// This is literally the first time they managed to make Yui look genuinely pretty in a merch line, so PLEASE KEEP THIS ARTIST!!! She escaped the chopped curse!!!
the only time denji gets to see reze is in his sleep.
oneshot ; word count: 693 ; mild angst and yearning ; #denreze
"Reze?"
Denji wets his lips, feeling his mouth go dry. He'd been having this dream for months, and every time he'd wake up wishing it were real.
"Get in!" Reze giggles, splashing water towards his bare feet. She looks as beautiful as she had that night in the pool. Denji moves without thinking, dipping into the water without hesitation. He laps after her, memorizing every part of her, though he'd known them already by heart.
Or was he forgetting which side her bangs parted and which way she tilted her head?
Droplets splattered from the force of his fluttering arms. "Reze!" The water sears his lungs, but he treads across the pool faster. Blurs of purple and pale skin flood his vision as the surface ripples around him.
Boom
The sound of fireworks makes him flinch, his body seizing to a halt as the water rises above his head. He huffs out the last of the air in his burning lungs, bubbling to the surface like a silent plea.
When he opens his eyes again, Reze is there. "You okay?" The warmth of her smile makes his head spin. Her arms tightened around his torso, pulling him impossibly close. "I thought I almost lost you there."
'She's touching me.'
Denji blinks hard before realizing it's not water that's in his eyes. And his throat isn't tight from almost drowning. "Reze…" The whimper that follows is guttural. "Where-"
Boom
He doesn't flinch this time as another cacophony of fireworks takes off into the sky. Blue, orange, purple, and red flickers of dying light frame her like an angel. His angel.
"Why are you crying?" She laps her tongue at the tear that slips down his cheek. "We're alive, aren't we?" She tilts her head to the right. To the left? No, it's the right. Or was it left?
Denji swallows hard. "Are you?" He choked on a gasp, cool air scorching the raw insides of his lungs. No matter how many times he'd dreamed of this, he always choked up. But this time he had to say it before it was too late to see her again. Even if it was in his dreams. "I waited for you. I brought you flowers, and you didn't come."
The softness of her eyes doesn't waver, and it vaguely reminds him that he's dreaming. This isn't Reze, but Denji ignores that thought because this might be the closest he'll ever get to her again. So his fingers grasp the flesh of her shoulders, feeling her collarbones under his thumbs. He doesn't squeeze, just holds. Part of him feared that if he squeezed too hard she'd-
Boom
"Ah, yeah. Sorry about that." Reze chuckles sheepishly, her hand coming up to scratch the side of her neck. Denji's eyes follow her movement, flickering over her bare throat. He swallows again, letting out a sigh he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"You're sorry?"
"I did want to." She leans down to catch his gaze. "Run away, that is. I wanted to. I want to… see you again."
"Ge!" An abrupt choke makes him tense up again, flowers ejecting from his mouth and onto her thighs. Tears blur his vision once more, but Reze laughs, picking at the assortment of white, pink, and yellow flowers on her lap.
"Is this for me?"
"Reze…" Denji's gaze drops to the bouquet dripping saliva. "I'll wait for you. As long as it takes. I'll be here when you're ready to come back, and we can go anywhere you want. The city, the country, the goddamn moon! I'll wait… so come. Even if it takes days, or months, or years!" He choked on another gasp of air, desperately searching her eyes for anything. Remorse, pity, laughter, want, anything.
The vacancy of her stare is a cold reminder of his delusion.
"Really… why didn't I kill you the first time we met? Denji… the truth is… I've never-"
Boom.
When Denji comes to, Power is next to him, hogging the blanket with Meowy purring atop her chest. The city is alive even at night. And the warm summer night air only makes him think of her.
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓙.𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𓂃 ⭒ gets a pretty nerd to ride him :: college au :: size difference :: cervix stuff :: f. nerd reader
“so the pretty nerd can ride dick, huh?”
smugness dripped from sukuna like his cologne. like that effortless, calloused charm that both infuriated and enraptured you.
the dorm's a mess. a haphazard tangle of his jacket, your shoes, his belt, your panties. the couch springs bounce with your hips. swivelling, spurring. clapping down against his balls in a lewdly wet rhythm. a plaplaplap to accentuate your whorish moans.
