restlessly. Her fingers curled in and out, clutching the hem of her white shirt with unease.

“I...today...” She searched for the right words. Everyone was silent, only a few people looking at the girl. The rest were either staring at the ceiling or the ground. You were trying to figure out how much long you had to stay here. You had always known you were unwell mentally, but you didn’t think it was this bad.

That was until you were brought to the hospital with blood pooling around your wrists and cold water in your hair. It hadn’t been thought out, per say, you just didn’t want to continue on, not like this. None of the people here care about what you’re saying. No one is here to listen. They want to leave as badly as you do. The monster whispered.

And you intended to leave soon. You didn’t know what you were going back to, but you didn’t want to spend three months in this place. The entire building felt like a hospital with bare rooms and the bare minimum necessities. You couldn’t even shower without someone standing in the room, back faced away from you. Your phone was taken away, but it wasn’t like anyone was contacting you.

“Today, I didn’t feel the need to, uh, you know.” Mina whispered, head tilting down. The woman smiled at her approvingly.

“That’s wonderful improvement, Mina. You’re doing so well.”

“Thank you.” The girl murmured back, every word getting quieter. You didn’t want to share, you didn’t want to let these strangers into your head, you already enough strangers in there.

“Y/N?” The woman turned to you. Her blonde hair was pulled into a crisp bun, not a hair out of place.

“Pass.” You said lamely, slumping in your seat. You could feel a heated stare from across the circle and you spotted Yoongi looking at you. He locked eyes and you had no choice but to look away out of pure discomfort.

“Okay, but please do consider opening up to the group. We’re all here to support you.” She smiled warmly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You knew she was getting frustrated. A full month and no improvement.

“I don’t want to, I won’t ever. I’ve handled my problems just fine before so I’d appreciate if you’d let me do that.” You snapped back. Why can’t they just understand you? See, it’s just another room of people who don’t care.

Your fingers itched to dig into the pad of your thumb. That’s how it all started, right? You went numb a long time ago, it was hopeless impassiveness.

“Please think about it.” The woman noted something onto her clipboard. She went down the list of names and tapped her pen on a name. “Yoongi?”

The male frowned and shifted uncomfortably. He had pitch black, curly hair and bangs that hung loosely in front of his face. He was like you. He hadn’t said much, but there had been a noticeable shift in how he acted. You didn’t even realize that you had been studying how he moved, how he ticked, but you realized it now. He sat up straighter, no longer lazily avoiding questions. The man even tried to interact with you a couple times, but you immediately turned him down. No one wants to be friends with a monster.

“Today...today I felt better.” Was all he said, a soft expression passing over his face before he went back to his blank expression. The woman couldn’t hide her excitement at the progress.

“That’s great, Yoongi! Keep it up and let me know if there are any issues.” She said, her voice hurried and almost giddy.

He simply nodded swiftly and went back to staring at you, or maybe the wall behind you, you couldn’t tell. Your fingers dug into the palms of your hand. Why are you the only one not making progress?

“Well, I think that’s all we have time for.” The woman looked at her watch. “Let me know if you want to talk,” She looked pointedly at you. “My door is always open.”

She seemed nice enough, just...overly excited. It came across as fake, forced, and certainly not genuine. She gathered her things and left the room, big double doors swinging behind her.

You watched her leave and when she was out of sight, you relaxed more. The others in the group got up and went to watch T.V. or play games. Yoongi and you were frozen in place. He was burning you alive with his eyes and you were trying your best to put out the flames. He slowly stood and walked over to you, standing close enough that you had no choice but to look at him.

Surprisingly, the expression he wore was not intimidating. It came across as soft, almost kind. He held out his hand and your eyes trailed to where his sleeves hitched up slightly. White lines of faded scars, scars made from sharp razors, peppered his skin. You didn’t mention it. Your arms were marked the same way.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I recognize you from high school.” He said nonchalantly. “Want to get lunch and catch up?”

“No thanks.” No. No. No. Stop trying to get close to me. You averted your eyes, but that didn’t deter him.

“Y/N.” He breathed. “Come on. I just want to get to know you better.”

“No you don’t.” You bit back, hands clenching into fists.

