#fucked repeatedly by Situations and Scenarios and the like

[acidicpenumbra]

they get to dance. or. whatevers up with them. this was already sketched like right after finishing the last art wirh the two of them so i had to finish it. i think the dynamic idea is interestinf actuallt irs a shame that like. nothing fuckinf exists but alas i have tje power to create and boy did i do that. erm. hey guys. more infinadow before i fixate on another pairing i suppose

[aupoe]

Nighttime stress

Pairing: Keegan x F!Reader. Warning: Nsfw, Somnophilia, Porn with plot, Breeding kink, Body worship, Praising, Pervert Keegan, English is not my first language, Keegan is a simp for us, Nakadashi, Obsessive Keegan.  Words count: 3.5k Pic credit: @/callsignmint on tt

Keegan knew he was fucked. 

Waking up in the middle of the night with his cock painfully brushed against the top of his pants. The tip was leaking precum forming a wet patch that could easily be noticed without the lights even on. There was so little stimulation that with each shifting of his legs, Keegan let out a deep groan from the way the cotton pressed down harder on his sore, redden, sensitive tip.  He swore he could cum right at that moment when the fragments of the dream slowly pieced together in his brain. You looked so gorgeous, wet and inviting as Keegan felt his cock twitched at the thoughts. 

Being a gentleman as he was. Keegan usually scrambled to the bathroom to jerk off with his little fantasy about you. Hands going up and down in frustration in hope to recreate the feeling of having your cunt wrapped tightly around his member, squeezing out each seed Keegan only had for you.  Sometimes he let his cock get the better of him, making him just start humping onto the pillow as his eyes rolled back into his skull from pleasure. 

But how could Keegan control himself when the first thing he saw while sitting up was your soft, peaceful body next to his. 

Wearing only panties and his shirt which hung onto your body for dear life because of how tiny you're in comparison to his figure. The sight was so inviting that Keegan gulped down his watery mouth unconsciously. The sleeves were pulled down onto your forearms as your left breast spilled out and Keegan welcomed the sight of it very very much. The bottom of the shirt was pushed up, revealing your tummy that he constantly kept his hands on for no particular reason. He loved the texture, the softness so much that it became his stress ball once he got home from work. Oh to be able to hold it right now, Keegan could faint from the pleasure.

He let his eyes wander before moving downward, staring at your thighs and the little panties that worked its best to keep your cunt from spilling out the side. Those thighs that he repeatedly requested to lay on or even better, squished between now were bare for only him to see. He remembered the time when he could kiss them, bite them, show them his love and desires as he held you down from squirming away from pleasure. It was and will forever be his greatest achievement, marking you up with bites after bites, kisses after kisses when your eyes rolled back into your head, tongue stuck out so he could lean in and kiss you 'till his heart content. 

All those horny thoughts only worsened his condition right now as Keegan felt his cock twitch violently. He groaned as he moved slowly to sit up on your left.  He watched as your chest raised up and down steadily, taking in as much air as you wanted, completely oblivious to how hot and bothered your boyfriend was. That face, that innocent, peaceful face, Keegan swore he could just jerk off to your sleepy face with no issue and smeared his cum across your puffy lips, or maybe tried to push them. In which, your hot tongue would obediently licked his cum off his fingers and sucked on them greedily like how he always praised you for. 

In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of multiple strings snapping while leaning in closer to your unconscious body. Keegan flicked his tongue, letting out a string of curse words as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It's almost like you had him under a leash, like a damn horny dog he was. The more he tried to reason with himself, the more the situation got worse. 

You also want this, right? 

He knew how your brain worked. How many fanfictions you had read about this scenario. How you talked about it with great interest and hid your phone away when he tried to take a peak. He was a gentleman and forever would, if you asked nicely, with your eyelashes fluttering and a reddened cheeks, he would pin you down, kiss your knees and give you the pleasure you always crave for. But the fact that you tried to keep this side hidden from his naked eyes made him even more furious. Maybe it's just the way his horny brain worked right now but for the first time, he felt scared. 

Why distance your true self from him? 

Was he such a terrible lover? 

Has he not showered you with enough love?

Or maybe he was that bad of a fucker that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him? Was his dick not satisfying you enough?

Therefore, he promised to worship you better tonight. Or just to have a reason to fuck you dump tonight. 

He was shaking when he leaned down closer to your face. Keegan could barely brush your cheeks or hair like he normally would, not because you’re fragile, a porcelain doll like how you would call you, but in fear of waking you up. Keegan swallowed his saliva before pressing his lips on your forehead. He could feel the heat inside of him quickly transfer to your body when his lips connected to your skin. Gosh, he wished that he could spread the heat onto your skin, making your sweats dripped down to the bed, rolling out of your chest as Keegan held you closer to his chest.

Trembling, he moved down onto your lips. Keegan sealed your lips away with a tender delicious kiss. He wanted to push his tongue in, dance around while pushing his saliva in and watch them trickle down from the corner of your mouth. That was his greatest pride. Yet, he let out a hiss as he forced himself to lean back, holding back his desire, dumping them down his throat in order not to wake you up. He was in so much pain, yet for you, he would suffer for eternity. 

As he moved downward, planting various feathering kisses like how you would tease him every time to your neck, collarbones, each of your breasts, tummy, navel. He swore, your skin was so soft that he wished to bite down and mark every inch of your body, taking in the sensation of having your legs around his back, caging him and edging him to go deeper and deeper. You were his drug, his addiction and he would happily comply. When his mouth reached your black panties, Keegan bit down onto the middle and pulled the polyester down to your kneecaps while keeping his eyes on your face, stopping every so slightly when your eyes twitched. Keegan took the black panties in his hand, rubbing the fabric like second nature only to find your slick covering his fingers. The moment his eyes laid on the sight, air quickly escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp. The wet, sticky substance heightening his sense along with the bulge that greedily grinds against the bed sheet as he pocketed the panties for later.  His cock was already dripping wet, precum leaking from the top as he wished it was your hot watery mouth that wrapped around his dick, rather than the cold sheet on both sides of his thighs.

“Fucking hell…” Keegan slurred, shaking his head to keep himself focused on the task. He trailed quick kisses from the feet to your inner thighs. His strong biceps that he trained for hours on end now served its greatest purpose, to hold your thighs apart so he can taste your alluring cunt.

Keegan brought out his tongue, giving your folds a kitten lick before blowing air into your cunt. He watched as your body shivered and chuckled to himself. You’re so hopeless and it’s feeding into his brain, nurturing the desire to fuck you dumb, using you like a cocksleeves exactly how you would beg him to. Keegan thoroughly pushed his index and middle fingers through your puffy lips, he tugged and turned so that a  good layer of your saliva could be seen once he drew his fingers out. With his left hand, Keegan formed a V shape with his fingers to spread your cunt apart, taking in the sight your walls contracted, matching his own breathing rhythm. Keegan pushed his fingers in slowly and your hot, humid walls immediately responded to the sudden invasion by squeezing him harder, making him suck a breath in, almost whimpering due to how delicious your tight hole was milking him in. 

With his fingers scissoring in, stretching your entrance out, his tongue lap around the clit, circling, sucking and biting down on it just to see your body tremble from pleasure. He drank on your juice, letting it drip over and covering half his face while he fucking his tongue in, lapping on every juice that spilled out of your pussy. He made himself a thirsty man, dumb on drinking you up like his finest meal in the middle of the night. Keegan was mesmerized by the taste, salty but yet so sweet like how he had always daydream about. His icy blue watched as your thighs shaken, as he was reaching his own climax. He held both your legs open, keeping his left hand on your thigh, the other holding down on your stomach, pushing it downward as his thumbs rub against your clit. The deeper his tongue reached, the rougher he became and a rhythm was found with his hip thrusting into the sheet underneath him. 

Until he noticed that your walls were clenching more so often that he pulled himself out of you. Keegan wanted you to cum on his cock, not tongue for tonight. Huffing, he looked down and to his surprise, his cock slowly sprang up again, slapping against his stomach as if he didn't just leave a trail of cum shot on the bed a second ago. The white trail led from his knees to almost reaching your cunt. While he was familiar with the sight of his transparent, almost liquid-like cum dripping down from your cavern, to see how thick, chunky and white it was tonight could explain how long he had went without your pussy milking him to the verge of tears.

As much as Keegan wanted to eat you out throughout the night, he, himself, could not control the itching and soreness of his cock, having to cum dry as he gave it a few strokes. Hissing ever so slightly, teeth clenched together each time his thumb touched the angry tip. With a quick, smooth stroke, he pushed the foreskin downward as it stood in its glory. The member was a combination of length and thickness, with a pink mushroom tip and a little bump in the middle that could deliciously brush against your G-spot everytime he pushed himself deeper, or bottomed out. 

Keegan knew that his size was larger than what you're used to, it's proven its power every single time he can get his cock inside of your tiny, small, delicious little cunt. Keegan made it his life long mission to make you feel good on his cock, and only on his. He would whisper praise after praise as he had nothing but sweetness to offer you while his hand ran down your body, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, addicted to the feeling of your skin spilling out between his fingers. 

Carefully, Keegan lined up his dick with your entrance, his left hand spread your cunt out for him as he watched himself sinking in, slowly disappearing into you. 

“Agh, fuckfuckfuckfuck…..” Stream of curse words fell out of his mouth as the tightness and hotness of your cunt made his brain freeze. The contrast between the cold bedroom and your warm walls result in a speechless Keegan. He fell onto his forearms on either side of your head while biting his lips in an attempt to keep himself silent. He knew how his whimpers and moans did to you, and he was afraid that you might wake up to the sight of him so sensitive that he could not push himself any deeper inside of you. 

Keegan sinked his weight down on your body, pushing it deliciously against the mattress when the heat of our body sent electric shots to his brain.  Thus making him clench down on his teeth, face buried into the  middle of your chest. His lips opened and closed, kissing and sucking the spot lightly as he rolled his hips until he finally felt himself  fully inside you. His angry cock throbbed, he could feel the veins brushed against your humid pussy, making you clench down even harder. In which, making him feel even more dumb and horny. 

His pace wasn't slow, yet wasn't fast as a result of his mixed up brain. On one hand he wanted to brutally fuck you stupid, while the other was scared that he could hurt you. 

He slowed down, bottomed out and pulled his cock out only to witness the of your cunt getting oh so attached to his dick that your meat was dragging off outside with a loud ‘pop’, as if begging not be departed from his cock. Keegan immediately slammed back in without hesitation as he slurred. Mouth watered as he pushed himself forward to trade some of his saliva with yours, mixing them up like cocktails in your mouth before slurping them back down his throat. 

Keegan got himself into a rhythm of just bottoming out, slamming in that he found himself lost in pleasure yet again. The pace got rougher and rougher as he pushed your body upward, back arched up like you were inviting him to destroy your inside. You accommodated him so well, so responsive that he suddenly felt doubt that you're faking your sleep. Because how could you possible asleep with how he was fucking you right now. The room was filled with skin slapping sound, your cunt made a sloppy sound when his dick came back in, the air was humid with the addicting sex smell and the bed cricket ever so slightly. 

His cock continued stretching you out, molding your pussy into a shape that could take in whatever he gave you. Keegan dreamt of rearranging your inside so that he could forever pinning you down and slid your panties off easily like this. His cock would be kissing your cervix again and again. At some point, he was thrilled to think that it might open up widely soon so that he can dump his cum inside while you continuously sucking them in. Your juice overflew, forming a delicious white base around the base of his cock as he watched your cunt flutter open for him. While the tip was teasing your cervix, his little bump in the middle was doing its magic while constantly stimulating your G-spot. Sometimes, he caught your moaning and panting. If he was the person 5 minutes ago, he would slow down but now, he would love to take that risk. Maybe the sight of you waking up to the sudden soreness of your core, eyes filled with shock then shifted into the back of your head when he slammed back in, rocking your body backward had him giggling to himself like a madman. 

His cock exited and entered thus his thrust became more and more sloppy. Keegan could feel his climax in the back of his mind as he held you closer, one hand on your back, pressing your chest onto his as he pounding on your faster and faster than before his cock vibrated violently inside of you. 

"Agh… yes yes, t-taking me in so well, sweetheart. You're so good~... " Keegan slurred as his seed, thick and creamy, spilled out of his cock started to fill you up, painting your wall luscious white. He rolled his hips a bit more, despite his exhibition in an attempt to keep all his semen in your small and tight pussy before pulling out. His hand caressed your tummy as he felt it swell from how much cum he stuff you with as he leaned down to kiss it.

"Oh, fuck fuck so good, so goddamn good" Keegan hissed as he tried to regain his compulsory and release your body reluctantly. The way he laid you down so gently was a great contrast to the man that pounded on you like an animal minutes. But Keegan was so wrong, thinking that this might be the end because the moment he saw your cunt made a slurp sound before dropping globs (?) after globs of semen onto the mattress got his dick hard again. 

"Fuck this shit, you did this on purpose right?  Got me fucking under your spell right, doll?~" He groan, a moan of both frustration and pleasure as he hold your body up, turning your around. Your face was pushed into the pillow and his arms pulled your ass up for him. The sight was so lewd and he was fucking glad to be the only one to witness your body getting destroyed without you noticing. How could anyone imagine that the tough, cold, icy soldier was such a whore for his lover at night? Drinking in their sight or maybe kissing the foot that they step on him. 

His cock throbbed back alive as the sight registered into his brain, transmitting the horny sensation back down to his dick. Giving it a stroke while leaning downward, Keegan kissed your cunt. His tongue moved carefully to collect off the dripping seed in order to push them back inside of you again. He took a big suck in your clit, leaning back not without releasing it with a big, vulgar 'pop'. With one hand holding your ass up, Keegan gathered his saliva and spit on your cunt as well as his cock. He tapped your entrance with his tipped lightly before sinking back in. 

" ‘m-… god, you're still s-so tight doll" Keegan groaned as he held you by the tummy. His head buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling every single scent that you offered him, the other snaked around to hold onto your hip. 

This time he didn't feel shy anymore as he start his pace strong and forward. With each slapped of his balls against your ass, he could feel the bulge on your stomach reappeared and disappeared. His hand pressed down on it more and more aggressively as the pace picked up. 

His semen and your juice now join together in your tiny cunt that he loved so much. His dick glided effortlessly in and out, yet, didn’t exclude the power and strength. Each thrusts brought out a delicious moan from you that made his brain go mush so completely. Though your body had grown familiar with his animalistic thrust, the juice wasn't, as it still flowed out of your holes each time he went deeper. It glided down from your inner thighs to the sheet, or maybe just dropped down like rain. Either way, the sight only fed into Keegan's mind, edging him to manhandle you more often. 

Because would you look at that? Your body was so weak and fragile, pressing against his abs and solid build. He flipped you over and carried you around like a doll while your face remained the pure and naive look, getting more and more horny the more he kissed your cervix with his dick. When you rapidly squeeze around him again, Keegan rasped and pounded as deeply as possible, mouthing at the crook of your neck, kissing all the previous marks that he left on you when he got home. His cock tilted up as he readjusted himself so his hip had the best angle to get you dump. Drools dropped down from the corner of your mouth as the spine of his dick scraped onto your G-spot again and again.

“Look what a lovely mess you’re for me~” He melted on top of you as he kissed off the sweat that trickled from his chest to your back, cleaning you off or just coating you with a layer of his saliva from inside to out. His hand around your tummy tightened as he reached his high, hips sloppily thrust in. Keegan let out a cry of satisfaction when another pump of his loads got released inside of you as your body happily sucked them into the cervix.

Keegan breathed out slowly as his eyes went watery from how overstimulated himself was for you. He kissed the back of your neck again when laying you down, spooning you in his hand. Chest touching your back in a position that he deem would protect you from the outside world threats but not to his thirst for you.

Keegan smiled happily and intertwined their legs together, he brushed your wet hair away from your face. His cock still buried deep inside as he mumbled praises after praises in his sleep.

What a simp..