“sh-shut— shut up—” you drooled, nails clawing at his broad shoulders as you scrambled on his lap. his thick cock snuggled oh so suffocatingly within your hugging walls. pulsing heavy into your nerves. throbbing just right on a sweetspot. “just shut up 'nd— hah - feel my pussy.”
oh he was feeling it. every sob. every quiver. every pitiful little shimmer of your tears at the corners of your eyes as you dragged your soaking walls all the way to his hot tip— then sunk back down. wedging him so deep. so tight within your clenching gumminess that you're fluttering around him on every bounce.
cute, really. that the nerd's perfect pussy was both so insatiable and oh so pathetic.
“oh I'm feeling her.” clap! he leaned back after his palm thwacked a sting on your ass. a deep groan rumbled as you clenched. already staining him in a creamy ring huh?
“feeling her try to ride a cock too fuckin' big for her.”
he grinned. rough like his hands that roved over your legs, up your thighs and engulfed your waist. he bucked once. twice. rolled his hips in a sinful grind that rutted his pubic bone on your puffy clit. you crumbled into a sob. "there you go, dollface. that's how you take me.”
his sharp tongue licked his lips as he drank in your quivering slit suffocating round his girth. her creamy pearls slicked him messy. he returned the favour by smearing his dripping precum all over your cervix.
one hump. two. until you're struggling to bounce in time with his ramming thrusts. pulling out halfway then stuffing you full until the sting feels warm.
“k-kuna—” you hiccuped, hands clawing at his shoulders as his grip on your waist effortlessly compensated for your messy bounces.
“c'mon doll. where's that smart lil' brain of yours? all mush? dripping out here now?” your slit's tapped with a chuckle. “don't you wanna— ngh, gimme a quick lesson?”
he withdrew. stringy slick strung all over. webbing between your flushed flesh. an open-mouthed kiss harassed you below your jaw. right on your bobbing throat. “tell me. where am I right now?”
you're stuttering. struggling. mouth dropping to answer— before you're broken into a cry and your spine's thrown into an arch as he plunged back in. spraying stickiness all over. your cervix was fucked into quivers and squirms.
“m-my— my— ah!”
“answers, brat.”
sukuna flicked your clit. pinched and pulled as he fucked into that tight ring until your eyes burst into hearts. every grind demanded an answer. "where. am. I?"
“cervix— my cervix!”
you squeaked. then sobbed. his thrusts erupted into a frantic frenzy. squirts spraying. pussy pulsing. squeezing. as he fisted the fat of your ass and shoved you down to the hilt. reminding you just how inexperienced your nerdy self was. too busy stuffing your nose in textbooks than actually being stuffed full of cock.
"atta girl.” another spank to your ass. you're jerked closer. flushed into his smoked scent as he accentuates his cruelty with louder slapping balls on your plush flesh. “and what's this pretty, nerdy pussy gonna do for me? huh?”
with his thumb swirled on your clit. his cock surging up. his lips sucking hickies all over your throat— you shattered. a clenching, creaming mess that floods him messy and bucks so desperately into a cock already stretching you full.
your release spurred a dizzying heat onto him. hot, and heavy, and wet as he snatched your waist and ground you into a filthy hump on every throbbing, thick vein. a large hand squished your face and jerked you in. lips brushing his as he ragged a grunt.
“mm, fuck yeah baby, and what am I gonna do to this pretty pussy?”
chapter: one
pairing: john 'johnny' mactavish x latina!reader
warnings: none for this chapter.
a/n: starting to write again. don't beat me :)
It’s hard to catch her gaze. Near impossible to notice the way she analyzes him when he has his back to her, but Johnny still catches her.
It’s been years since the service, longer since he’d been in the field, but the habits stick to him. Like grime after a lengthy mission, hard to remove even with all the effort, though much more useful. It’s ridiculous how easy it is to weaponize something as simple as a metal cup. To use the warped field of vision it provides to notice wary eyes studying him from afar.
Nimble hands sorting documents, neat piles manifesting in front of her, but her eyes never leave him. Diligent but observant, she’d have made a great field operative. He hopes for her sake the callouses on her hands were from hard labor, never from clawing back her life into her hands.