“But I do. And if I cared about the dark thoughts in your head or the twisted caverns of your mind, we both wouldn’t be here.”

It was weird to hear someone describe their mind to you. You had always thought of your mind as a house and your bedroom where you slept had the worst demon. To hear him see his mind as caverns, twisting tunnels, and a maze, it was...informative. He’s lost. You’re trapped. One in the same.

“No thank you.” You repeated. “I’m going to my room to read.” You stood abruptly and left.

But he just doesn’t give up. It was actually a weird attribute for someone in the position you’re in right now, but you didn’t think much of it. He asked you every single day. No. No. No.

And one day, he wore you down. When he took your hand in his and led you to the cafeteria, you realized how much you craved physical affection. It made you feel out of control. And you dropped his hand like you were burned. You’re not supposed to let people get this close. Getting attached is stupid, what if you hurt them?

Yet, when you sat down with him and began talking about life, you could physically feel a weight pulling off your chest. You didn’t know when he took your hand, you didn’t realize, that he had rushed forward and taken some of the weight for himself. He dedicated his shoulders to help you hold your pains as well, he reached out and he cared. He cared for the girl he’d been obsessed with since high school.

It was a shock to see you in the same place as him. Why didn’t he see the signs? A question he would ask himself for a long time.

You couldn’t laugh. You physically couldn’t bring yourself to do it, even if you found something hilarious. It was like your chest was weighted down, refusing to do anything other than keep you alive and breathing. A month passed of sitting at lunch with Yoongi and then running to get as far away from him as possible. You’re getting sloppy. You thought, was it your thoughts or the monster’s? Perhaps you were the same person now.

It was after lights out. The hallways were dark, dead silent. You didn’t want to sleep. You couldn’t. You had another month and then you could leave, but they could sign a few papers and force you to stay if they didn’t think you were better. You couldn’t even remember what it was like to feel better. What is it like to feel anything? Your arms hung off your bed as you sprawled out on the single bed. There was a knock. The door was always unlocked, but everyone usually respected each other’s space.

“Yes?” You didn’t question who it was, you knew.

The door softly opened and then closed. In the darkness, your eyes struggled to see the outlines of him, but with how he was standing you knew it was Yoongi.

“Hey. How are you?” He murmured, he walked forward and plopped onto the ground in front of your bed. You didn’t turn to face him.

“I’m stuck in this place, what do you think?”

“You can talk to me, you know?”

“I don’t want to talk, god, everyone just wants me to spill all of my life to them. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” You said harshly, your voice hushed as to not be heard by the staff.

Again, Yoongi was not deterred. He stood and walked to your bedside. You turned your head to look at him. He crouched and took your hand in his. The moonlight filtered through the small window, illuminating his face and eyes that glowed in the darkness. He was staring at you and you felt your breath hitch. No. You wanted to look away but you were transfixed. Look away, goddamnit. No one wants to know your shit. But his warm hand didn’t stray from yours. You thought back to the cafeteria, all the small smiles of encouragement he gave you, the happy memories he was beginning to create.

But you don’t deserve those happy memories. You don’t deserve-

“Want to see the stars with me, Y/N?”

Your train of thought halted. He smiled a little, eye glinting. You craned your neck to look out the small window, but at this angle it was impossible to see much except black.

“I’m not sure if they exist anymore.” You whispered, eyes locking with him. He squeezed your hand.

“They do, and you deserve to see them.”

Stop, what are you doing? The monster hissed.

I’m not sure anymore. A new voice whispered. The monster was taken aback by a small light, small as a matchstick, floating into the room. All I need is a candle to light this place up. The matchstick whispered in your ear.

You nodded blankly, standing up and following him out the door, voices forgotten.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look at you.

You’re currently both sprawled side by side, arms and legs splayed like you’re making snow angels. Your eyes are taking in the sight above. The Milky Way shines in a brilliant streak across the sky. The stars are littering the darkness like flashlights twinkling on and off.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathe softly. All that’s there is the sound of the trees rustling around the building’s rooftop.

“I know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then the gravel shifts underneath him as he turns over on his side to look at you.

“Tell me what happened.” He whispered. You shifted over to look at him as well.