[redr0sewrites]

One thing I can't help but feel a Sub!Vox would unexpectedly enjoy is getting reminded/teased about the fact he has a safe word he can use.

Like, beyond just the safe, practical etiquette of double checking and making sure everything's still okay, in the scenario that he absolutely is still okay: You got him so worked up, overstimulated, repeatedly sobbing out "I can't"s, only to have you sweetly cut in with a sweet "Do you need to use the safe word~?" (Or any other possible non-verbal "STOP" sign that got agreed upon), and having that answer be "No."

Him getting faced with the fact that he can so, so, so easily have anything that's happening to him stop, should he so wish it, and yet, despite all his whining and begging and crying, he's actively choosing not to have it stop.

Him just getting so flustered by that paradox of him being reminded that he's in complete control over having no control~

YESSSSSS AUGHGHH I NEED TO PAMPER HIM‼️

🥀Cw: smut, sub!vox, safeword mentioned, overstim, not proofread bc i am both sick and tired im so sorry

🥀minors dni

once vox is in subspace, he really is a mess- drooling, moaning, whimpering, clawing at the sheets, and most obviously, crying

to most people this would give the impression that he wants to stop, but in reality, vox very very rarely uses the safeword but fuuuck it is SUCH a turn on for him that the opportunity is there

we all know he has a power kink, and he's so obviously in a submissive position during sex, but the fact that you're the one allowing him to stop if he needs to? it gets to his head

it also opens the door to his humiliation kink, bc nothing turns him on more than being humiliated. the fact that he could so, so easily quit, just walk out and be out of the embarrassing, submissive position he's in but instead he finds himself wanting to be wrecked- more than wrecked, downright ruined by you when he could so easily walk away. the entire situation is exhilarating and arousing to him

he also adores it when you use it mockingly, if you start cooing "aww, poor baby, do y'need to tap out already? gonna use the safeword sweetie?" he's already babbling, pleading with you to keep going, how he's being suuuuch a good boy! and then? well, he's rambling on and on about how he can't stop yet, how he needs to cum! how could you deny him?

vox takes punishments well, but will brat out the whole time, whimpering and whining about how he can't take it. however, the second you threaten to stop, or offer the safeword? he's putty in your hands, drooling and clawing at the sheets, practically begging you to keep going. its the quickest way to get him to completely submit to you without even another word!

vox isn't used to relinquishing control in general, so the power dynamics proposed by the safeword honestly make him trust you even more. even outside of the bedroom, it flusters him when you ask before touching him or when you ask about sex instead of just initiating.

when it comes to softer sex, vox also likes to be reminded of the safeword! sometimes he's just so stressed out that he just wants to be pampered, but he reaches a point where his mind gets so fuzzy he just can't stop :( he's mewling and whining as you ride him, tears streaming down his screen as you praise him, and he doesn't realize how far gone he is until you gently remind him he can tap out whenever he needs to. vox will nod, eyes watery and face flushed, and soon he becomes more aware of just how sleepy he is. he always makes sure you both cum one more time before tapping out, but i can also see him having a bit of a somnophilia kink, so he would probably consent to letting you fuck him in his sleep, with the promise of the safeword still being valid

i mentioned this before in the dry humping hcs, but sometimes, vox will get so needy and horny that he just can't stop, so the reminder of the safeword is often very useful when he's too far gone to communicate but is like 2 seconds away from passing out. but sometimes he likes to be pushed to the edge too, so he won't always use the safeword but gets off on the fact that the option is there

also tiny additional hc, i think he would like to use a meaningful word for a safeword. maybe something related to technology, like radio or something, or possibly electric. like if he started saying electric, it would mean he wanted to stop. or i think he would use a color system, you would ask him what color and he'd say red green or yellow depending on how into it he is or how he's feeling etc etc. either way he wants it to be meaningful and not just some random word- like he wants a sentimental reasoning behind whatever word you choose (feel free to comment safeword ideas so i can use them in future fics 👹)

vox lets out a wanton moan, glitching and panting as he humps your thigh like a dog in heat. he's writhing under your touch, unsure of where to put his hands when all he can focus on is the pressure against his painfully hard cock. its sinful the way he drags his hips, mewling deliriously as he creams in his pants for what feels like the hundreth time, and yet his pace doesn't falter as he ruts against you. he's a panting mess and barely coherent and he babbles, whimpering your name over and over. "fuc- zzz -k, 'm so- ple-zzz-" vox gasps, thighs shaking as you wrap your arms around his neck. his cock throbs when you make eye contact with him and his thighs squeeze around yours. a stain darkens the front of his pants, leftover from his previous release in his dazed rut. "vox," you coo, rubbing the ports on the back of his screen as he struggles to remain coherent enough to focus on your words. "vox, baby, do you need the safeword?" your voice is sickeningly sweet, laced with concern and lust.

vox paused at the thought, dread seeping into his body as he let out a pathetic whine. "nno, 'm fine," he slurred, rolling his hips against your thigh. "m not even tired," he mewls deliriously, and you nod, taking notice of his drooping eyelids and slowing movements. "okay sweetie, only one more round though, okay?" vox nods, tears streaming down his screen as his claws dig into the plush of your hips. you steady him, and you move your leg, assisting him in grinding against you as you shake your thigh. vox whimpers, static lacing his voice as he glitches out entirely. repeating your name like a prayer, his body tenses as he cums fast and hard, soaking his pants yet again. vox collapses against you, breathing ragged as he struggled to keep his eyelids from drooping. "you okay, baby?" you purr, and he nods, slumping deeper into your touch. "lets get you cleaned up, hm?"

UWRGJREHHEHEHEHE I AM ALWAYS IN THE MOOD FOR SUB VOX!!!!!!!!!! i love the idea of being soft w him sm- i genuinely have not written enough sfw stuff for vox so if anyone has anything fluffy to say ab him PLEASE come into my inbox. ALSO IF ANYONE HAS ANYTHING LUTE RELATED TO SAY ESPECIALLY/INCLUDING SMUT ALSO PLS COME INTO MY INVOX BC RUEGRHRGRHGR THEYRE BOTH MY FAVS RN

[eetherealgoddess]

hellooo, welcome backkk!!! I FUCKING MISSED YOU LIKE SOOO MUCHHHHH. Girl, I thought you left tumblr because honestly the majority of the best writers I also know left:( You're my fav writer so I was really sad AND GIRL WHEN I SAW!! WHEN I SAW THAT YOU WERE ACTIVE 3 HOURS AGO??? MAN I CREAMED. I CAME. I ORGASMED-

I also have a request!! Do you write incest? It includes it, but ofc if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore mee~ it can be stepcest or ykkk anything you're comfortable with!! the story goes with mikey's cute little sister that's rebellious (both him and the reader ain't in good terms ever since the whole bonten happened)emo mikey finally snapped and decided to punish her when she did something VEEERRYYY unforgivable. He and his men (bonten) brutally like bruuutallly punished her. it can be smut or anything you want. whatever it is I'LL EAT IT UP MHMMMM SCRUM DILLY YUM YUM MY PUR PUR POOKIE WOOKIEEEEEEE

I appreciate the love and support!! ts had me dying LMAO

i do not write biologically related incest nor half siblings but i’m fine with writing stepcest (depending on the plot) and like a foster or adoption situation (all 18+)

i kinda sort of followed the timeline so there might be scenes that are not accurate to the manga/anime, tho i did it that way to fit it in better with the plot so the scenes aren’t as long <3

ALSOOOO!!! i could’ve made this waayyy more brutal but when i was imagining different scenarios i literally made myself sick 💀💀💀

ꨄRebelꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦Was it worth it?❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey, Kazu, and Sanzu x Reader but read to catch the vibes :)

❣︎All of Bonten are included in this story except Mochi❣︎

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Rebel

You were never one to follow rules blindly. You always questioned what you were told no matter who fed the information. How could you not when you spend most of your childhood shipped from family to family like a worn out package that's been sent to the wrong destination repeatedly? It wasn’t until you aged eight years that you were finally adopted by a man who asked you to call him ‘Grandpa Sano.’

You were unprepared for the generosity you received from the Sanos, having been in situations where your foster family wanted nothing to do with you. Your negative experiences caused you to form a barrier, an outer shell that shields you from the vulnerability your brain wanted to protect you from. You were cautious, unknown as to why you were chosen. When you first arrived, you were greeted by the oldest sibling, Shinichiro. He was kind, sort of silly as he displayed his quirkiness whenever you would spend quality time together after you had grown to see him as a proper big brother.

Emma beamed when she saw you, excited that another girl would finally be around to become her companion in a house full of boys. When you were comfortable, you gained a sense of sisterhood you never thought you’d have the privilege to experience. The last Sano you had met was none other than Sano Manjiro, otherwise known as Mikey. The first contact was interesting as you both gave blank expressions to one another. After growing alongside the boy, you could tell the kid had a sense of cockiness, though rightfully so as you learn about his incredible strength.

Watching Mikey and Baji fight when they would practice their skills made you want to become as strong as them. You would observe their moves every chance you got, failing in your attempts until you would eventually succeed, resulting in you declaring a battle against Mikey. The boy gazed at your stern appearance before releasing a light hearted laugh. You didn’t dislike him, in fact you both grew closer as time went on. If anything, you were inspired by him, even if you came off as a bratty little sister who wanted to follow him around with all his friends.

Even at a young age you could tell that he would grow to be a good person. You felt safe in his presence, knowing that he counted you as family. Knowing that he grew to love you as well as you to the Sano family. You knew that Mikey would never hurt anyone, his soul radiating a warmth you have never seen before. That is, until the day came where all you heard was Baji’s begging for Mikey to stop as you watch in horror, the blood seeping from the corners of another one of his childhood friends, Haruchiyo’s mouth.

Your hands trembled as you eye the onyx orbs that bore into the boy on his knees, a cold expression laced with nothing but a shadow of darkness. Your own eyebrows were furrowed as tears streamed down your face while you switched gazes between the two boys.

“M-Mikey…” You whispered, listening to Senju as she cried in the background. He either didn’t hear you or ignored you. Whichever was the case didn’t matter as you heard him finally speak.

“Smile, Haruchiyo.”

His voice was deep, almost as if it wasn’t his own. You covered your own mouth as Haru began laughing hysterically as his tears mixed with the blood. You knew at that moment that something had switched. You didn’t know what exactly the change was, but you knew that absolutely nothing would feel the same.

Time passed as you all hit your pre - teen years and Mikey had formed his own gang, Toman. It was early in the making though you thought it was the coolest thing. You had let go of the negative image your mind had formed when the incident with Haruchiyo happened after Mikey had given a heartfelt apology to everyone, including the boy in the hospital bed. When you visited Haruchiyo, the young boy had confirmed his forgiveness and encouraged you to give Mikey some leeway. He was once again your inspiration as you reasoned with yourself that he just had a ‘moment.’

Everything was going normally for a while, Shinichiro teaching you how to ride a motorbike as well as Mikey allowing you to hang out with him and his friends occasionally. Kazutora and Baji pulled you along to search for a gift considering Mikey’s birthday is coming up. Having had a small crush on Kazutora for a while, you followed them, sitting behind the tiger tattooed boy with your arms wrapped around his waist.

It wasn’t until the mischievous delinquent explained his plan, in which you and Baji reacted with hesitation. He waved off your worries and claimed that the best way to obtain Mikey’s gift would be to steal from the store that holds his most ideal bike. When you arrived, you couldn’t shake the familiarity. It’s as if you have seen this place before but you don’t remember stepping foot into a bike shop ever in your life. As you stand to the side while Baji tries to move the bike, a presence causes you both to look up.

“Who’s shop do you think you’re breaking into…?”

“Y/n?” Your eyes widen at Shinichiro as the realization hits you.

Although you’ve lived with the Sanos for a few years now, you’ve never once stepped foot into Shinichiro’s bike shop. You’ve only come across pictures which is why there is familiarity. It completely slipped your mind that Shinichiro owns a place that just so happened to be this one.

“Shini… I…” He turned his head to meet his orbs with Baji’s.

“You look familiar, are you Keisuke?” Baji stutters as he attempts to respond. Just as he said his name, you both gasp as you watch Kazutora come from behind with a large tool, raising his arms before slamming them down. A resounding crack echoed througout the room as the weapon made contact with Shinichiro’s head.

Your breath hitched as you watched his body fall to the ground, landing with a thud. The same trembling you felt from your hands when you watched Mikey tear Haruchiyo’s face appeared as you stared down at Shinichiro’s lifeless body, the blood seeping under his head as it stained the floor. Baji drops to his knees as he hovers above the corpse, explaining to Kazutora who the victim was. The golden eyed boy could only respond by hyperventilating.

“What do we do? What do we do?” Baji croaks out, hand meeting his forehead as Kazutora’s fingers reach his own mouth, biting them as he stares in place with wide eyes.

“I didn’t do it… I didn’t kill him.” His voice trembled. You watch in fear as you eye the hysterical boys, falling to your own knees before sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around your knees as you whimper before the tears stream freely. Your bottom lip quivers as you gaze at your oldest brother’s form. You couldn’t help but take part of the blame considering you are a witness that could’ve done something to stop this madness before it occurred.

You listen to Kazutora’s ramblings as Baji attempts to call an ambulance. It was horrific to see them so distressed, a feeling of impending doom coming on as you realize there’s no coming back from this. Your mind ran through different scenarios on what would happen once the Sano family found out about everything.

“Let’s get outta here!” Baji says to you both though you couldn’t move, watching as Kazutora seems to lose his mind by the second.

“It’s all… Mikey’s fault.” Your eyes widen as you gaze at him with concern. “I need to kill Mikey.” He claimed with a distorted smile, tears threatening to fall. You could only stare in disbelief as the cops were heard outside the building.

When you all walked out, everyone except you binded, a head of blonde hair appeared in front of you with a surprised expression.

You watched as Mikey questioned Baji, in which he cried out an apology as Kazutora chants “Kill… kill…”

You were there for it all. You were there when Kazutora spent two years in juvenile, only to come back with a vengeance. You were there when Kisaki became involved as well as this random Takemichi kid who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. You were there for Valhalla's battle, witnessing Baji’s death as you held his head on your lap before Kazutora was arrested once more. You were there for the Christmas battle. You were there for the Tenjiku battle and you were there when Mikey disbanded Toman before he disappeared, followed by a few other people you had met.

There was even a time in your early adulthood when you went to visit Kazutora in jail only to find out he had been released a few years earlier than the ten years he was sentenced, seeming to have disappeared along with Sanzu and Mikey. For a while you blame yourself for not keeping in touch when everyone was initially ghosted by your brother. You wanted to give him the space you knew he needed considering he hadn’t been the same since you had first met.

Finally exhausted with your passive ways you decided to seek him out, figuring that you might be able to track the other members that disappeared as well. Although you kept in touch with Emma, Draken, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, and etc., you couldn’t ignore the yearning you felt to find your brother and friends. You missed them dearly. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to have known anything until you repeatedly bothered the dragon tattooed man to tell you the truth about Mikey’s whereabouts.

“Now that I’ve told you, forget about Mikey. Forget about the rest of em. It’s too dangerous, Y/n.”

Knowing that Draken is right, you listen. For a while you stopped your search and continued to live your life, working a 9 to 5 and coming home to your decent sized apartment. It wasn’t until you received a letter signed by the person you had been searching for. Once you reach the day that he wrote in the letter, you rush to meet him at the destination, speeding down the streets on your motorcycle.

Reaching the place, you eye the closed nightclub in awe. You wondered why he decided to meet you at this particular setting. You felt a rush of anxiety as you near the door, opening it before walking into the empty space. You walk through the dark room using the flash on your phone as you walk to the staircase, following Mikey’s instructions.

When you reach upstairs, you walk into the door he ordered. Your footsteps echo through the dark room, the sun outside illuminating through the open windows as a breeze flies across the room. Your eyes meet a head of platinum hair, indicating the back of someone’s head. The male who wears a black long sleeve shirt and pants sits with his back bent forward, arms on his lap as his head hangs low. The symbol on his neck stood out to you, reminding you of Izana’s earrings. Your eyes widen when realization finally clicks.