Johnny doesn’t know what to make of the way she looks at him. It’s nothing like the starved looks from the other workers at the center. Bright and manic as they observe him, gauging what part of him would feel the best between their teeth. He thinks wild animals are more respectful to their prey, they at least give them the decency of dignity.
The metal warps her features, stretches and thins them to it’s body. It does nothing to ease the intensity of her gaze, to ease the foreign sensation at the pit of his stomach. Johnny can’t understand what this look means, what she’s looking to for. He doesn’t understand why it’s directed at him, what could he offer her?
She’d made her disinterest in him clear from the beginning. Offering only flat stares, unmoved by his attempt to lighten the mood and break the ice, staring at him blankly as he offered his hand to shake. Never spending longer than necessary with him, lasting longer with the full group. Giving him wide berth, Johnny’s not sure she’s ever brushed past him. He doesn’t know what her air smells like.
It does nothing to quell the warmth he feels when she’s in the room. To slow the rush of blood to his neck, creeping upward to the tips of his ears. Her avoidance doesn’t subdue the prickling sensation in his palms that no amount of clenching can undo. There is no tamping down the electric sensation he feels when he’s floating around her gravitational pull.
Johnny can accept her disinterest, understand it, it does nothing to diminish the want coursing through him.
It’s been years since Johnny stopped chasing adrenaline. His addiction subdued by the reminder of a mother and sisters that wait for him, unsure if he’ll return. Or if he did, if it’d be in a box, the Union Jack draped across it. Any adrenaline rush had done nothing to stave off the sickness that image provided.
It never lasted, he always crashed. Reality rattling him out of his hazy state, forced to come to terms with the bloody world at his fingertips. He’d forgotten the sensation, a scent faded with the time and the healing.
And yet, he’d been slowly inundated with it. Had felt the slow creep into his bloodstream, occupying the miniscule space between his red blood cells. It’d settled into his veins until he felt his body gently buzzing with it. Heightened by her eyes on him, reinvigorated by every breath in her presence. Every thought of her oxygenating what coursed through his vein, until it became a part of him. A constant to quell what he’d been searching for in the deserts and tundra's.
Her presence calls to him, pulls the molecules in his body towards her. They beg to be matched with hers.
He settles for being in her space, helps with the separation of paper.
“Have you seen me somewhere before?” It comes out scratchy, the words half caught in his throat, unsure if they’d be spoken.
If she notices it doesn’t show, her gaze remains even. The only sign of acknowledgment is the slight crease between her eyebrows. Her head tilts, eyes flitting across his face and makes no move to answer.
Johnny coughs, clears his throat before he continues, “Sorry, not being smart, you just,” he trails for a moment. Running his tongue across the back of his teeth as he thinks of the right words, “It’s like you’re trying to remember me from somewhere.”
Her fingers stutter for a minuscule moment over the papers before she continues on. Her eyes flick up at him, flitting across his face, unreadable.
“I’ve never seen you before.”
Her voice is even despite the slight rigidity in her forearms. No other indication of any of the emotions she’s feeling at the moment, if she’s feeling anything at all. He’s not dumb, he knows the signs of discomfort but he just can’t pinpoint what the discomfort is. It still makes him embarrassed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as the tips of his ears start to burn.
“Ah, right. Sorry about that lass.” There’s a brief moment of silence where she simply continues to work, no acknowledgment of his lackluster apology before Johnny speaks up again. “At least I’m glad that we didn’t have some run in at the club.”
That get’s a reaction out of her. A snort before she responds, “You and I,” her tone has him raising an eyebrow at her, “would not be at the same sort of clubs.”
Johnny can’t help the sound of indignation that comes out of his mouth, “Och, what’s that supposed to mean?”
She laughs, though it’s more like a small huff, “It means you Scots can’t dance.”
“Like hell! I can dance just fine.”
“Oh so you can dance salsa then?”
There’s a bit of silence while Johnny wracks his brain for the specific sub category. Alejandro had taught him a lot in Mexico, even taken him to clubs where he could try out the new steps but the dances all blurred together. He only knew what to do based on the music and the beat. Still, he tuck away this specific genre for later.
She mistakes his silence for resignation and moves to collect her sorted piles, “I thought so.”