“You don’t want to know. The things inside my head,” you paused, letting your eyes shut and a breath escape. “They’re monsters. And I can’t tell the difference between me and them.”

He nodded, holding eye contact. He reached over and interlaced your fingers with his.

“I think if people knew my thoughts, they’d run. So I do the job for them.” You relented, the walls slowly cracking. He had shared so much of himself with you, you felt the need to let him have a piece, but you didn’t want the whole dam to break.

“You’re not a monster, and no one’s going to shut you out.” He whispered. The dam cracked, water splashing over the top as it filed beyond capacity.

“My parents fought a lot and I fear their anger is in my genes. I refuse to hurt people.” You whispered, suddenly sitting up before the wall could crack further. “And that includes you.”

“Wait, Y/N!”

“Just stop, Yoongi. You’re only going to get yourself hurt.” You couldn’t even bring yourself to add anger to your words. It was just pure defeat. You were tired. So very tired.

“Y/N. You have someone here to see you?” A nurse knocked on your door. You often heard her knocking on others’ doors to say this exact line, but you never imagined it to be your own.

“Who?”

“She goes by a Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Your heart sped up.

“What?”

You followed the cheerful nurse down the hall in a daze, one foot after another. She came? She came? You ignored the gaze from Yoongi as you passed him. She came? She came? It was like a chant, a mantra. Your throat closed up at the thought of even seeing your mother. The woman who raised you, the one who made you terrified of love, but loved you endlessly. Nonsense. The monster whispered at that thought. It made you want to cry more.

She came? You turned the corner. Your eyes searched the room of visitors. It was quiet, murmurs of joy and sadness shaking from each group. Then you saw her, sitting in the back, not distracted, eyes searching for you. You can’t do this. You were shaking and the nurse paused, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just...homesick.” The last word barely managed to get out, your mouth shutting to keep a sob inside. Your mother met your eyes and she didn’t move. You could barely breathe.

She came. You bit your lip hard to stop the tears from gathering more than needed. You were an adult. You hadn’t even spoken to her in two years, but there was no doubt that she represented your home, your childhood, years you could never relive again. You walked forward and sat in front of her.

You expected anger. Their eyes were always full of anger in your memories. Her skin was always cut from the dishes thrown to the ground. Her voice was always hoarse from the screaming; from the love that faded before her eyes, before your eyes.

You expected anger, but when you met her eyes, she was simply worried. Motherly concern written on her face. She looked you up and down.

“Mom?” Your voice was small, like a child. She stood and went to your side. She crouched and pulled you into a bone crushing hug. Her hand caressed your head, her other wrapped around your waist.

“Shhh.” She whispered, but you could feel her wet tears on the back of your shirt. You slowly let your hands come up and wrap around her as well. You pulled her in close, tears flowing quickly, a pain in your chest letting itself out. You were a child again, running from the rain and darkness, running from the things that scared you most.

Your hands scrunched up the back of her shirt as you sobbed.

“I’m sorry.” You cried out. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” She held you. She wrapped her arms around your middle and let you release tears. A language that speaks when the words just aren’t enough.

“Once you’re out of here, once you’re better, I think you should come live with us again.” She whispered.

“Why?”

“Because we love you.”

You pulled away, rubbing your nose on your sleeve.

“You don’t know what love is.” You said in disbelief, the words tumbling out before you can think. See, look at you messing up again. The words weren’t accusatory, they were spoken like the truth; the truth you had convinced yourself to believe.

“Yes, I do, Y/N.” She gently pushed back a strand of your hair, not showing any signs of pain. “Your father and I fought a lot, but we still love each other. Love is commitment. You can’t run away from it.”

“Yes you can.” You insisted. “I’ve done it my entire life.”

“Are you happy?”

Silence. You could feel the lump in your throat coming back. She came back for you. She cared. She loves you and she wants you to come home. The matchstick sung. You refused to give it a candle. You were scared. Without the darkness, who would you be? Weren’t you and the monster one in the same?

“No.” You said quietly.

“Visiting hours are over.” The nurse said over the speaker and families bid their farewells as they left.

“I think that’s telling enough.” Your mother didn’t move for a moment. Then she slowly stood, taking you with her. “Get better, please. I love you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t move as she left. You watched her leave. Always gone. The monster whispered.