“Mikey?” You say, gaining momentum as you rush over to your brother. Before you could make it, a grip on your arm causes you to halt, as well as a firm pressure against the back of your head. You stare ahead as your breath hitches.

“Move at my pace.” The voice behind you demands. Having no other choice but to listen or risk an early death, you ignore your accelerated heart beat and follow alongside the body that shifted slightly to the side of you. Your eyes switch from the short man ahead to the person beside you, immediately catching the scar on the corner of the person’s mouth.

Sharp blue eyes suddenly meet yours during the observation, pink bangs swaying as his head faces you. His lips curve into a toothy smirk, eyebrows furrowing as he gives you a mischievous expression.

“T’s been a while, Y/n.” You turn away from him as you both walk closer to Mikey.

“I guess long enough to where you feel the need to have a gun against my head. As if we never knew each other.” You respond, irritation adding to your fear as you’re led to the chair in front of Mikey.

He only ignored you as his grin grew wider, guiding you to sit facing away from your brother. When your bottom meets the seat, Sanzu stood next to you with the barrel of the gun placed to your temple.

“Leave us, Sanzu.”

“Got it.” He responds before dropping his arm and walking towards the exit. “I’ll be downstairs.”

After giving you one more side glance, the pink haired man closed the door behind him as he walked out of the room.

“I heard you wanted to find me.” He says softly. Your fingers fidget in your lap as your knees are pressed together, feet spread apart. You chew on your bottom lip as you sit with a tense body, realizing the gravity of your situation and how dangerous it was to meet him with no sort of back up.

“This isn’t you. This isn’t how it was supposed to be…” You begin, shaking your head as you continue, “…I get it, Mikey. Everything that happened hurt like hell. Just because you went through something doesn’t mean you become the leader to a fucking criminal organization and kill lots of innocent people.”

When he didn’t respond, all you heard was your own breathing as you fought the tears that threatened to escape.

“You act like you’re the only one that went through anything. As if I wasn’t there experiencing as much pain as you! I didn’t run off and disappear and cause more harm to the streets, because there just wasn’t enough blood splattered!”

You had the understanding that you could be digging your own grave. The sorrow and anger hitting you all at once had your words slipping out fast. You missed him, who he was before. How could he have abandoned you like that?

“Y-you could’ve come to me. We could’ve been there and experienced it all together, Mikey. I-I know you’re just in pain, but I’m here. I’ve always been there.” You say the last sentence softly as your vision blurred from the moisture.

You listened as you heard rustling behind you, followed by footsteps leading towards your sitting figure. Your sobs went silent as a figure shadowed over you. The cold impact of the gun against your head causes goosebumps to run across your arms, a chill running up your back as you make eye contact with the man holding a weapon against your forehead.

Anyone could lose themselves in the void of his orbs. They bore into you coldly as he gazed down at you with a blank yet intense expression. Your bottom lip quivered as your eyebrows furrow angrily. His arm follows as you stand from your seat slowly.

“Is this all you know how to do now?” You almost growl, exhausted by the behavior your brother displays when you know he clearly has a hard time communicating his emotions. “Shoot whoever questions you. Murder instead of speaking on how you feel. When are you gonna grow up, Mikey?”

“Shut up.” He hissed. “You know nothing.” You only stare back in response, glaring at him as the gun cocks.

“Leave.” He states before lowering his arm. You watch the male as he makes his way to the exit. Before he walks out of the opened door, he turns his head to the side slightly, gaze still ahead.

“If we ever see each other again… I’ll kill you.” You chew the skin on the inside of your cheek as a nervous habit when he walks out, leaving you to allow the words to sink in.

In that moment, you determined that you would find a way to bring back the real Mikey. You couldn’t accept this. You would never accept this reality. You would do whatever it takes, even if that means going against your better judgment and acting on emotion, something you had a habit of doing. You don’t care what Mikey says nor have you ever listened when he told you not to do something. You don’t care that you’re risking your life by getting involved. You snatch the phone from your pocket before dialing a number.

“Naoto, I need your help.”

You didn’t know what to expect but it surely wasn’t almost succeeding in the take down of Bonten. Unfortunately, both you and Naoto missed a key detail to your plans which resulted in Bonten being free of the attention from the police. It didn’t help that some of the government officials involved were traitors to the force, having helped the criminal organization in secret.

Thick smoke polluted the building as a radiating heat caused you to sweat. You cough as your arm covers your mouth and nose, eyes squint as you see through the burning room. The alarms screeched as a warning to anyone near that a fire had been started. You heard the impact of whatever caused the flames, knowing a bomb had been planted somewhere inside which caused an explosion. You’re surprised that you’re still alive, along with some of the others who crawl and struggle towards the nearest exit, maneuvering through the limp bodies lying on the ground.

You search for your partner as you walk past broken furniture and office equipment, passing the body parts separated from the corpses who suffered the worst from the eruption. Unfortunately, you were hurt considering your limp, and the ringing in your ears definitely didn’t help. Your hearing has been out since you woke up. You search the police department, watching out for anyone familiar as you yell out, “Naoto!”

You continue through the damage, dodging any object that falls as you walk around the flames. An abrupt pressure on your back caused you to fall to the ground with a grunt, your hearing coming back just as you made impact with the floor. The platform of the bottom of someone’s shoe pushes you back to the ground when you try to pick yourself up.

The man behind you grabs a carton from out of his pocket, lifting the top before pulling a cigarette out. He set the box back in his suit’s jacket pocket before using a nearby flame to light it as he stretched his arm out. He brought the butt of the stick to his lips and sucked in as the remaining flame went out on the end of the cigarette. The man rubs the sweat off of his forehead using the sleeve of his suit, a strand of blonde hair swaying over his face as he drops the arm. He blew the smoke out as he gazed at your figure.

“I warned him about letting you go.” You could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Kazutora?” He takes another hit of his cigarette, holding his breath as he ashed it before blowing the smoke out of his mouth once more. A smirk grew on his face.

“You know, Y/n… I never took you for a snitch.”

“I never took you as a coward, but here we are. You kill people to feel a sense of control yet you’re always following someone else’s orders, seeking approval by anyone who’ll give it to you.” You state, irritated by the heat and the foot on your back.

The grin on his lips fell as he took another hit before leaning over and pressing the burning end of the cigarette against your neck. You gasp before releasing a shriek of pain, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. He holds it there for a moment as he stares down at you with a blank expression. He lifts himself back to a normal position once he removes the cigarette from your skin. A fresh bruise formed in the abused spot.

“Why did you guys become such fucking assholes?” You cry out.

“Come on, don’t start crying on me now Doll…” He chuckled, “…gotta save that for later when Mikey gets his hands on you.”

Before you could fight him off, his fingers squeezed firm against your pressure point. Your vision blurs before your head drops as you sink into darkness.

Your eyes flutter open as a spotlight shines on you. Attempting to lick your lips, you find yourself with a gag secured around your mouth. The red ball stretches your lips uncomfortably as they yearn to be moisturized. Your arms are cuffed above your head as your body is spread out completely nude on the bed. Your shrieks are muffled as the light dims, your knees pressed together as you attempt to cover yourself when you look down and eye the seven figures sitting out on a slightly lower platform, as if you’re on a small stage.

Marijuana and alcohol fills the air, along with the smell of tobacco as you watch the smoke fumes form above a few of the men. Your eyebrows furrow as your toes curl, embarrassment causing a warm face as you shut your eyes tightly, wishing to escape this moment as you’re sprawled out for a bunch of dangerous men. You hear footsteps in the quiet room, someone walking towards the bed.

Mikey appears in your vision as he looks down at you from the side. Your eyes water as you glare at him, disbelief from the fact that your own brother set you up like this. The boy you grew up with who inspired you to go past your own limits. The boy who wanted to make a new era for delinquents. No, you couldn’t believe this.

His fingers slowly traced over your stomach as they moved towards your chest, grazing around the outlining of your breasts. You couldn’t help the whimper of desperation spilling out through the gag, your body beginning to tremble as you realized the gravity of this vulnerable situation. You wanted this to stop. You wanted it all to stop before there’s no return.

“I left you alone…” His fingers dragged themselves across the middle of your breasts, slow and delicate with his touch. “…I warned you, Y/n.”

He slightly leans over as his hand moves to your lower stomach, rubbing the lining nearest to your pubis. Your breath hitched as you gaze at him with wide teary eyes.

“You’ve never been one to listen, have you?” The small smile that formed as he said the statement vanished as quickly as it came. Your stomach sucked in as he used his fingers to lightly glide back up to your chest before circling his hand around your neck, his index finger tapping your face twice. He leaned forward until he hovered right over your face.

“You’ll learn.” You release a shriek as your eyes shut tight, his fingers digging into the burnt skin against your neck, adding a painful pressure to the wound as the tears streamed down your face. When you open your eyes to a squint, his gaze is relaxed. His eyes made him look dead. He released you before walking to the end of the stage and turning to face the crowd, his hands behind his back.

“From now on you belong to me.” He turns his upper body to face you. “You’ll only get to eat, sleep, and breathe because of me. You will do as I say.” A taller figure began to walk on the stage, a familiar pair of purple eyes gazing down at your figure with his signature sly smile. The tall short haired man held a baton that rests on his shoulder as he stops next to the bed, closer to your lower body.

“You deemed yourself a traitor so you will be held accountable. Sister or not.”

You fidget with discomfort as you eye the weapon Ran holds with a concerned expression. He only gives you a mischievous smile in return as he drops his arm, awaiting instructions from his boss.

“If you disobey me…” His eyes switch to Ran before the taller man brings his other hand to the object, fingers adjusting as he lifts his arms. Your eyes widen once more as you hysterically pull against your restraints, legs moving as you attempt to move your body to the side to no avail.

You release a blood curdling scream as your eyes shut tight, the impact causing a loud smack to echo in the room as the end of the baton makes contact with the skin on your thigh. The pain is broad, big. So intense that your whole leg numbs out as your body attempts to protect you. Blood immediately makes its way through your skin as an ugly bruise begins formation. You sob in agony as your head falls back on the bed. You shake your head as you bite the gag.

A cold chill is brought to your body as heat overcomes you, sweat dripping down your forehead as Mikey walks closer to you, staring down at you with the same blank expression. Sanzu watches the display with gleaming eyes, a wide smile on his face as he licks his bottom lip, biting it after as he’s mesmerized by the show in front of him. It was a gorgeous sight, you sprawled out on the bed naked in front of them under Mikey’s control. Your face is so wet with tears and an expression of fear and distress. So vulnerable and fragile. Your skin breaking with ease as the blood dripping down made him want to lick it up. He couldn’t wait to get a hold of you. After all, he’s waited for so long under Mikey’s command. His failed attempt at protecting you. Someone so resilient and yet so weak.

Kazutora is leaned back in his seat with a leg crossed over, his hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as he eyes you with no emotion. He ignored the erection forming in his pants as you’re forced into submission, bound by the cuffs as your beautiful voice blesses the room with your cries. A red hue forms on his face as he watches Ran hit you again in a different spot on the same thigh. His cock twitched when he heard your loud scream, the gag doing you no justice. He crossed his arms as he shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position.

Takeomi sat with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he glared at the scene. He never really knew you so he couldn’t care less of your position. He just finds it hilarious to watch the rest of the men simp over Mikey’s infamous cute, bratty little sister. He’s surprised you hadn’t been killed on the spot for becoming a traitor. The leeway his boss is giving you is impeccable. Otherwise you’d be torn apart limb from limb, slaughtered and violated from the inside out. Long gone. This is nothing. He’ll admit that seeing your bitchy ass getting it in is a very sweet sight to see.

Kokonoi sighed as he turned away from the scene. Having remembered you from their delinquent days made this situation all the more sickening. He still couldn’t deny the view of you laid out the way you are having an effect on the cock sitting in his pants. It was uncomfortable, especially since he deems himself as sick as someone like Sanzu or the Haitani brothers for getting turned on by this in the first place.

Kakucho’s eyes followed Ran’s fingers, swiping some of the blood off of your leg before bringing it to his lips. You lay there, sobbing as Mikey caressed both sides of your face. He knew something like this would occur as soon as he began gaining information from the dirty cops about you involving yourself. Although he felt bad for you, he knew that you had it coming. You were warned and now you must deal with the consequences. He palmed himself before squeezing slightly to ease himself as he shifts in his seat, rock hard as he chews on his lip.

“Should I hit the other thigh, boss?” Ran’s smooth voice filled the room as he gently rubbed his thumb along the untouched thigh. You shook your head as you pleaded through the ball gag. You were so focused on switching your gaze between Mikey and Ran that you completely missed the third presence making his way to the foot of the bed.

Drool accidentally fell out of your mouth as you continued to cry and beg for Mikey to let you go and to not hurt you again. It was humiliating but you were in too much pain to care. You had to get out of there. You regret not listening. You regret not leaving him alone. You just want to escape. You just want to go home and hug yourself while you cry. You wanted to see your friends again, your sister Emma. You missed Shinichiro, Baji, your grandpa, Draken, Mitsuya, and everyone else. You missed them all and you wanted a big hug from them.

You wanted to feel safe, to feel loved again. You didn’t like this cold darkness that’s dragging you to a hell you never thought you’d experience. You wish you hadn’t been so stubborn. You just missed your brother, your friends who disappeared. Thumbs drape under your eyes as the tears are wiped away only for more to stream down your cheeks. You feel the ball gag unhook around your mouth as your chapped lips connect, licking them desperately as you continue to sob and pant.

“P-please let me go! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Mikey I-I’ll listen! I’ll leave you alone just please…!” You rambled your apologies as he continued to gaze at you with the onyx orbs that felt as though they were forcing you to drown in his own darkness. Dragging you under with him into the void everyone so desperately tries to fill or escape from.

“I-I just wanted my big brother! I-I needed you to be who you were! I was wrong…” You sob, “…so fucking wrong. You’re too far gone!” Your hands turned to fists as your breath hitched as he climbed on top of you.

“You’re right. I am no longer your Mikey.”

Your hands tremble as you watch him reach into his pants to pull out his throbbing cock.

“No… no, no, no! Y-you can’t!” You plead as you realize what’s about to happen.

The younger Haitani grabs your ankle as he picks your leg up, along with the older brother who holds up your bruised leg. Mikey adjusts himself in between your legs as he spreads his own knees against the mattress.

“M-Mikey this is so fucked up! P-please! You fucking asshole!” You could only feel rage and despair as you watched him spit in his hand and rub his cock, moisturizing it nowhere near enough for it to easily slip through you.

“Oh shit.” Sanzu breathes out in excitement as the rest of the executives mentally sit on the edge of their seats. They watched the display, some with arousal and excitement while others with slight guilt and arousal. The air was thick in the room as Rin’s grip tightened on your ankle while moving his other hand to the bottom of your foot.

“You’ll learn.” Mikey whispers near your ear before he finally pushes in slowly. Your head falls back with your mouth wide open, nails digging in your own palms as the girth stretches you painfully. Your eyebrows furrow as you clench your teeth. He released a breathy moan as his mouth hangs open, head falling to your shoulder as your pussy squeezed him tightly. You both grunt when he finally bottoms out, base and testicles pressed firmly against you as he shifts his arms under you to hold the back of your neck with both hands.

He eyed the girl with a blank expression as she stood with her hand wrapped in Grandpa Sano’s. Even at his young age he could tell that she had been through quite a lot by the look in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Y/n.” He says as he pats your eight year old head. You sat with tears streaming down your face with your arms crossed as you pouted angrily at the fact that you lost against your fight with Baji who would help you practice your skills along with Mikey.

“You’ll learn.” He said with a smile as he gazed down at you.

You gasp as you feel his thick length pulling out of you, rubbing against the lining of your walls before he bucks his hips against you with a firmer thrust causing you to grunt in pain.

“You belong to me.” The teen growled.

