>>21827357I will consider it! In the meantime have this abused husband Shu fic:
Shu knows it's over when he feels one final, violent thrust from the sweaty body above him, his boss's climax heaving the cheap metal frame of the hotel bed. His waist tightens as rough hands take him to the hilt; he feels the hot spurt as he is defiled from deep inside. For a moment, Shu's boss collapses on him, greasy folds smothering his porcelain skin. He no longer has the energy for disgust - time went hazy after his second forced orgasm, and he is at least glad that the past few hours have been a blur. After a while, his boss gets up from the bed and heads for the shower. If Shu is lucky, then this will be all for the day.
A wad of cash is tossed toward the bed, and lands between Shu's cradled arms. 100,000 yen, as was promised for tonight: enough to cover this month's mortgage and food. This is how he is able to provide for his family. This is how, despite his debasement, he can stand to see his wife and newborn child, who wait for him every day to come home from overtime. He savours this moment of torpid numbness; he knows that, when he awakens the next morning, his body will again sing with the pain of bruises and wounds that remind him of his worth. For him, it's okay - Shu can stand the pain that he knows he deserves anyway. It is punishment for his filthy body, which betrays him with countless orgasms despite the depravity of his punishment. The smell is the only thing that he will never be able to stand. The aftertaste of cigarettes, cheap cologne, and middle-aged sweat that combine to produce a scent that is uniquely worse than its ingredients. No matter how much he cleans himself, he will never be truly rid of what has fouled him. He feels himself getting sick again but he holds himself back by taking deep breaths and singing the tune of Shoujo Rei - he and his wife's favourite song, from the time they started dating - inside his head. Lately it has been small things like these that have kept him together - flickers of the halcyon past that keep him from despair.
Just Shu he pulls himself together - two rapid vibrations from the nightstand. He picks up the phone that is adorned with his wife's hand-drawn stickers. It was her insistence to send pictures and videos from home; this was her way of encouraging him to get through the late nights of dull paperwork. Although he refused the idea at first - he would rather have just gritted his teeth through the ordeals - he now clings to these fragments of his old life like a light in the abyss. Images of his refuge envelop him with warmth. A picture of her preparing his bento box that morning, the unagi fried with onions sauce just as he likes. Another of their child napping beside Shu's taekwondo belt from high school, now used as a comfort blanket. In one video, his wife's homemade crib mobile - with dangling bananas wearing hand-painted faces - dancing above their newborn child who laughs with joy. Shu knows that to wallow is not productive. He knows that it will not make the situation better, and to do so only inflicts himself with pain. And yet, tonight, these feelings have him awash in his misery...
What kind of husband and father leaves to degrade himself like this? How can he be so absent from his child that they've seen more of his face through video calls than in person? How could he lie so plainly to his wife, who still tries to greet him with hugs and kisses when he comes home? Shu can no longer reciprocate these gestures - the guilt and shame will not let him meet human touch without physical revulsion. And yet despite this, he still sees the brightness of their smiles when he comes home. Even at his lowest, when he is sure that they hate him, he is never met with anything but acceptance. Can't they see that he has already been lowered? Can't they see the filth on his body, how unworthy he is of their love... How could he ever deserve a family like this... he, a worthless and broken whore...
He waits until he hears the bathroom shower turn on to start crying. Hot tears flow like rivers down his face.