But she came back for you. The matchstick said softly.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?” He looked up from his food as you walked over. You had spent so long eating in your room, isolating yourself, but you realized you missed talking to that dork.

His eyes traced your body, a confused look on his face. You set down your tray and sat with him. Avoiding him was getting you nowhere. You glanced at his short sleeves, then to the metal knife in his hand. He’s improving. You felt self conscious, but continued.

“You don’t like carrots, why did you get them?” He asked, eyeing your plate. You knew he liked them. You got them for him. And...you couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle. The sound was foreign.

“You’re doing well.” You said quietly, ignoring his confused stare. He nodded once.

“You as well.” He didn’t smile. You wanted to see his gummy smile again. You reached over hesitantly and placed your hand on his. His eyebrows shot up.

“When are you being discharged?”

“Next week.”

“Good job.” You ignored the sinking feeling in your stomach. You’re happy for him. Really. But it made you feel weak. This entire time you were trying to be strong, to shut everyone out, but maybe real strength was working to improve yourself. You don’t have that strength. Yet, the monster’s voice was weaker and the matchstick burned brighter.

Just give me a candle and I’ll light this place up. The matchstick floated towards you. At this rate, I’ll burn up soon enough.

And you didn’t know if you would be able to recover if the matchstick burned out.

“Hey, Yoongi? Want to go see the stars tonight?”

The galaxy looked like if someone took a paint brush and smeared a streak of purple, pink, and white across a blank canvas.

“Sometimes, I think I’m just letting everyone down.” Not sometimes, all the time.

“What do you mean?”

“I chased away all my friends and everyone I cared about. Now look where I am.” You were sitting with your legs crossed while Yoongi laid down. “They probably hate me.”

“I think if you reached out, they would still want to see you.” Yoongi said carefully.

“They don’t.” You said sharply before letting out a breath. “I don’t know what I’d go back to.”

“Your friends may not love you, but they care about you, right?”

“I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

He mulled over this fact for a moment before sitting up right.

“Well you have me, and I love you. All of you.” His voice was firm and before you could speak, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, tugging you to his chest. You missed this.

“That can’t be right.” You murmured, but he heard you.

“It’s true.” He whispered, breath fanning across your neck and making you shiver.

“Why?”

“There isn’t a reason, it’s just the universe telling me something about you makes me feel right.”

You turn around and interlace your fingers with his, holding them up between you.

“Me too.”

Yoongi was gone, but you didn’t feel like a lost cause. They trusted you with metal now and you could take a shower without someone in the room. Your mind just kept going back to his number written on a crumpled up piece of paper in your pocket.

You had looked at that paper for hours, memorizing it in case you lost it. Now you stood, fingers curling and uncurling as you hesitated. The door was blue, a contrast to the white halls. The name card read Dr. Kim. So that was her name, huh? You raised your hand to knock. No. No. No.

The monster had never fought so hard. Doubt flooded your brain, filling every crevice and the matchstick was drowning. No. No. No. Then, as you were dragged into the depths of your mind, your feet turning around to go back to your room, a hand grabbed your arm and tugged you to the surface. Yoongi’s face stared back at you in the darkest corner of your mind.

He pulled you to his chest and looked you in the eye. Yes. He whispered. The candle. There it was. Warmth, a soft yellow light chasing the darkness away. The monster, shrunk away, for once smaller than the candle. You held the candle and found yourself walking back to that blue door.

Knock knock knock. The door opened to reveal Dr. Kim, the kindness in her eyes that had seemed so fake a few months ago, now comforted you. The flame burned brighter.

“Y/N?” Her disbelief was evident. “Would you like to...to talk?”

No. No. No.

“Yes, please.”

She opened the door and the flame turned into a wildfire, spreading to every corner in your darkened home. You walked in, watching the monster grow bigger, growling at you to leave. And for once...you didn’t run away.

Have the strength to push away all the pain from yesterday, Cause there's nothing worth crying about Your heart is a candle and I won't let you blow it out

#bts #bts x reader #min yoongi #suga #yoongi x reader #Candle #Oneshot #angst #fluff #tatafics #TRIGGER WARNING #Hurt/recovery au

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