“Kazutora is my friend! I’m gonna visit him whether you like it or not.” You glare at your brother before stomping away from the shrine.

Truth be told he didn’t like the way you made him feel. So out of control. So out of the loop. He knows that he’s your inspiration. He loves how worthy you deem him to be. He loves that you follow him around all the time like you're his little companion. His little sister. His.

If only you knew how hard it was to allow you on your own. To allow you to make your own decisions. To have abandoned you when he knew you were still vulnerable from everything you both went through. You don’t know how hard it is being the big brother of someone who’s just so fucking stubborn. He was afraid that he would lose you in the midst of his corruption, the dark impulse taking over day by day, so he left you.

“Fuck.” He breathes out as his pace accelerates, hips pulled back before thrusting against you as his grip tightens. His cock slides in and out of your pussy as the juice slickens the erection, making it easier to access as he presses deeper and deeper. The bed rocks as the thrusts become faster and firmer, the smacking echoing throughout the room as it becomes harder to hold back your grunts and moans.

You whimpered as you felt a pressure form against the ankle held by Rin. You make eye contact with him as his lips curl into a mischievous smile. You felt goosebumps form as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered, an impending sense of doom coming over you just as Mikey’s cock aimed for your erogenous zone, pounding your g-spot once you reacted with a shriek.

Mikey walks to the car sitting outside the club he had you meet him at after your conversation was finished. Five of his executives stood outside as he turned his attention to Kakucho.

“Watch her every move.”

He had a feeling you’d try something though he didn’t expect for you to involve the cops. Especially the detective that’s always on his ass.

“You. *Thrust* Belong. *Thrust* To me.” Mikey uses a hand to squeeze your chin, forcing your eyes to meet as you pant and sob.

All of the executives watch with dazed expressions as Mikey bitched you out. Some biting their own lips while others palmed their covered erections. Mikey eyed your face as it morphed while the pit in your stomach builds, indicating the nearing of your orgasm. He used one hand to balance himself against the headboard as he grabbed the leg Ran was holding to gain better access. He thrusts against you as his cock rubbed the inner lining of your vaginal walls, slick oozing out of your hole, a mixture of his semen and your juices forming.

The pain in your leg throbs as he pushes your leg up, causing you to whimper. You tried to hold in your moans, the feeling of the head of his cock hitting your cervix was overwhelming. Instead, grunts replaced the moans with each firm thrust against your ass. The hand on your leg tightens as you watch his eyes narrow down at you with his lips apart.

“This pussy is mine. Your cum is mine. Everything about you…” a thrust with a loud smack against your ass caused a moan to slip through his throat. “…is mine.”

Your head is pressed against the mattress as you feel the pit in your stomach release, the chemical reaction causing your mouth to open as a silent scream leaves your throat, eyes rolled back as he continues to beat into your pussy.

“Ah…” Mikey breathes, “…that’s fucking right, cum on this cock.” He said before using his fingers to press onto your wound made by the baton. You scream out in agony. The chains jingle as you pull against the restraints.

“You’ll learn. You’re gonna learn to listen to me.” He breathes out before switching his eyes to Rin.

“M-Mikey pl-!” You whimper, pleading for him to stop as you’re overstimulated, though his cock keeps its pace, assaulting your pussy as it slides through harder. Blood runs down your wrists, coming from the split skin caused by your nails. You accidentally glance at Ran who stares down at you hungrily. You could see the lust in his intense gaze, causing you to turn away.

“I don’t care how close you were or even the little crush you have on her. You will ask before touching her, got it?”

“Yes, boss.” Both Kazutora and Sanzu respond with stern expressions.

“N-No! What are you…?!” A loud crack fills the air amongst the sound of the rocking bed as your eyes shut tight, a monstrous scream escaped your lips as the pressure on your ankle created a numbing yet sharp pain that swam up your leg to your knee. You shakily look down to see your limp leg in Rin’s hand, ankle bent out of place as your foot hangs there. A swelling started to form as the skin tingled. It was surely broken.

“GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF OF ME RIGHT NOW!” You’re hysterical. The pain, overstimulation, and heat. The betrayal, sickness, and depression. The sorrow, despair, and downright filthy situation. All of the eyes on you. It was all just too much.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!” His forehead meets yours as his hands grab the sides of your face. His eyes shut as he thrusts hard, accelerating his speed before a breathy, drawn out moan escapes his mouth, just as Rin grabbed your other ankle.

Kazutora and Sanzu sit with discomfort as they angrily eye the Haitani brothers, realizing it should’ve been them holding your legs and punishing you. After all, they’ve known you the longest. They were closer to you. They were there for everything. Their erections become tighter as you thrash around and scream. Your rage fulfills them in an unexplainable way. They never knew why your rebellion always struck them in the heart. Who knew they’d be this stuck over their friend’s little bratty sister.

“I’m cumming.” Mikey whispers with his head against yours as he breathes out a moan. He grinds out his orgasm just as another crack fills the room, followed by an appalling scream from you. You cry as he pulls himself out of you. The swelling from both legs tingle as you lie there in terrible pain. Agony comes from your neck and both of your legs. As well as your vagina. You couldn’t believe what your own brother just did.

“I hate you.” You sob. You wanted to curl into yourself but the restraints made it impossible.

“Awe don’t cry so much, cookie.” A thumb caressed your forehead as Ran stared you down. “All ya gotta do is be good, now.”

“Or else…” Rin chuckled as he slightly dangled one of your broken ankles. You only sob in response, ignoring them as you try to refrain from making eye contact. You wanted to disappear.

Before he climbs off of you, Mikey leans over to plant a kiss on your lips. You don’t push him back nor respond to the peck. He pulls his pants up as he walks toward the other executives.

“Do what you will, just have her cleaned and brought to my room after.”

“I’ll always be the one to protect you, Y/n. You belong to me.”

You look into the eyes of your older brother, tears in your own as you hug him tight. You both sat on the ground in front of Shinichiro’s grave.

“You’ll learn.”

[uchihaharlot]

Girl...I'm almost starting my cycle and I'm horny ASF...

Scenario where these fine men catch their gorgeous wife in the onsen bath...moaning their name...

God this is hot. 🥵 Me too; I am almost done ovulating…

NSFW; Uchiha men catching their wife touching herself in the onsen.

Madara:

‘Excuse me? Pleasuring yourself like a harlot?” It upsets him that his wife was touching herself luridly, even if she did moan his name. He is the true definition of fragile male masculinity. Though he won’t admit it, Madara prides himself on making his wife squirm and cum. This is his domain. So in this case; she is edged on his mouth until she can no longer make a coherent sound, forced to beg on her knees with his cock in her mouth after until she is almost crying. Only then does Madara splay her against the wall of the steamy room and fuck her hard. And once he allows her to finish all over his pussy drenched cock, he won’t stop making her cum until she nearly passes out. ‘Any man could have heard you…’ oops, yea: this is a public place after all.

Obito:

Music to this man’s soul, heart and spirit. The fact that his wife is so attracted to him, enough to moan his name in private, makes him almost cry. Obito is such a kind man. He feels that if he interrupts her that he might be intruding but he also can’t help when his pants swell taut with desire. Makes a cough, hoping to not startle her but does. Apologizes and kisses her so sweet. Then fucks her nasty on the heated floor of the onsen. Making her moan his name even louder. No one dares enter when they hear the sounds of them.

Shisui:

God I love this man. Seriously, the sound of his wife moaning his name repeatedly as he watches her finger drenched folds. He’s not shy in walking up to her unannounced, cock out in his fist. Tries something bold and straddles her chest, gently of course. And has her suck the tip of his cock while he strokes himself with one hand, the other rolling her clit as she thrusts her fingers in and out. She’s so beautiful like this; choking on him as she cums. Shisui filling her throat as he groans out her name too.

Itachi:

Yea no. lol. He is flattered, and more reasonable than Madara in this situation. Loves hearing his name on her lips when she cums, but hates that she’s doing it in such an open place. These sounds are and should only be designated to one area and that is their bedroom. Will very gently and kindly intervene her salacious acts, take her home only to alter reality for them to enjoy the onsen how she pleases. Plus, Tsukuyomi induced orgasms by the dozen, as many cocks as she likes. Filling her and stuffing her until she can’t stand it anymore.

[hearts4hughes]

1. "excuse me, can I help you with something?" "keep it moving." "i don't think she's interested. keep walking." with mark estapa?

get lost - mark estapa

mark estapa x fem! reader

100 followers celly !!

warnings: creepy / asshole guy, swearing, mentions of blood + broken nose, mentions of alcohol / slightly intoxicated reader

notes: writing anything to do with jealousy is my absolute favorite. it’s just so satisfying to write and i have no idea why. anyway, enjoy my first mark imagine!

gif is not mine

mark stayed leaned against the kitchen counter. his jaw was clenched, eyes filled with jealousy, and body tensed as he glared at his girlfriend and some random guy.

he left for not even five minutes to go to the bathroom, and when he got back, you had been swept away talking to some random boy. he was tall, brunette, muscular, and handsome. everything a person would want in a man- especially you. he was your perfect type and mark just kept running scenario after scenario in his head of you leaving with that piece of crap.

the more and more you laughed and smiled towards the boy, made mark even angrier. finally, mark pushed off the counter, making his way over to you when he saw the boy rest his hand on your hip. while walking over, mark noticed the shift in tension. your body language and expression became uncomfortable as you repeatedly tried to push the boy’s hand off your waist.

“excuse me, can i help you with something?” mark’s voice was harsh and cold. he protectively stood by your side, slapping the boy’s hand away from your body.

“yeah, you can actually.” the boy smirked. “me and my girl were just about to leave.”

mark scoffed, shaking his head, “your girl, huh?” he stood taller, angry features painting his face.

the boy’s devilish smirk just grew wider, liking the challenge. “yeah, my girl.”

you stood silently, not knowing how to approach the situation.

“i’m going to give you one second to get the fuck out of here before i beat the shit out of you.” mark mutters through gritted teeth. his hands ball into a fist, ready to knock him out.

“who even are you?” the boy squinted his eyes sarcastically.

“i’m ‘your girl’s’ boyfriend.” mark mocks, pushing his shoulder aggressively. not even bothering to ask the other boy’s name.

“y/n didn’t mention a boyfriend. i mean she was just talking about how badly she wanted me.”

“what the fuck? first off, i mentioned i had a boyfriend like five times. second, i would never want an asshole like you.” you decided to finally butt in, walking closer to the boy who’s name you’ve already forgotten.

a circle now began to form around the argument. the noisy party quieted down, trying to figure out what was happening. out of the corner of your eye, you notice luke, ethan, and some other players on the hockey team coming to stand by you, ready to defend whatever was happening.

“what’s going on?” ethan asks quietly.

“this douchebag is making me uncomfortable.” you reply.

“why don’t you get lost.” luke mutters, moving closer.

you watch as the boy’s expression changes from cocky and smug to scared in just moments, not wanting to get beat up by the hockey team. mark pushes his shoulder once again, signaling him to start moving. you trail behind your body guards as they so nicely lead your unwanted guest out.

“keep it moving.” mark growls as the boy stops and turns around.

“hey, y/n.” he calls out, really tipping the pot. “call me whenever you want to have some fun.” he winks, causing your stomach to turn uneasily. the crowd around you erupts in yells and fighting chants.

“i don’t think she’s interested. keep walking.” mark answers for you.

honestly, mark’s surprised he didn’t punch the guy right there and then, but he keeps his cool. that is until the trash in front of him decides to open his mouth again.

“you know, you should really tell your girlfriend to stop whoring around.”

the second the words leave his mouth, mark’s fist connects with his face. you hear a loud crunch and the boy’s knocked out body is across the room. his nose bleeds intensely, probably broken from the punch. the entire room gasps, processing what had just happened. still in shock, you go over to mark, grabbing his hand and examining it. you couldn’t even bother to worry about the boy who was on the receiving end of the punch.

“are you ok?” you both ask simultaneously. mark’s hand cups your face while you brush your fingers lightly over mark’s knuckles.

“mark,” adam begins, “we can take care of our buddy over here. take y/n somewhere quiet.”

mark nods, leading you upstairs to his room. when mark opens the door to his room, you both take a seat at the foot of his bed. silence fills the room. mark’s attention is taken off you for a moment as his hand begins throbbing in pain.

“thank you.” you speak up, resting your head on mark’s shoulder in exhaustion. “your going to need to ice your hand.”

“don’t worry about me, my love. i’ll be ok.” he coos, kissing your head. “and no need to thank me. it’s my duty as your boyfriend to protect you from all the assholes in the world.”

you giggle at his words, biting back a cheeky smile. without even realizing it, you begin to drift off into a deep sleep. mark hears the deep breaths and soft snores coming from your sweet lips. he swiftly picks you up, moving you under the warmth of his covers. as you begin to stir from your slumber, mark pauses- staying completely still- until he’s sure your still fast asleep.

after completing his nightly routine, he slips under the covers next to you. he takes a moment to admire your peaceful state. your mouth is parted slightly open, cheeks rosy- most likely from the alcohol you drank- and your chest rises slowly with every breath. finally, he pulls you close into his chest.

“i love you.”

[ranhaitanisgf]

aaaaaAAAAA CONGRATS ON 2K !! IM SO HAPPY & PROUD OF YOUUUUU ILYSM YOU DONT KNOW HOW MYCH I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR HCS 🗣!!

ofc i HAD to join on this event 🤩 may i have a scenario for “oblivious ‘best friends’ “ & “getting sick” with inui? where reader FINALLY realizes that inui actually cared for her more than a friend would ? preferably fluff 🛐 TQSM LOVE I APPRECIATE IT [cry] <3

— inui [inupi] seishu // obvlivious best friends // getting sick

[𖤐] ANON THATS SO SWEET !!!! im sorry for disappearing for so damn long !!! i hopeeee yall enjoy this, as i went wayyyy over word limit once again !! i also rewrote this like two hundred million times cuz i was struggling w the vibes idk ... anywho. enjoy my loveliessss xoxooooo

wc ; 1.7k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

inui was worried. 

well, he wasn’t sure that that was quite the word to sum up how he was feeling at the moment, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment. 

his worry had started around a week ago, when you had stopped showing up to toman meetings. it was highly unusual, since even though you took on more of a strategic role rather than a fighting role, you still would attend every meeting to offer your input on different issues and how to solve them. you prided yourself on your intellect and being able to strategize, so the first day you hadn’t shown up, it was already ringing alarm bells in his mind. 

after the second, third, and fourth day, inui was sure that something terrible had happened, and somehow nobody had told him. however, even after asking around all the divisions, and even mikey himself, he concluded that nobody had a clue as to where you were. every time he tried to call your cell, it went straight to voicemail, and all the texts that he sent were still on delivered. 

and so now, as any best friend would do, he showed up at your apartment. 

he had visited a couple times in the last week, repeatedly pressing your doorbell and knocking on the door for what seemed like forever. he didn’t want to intrude into your home, but his worry was getting to its peak, so, as an normal person would do, he decided to break your door down. 

sure, he felt pretty guilty about it, especially since your landlord would probably give you hell about it, but the pros outweighed the cons in this situation. 

pros: he gets to see if you’re safe. 

cons: your landlord gets angry and increases your rent, your door is broken until it gets fixed, your neighbors will be upset (maybe), you might get kicked out of your apartment. 

yeah, in his mind, the pro outweighed the cons. 

with a strong kick, inui swiftly kicked beneath the handle of your door. as expected, it wasn’t the strongest thing, so it opened rather easily, even having the courtesy to stay on the hinges. 

“(y/n)?” his voice rang throughout your apartment, feeling a bit on edge at how messy everything was.

 had someone broken in and kidnapped you? did you get robbed and they ended up abducting you? what if-?

“what…the fuck.” inui’s jumbled thoughts cleared up the moment he heard your voice, (was it a bit more raspy than usual?). you had emerged from your bedroom, a blanket heaped over your shoulders as you blankly stared at him. 