He doesn’t mean for it to happen. His body moves without thinking, motivated by the idea of keeping her around him for as long as he can. He reaches out instinctively as she moves, catching her wrist with a slack grip, her skin warm under his fingers.
Two things happen at once. Johnny’s arm feels like a live wire. There is a buzzing sensation that starts from where his fingertips touch his skin and crawls up until it reaches his shoulders and continues to spill through the rest of his body. He’s watching her through this, in awe of the sensation that her skin alone has given him. It’s why he doesn’t miss the way her eyes dilate at the contact, or how her lips part slightly as she inhales sharply at the contact.
They freeze or a moment, her eyes glued on where he holds her as her eyebrows furrow just slightly. His eyes can’t look away from her face, analyzing every twitch of muscle that he can get. Trying to make sense of her micro expressions and what it all means.
It’s a short lived moment. Silent, intimate, and then it’s done. Just as quickly as it started.
She slips out of his grasp, his fingers curling around nothing.
I do not hold Henry Bowers accountable for his actions and I don't understand people that do, or that blame him for his behavior and say he deserved a punishment for it.
He was 12 years old, a literal child.
Henry was reactive and with severe mental health issues, pennywise genuinely made him schizophrenic at twelve, he was in 5th grade for fucks sake.
He was trained to act a certain way, talk a certain way, feel a certain way, and the only way he knew how to express himself was with violence, he didn't use violence with the intent of 'hurting' but with the intent of communicating, whether angry, sad, scared, frustrated, it's pretty clear he was fueled by fear half the times.
He doesn't understand his actions and doesn't comprehend they're wrong because he's never been taught they are wrong.
Beating him, humiliating him or punishing him would not help, period. Henry did not have an ego problem, he does not need to get his image damaged further, because he already thinks lowly of himself, you just can't help an abused child by hurting him further.
He shouldn't be punished anyways because it just wasn't his fault, how can you hold that kind of child accountable for what he did, the same way you'd hold accountable an adult?
How can you look at me and tell me that a fifth grader than was sent back TWICE because he sucked so bad at school, doesn't know how affection feels like and is still scared of the dark, is somewhat mentally intelligent enough to understand that what he was doing was wrong?
I don't particularly know why I'm so strong about this, but I've been there, I've been the troubled child in that sense, a lot of rage and sadness because you simply don't know what's going on and don't realize what people around you are doing to you.
On the flip side of this I want to point out that racism can be explained but not excused.
Racism is taught and can be unlearned, yes. But this idea that they can be excused bc ‘nobody was there to teach them any better’ is how it manifests into something bigger.
Which is exactly what happened when Henry became (essentially) a puppet for Pennywise, and later tried to kill Mike as an adult.
And while Henry is 12 and a fictional character, let’s remember that this mentality of “nobody was there for them so it’s okay” is how white supremacy thrives and brutality lives on to haunt non-white communities.
Do I think Henry should’ve been punished? No. But he should’ve been handed a good book (which is btw how a lot of small town racists realize what they’ve learned growing up was a lie).
Also I wanna point out that it’s very funny that you dropped this after I posted this
And just like you, i’ve been on the side of that too. I’ve been sad and angry, in the dark bc i can’t process what is happening to me.
But I’ve had people be horribly racist to me too and the response was always to forgive and forget bc “it’s probably what they learned at home”. Fuck what they learned at home.
Anybody who disagrees can block me. Idc but if you wanna coddle white characters who brutalize black people, you’re part of the problem. I just hope you don’t carry this mentality in real life bc this is how black and brown people end up dead at the hands of racism, ignorance, and excuses.
Disclaimer, I'm just trying to have a good discussion here, not talk over anyone, so correct me or respond if you wish.
I think that Henry is kind of a different case here, I'm not trying to coddle him or such, but he's definitely not mentally sane enough to be held accountable for it, he's not as smart, not as stable, and very much more gullible than other kids his age.
It comes a point where I can't blame Henry for his actions, I can't hold him accountable the same way I'd hold a Richie Tozier accountable, because he's simply too mentally ill to be fully responsible of his actions.
I think that's also one of the reasons why he ended at a psych ward and not a prison, he's schizophrenic lol, and a little child, he's not capable of understanding his wrongs, he doesn't do it for sadism, he truly thinks what he's doing is right, he's just not all there in the head.
