#adoptedbat

[hahaheretic]

The moment the door opens, Arthur's fist tightens so hard it makes him wince in pain. But what hurt he might have felt is nothing compared to the humiliation of @adoptedbat seeing him like this: his right hand and knees pressed to the mattress, his head bowed and spine curved, and his left fist a replacement for a warm, willing hole.

His heart was hammering in his chest already, as it's wont to in moments like these, but now it races for an entirely different reason. With cheeks flushed red, Arthur shuts his eyes, letting out a soft: "Are you real?"

But then Bruce speaks, and his voice is so small when he asks--

"You want me?"

There isn't a good answer for it. Arthur's cock still throbs in his hand and leaks at the slit, and he'd been crying out Bruce's name up until the kid barged in. Postured like this, and with his dick still obviously hard, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing.

Arthur shivers, releasing himself slowly and reaching for the pants that're pooled around his thighs.

"Yes," he answers, cringing. "I'm sorry." Even with his sweatpants pulled up, his erection is still fat against the cloth-- evidence of his degeneracy.

Arthur keeps his head hung, ashamed. "I-- you weren't supposed to know. I'm sorry, Tiny."

[femlette]

@adoptedbat ⸻ °｡

The irony that her life is filled with ironies isn't lost on Emily Brass.  The kicker?  She was probably the only one to find any of it amusing.

Who fights for their life back just to  lose it  in the same instance?  Or at least, be on the  brink  of losing it.

The warehouse was nothing but blood, bones, and bodies now.  It was supposed to be her grave. Peter had brought her there to make sure of it, to make a show of it. Make an example out of her and a spectacle of her death. And maybe it would have gone his way if he'd taken it more seriously -   if he'd taken her more seriously. Bad habits were hard to shake, though, and he'd had an awful one of underestimating Emily over and over and over again. She figured he'd eventually learn after a little over five years now. Lucky for her, right?   Some shit kind of luck...

It was a pathetic excuse of an army crawl that'd gotten her out of the building before a fire started, a trail of blood   ( both her own and not )   being the only indication she'd come out of that hellscape at all. The nearest curb was about to be her sanctuary, her oasis in a long stretch of fucked-up desert. As soon as her elbows meet real pavement and her hands grip the edges of concrete, Emily's leaving the rest to God or whatever higher power is out there to decide whether she survives or not. She has no more strength to crawl any farther, no wind in her lungs to scream for help, no means of actually getting anywhere safe. Either she's found barely alive or not at all. Weirdly, she's almost okay with not being found. At least if she dies, she knows she's dying after that motherfucker. That's all that mattered to her at this point.

One solid, slow breath and she stares at the sky overhead. It's becoming a blur of deep blue, eventually seeping into nothing behind her eyelids, but it's nice. Almost.

[femlette]

@adoptedbat. ｡°⸻ "Why waste your energy on them?"

Her laughter is nothing short of a harsh bark cut off by a sharp hiccupped breath. Vindictive in the wrong direction. Malicious only towards herself. Emily rolls her eyes and gets a little lost, turning completely away from Bruce and his   ( rightful )   judgement. Her fist flexes and she does her best to act like the sting doesn't bother her, shaking her head as if that'd dismiss this whole conversation entirely. Unfortunately for her when she turns back around, Bruce is still staring right back at her in all his   ( rightful )   pointedness.

       ❝ Instead of what? ❞   A question she lets linger longer than it probably should. Her eyes flit between both of his before another little breath slips from her, halfway between a scoff and a sigh.   ❝ You can't...   babysit me  twenty-four seven,  Bruce... ❞   Her tongue runs across her lips, gaze falling as she turns away from him once again. She can't stand the look he's got, and she can't stand the look she feels her face settling in to.

       ❝ I don't know what else I'm supposed to do, alright? ❞   The words come out a little more rushed than she'd like. Her hands push up into her hair, eyes following until all she sees is the sky.   ❝ I don't- .. ❞   Her voice cracks.   ❝ .. I don't know what else I'm meant to do.. anymore... ❞