“(y/n)...” without much thinking, inui took a couple hasty steps forward and wrapped his arms around you, relief flooding through him. “do you have any idea how worried i’ve been? why didn’t you pick up any of my calls?” you sniffled a bit in his embrace, making him step back a bit to get a better look at you. 

your eyes were rimmed red, and now that he was paying more attention, he realized that you were really warm. your hair was quite a mess, and despite the thick blanket that you were holding over your shoulders, you seemed to be shivering. 

“well, that’s ‘cause my cell’s been dead and i haven’t charged it.” you jerked a thumb over at the living room couch, which your dead cell phone was laying on. “what’re you even doing here though? did you break the door?” your eyes wandered behind him, seeing your door wide open, looking back at inui as he froze a bit at the question. 

“yeah…i’ll pay for a new one. is this why you haven’t been responding? because you’re sick?” 

“i think you’re smart enough to answer that question yourself.” you mumbled, turning around and walking back to your bedroom. “now, if you’ll excuse me, ‘m gonna go back to sleep…” after taking another couple steps though, you felt yourself stumbling as your vision began to blur. 

your wavering frame was steadied by two arms at your shoulders, quickly leading you to sit down on the edge of your bed. as your vision came back, you noticed inui kneeling in front of you, his brows pinched together with worry as he slipped his cool hand onto your forehead. 

“you’ve had this high of a fever this whole time?” 

“yep…” you could barely keep your eyes open at this point, your head bobbing up and down as you tried to stay awake. 

“hm…just go back to sleep.” 

“will do…” you mumbled, flopping back onto your bed and getting under your blankets. 

inui looked down at you as you passed out almost immediately, feeling worried and a little bit betrayed. why hadn’t you called him? had you been taking care of yourself this whole time? 

he settled onto the edge of your bed, carefully pushing some strands of hair out of your face. gently, he pulled some of your blanket up, tucking you in, the corners of his lips turning up as you buried yourself deeper in the blanket. 

cute…

--

“...up…(y/n)...wake up…” you groaned at the subtle shaking of your body, turning over to try and go back to sleep. “(y/n)? just wake up for a few minutes and you can go back to sleep.” the smell of something good wafted through the air, which was enough to make you slowly open one eye, turning back over.

inui was above you, leaning over as he made sure you were awake. his blue eyes became a bit softer when you finally opened both of your own eyes, staying over you for a moment more than was necessary before leaning back. carefully, he handed you a small bowl of rice, a fried egg on top of it with some soy sauce, handing you a pair of chopsticks. 

“you should eat if you want to get your strength back.” you dug in without another word; the most you had been surviving on in the past week was crackers and cheese, since that was the only thing you were able to eat without doing any sort of cooking. 

however, your eating paused when you felt inui pushing some of your hair to the side, unpeeling a cold pack and carefully sticking it to your forehead. he was a little bit closer than he probably needed to be; you could see the flecks of green in his blue irises, his eyebrows still pinched together a little bit as he looked at you. 

ba-dump!

now that you were a little bit more awake, you became quite conscious of how messy your hair was, and even more so noticing how sweaty and gross you were. your fingers ran through your hair, trying your best to take some of the tangles out as you looked to the side, embarrassment flooding through you. you hadn’t called anyone on purpose; you hadn’t exactly wanted anybody to see you like this. 

“er, thanks…” 

“...” 

“...seishu…?” you questioned, feeling a bit awkward as he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. he looked back at you from his seat on the edge of your bed, a somewhat faraway look in his eyes. 

“hm?” 

“uhm, are you alright…?” at your question, inui opened his mouth, then closed it again, seeming to be thinking about something. he mulled over it for a few more moments, the silence feeling just a tad awkward, before he started to speak again. 

“i wish you had called me.” he said, a tone of hurt in his voice. “i was worried that something may have happened to you…and even if you’re just sick, i just…” inui paused, fiddling a bit with a piece of his hair as his ears turned a bit pink. “...i wish that you would rely on me more.” he sighed, his head pulling down a bit as he stared at the ground. 

the straightforwardness of his words caught you wholly off guard; you had not been expecting that sort of response from him. 

you felt some guilt flood through you at seeing his sadness, laying your chopsticks across your bowl as his words echoed through your head. you supposed that you probably should have just let him know that you were sick instead of trying to disappear for a week or two, since you probably would have also been worried if he had tried to pull a stunt like that. 

“i’m sorry…i just didn’t want anybody to see me like this. i don’t exactly look the best right now, so-” 

“you look good.” 

“...” you stared at the boy seated next to you, trying to find any sort of lie in his eyes. instead, he just kept looking back at you with the most honesty in his eyes, a slight smile across his lips. “you’re a weirdo…” you murmured, feeling your heart skip a beat when you realized that he seemed to be serious with his words, (was your face feeling hot because of your fever?). 

inui didn’t reply to your half-hearted words, instead taking the bowl from your hands and placing it on your bedside table. 

“you should get some rest.” you stayed sitting up for a moment, your eyes tracing over all his fluid movements. his blue eyes suddenly flicked back to you, the eye contact finally breaking the trance you seemed to be in, making you immediately lay back down and cover the bottom half of your face with your blankets. despite the embarrassment you were suddenly feeling, there was also a giddy feeling you felt as you watched inui adjust your blankets, making sure that you were all covered up. 

“are you going to leave?” 

please say no.

“well, no…your door doesn’t close now, and i’m not going to leave you here to let just anybody walk in.” 

“oh, right. forgot about that…” you giggled a bit at inui’s sheepish expression as he stood up, clearing off your bedside table and standing up. 

“get better soon, (y/n).” there was a small smile on his face as he exited, gently closing your door behind him. when you were sure he was gone, you couldn’t help the euphoric smile that spread across your face, pulling your blankets a bit over your face. 

did that really just happen!?

[fan-therapy]

Hiii, would it be possible if you could write a scenario where there’s a new ghoul and the pack has a hierarchy, so she’s trying to figure out where she fits in and maybe challenges mountain or one of the other male ghouls and he/they put her in her place by getting her to submit to him/them…? Thank you!

do you mean sex? i think you mean sex. i’m writing sex

also sorry this took so fucking long, i'm depressed lmao

Warnings- ghouls are kind of mean/territorial, they are rude to you! hatefuckingggg, semi public methinks, fingering, a little bit of smacking yk, unprotected sex don't be like them, choking sorta, kind of a quickie

It's like she isn't even there.

She doesn't know her place yet. She doesn't even have the dynamics of the pack figured out, and they've still yet to properly fit her uniform to her body. They brought her a size too big, just in case- it's baggy around the waist and the pants and sleeves are certainly too long. There's even an inch too much space between her toe and the front of the shoe. She is, in every way, out of place. The rookie. The first thing that set her off was Dew- of course it was him and his attitude- he gave Y/n the meanest side-eye, glaring daggers at her. She's an intruder. Sure, maybe intruders are dangerous in the pit, but this isn't the pit. This isn't the pit, and she isn't trying to threaten anyone, and it's starting to get exhausting.

The older ghouls are more powerful- they're stronger and they're better, yes. But it would be nice to feel welcome. The final thing that made her snap was at dinner, in the dining hall, in front of everyone.

"Why are you acting like I hardly exist?" She blurted out after being ignored. Repeatedly.

“Why do you act like you can come in here and be on top of us all?” Dew growled back at her, pinning his ears.

“I’m not!”

“You two,” Aether finally said, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Relax.”

The two ghouls bore their teeth at each other, growling lowly.

“You’re only making things more complicated. You’ll get used to each other eventually.” Mountain chimed in, placing his clasped hands on the table. At the end of the table, Phantom and Rain sat in silence, ignoring the conflict as they sipped on the beef stew they’d been served.

“Shut up!” She snapped at Mountain, who frowned.

“Don’t yell.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Mountain sighed, rising from his seat and standing at his full height. He grabbed her by the sleeve and she hissed at him. “Let me go! Let go!”

The rest of the pack sat without objecting, looking away as Mountain dragged Y/n away from the table and down the hall.

Eventually, he stopped and slammed her into a wall. "You don't understand! I'm sick of your fucking attitude!"

Fear flashed in her eyes. Not enough to stop her. "Let me go!"

"Shut up!"

She went silent at his command. Mountain was big. And he was strong. And she wasn't quite so sure that she could take him if he got aggressive. She wasn't quite thinking straight- "...Make me."

With that, he grabbed her hands and pinned her to the wall. His lips pressed to hers, the kiss filled with what was either passion or rage. Maybe both.

"Don't you fucking talk back to me." He growled after pulling away for air and then diving back in. His hands moved to grab at her waist, squeezing and groping and pulling at her uniform. Y/n's hands reached for his collar and grasped at it like a lifeline.

It didn't take long for him to finally reach her belt and unclasp it with shockingly nimble hands. As soon as it was undone, he slid down her pants and underwear without shame. His fingers made their way to her hole and rubbed at her folds. She let out a moan and he smacked her thigh in warning.

Without sparing any discomfort, he slid two fingers in and moved to bite at her jawline. She gasped and clawed at his back, head dropping back against the wall. "I fucking hate you."

"I don't like you much either."

Right as she was almost there, about to cum, he pulled away. He fucking pulled away.

"F-Fuck you!"

He growled under his breath in response, mumbling something incoherent as he undid his own belt and pulled his cock out of his underwear. He grabbed Y/n's shoulders and spun her around so her chest was pressed against the wall.

He slid the tip of his cock between her folds, eliciting a soft moan from his throat. Without warning, Mountain pushed in in one thrust and Y/n let out a loud groan. The stretch was agonizing and incredible and too much all at once. When he grabbed her waist and started giving shallow thrusts, he was hitting her sweet spot just right. One of his hands pressed against the wall for balance and the other came to wrap around her throat, resting there as a symbol of the power he held.

"M-Mountain!"

"Say it again."

"Oh f-fuck, Mountain, fuck-" She gasped for air as he picked up the pace, groaning. The ghouls in the dining room had to be able to hear them now.

"Come on, fuck..." He groaned, mercilessly speeding up. The hand around her neck tightened. "Can't last long, you're so fucking tight."

She sobbed out in a mix of pleasure and pain, trembling fingers coming to rub at her swollen clit. She wouldn't last long, either, and she would never live that down. You can't just move on after getting fucked by someone you hate and cumming within minutes.

Moments later, she came with a cry, clamping down on his dick. If he wasn't pressing her body into the wall, she might have collapsed. Mountain climaxed not long after, shooting his load deep inside of her. Mountain was quick to recover, pulling Y/n's pants back up and buttoning them again while she tried to catch her breath. He had returned to his calm, easy-going demeanor easily, though there was a hint of smugness under his tone when he finally spoke.

"I take it you've learned your lesson?"

[dekusleftsock]

SOOOOO…. EVERYONES TALKING ABOUT HOW TOGA SHOULD HAVE A THIRD OPTION IN THIS SCENARIO THAT ISNT IMPRISONMENT OR DEATH…

SO LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO THE POSSIBLE OUTCOME OF “SUPERVISED BY UA STAFF” WHERE SHE GOES TO SCHOOL WITH THE REST OF CLASS 1-A

I really thought that this was being a tad unrealistic, even when I first started thinking about it. But with toga refusing to be imprisoned and taking death in Ochakos arms as a sacrifice, I can’t help but wonder that if (when, lets be honest here this is another fake out lol) toga does survive in some miracle, probably through hawks, what IS an ending in which she isn’t imprisoned? Where is that?

UA BABY! Aoyama was imprisoned there when he was found out to be the spy, toga has REPEATEDLY been in the UA school uniform in tonsssss of official art! Which I talked about a certain specific official art here which was the biggest hint imo that it’s where toga would end up belonging. Will that make parents of UA students angry? The civilians? OTHER UA students, especially non heroics students? Absolutely it will. But that’s the thing, they’re going to be angry but change needs to happen. If toga was under INTENSE supervision and especially Ochako’s supervision then… I think it could work.

Toga and ochako are together, dekus looking away bc he no longer has that much importance to their story, and Aizawa is oddly close. Not yet aware of the situation or what may be in store for him in the future.

But he is their teacher, he is their guide. It’s his job to protect and, most importantly, accept them.

I MEAN, GOD DAMMIT PEOPLE THEYRE IN THE UA DORMS AND ITS ALL IN BLACK, YELLOW, PINK, AND GREEN LIKE THATS LITERALLY JUST OCHAKO, TOGA, AIZAWA, AND DEKU

Plus I’d also probably laugh my ass off at toga play flirting with deku and him getting pissy over it. Or her harassing bakugou and earning an explosion to the face. Her having girls nights with tsu, Ochako, and jirou. Calling out jirou on her crush, bonding with vlad over having blood related quirks, bonding with mina over who likes who in the class, SHE WOULD JUST FIT SO WELL THERE IN MY MIND OKAY. I’ve thought about it a little too much for something that hasn’t really happened.

If I don’t get my final few domestic chapters with toga and the rest of the girls or toga and bakugou/izuku together like. I need it. I ESPECIALLY need her to call out Izuku for being gay for bakugou. I need it.

Maybe I’m asking for too much but. I really want toga to get her happy ending. One where she’s accepted and supported and around people her age! Having FUN with people her age! The LOV will always be part of her past, may even haunt her future career endeavors, and that fucking sucks. But I want 1-A as a unit to be a space for her. I want her to be able to say that she’s proud to have been part of the league, but she’s also proud to be here. Both are parts of her.

She’s just a tired general course student who doesn’t wanna deal with the press ever LMAO

Ochako always makes sure no one bullies/assholes harasses her and makes sure she knows her smile is beautiful and perfect and the cutest in the whole world every day BC ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES.

[writefightandflightclub]

Hanging by a thread (Part 2 of 3): Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Part one: here. Part three of three: coming soon.

Summary:

First there was you - and you were alone.

Then, there was Miguel - and you were still alone.

Next, there was you and Miguel.

And you were more alone than ever.

Genre: angst

Author's note: The Miguel brain rot continues! This is part 2 of 3, and I think maybe it even hurts more than that last?!

READ THE WARNINGS: Tell me if I missed anything - ask me if you'd like more detail <;3 arachnophobia folks maybe stay away, obvs; angst; loneliness; grief; suicidal ideation (not explicit); self-harm; blood / wounds mentioned (not explicit); smut references; angsty steam; reader experiences effects of (a non-toxic paralytic, not super explicit); vague dub-con themes (kissing in angsty situation where it's probably not appropriate and explicit consent isn't sought before initiating, to give you an idea of the type of scenario.); toxic relationship; yelling; reader hits Miguel in the chest - he's not physically harmed but still warning for physical aggression.

You punch the bag hard. Repeatedly. Punch it until your muscles burn and your knuckles scream in pain.

You’re done training agility. Sky-skills. Sick of being weightless; falling. You’re always falling.

Always

slipping

down

a

string.

Instead, you've come here -to the decommissioned gym- to feel something solid beneath your feet. To feel something push back. To resist you; perhaps to remind you that you’re there at all. That there is form to you. That you are anything more than a yawning black hole.

An absence.

A lack.

And so, you punch.

You punch the bag like you used to Before. Before you were this… creature. Before you’d lost everything. Before you were lost.

Before

you were

caught

in his

web;

tightly,

so tightly wound.

You work yourself hard. So hard that your breath grows ragged, the dull thud of fist against bag drowned out -almost- by the pulsing blood in your ears. Work so hard that you ache; sweat; drip.

It’s a rare feat these days. These days, Miguel is usually the only one who can make you:

ache;

sweat;

drip.

Ever since you became this creature nothing else seems to-

-No.

Stop that. Don’t think.

Not about him.

Not about him and the way he hits the spot.

The way he fills the empty space inside of you. Fills it all the way up.

Just hit.

Hit until your knuckles split.

Until they bleed. Bleed as red as Miguel’s fiery Mars gaze. Until you recall last night and the way his planets of war were intent on you. Furious. Angry. Furious with want and-

-Stop.