Mike's has always been my favorite losers club member, and probably my second favorite character in the novel period, and even he comes to a point where he acknowledges he can't blame Henry, even at 40. His brain is mush, what kind of control did he have over his actions? Little to none.
Mental illnesses are disabilities, and i feel like people just don't realize that the consequences of a mental disability aren't just harmful for the owner.
Adding to that, it's also genuinely hard to hold any child that's this young responsible, at that age it's fully the parents responsibility (in this case more than usual), later on in life? Theirs, but at 12, it's not their direct fault.
This doesn't mean it's a behavior that can be 'excused' and ignored, it simply means the fault and anger shouldn't be directed at the child but at the adult, the child needs to be taught of course, but not who you should be mad at.
Children are fragile, your morality isn't in your DNA, if you're taught snakes are evil you're likely going to think they're evil either A. forever or B. until you find out they aren't by yourself.
It's going to be your responsibility to learn snakes aren't evil later on in life though, as you enter puberty your independence also comes in the shape of new thoughts and idea, shaped by yourself only, then it's easier to hold a person accountable, because they are semi-responsible for how they cultivate their ideas, still it's also the parents responsibility, to a much lesser degree.
That does NOT make their actions ok, but it means you have to riderect the fault somewhere else, because there's a reason children aren't legally to blame for such things.
Kids are taught or made to do bad things all the time, like stealing for example, the action isn't ok, the kid should be made aware of that, but your anger and accountability is on the parent, not on the little kid that wasn't even aware stealing was wrong.
This is more of a generalized discourse, it's not just about racism or homophobia or bullying, it's about recognizing that an early age you simply aren't 100% in control of your thoughts, that's just how it unfortunately works, we aren't independent machines.
I won't be mad at Henry for his homophobia or bullying or racism, neither William or Mike were either, because it was fully Butch's fault and responsibility, and they knew it, they were very aware of the fact that he was turned into a racist guard dog by his father.
You can correct a behavior without blaming the kid for it.
I absolutely agree that his actions can be explained, especially since he was essentially built into this by his father and (later) pennywise. Mental illness and influence from family can be a deadly combo when it comes to topics such as this. However, it is also of note to mention that the racism is completely glossed over most of the time.
The entire plot line and importance of this is ignored. It’s gotten to the point where most fans can ignore Henry’s flaws in favor of this view where he is just a boy who is abused. He is both the abused and the abuser. As the saying goes “hurt people hurt people”.
And like most racists who grow up in these families, black excellence is a threat. Mike thriving despite all the horrible things happening in his life—while Henry is being abused at his farm—creates what I can only assume to be a jealousy problem in Henry. Which could be why he kills Mr. Chips and bullies Mike. He wants his father’s approval and possibly sate the jealousy.
The problem starts when fans don’t recognize the importance of this plot line. It shows how deeply ingrained racism is in some people’s heads, as we see with the burning of The Black Spot and Maine’s Legion of White Decency (the Maine version of the KKK). This explains how racism and hatred is passed on through generations, and possibly how it could even lead to one’s demise as it does with Henry to an extent. It will rot your brain until you’re nothing but mush; as we’re seeing right now in this day and age with the chaos running amuck in the White House and the hatred being perpetuated against non-white communities.
But then we begin to forgive and forget. Right? This is coming from my view as somebody who is not white and has experience racist rhetoric firsthand, it simply gets to a point. Explanations are there but the excuses are not.
Although I think we can simply agree to disagree because in some way I think we see each other’s points. On one hand we can agree that racism is horrible, but do I personally think it can ever be excused? No, especially when it’s how whole communities are pushed back for centuries; martyred and brutalized in the name of jealousy and superiority.
Racism was prevalent in the 50s, in the 80s, and in 2025 it’s making an even bigger comeback. We can chalk it up to ignorance, hatred, or naivety, but those are just explanations at the end of the day.
Hatred will turn a person into something horrible but if it’s not affecting somebody directly, then why should they care?
In Henry’s case, if somebody had stepped in earlier I think things would’ve turned out differently. As you said, he is 12. He is just a boy.