Just keep fucking going. Keep going until the bag is smeared with red.

Until you feel.

Until you stop feeling.

It doesn’t matter.

Just keep hurting until the buried pain can surface. Just keep hurting until the buried pain can surface. Just keep hurting, until all of that goddamn buried pain can come right up to the surface. Until you can see it. Until it's visible.

And so, you simply work. You push, and the bag pushes back. You work, until you don’t know if you’re sweating or sobbing. Until you don’t know if the feeling constricting your chest is exertion or despair.

You simply keep hurting. Keep hurting because he’s not here, so there’s nothing else left you could possibly feel anyway and-

“-Stop,” Miguel sounds out as he enters, his full, booming voice filling every corner of the empty gym. Trailing its web from corner to corner, until even the ropes in the ring feel like they belong to him. The tether this bag swings on: belongs to him. The

thread

you are

hanging by:

belongs to

him.

You: belong to him.

All is his. All spun by him, seems like.

You glance at him without seeing, your face smeared with wetness. A mess of salt and iron - and you wish you could be fragmented. Split back down. Parsed and segmented back into your constituent elements.

Wish that you could slip down the gullet of that gaping black hole you carry right inside your middle.

And so, you don’t stop.

Instead, you punch. You keep punching, until you can barely even lift up your fists, your arms, to apply the hit. Until you can barely stand. Until you can barely stand it. Can barely stand him.

“Stop,” Miguel scolds, but he’s closer now. His voice far less booming now - softer. “You’re bleeding.” His voice is... broken now. Split apart like your skin.

No; cracked open, like a door left ajar and suddenly he is the room. Miguel is the room that you are in and he’s the walls which are enclosing you and he’s your ceiling and your floor and most of all he’s your door. He’s your only damn way out of here, isn't he? Your only remaining portal to somewhere else - feels like. “Stop it,” he says precisely, the syllables of his command cradled carefully on the tip of his tongue. Approaching you like you’re a threat. Looking at you like you’re a collider about to burst.

You are - feels like.

Feels like you’re about to burst open from all of this nothing inside you.

Still, Miguel approaches you.

How fucking heroic.

“Please. Like you care,” you spit, all petty. Your fists snatched harshly from out of his grip when he reaches for you - because he doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking care. You’ve been bleeding out for so long already and he’s never fucking cared.

You’re not looking - purposefully not looking - into the vortex of his eyes. Not looking, but you see his face crumple in your periphery all the same.

His brows drawing down. Harsh, shadowed planes forming. Tension roping through his cultivated arms. Body primed.

You can taste his heartbeat on your tongue and it is louder than your own - feels like.

“I care,” he says solemnly, plainly, and yet, somehow, the assertion feels like danger. Exactly like danger, and you feel that urgent shiver slip down the back of your neck. Feel all your senses heighten further - a towering city skyline full of fucking feelings.

Does he? Care?

Would it make any damn difference if he did?

“Could've fooled me,” you bite, moving away from him. Moving, away from his stillness. Pacing like a caged animal - trapped, even if the door’s right there. Bouncing like electricity - like this room can’t contain you. Empty - and yet brimming so full of feeling. You are a chaos of contradictions.

Miguel is still, meanwhile. He is only one thing. He is still Miguel. Still and solid as a lightning rod in the centre of the room.

A stone.

A goddamn mountain.

Impenetrable - wall of muscle.

An inverse mountain.

Angular.

Triangular.

Climbable.

Mountable.

So... stiff; rigid; hard.

Meanwhile, you pace. You pace in circles. Nowhere else to go but around and around, counter-clockwise, counter-clockwise, orbiting your centre. Circling like you’re spinning a web but it’s funny, isn’t it - fucking hilarious - because it’s obvious you’re the one who’s snared in his.

Miguel is everything right now. Everything right now, as in, he possesses infinite, inter-dimensional possibility. Anything is possible for him, for Miguel, for the versions of him, isn’t it, across the millions of multiverses? And yet, there is only one possibility here, in this room, with this Miguel. Only one way this can go.

You wonder -briefly- if there is a single version of him anywhere that could love and not only fuck; but it doesn’t matter. This version of him doesn’t. Won’t. Can’t. Never will - and you feel so trapped by it. Trapped by the limits of what’s possible in a multiverse where strictly speaking, anything is.

The space around you feels tighter suddenly. Even more suffocating.

How could it not? How could it not when Miguel is the room. The very walls enclosing you. When he is the door, because there’s no way out of this which doesn’t involve him, is there? Not any longer.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, blood-brown eyes dancing with concern. Scanning for answers. For patterns, anomalies, events, and it’s funny.

Oh, Miguel.

It's so fucking funny.

You scoff darkly, drawing the back of your hand across your face to swipe away this wet. Smearing your face with blood. Tasting iron on your mouth as your tongue travels from one corner to the other in an aggravated swipe.

Of course. It makes sense in a way, you suppose. Makes sense for Miguel to think that something must have happened.

He’s looking for a villain, isn’t he? Always is looking for something else to blame so he doesn’t have to blame himself.

Oblivious.

So fucking oblivious.

Oblivious, and you’re shaking now; but it feels good. You’re shaking because you’re finally angry. Finally angry, like him, with him, and you round on him. Crowd him. Spit your raw words up at the peak of him. Plucking a grievance at random, like a ripened poison apple from the gnarled tree he’s planted inside you.

“Do you seriously never think about how shitty it is, Miguel?” He’s lost now. He’s lost and you can see it in his blank face and you could care less, stabbing your finger into the centre gulf of his broad expanse of chest. “How shitty you are?”

That does it. Provokes him. Thunder clouds rumbling down from the peak of the mountain of him. Drawing down to shroud his blood-moon eyes, and you’re so, very, incandescently angry.

So angry, that the words won't leave your mouth fast enough. That your tone is dripping venom, spit droplets firing into the tight space between you. “I do whatever I can to care for you, Mig. Comfort you. Tolerate your bullshit because I know how much you hurt. So, tell me something, Big Boy. Tell me. Don’t you think it’s so entirely fucked up that meanwhile - God. You.” You can barely get the words out fast enough now. Barely enough breath in your lungs. Can barely see him through the film of rageful tears glossing your eyes. “You’ve studied the fucking canon. Extensively.

You know

what

we

all

go

through.

So… Tell me. Don’t you think it’s especially shitty that you’ve

never

once

asked me

what

I lost?”

Your ears ring. Ring with the force. Of your own yelling. No breath left. In your lungs. All of it used. To stifle a sob. Lower lip trembling. Chest burning. Nostrils flaring. You’re angry. You're fuming.

But it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

You wait.

You wait for Miguel’s reaction; but he’s still a stone.

Doesn’t even lose it with you, like he does with everyone else. Doesn’t even scream that he’s had enough of you, like he does with everyone else. Can’t even do you the fucking courtesy of reacting - and you no longer even know why you’re surprised.

Nothing though? Nothing to say for himself?

You wait. Inwardly seething. Studying him. Giving him nowhere to hide.

You watch, as the muscles in his jaw writhe - tendons slipping over bone. You watch as his fists clench. You watch as his palms raise in the air and his lips form the shape of the words, and still you don’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth when you hear it.

“I didn’t come here for this shit.”

Oh.

Oh no.

That’s not good enough.

Not anymore.

“Tell me then, Miguel,” you sing-song. Words as barbed as his fangs as you scramble to unwind your hand wraps and toss them to the floor. Whole body shaking now. Legs nervy. Breath trembling. Tears spiking - even as you try to retain some semblance of composure. “What did you come here for?”

You know. You know already, but you want him to say it. Need him to say it. To admit it, out loud.

You want him to say precisely what he came for.

The only thing he ever wants of you.

You want to hear him say that he came here to fill you up and then leave you emptier than before.

But instead, he says nothing.

Instead, he swallows - you hear it. Knots his brows. Dips his head.

Fucking coward.

“Say it!” You punch him in the chest to punctuate your hoarse plea. Your voice is fragmented - pathetic. Your blows, too, are pathetic. Ineffectual. No true intent behind them. More irritating than harmful. Still, he grunts. Pissed off. Snarling. Lip curling back to reveal the tips of his fangs.

Even so, he stands and takes it.

Stands there like a fucking mountain as you deliver blow upon blow to the broad span of him. Beating his chest with your fists like you’re knocking on a door, begging him to open up. To let you in. To finally let you in.

You strike him like he’s your punchbag, only he has even more weight to him - feels like. Delivers far more resistance. Keeps pushing back. Always pushing back. Pushing back against you. Reminding you, that you’re more than a yawning black hole. Isn't that the point? “You’re a big dumb fuck, Miguel. You know that? You’re a fucking bastard.”

He lets you. Lets you do this. He takes it.

Doesn’t defend himself - verbally or physically. Doesn’t retreat. Doesn't try to stop you.

He simply lets you, your voice shredded in your throat now. “You only ever come to me so you can bury your pain in me, don’t you? Huh? Well for once, Miguel. For once, can’t you

fucking

take

some of

mine?!”

He still doesn’t speak. Continues to weather the barrage of you. Lets your harmless blows bounce off of him - feels like.

He takes it.

Eventually, opens up his arms as you dig both your screwed up fists into the expanse of his chest, wanting to bury yourself there. “Fucking… take it! Please!” you beg, a sob finally rising in your throat. Voice wet. “Please. Take it. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

You try to push him away. Try to push him away as he drops to his knees with you. As the fire in you burns through everything you had left to keep you standing. As it guts you until you can no longer maintain your structure, collapsing down to the floor - Miguel collapsing with you.

You try.

You try to push him away but he stays. Like a fucking mountain. Stays even as your fists turn to open palms against his chest, shoving him. Stays. Stays. Stays. Opens his arms to you.

He takes it. Takes your pain, like you’ve done for him for so long. Takes it until your striking blows become pawing palms. Until his arms are wrapping at your back, stroking up and down the length of you. “Hey. Hey, come on,” he soothes. “Tell me what you need.”

You need so many things.

Have needed them for so long that you don’t even know where to begin. You need so many things from him and it’s dangerous, because as soon as your anger crests and breaks, all you are left with is pain and then -hypocrite- all you need in this moment? All you need is... to bury it in him.

Meanwhile; Miguel's arms cradle you like a room. Like your walls. And, if Miguel is the room? You are the emptiness inside it. You are the emptiness inside it and in this moment you need to be reminded you are something more. Something more than a yawning black hole.

Your breaths are heaving now. Face wet. Your chests pressed up against one another’s as you kneel here and he holds you. The warmth of your bodies bleeding into one another’s. Strong arms are wrapped around you. His taloned finger is crooking under your chin. Drawing your gaze up to his. Searching your eyes with his - and there’s so much pain there too.

You look into Miguel's red eyes and they're cut deep with a wound. So deep it's as though the wound caused it - this redness- like he’s been bleeding-out for so long too that the colour is visibly seeping through.

There’s so much pain there. So much pain inside you too, and you look at his mouth. You look at his mouth and suddenly it is a door. It promises relief, and it is the only way out that you can see.

You kiss him.

Abruptly; lips crushing up against his and arms enclosing him in a desperate clinch, fingers disappearing into the black night of his hair.

Miguel groans as though the sound had been readied in his throat, opening-up freely for you as your tongue shoves desperately past his lips.

You deepen the kiss. Blood rushing. Desire throbbing. You deepen the kiss, before Miguel can gain the wherewithal to clamp his stupidly broad palms on to your shoulders. To drag you off of him. To tell you to stop.

Will he? Tell you to stop?

You pull back from him to ask the question - not with so many words. You pull back from him, tugging on his lower lip with your teeth until you leave it all kiss-bitten and plumped. Until you draw a breathy, pained sound from him because the last thing he wants from you is for you to stop.

You pull back to ask the question, and you see his eyes are fluttered closed. His face is contorted with need. You see the subtle gloss of spit on his plush lower lip. You see him, and you're still vibrating from the tortured, resonant moan he delivered against the cave of your mouth.

Even so - you wait. You ask the question.

You wait; but he doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t stop you, and so you rise up further on your knees.

You rise up fully on your knees and you kiss him again, and its even more desperate than the last. Mouths slanting together. Warm breath and spit intermingling. Impossibly broad hands clawing at you back, the subtle bite of talons offering a sting of white-hot pain. Your tongue shoving wretchedly over his. Sloppy. Practically feral.

It’s humiliating, even. It’s shameful - the way you want him. It’s unhinged.

But you don’t stop.

Don’t stop even when you know you should.

Can’t stop - feels like. Can’t stop this urge to lose yourself. To wipe your pain clean. To feel. To stop feeling. You should stop - but you don’t, and instead, you kiss him hungrily. Kiss him like you’re trying to devour him and-

-No. You kiss him like you want him to devour you. To slip his venom into your veins and liquidise your insides and leave no trace.

You don’t stop; but instead, you run your writhing tongue over his semi-retracted fangs. You try desperately to lick the trace of venom from them. Searching out the point of them with your tongue and pressing harshly up against it so this can all be done. So that you can finally feel. So that you can finally stop feeling.

You should stop.

You wish it would stop.

He’s your open door. Your portal out of here; except-

“-Stop!” Miguel booms, strong hands on your shoulders, drawing you off of him when the tangy bloom of iron gushes over his tongue, just a drop all it takes for him to know what you’ve done. “You stupid girl!”

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ve never seen him look more angry.

You’ve never felt more ashamed,

the feeling

sinking

like a

stone

through

your stomach.

But it’s okay, actually. It's okay because the feeling doesn’t last for long. Not long at all before the effects of the venom set in. Before you're just a little less present and a little more numb. “It’s fine,” you slur, looking at him through the blur of tears. “It’s fine. I didn’t get all that much.” A single trail of salt spills down your cheek. It's fine, except - “Oh God. I’m sorry, Miguel. I’m so sorry.”

He could stay angry.

Could easily be angry. Should be - feels like.

But instead, mercifully, he looks at you some other way. Maybe even seeing you. Finally. Instead then, he sighs heavily. Carries you over - slung in his arms - to the boxing ring and sits you down on its edge, your back leaning up against the forgiving ropes. Slings his webbing around your middle for support to stop you from slumping, your muscles giving up.

Instead then, he tracks towards the First Aid kit on the wall. And, while you suffer the mild effects of his venom - that now familiar paralytic, your micro-dose coping mechanism - Miguel returns to you. Returns, even though by now he should surely have had enough.

Even so, he returns to you all the same, and he kneels before you. Begins to carefully patch your self-inflicted wounds. “You’re okay, do you hear me?” he says softly, gently jostling your chin to check you’re not too out of it. Checking that you’re not panicking. Not distressed. “Feeling alright? Just fuzzy?”

It's a buzz, actually, Always feels good - even though it shouldn't. You know it shouldn't. “Mmm hmm.”

You do actually feel fine, somehow. Fine with respect to the venom. Fine with respect to your scuffed hands. But it’s the stubborn black hole in your middle which still hurts. It’s the yearning in your chest which still aches. It's the grief. The grief is what's still killing you.

“I’ll take care of you, okay?” Miguel promises, his broad palm cupping your face, his expression stern but his eyes - somehow- forgiving and steady on yours.

You study him. His face harsh - all sharp planes as he patches you; but his hands become entirely tender.

It’s careful. It’s so careful that his tenderness feels almost more painful than a wound. It’s tender enough that you can pretend. Pretend that he truly does care. That he really will take care of you, for longer than it takes for his venom - pulsing through you - to be half-lifed into oblivion. For longer than it takes for your body to flush him out after every encounter.

You watch, regardless. You study him. Study Miguel’s big, clumsy hands as they rifle through the First Aid box. For antiseptic. For band-aids. Watch him diligently attend to each split knuckle one by one. Wiping the red away.

You wish you could do the same for the red, angry wounds in his eyes. Wish you could wipe it all away.

Maybe in another multiverse. Maybe there’s another version of you that could, but Lord knows that -in this one - you’ve tried.

You watch him. Watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he works. The notched groove between his brows. The contours of him, structured and shadowed. His thorned beauty, like a defensive rose.

He doesn’t even need to do this for you, you contemplate. You’ll heal. You’ll heal fast. Skin already sealing over, probably. Repairing. But, you sense that it’s not about these surface scathes for him either. You sense that - perhaps for the first time - he is acknowledging your real wound. The one within you. The one which -try as you might- simply won’t close. Won’t heal quickly like the rest. Which you can’t seem to heal at all - feels like.

You feel that he too is finally contemplating the wound he has ignored. Not caused; but angered by circling around the circumference of it, certainly.

The wound that Miguel has ignored, perhaps because it too closely mirrors his own.

As you watch him - as you think - Miguel’s vermillion eyes intermittently dart up to greet yours. He's stoic. He's stern; but he's softening.

Softening - and he stays.

He hasn’t had enough of you, like he has of everyone else.

“I do what I can, you know?” you say softly, barely above a whisper, when you finally feel you’ve returned to yourself. Right now, the black hole suddenly feels more like an eerie calm spinning in your centre. “To care for you, as much as you’ll let me and…” You sigh, though. Not even sure if it’s worth trying to explain anyway.

Miguel looks down again. Gaze intent on your hands. Brows knitting further. He smooths the curled corner of one band-aid down for the fifth time. Secures it carefully in place with the pad of his thumb.

“I know,” he concedes, nodding slowly. “And I can’t even manage to thank you for the empanadas, never mind anything-” He sets his mouth into a thin line. Can’t complete the thought. He’s solemn. Regretful. But still offering no apologies. No hope for change. "I know. I know I'm not... easy."

All you can muster in the face of that, is a gentle shrug. What does it matter anyway? Anymore? Did it ever even matter?

He chews on his lips for a moment, mustering a thought. Unable to meet your gaze now. “I just… I’m trying to hold it all together.”

Of course. You do understand.

The multiverse. HQ. The pressures he faces. You know it hasn’t been easy for him.

“And using me makes you feel a little better while you do?” Your words are unkind, but there’s far less venom in them now. Only resignation. Curiosity, almost.

He blinks, eyelashes fanning like delicate spider silks and, gingerly, Miguel flattens your palms between his. Still not looking at you - he can’t seem to look at you. “No.” Wow. It… doesn’t? God - if you make him feel shitty too; then why bother? If there is nothing good which can come from this, then maybe

you

should

simply

stop.

Maybe you are running out of thread.

“I mean…” He huffs a breath from the circle of his plush lips as he rearranges his thoughts. Finds the words. Sorts through the tangle. Buries that which he still isn't willing to share. “Yes - you do. It does. For a while.” His words aren’t beautiful. Not making anything better. But, you could cry from how softly he is holding your hands in his. Holding them like it is true after all. Like he cares. He blinks a few times, and although his eyes are downcast you see his eyelashes glisten with a smattering of tears - like pearls of dew clinging to a spider’s web.

“Miguel,” you encourage plainly, knowing there’s more. More than needs to be said.

He takes a deep breath then. Exhales it out at length, his broad shoulders rising, then falling. Runs his tongue self-consciously over one fang. “I don't mean the multiverse. I mean that… I’m trying so hard to hold myself together. And… you?” He finally looks up at you again, his eyes as soft and uncertain as you’ve ever seen them. “You...” A gulp saws down his throat. “You unravel me.”

Oh.

Oh right.

You look at him. Seeing him. Your heartbeat once again pounding in your ears, for wholly different reasons than before.

You have no doubt that he can hear your heartbeat in this moment. Maybe even taste it on his tongue. Most definitely, he can hear the pace of it race as his words find you, his eyes glowing softly now, like the shy, red-tinged light of a sinking sun.

Maybe he is.

Maybe this is the one version of Miguel who could love you.

Sure. Of course. In another life, maybe.

If things had been different, then maybe this could have been something.

You look at him now, and you no longer feel anything which resembles anger.

You shift, freeing yourself from his webbing. Lifting your band-aid smattered hand to cup his rough, sculpted cheek.

“You’re trying to hold yourself together,” you say softly. Voice calm and resigned now. Silly, oblivious man. “Guess what? I’d noticed.” You slide your palm down his face and he leans into your touch. “But you’re holding on so tight, Miguel. Everything is so tightly wound, and I can’t breathe.”

He looks regretful. Contrite, a flash of apology scurrying across his gaze. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m just…”

“Hurting? Angry?”

He nods. Looking ashamed.

You let your hand slip down his chest and meanwhile, he places both of his hands on top of your thighs.

He’s warm. Feels good.

But it doesn’t make up for how cold he’s been to you for so long. Not even close.

He doesn’t mean to hurt you, he says. You maybe even believe that to be true. On some level.

But not meaning to hurt you is not the same thing as:

he didn’t;

doesn’t;

won’t.

It's not the same thing as he doesn't know he's doing it when he does.

Fresh tears brim in your eyes, and your voice is cracked in two; ajar like a door. Cracked open like a door, and, mercifully, there is finally room for you to walk through. Somewhere else for you to go aside from running to him. Somewhere else for you to go besides trying to crawl into the cavern of his ample chest. But first, there is more for you to say.

“The anger might be a mask, Miguel. But you’ve worn it so much, that… it’s becoming the only face that ever looks back at me." You pause for moment before continuing. To let your words sink into him. Really sink in. "Do you understand that? The toll that it takes?”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t say anything, and you watch his face twisting into a pained expression. Collapsing with regret.

His hands already on your thighs, he slides them up. Wraps them all the way around your hips and butt. Circling his grip around the rear of you. His forearms running the length of your thighs. And then, he leans forward, curling his broad form over like a waning stem until he buries his beautiful flowered, thorned face right into your lap.

It’s a rare display from him, and for a moment, you simply look down at the dense mass of his black hair. Noticing the few threads of grey running through it like silken spider strands. Eyes travelling across the curved bulk of his shoulders as he curls his impossibly broad form around you. Holding you, but mostly wanting to be held.

You settle your battered hands on to the meat of his back. Run your thumb between his shoulder blades, up into the nape of his neck, up into his hair, parsing his tension into segments. Offering him some modicum of comfort. Letting him take it, for a moment. Letting him melt into your lap. He moans as you touch him like that, his breath warm and his resonant vibrations blooming in the channel of your pressed together thighs. Moans like he’s touch-starved and has never known relief - not even once in his life.

You take a deep breath, knowing this next step will be hard to take. Your fingers carding through the length on his crown, disappearing into the black night of him. Like he is your black hole. Has been all along. “I know you didn’t ask me to care, Miguel. But I do. I care about you a lot, okay? I need you to know that first." Hearing this, his hands clutch at you just a little tighter. His breath heaves out of him. “You know that already though, right? You’re a smart guy. And… that’s why I find it hard to believe that you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

You ease him up, off you, with your battered hands, and he looks at you. Eyes glittering with feeling. Face taut with it. “What am I doing?”

“Well.” You pause. Take a moment to skim your gaze over the contours of his face. To gently comb the hair back from his forehead. “Giving me just enough tenderness, just often enough, to keep me hanging by a thread?” You stand. You stand and this time you don’t need to push him away from you. He rises too, and takes a perceptible step back. Almost as though, for him, your words might signal danger - a shiver snaking down his back. “I’m hanging by a fucking thread, Miguel. Have been hanging by a thread since long before I met you, and so I’m begging you.” You place your palm against his solid chest. Look directly into his eyes so he knows you mean it. “You’re holding yourself together. Fine. But if you can’t unravel even a little bit? If you don’t want to? If you can’t give me any fucking slack? Then please… cut me down. Cut me loose. Because I’m tired, you know? I’m so tired of being alone when I’m with you.”

For the first time, a single tear escapes from Miguel’s eye, gliding smoothly down his face like the silken drop of a spider.

He sucks in a shaky breath, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have anything else to say; at least, nothing else he's willing to.

You’re a little disappointed, though not at all surprised, and, in a way, it is a blessing. A blessing because you realise; you don’t have to wait for him to cut you loose. You realise that’s something you can do for yourself. That you don’t have to keep hurting yourself like this. That you’re not obligated to keep letting him hurt you, just because he’s in pain too.

A resolve settles over you, and Miguel must see it in your face. Miguel must see it for that is when he moves. That is when he becomes desperate, reaching out for your hand. Only as you finally turn away from him - as you pass him by.

“Just don’t. Please,” you say to him. Calmly. Clearly. With as little venom as you can manage. “Don’t touch me.”

You face each other now, and despite his size, Miguel -all slumped and despondent- actually looks small. Sounds small. It is no longer his room - because it is yours. “Where are you going?”

Despite yourself. Despite everything. Despite all the energy you have spent avoiding precisely this, it feels good to finally realise what you need to do. In this moment, the smallest hint of a small even crosses your face.

“I’m going home.”

Home.

Even the word visibly crushes him. The one place he can’t find. The one place he can’t go in a room full of doors.

Miguel takes a single step towards you, reaching out his taloned hand, but your palm raises confidently and so he treads no closer.

He nods. Licks his lips. Searches for what he wants to say, even as he already knows it will not be enough. After all, he’s a smart guy, isn't he? “I do care too, you know. I really do care.”

His eyes swim. His fists clench. Ropes of tension pop in his neck - and you can’t resist it. Don’t begrudge him this, and so, you step gingerly forward, craning up to press a chaste kiss to the swell of his sculpted cheek. You search his eyes, wanting to show him there is no malice left in you, not really. Not for him. “I know, Miguel. I know you’re not a monster," you say, before turning away.

“Will you come back?” he asks, voice cracked all the way open, just like the door you are about to walk through.

There was you, then Miguel, then you and Miguel - and all of those times, you were alone.

For now though? Being alone feels like exactly what you need.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. Freeing yourself of his webbing. Disappearing into the black hole of the corridor. Moving forward, instead of being stuck in limbo -

and

this

time,

you

leave

him

hanging

by

a

thread.

[icabrth]

found family

pairings: platonic!jesse pinkman x fem!reader

summary: you lose your sister, Jane, to overdose and her druggie boyfriend takes you under his wing.

a/n: this is my first imagine ever so it sucks but I need to practice my writing lol

warnings: death (overdose), drug mentions&usage, probably a lot of typos…

main masterlist

“Jane! Jane- no, please!–“ your desperate cries were futile as your sister’s body laid unconscious in your arms. Puke splattered around face sticking to her hair. Sweat dripping down from her forehead, and the discoloring in her face making her almost unrecognizable.

You’d only ever imagined this scenario in your nightmares, you never thought it’d happen.

You had been living with her for a few years now. Spending all your tween years under her custody, you were now fifteen. Jane had become more like an actual parents than your real ones. She helped you with your homework, cooked meals for you, you talked about boys, she kept you away from boys. You had such an idealistic relationship, and now it was all gone. You had come home from school to find the two of them in bed. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you.

You had stayed like this for a long time, trying every method you knew of to wake her up – but she was dead. The man next to you, Jane’s tenant, dealer or boyfriend… you weren’t sure. Though, it didn’t matter now. Jane was dead and it was his fault. As far as you knew, she was getting better. But then he came and dragged her right back to the bottom.

“What is wrong with you!” You screamed at him, refusing to let go of her. He stood beside the bed with that same, frozen look he’d had ever since you found them. Not moving, not talking.

“You killed her! You killed my sister, you crazy fucking bitch- fuck you!” Eyes swollen from all the crying. “Jane.” You said finally. Words mushing together with your face pressed against her chest. You wailed like a toddler not getting her way. You eventually got up, your cold gaze meeting his. You noticed his tired, red eyes. And for a split second, you felt bad for him. But the feeling left as quickly as it came.

Jesse wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, still mourning this loss of his girlfriend. Just like you, he had loved her. He loved her more than anything else in this world. So he could do nothing but stand there when the love of his life’s little sister repeatedly hit him in the chest, yelling cruel obscenities.

You eventually grew tired of yelling, your throat becoming sore and your eyes began to try out. Your mind felt fuzzy as you stopped your fit as you suddenly collapsed in his chest. He acted quickly, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry.” Was all he said. The two of you stayed like that for a while before you left the house. It was late at night by now, but you couldn’t sleep in the same house as her. Though, you couldn’t really sleep anyway.

It had been a few weeks since your sister’s death and you were a complete mess. Jesse had offered you’d stayed with him and you hesitantly agreed, not having anywhere else to go. You insisted on sleeping in the living room, though. You simply couldn’t bare to be in the same room, the same bed, she’d died.

“No, dad I’m not going to live with you— don’t act like you care–“ Jesse lay in bed listening to you talking on the phone. He couldn’t properly explain it, but he felt somehow responsible for you after Jane’s death, knowing you were her younger sister. And though he was still coping with her death, he knew about you guys’ relationship with your dad and therefor he knew Jane wanted him to take care of you. “—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!”.

He sighed as he realized you’d finally hung up, you’d been at this for what felt like hours – arguing in circles, going nowhere. He heard you shuffling through his stuff and he got up to see what you were doing, following the noise.

The two of you didn’t communicate a lot; he had his drug business (which you didn’t know about) and you had school. He’d order some kind of Uber eats and you’d eat it in silence. But you did know something was up. His expensive clothes, seemingly endless drug supply, suspicious phone calls and money made you think.

Currently, you were on the floor, rummaging through his stash, looking for some kind of stimulants. Something to make you forget about your life and make you feel good again. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back while simultaneously ripping to box away from you.

“What the fuck are you doing– are you insane?!” Jesse yelled at you, now kneeling in front of you with both his hands gripped tightly onto your shoulders. His wide, bloodshot eyes forming a manic expression. “Hey, stop! It’s none of your busi–“

“None of my business?— it’s my fucking drugs! You’re what 15? You’re not touching none of this!” His anger died down instantly, replaced by a look of pity. He moved his hands from your shoulders to your hands and held them firmly. You looked away, struggling to maintain your stone cold expression as your lower lip began to quiver with emotion. The yelling died down and you were once again back in the position you were in two months ago.

“Promise m– hey! Hey, look at me!” He said desperately, his eyes searching for yours. You reluctantly look at him with tears swelling in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll never do this again, ok?”

Another month passed by and the two of you were getting closer, finding out you had more in common than you thought. You were super into comics and he liked drawing comic characters. You played a lot of games together (mario kart/run, fall guys, cod). And you bonded over Jane’s death together, understanding each others pain.

“Hey, can you ready the batter? I’ll cook it and set the table.” Jesse said, pouring some margarine in the pan. Rays of sunlight were shining through the blinds and the sound of birds chattering could be heard. You’d heard the phrases “better days are coming” and “there is a light at the end of the tunnel” continuously for the past year, but you never actually believed it. Now that summertime was nearing you were actually starting to feel better about your life.

You took a second to take it all in, how much better your life had finally turned around. He slapped you in the back of your head lightly, bringing you out of your trance. “Yo, anyone in there? Earth to ___!” You laughed in response, slapping him with your apron.

[sapphire-weapon]

Why do you think RE2R's narrative wasn't restructured like that? Wasn't it the same team working on both games?

Yes, it was the same team, but historical context is important.

RE2make was this team's first remake, so no one knew how these games were going to be received. And Capcom was terrified. They had repeatedly said over the years that they would never remake RE2. They even legit told fans to stop asking for it, at one point.

But the announcement of RE2make was Capcom's "in case of emergency, break glass."

RE2make was announced in 2015 as a response to the RE6 post-mortem. It was actually announced before RE7 was, even, in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding and signal to fans "we're listening, we're listening, oh god please stop saying horrible things about us on the internet the investors are so pissed."

So they had to be very, very careful with how they approached this remake. If they fucked this up, it would've been catastrophic. I'm sure Hirabayashi's balls were in his throat for the entire stretch of time between the Leon and Claire face reveal to the release of the game -- because that face reveal did not go over well.