But in the idea that we can collectively say racism can be excused when the one doing it isn’t ok, is just plain ol’ wrong and yet another way to enable white supremacy. Do I think you are a white supremacist? No. No, I think you just like Henry Bowers. And that’s fine. I also think he is an interesting character in how he represents how racism is passed on, how hatred ruins a person, and how parent’s shape their children. Children are gullible and their minds can’t process trauma! Moreover, I resonate deeply with how his pain and frustration causes him to lash out in any attempt to let people feel as bad as he does. Hell, maybe it’s even a cry for help.
But hatred is one hell of a drug. And violence against black and brown people is an epidemic.
Fiction can manifest into reality. And when we are grasping at straws in any way to excuse hatred, we have to stop and look at the real world, and what our opinions really mean to people who are not like us. The people who are really affected by it all.
Racism is taught, it can be untaught, it can be explained, it cannot be excused. If violence is excused, then when does it stop being inexcusable? Where is the bottom line?
If i were to give my two cents on it, as a henry fan, i'd say the solution to this is just acknoweldge that Henry is not a good person and is ideals, no matter how he gets them ate unacceptable and deserve to be criticized. The losers club have every right to be mad at Henry for hurting them because of his own issues the same that Eddie has every right to be mad at Sonia and Henry has every right to he mad at butch. Butch Bowers has ptsd that has made him so paranoid he believes the entire town is against him and black people are evil, Sonia Kaspbrak lost her husband to cancer and nearly lost her newborn son to a sickness. They both have reasons due to mental health but you can't exactly excuse one mental health crisis over the other. It's not henry's fault that he's racist just like it's not a white persons fault they're born into white privilege, but it still doesn't give you leeway to use it to undermine minorities.
But also henry is a very special case, where because of how he was raised and the life he was born into it's hard to expect henry to be any different. How was henry ever supposed to change at all when there was never the resources to do such a thing? He's still hurting people and getting rewarded for brutalizing his classmates and animals, so he deserves push back of at least some kind. But you have to acknowledge said push back is just so pointless and that makes it all the more sadder. Like mike deserves to be able to get some kind of satisfaction after all the shit henry through his way, but all of that is pointless for both him and Henry because at the end of the day the system benifits from seeing them tear each other apart. Mike's not wrong for feeling angry, but he knows it's pointless, especially as an adult when he's basically a zombie.
I think Mike deserves to give Henry some kind of karma because racism hurts people and Mike deserves much better than that (as do all minorities), but it's tragically pointless in the grand scheme of things and mike knows that. It won't actually make him feel better. It won't make henry better. It's what IT and this stupid town wants.
So i guess what i'm trying to say is, maybe Henry shouldn't be BLAMED but he should he held ACCOUNTABLE by his victims. Because ofc it's not Henry's fault hes racist and if nobody did anything to stop it he's also not at fault for continuing when he didn't understand. But he still hurt mike and everybody else ans they have the right to hate him and have no sympathy and not forget, and the only reason mike does so is because mike is a kind and smart man who understands this is just part of its grand scheme. He can't and shouldn't forgive him, but Mike can understand him, and he can acknowledge that Henry needs to get out just like they do, so he will help him. Not because racism is okay but because he's vulnerable and mike is natural protector. It's his duty to protect this shitty racist town and all of the people in it, even the shitty racist people.
As a Henry Bowers fan i really don't like when people white wash his racism, not only is it a terrible message but it also lessons his role in the story and character. Henry is racist and thats a facet of who he is and if you cannot acknowledge that because it makes you feel weird then you don't really like Henry Bowers, you just like a fannon interpritation of him.
This is not at all directed at you though Naz, i know you well enough to know you actually acknowledge henrys terrible views. This is more so directed at some other bowers gang fans i've seen. I trust your heart is in the right place naz, and i see your points and agree with quite a few. Im very middle of the road in this debate tbh. I see both of your points and find this discussion honestly very interesting a complicated cause its murky.
I agree with both Princess Glassred and Naz. I am coming from this at the standpoint that excuses can be dangerous. And Henry’s character is captivating bc it is saying the quiet part out loud; hatred is learned and it can ruin lives.
More so my problem is that the fandom ignores Henry’s flaws. We can never excuse or ignore racism, especially when so much blood has been shed over it.
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
gummygunk
prguitarman
blakekathryn