And if that wasn't bad enough, after that went over poorly, there was a dramatic outcry and backlash when it was announced that the game would have no zapping system (which is why and how we ended up with a poorly-realized, slapped-together 1st/2nd scenario situation; originally, it was meant to be just one Leon campaign and one Claire campaign). Pre-release of this game was probably harrowing as fuck for everyone involved in the project.

RE2make was not the game for experimenting. You could tell they wanted to, based on the complete overhaul to the playable Ada and Sherry sections, but a thematic shift in genre was out of the question.

What they actually did with RE2make -- which was actually really smart -- was not remake the game as it existed. Instead, they remade the game as people remembered it.

Leon was not a gentle, sweet boy who just got screwed over in RE2 OG. He was an arrogant dick who insisted he was always right.

Ada was not a cold, manipulative bitch in OG. She genuinely fell in love with Leon.

Claire was not a hotheaded firecracker in OG. She was soft-hearted and nurturing, if a bit sassy.

But their remake counterparts followed people's memories and the fandom consciousness rather than the OG scripts.

So I mean...

RE2make was in a precarious situation. And if it had gone over poorly, RE4make would've looked much different.

[gettingfrilly]

I just wanna talk about this scene for a second because

A: It's our first glimpse at a truly pissed off Ed, and I love how differently he deals with anger from Double D and Eddy. The other Eds both externalize their anger, Eddy at the slightest provocation and Double D once he's reached his boiling point. Ed, however, internalizes, sulking and moping and only lashing out when it's to get others to leave him alone. This makes sense given Ed's home life, where Sarah's needs and feelings are so prioritized over his own.

B: This is a great look into how Eddy's own emotional needs have probably been addressed in the past (definitely by Bro, maybe by his father and mother, too.)

C: This scene contains the single funniest interaction between Ed and Double D, which is when Ed rolls his eyes at him. The reason I find this so funny is that in almost every other scenario, Ed is never shown to have a keen theory of mind. Sure, he can usually tell when people are overtly angry or sad, but when it comes to more nuanced emotions, motivations, intentions, social graces, and thoughts of others, Ed usually hasn't got a clue. Even in the final scene of BPS, Ed continues to smile as Bro assaults Eddy, not realizing the gravity of the situation until Eddy gets slammed against the side of his trailer repeatedly. He truly lives in his own world full of his own fantasies with little recognition for the social situations around him until they become too extreme for him to stay ignorant to.

So that even Ed can think to himself "Oh boy, here we go, this fucking guy" when Double D gets all Morally Responsible and Must Do The Right Thing shows just how much of a fake ass bitch Double D really is and I'm absolutely living for it.

C. (addendum) The only other time in the series that Ed shows a functioning theory of mind outside of extreme circumstances is when Double D makes him a bowl of gross organic oatmeal in "Will Work for Ed." Double D starts in on one of his rambles, and Ed gives him a wide, fake smile until he has a chance to toss the oatmeal over his shoulder without Double D noticing. I like to think there is something particularly insufferable about Double D that is able to activate the lesser used parts of Ed's mind like some kind of survival mechanism.

[kryptonitejelly]

Hiii!! First I want to say I love your writing and your blurbs. They’re so cute and I love them so much. ❤️

Can I request a blurb with protective Hotch? Maybe the team is on a case and the reader goes down to the lobby of the hotel for a drink and a creepy guy hits on her? Then as she’s repeatedly telling the guy to get away from her Hotch sees it and gets all protective??

Tysm! Please take your time :)

A/N: Thank you 💗 I have tons of fun writing the blurbs, I’m glad you like them. You are the sweetest for being so polite I just cant 😭

I love creepy guy hitting on reader kinda scenarios and protective Hotch, uhm yesssss.

Requests for blurbs are currently open here.

-

“One whisky, neat, please.” You slide your card across the bar table as you settle onto the barstool. The case which the team had been attending to wasn’t the worst you had seen, but having been assigned to the precinct had you spending the most time with the family of the victim, and by the very nature, resulted in you seeing the most of their pain, which always made it worse.

You nod a thanks to the bartender who slides your drink and card back across to you. Swirling the liquid around in the glass, you put it to your lips, tipping it back, letting the woody burn slide down your throat. It offers you momentary relief, and for the first time in days you let your shoulders sag with relief as you exhale deeply.

“I’ve got something else that you could knock back down that throat of yours baby.”

Your eyes fly open, a deep frown sliding onto your features and you come face to face with a tall middle aged man, leering openly at you. He smells like a distillery.

“Excuse me?” Your voice is clipped, a scowl on your features as you notice his gaze darting down the v neck of your blouse. It makes you pull your jacket tighter around you, belly clenching in disgust.

“I said,” he leans forward, the alcohol on his breath an assault to your sense of smell, “I’ve got something else that your pretty throat would be good for.”

He steps closer, rolling his hips in your direction and you feel white, hot rage bubble inside of you. This was the last thing you needed tonight.

“Get. Lost.” You turn away from the man, training your gaze on the bottles behind the bar as you take another swig from the glass.

“Come on now baby. Why act modest, when we both know you are anything but an angel.” His words cause you to ball your hands into fists as you fight an internal battle within you, debating whether the trouble you would get into at taking a swing at him would be worth it.

“Fuck off.” You growl as you finish off the glass of whisky. Slipping your card back into the pocket of your jacket, you make to climb off the stool when you feel the creep’s hand grab your arm, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your jacket.

The pressure on your arm makes you snap, and you raise your fist an inch, ready to take a shot at the drunk, when you feel another warm hand catch your fist. Your back connects with a chest, and the scent that wafts over you helps you identify Hotch.

“Is this man bothering you Honey?” He squeezes your hand, a signal for play along because this is the easiest way we are going to diffuse this situation without drawing any more attention to ourselves.

“This gentleman was just about to get going before you showed up, Sweetheart.” You wrench your arm out of the creep’s hold, which has slackened with the appearance of your unit chief, and press your side against Hotch’s chest, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He slides a protective arm around you, you can feel the muscles under his shirt shift and you can’t help but wonder what those same bare muscles would feel like under your hands.

“Cockslut.” The man spits out venomously, glaring at both you and Hotch. His words however, are in contrast to his body language which you note, had severely shifted with the appearance of Hotch.

“What did you just say?” Hotch beats you to punch, his eyes hardening, as he tightens his hold on you. He is, at this point, radiating anger. You instinctively nestle yourself further into his embrace, and you feel him squeeze your shoulder in reassurance, angling himself slightly so half his body is blocking yours.

“Not-nothing.” The man’s eyes widen, knowing that he would be picking a losing battle and he turns on his heels, scurrying off.

-

“Why are you both holding onto each other.” Rossi’s voice causes both you and Hotch to jump apart, and you feel a blush falling rapidly across your face.

“Just helping her chase away some creep that was trying to hit on her.” Hotch explains for you both, his tone calm, but a slight tinge of red colouring the tops of his ears.

“I see.” Rossi muses, as you excuse yourself, muttering an excuse about getting to bed, before you half sprint to the elevators.

-

“So, you think she knows?” Rossi asks, hands in his pockets, question directed at Aaron as they watch you jab at the elevator button, willing it to come faster.

“Knows what.” Hotch’s gaze is trained on you, a small smile ln his lips as he watches you slide quickly into the lift, jamming the door close. He can still feel the imprint of you nestled into his chest.

“That you both are idiots and pining for each other.” Rossi chuckles, slapping Hotch on the back before he turns his attention to the bar.

[chalkrevelations]

Going back and watching LITA from the beginning, because I was sporadic on the front nine.

So. Comparison 1:

The first time Payu attempts to initiate sex with Rain and the first time Prapai initiates sex with Sky are functionally no different from the Payu-Prapai side of the equation. Both of them frame the request as a repayment for services rendered – Payu for roadside rescue and work on Rain’s car, Prapai for providing Sky’s alibi at the underground racetrack. Payu is, in fact, more sexually explicit and aggressive, getting Rain to sit on the bed with him to “discuss the fee,” touching him suggestively, kissing his neck without warning and finally tossing him down on the bed and climbing on top of him. He continues to kiss him despite Rain’s wriggling discomfort with the situation and despite being told more than once to stop. He applies psychological and emotional pressure, re-framing their previous interactions to tell Rain “you threw yourself at me,” which also invokes the specter of what other people would think about Rain, at night, in Payu’s room, in Payu’s clothes, having gone there willingly with him. The next morning, we find out that Rain doesn’t even know how to get out of the door and is effectively locked in. And Payu doesn’t stop playing with Rain this way until Rain literally smacks him in the face to get away from him and escape from the bed.

Prapai, by contrast, asks Sky “what do you think I want?” which at least theoretically leaves ground for Sky to negotiate, and he never touches him sexually nor kisses him until Sky lets him know that he can. At that point, Pai’s got a guy grabbing him aggressively by the front of the shirt, telling him to take what he wants; riding home with him when – let’s face it – if Sky really wanted out of the situation and thought he couldn’t just say a straight up “no, fuck off” once they’re away from the racetrack area, all he’d have to do once he’s on Pai’s bike is get off the back of the bike and take off on foot at any point they’re stopped for a red light; and once they’re at Pai’s place, immediately working at getting their clothes off and getting them fucking, with only minimal pause for the making-out that Pai clearly would like to include in this scenario, if he was, in actuality, calling the shots.

:hands: I’m just sayin’.

The difference in outcomes is down to Rain and Sky. Rain, for all that we want to call him a one-braincell himbo, is very aware of his boundaries and is very explicit and hardline about maintaining them. He maintains them even as he starts to realize, hey, maybe they’re shifting a little bit, but also, hey, maybe he needs some time to figure out what’s going on. He thinks he might like what Payu’s doing, but he doesn’t want it, at least not then, and he repeatedly tells Payu to stop, following it up with a literal smack upside the head when Payu will not respect those boundaries.

Sky, by contrast, basically throws up his hands and says “Boundaries? What are those?” He literally gives Pai zero hard stops. “Take what you want.” What do you want? Whatever you want, it’s fine. In fact, I’m going to yank you into me first, before I let go and let you have the illusion that you’re controlling this. Oh, look, I’m still wearing my shirt, let’s get that off as soon as your apartment door closes. Here’s my bag of tricks. How about a blowjob. Wait, you actually want to kiss me more than you want my mouth on your dick? NO TIME FOR THAT. Where’s the bedroom? Where’s the condom? Why are your clothes still on? Why are you wasting time kissing down my back like you’re thinking about maybe eating me out or something, get on your back so I can get on your dick. Oh, you want to kiss? I’ll SHOW YOU A KISS.

Sky is, in every way except name, the storm in this situation. We don’t even know yet what the situation really is, other than a few vague statements about Sky’s ex, and Pai is clearly in the dark about Sky’s trauma and control issues. I’m not blaming Sky for this. All of it is perfectly understandable. But I am saying that Payu not getting any that first time while Pai gets his brains fucked out is not due to any difference between Payu and Pai, because there is no difference between Payu and Pai in these situations. The different outcomes are absolutely down to the differences between Rain and Sky, and I strongly suspect that if things were flipped around, and Payu had Sky locked in that room, in Payu’s clothes and in his bed, he’d’a ended up getting his dick wet that night, because Sky’s response would have been the same “CLOTHES OFF DICKS OUT LET’S GO” that he gives to Pai, and meanwhile, if Pai had pulled Rain off that racetrack? He’d never have made it home with him still in tow, let alone gotten fucked stupid.

[moonlit-positivity]

Trauma Bonding: You're Using That Term WRONG

And it irks me so here's a post about what trauma bonding is and what its not.

A trauma bond is a term that references a specific type of emotional abuse in which the abuser will be an abusive asshole one minute, follow that up with promises to change their behavior or flourish you with gifts and promises of changing and doing better, and then IMMEDIATELY go back to being the same abusive asshole they were the very next second. Sometimes in the same second actually.

Trauma bonding is a dynamic that repeatedly happens when the abuser escapes any and all attempts for accountability, acknowledgement, and self awareness of their part in the situation.

They will instead, beg for your forgiveness and promise you they will go to therapy, promise you they will change their behavior, promise you this and promise you that. They will fawn so sweet you'd think they were a different person altogether. And for a glimmer of a second you will believe them. They will have deployed this tactic to escape the acknowledgment and follow through of actually taking accountability and making some fucking effort to change their ways.

Then later when you ask them about it, they will get defensive. They will immediately revert back to their abusive ways. They will project, gaslight, manipulate, and blame you for bringing it up.

And this cycle repeats itself. Over and over and over and over and over and OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND

Until you're literally ready to either kill yourself or kill them to escape.

Because this shit drives you to ABSOLUTE FUCKING INSANITY.

This is what the term "trauma bonding" refers to.

Trauma bonding is NOT you bonding with your homies about the trauma y'all share together. Please stop using it in that way.

Trauma bonding is a real fucked up scenario in which you are being preyed upon for your emotional capacity to love and care for someone who is "going through a rough time," "misunderstood", "they have an abusive childhood so I know they're a little bit misguided," and "I love them," "I don't know what to do without them," "they've isolated me from everyone else so now I don't know how to get help or what that would even look like."

These types of feelings mixed in with our own low self esteem and (possible) childhood trauma, leave us CLINGING to these assholes giving us UNDENIABLY BELOW the bare fucking minimum and stuck in a cycle of harmful, abusive, and EXPLOITATIVE emotional damage.

It's psychological torture. It's psychological warfare. It's a complete mindfuck to be put through this. You never know what the fuck is happening. It's gaslighting. It's humiliating. It's shameful to know that it's happening and yet you just feel so fucking stuck and not know how to break free from it. It's humiliating to finally get to break free and see just how fucking damaged it will have you. It's humiliating to know there will be people out there who will never fucking understand what this feels like. It's a completely fucking absolute MIND FUCK to go through this.

It's also shameful to have people around you, who do not know what this feels like. Because then they will blame YOU for "not leaving sooner." And blame YOU for "not seeing the signs". And blame YOU for "not speaking up."

In reality, your heart and soul have been so fucking DESECRATED, that it turns you into a completely different person once you open your eyes to the tactics involved.

What are the tactics?

Promising change but never putting in the work

Promising therapy with no follow through

Getting defensive and shutting down the conversation in a violent and explosive manner when brought up

Buying you gifts to placate the mood

Doing something nice but you know there's an ulterior motive involved because they'll go right back to treating you like shit the next day

Using their history of childhood abuse to guilt and gaslight and manipulate you into staying

Feigning ignorance and playing dumb to get you to stay

Never taking full accountability for anything

Never recognizing their part in the situation, ever

Never acknowledging you or your feelings ever exist at all

Always turning the situation back to them and their feelings while also making you feel bad for being upset and accusing them of bad intentions

Physical violence and then apologizing and acting sweet to "make up for it"

Taking you shopping or giving you extra attention directly before or directly after being abusive & exploitative

Demanding you never give your attention to anyone else

Demanding your reactions line up with what they expect of you and getting volatile when you "disobey"

Threatening suicide if you leave

Other harmful retaliations if you leave or talk of wanting to leave

Physical abuse

Violence

Rage

Silent anger

Revenge

Dogmatic behavior

God complex behavior

"put you in your place" behavior

This is why this is such a mindfuck. Jekyll & Hyde dynamics will never have you knowing which side you'll get and when you'll get it. They will never be able to give you any sense of safety or peace of mind. They will always be like this.

If you find yourself relating to any of these, please understand that this is not your fault. This is their fault, and this is incredibly heartbreaking to realize that you have been going through something like this. And I am so fucking sorry you've ever had to go through it. You do not deserve the constant paranoia. You do not deserve the constant fear. You deserve to find a safe and reliable exit and protection from this horrific behavior.

PLEASE LEARN AND UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE IN HOW YOU USE THIS TERM. TRAUMA BONDING IS A REAL FUCKING HORRIFIC THING TO GO THROUGH. IT IS NOT THE SAME THING AS BONDING WITH SOMEONE OVER THE SAME TYPES OF TRAUMA YOUVE BEEN THROUGH.

PLEASE STOP USING THIS TERM WRONG. PLEASE. I AM BEGGING YOU.