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satancopilotsmytardis · 6 months

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Somnophilia?

Oh man, I also thought of a non-consensual somnophilia drabble for this one to. But this one is just lightly under-negotiated followed by enthusiastic consent.

When Tomura had asked if he could fuck Dabi while he was sleeping, Dabi had called him a freak and a pervert and that had landed himself in kink shamer jail. Well, that's what he called it, because what it meant was that Duster was not going to do anything even remotely sexual with him until he was mature and actually negotiated like a proper adult. And once Shig had explained why he wanted to do it, how he wanted Dabi to be completely relaxed and for him to wake gently and feeling so good, wanted him to wake with the first thought in his mind being how perfect he was feeling thanks to him, he had warmed up to the idea. He given it a tentative one time chance to give it a try. And then Tomura had teased him and opened him, had Dabi's stomach already covered in cum from how many times he brought him off before he woke, that when he'd woken with his cock fucking him so torturously slowly, he'd immediately fallen apart into desperate, needy sobs. He couldn't even remember how much longer Tomura worked him over after that, he just knows that he floated so high he missed a meeting for the first time since they reorganized the PLF. Not only that, but Duster had blown it off too to make sure that he stayed floating in his subspace instead of dropping.

So somnophilia went from a 'once' to 'as many times as we can' kind of deal. And Tomura always has insomnia, so he is up most nights well after Dabi goes to sleep. Dabi is pretty sure he stops having so many nightmares once his lover starts to play with him in his sleep too, which is just another huge bonus as far as he's concerned. This kind of play works for them so well around their busy schedules too. But Dabi has never been the one awake while his partner is asleep before.

He's been off dealing with their double agent in Fukuoka for a week, and when he gets in, he's tired, frustrated, and desperate for something to take his mind far, far away from work. He's planning on getting in and begging his dom to take him apart until he's sobbing and can't tell up from down, only to walk into their darkened room and find Duster is curled up in bed, eyes closed and his breaths slow and even. Huh. Okay. Well Tomura doesn't usually sleep for more than an hour or two. Dabi goes into the bathroom, losing his clothes and filling the massive tub as he goes to shower. The bathroom is fairly soundproof so he knows that he won't bother his lover as he gets cleaned up. And it kills time. He's sure that by the time he's out, Tomura will be awake. Once he's out of the shower, he digs into the little basket on the edge of the tub and extracts the bottle of silicone lube at the bottom. Fucked enough times in here to have it ready and waiting, and the waterproof substance is perfect for him as he trails his fingers back to start to open himself up.

Dabi bites his lip as he slowly circles his rim the way his lover does, the teasing little strokes that wake up his muscles and make him feel like he's going to fall apart. It doesn't take him long before he's working three fingers inside of himself, his head tilted back against the edge of the tub as he whimpers with his cock full and aching. He wants to wrap his hand around himself and stroke until he spills, but he knows better. Not allowed to cum without Tomura touching him.

He forces himself out of the tub when the urge gets too great, drying off, making sure he's still slick and ready, and then going into the bedroom. Where Tomura is still sleeping. He nearly whines. He doesn't really want to wake his lover. He never sleeps for very long, but he needs him. He hasn't had him in, what? Two weeks now? And he's more than worked up already. Temptation sits on the edge of his nerves, and Dabi knows he should shake it but... he wants it.

Climbs into their bed, happy his lover sleeps on his back instead of his stomach or side, and presses a soft kiss to the edge of his lips as his hands move down his chest. His fingers find the branching edges of his scars, down to the sharp lines cut into his hips before he gets to his perfect, pretty cock. He's already big enough soft that wrapping his hand around him gives him a flicker of the satisfaction he's chasing. Dabi reaches for their lube with his other hand and warms it with his quirk before he pours it across his palm and then reaches to start to stroke his lover. His mouth goes to his neck, licking and sucking along the marks criss crossed over his skin. Duster always likes it when he touches his neck, and Dabi nearly purrs when the sensations and Tomura's relaxation has him hardening rapidly in his hand.

He keeps his strokes light, but once he knows his lover is hard, he stops completely. He hadn't really thought about this part. He doesn't know if he'll be able to climb on top of him and start to ride him without him waking. Then again, he supposes, he always wakes once Tomura's got his cock inside of him anyway. He straddles his waist and reaches back to guide his thick cock to his hole, the first light press of their skin together making him tremble as he feeds him inside and then starts to lower his weight until they're flush. Dabi shudders and tries to choke back a moan as he's finally, finally full of his lover's cock again. If his own need wasn't so insistent, he thinks he could stay just like this, warming his lover's cock for hours.

But right now he starts to rock and shift, trying to find just the right angle to make his pleasure send sparks off behind his eyes, and when he finds it, he sets them to a slow, steady pace that has him biting his lip bloody to keep from making the sounds that he wants to. He's already so worked up and doesn't know how long his lover will last when he can't hold off his orgasm, so he wraps his hand around his cock as he moves, stroking in time with the movements of his hips. His head falls back as he angles his hips forward a little more to get more pressure on his prostate as he sinks back down on Tomura's cock again and again. His thighs shake and burn from the slowness of the movements, each stroke making him feel every inch of his lover as he moves him along his inner walls. It feels so good and he thinks he's going to melt, his cock starting to leak messily all over his hand as he gets closer and closer--

"Mm, I don't remember giving you permission to touch yourself, baby boy."

Dabi gasps, his hips suddenly caught in a firm grasp, and Tomura's voice rougher and deep with sleep. But he feels more than awake enough when he uses that grip to bring him up higher off his cock before pulling him back down hard as he rolls his hips up into him on the next thrust. He lets out a loud moan, and suddenly he's not in control of the pace anymore. Suddenly he's nothing but a warm body for his lover to use, and that has him falling apart on top of him.

"Sir, sir, sir--" pleading for more, for it harder. He keeps stroking himself, moving to match that rougher pace and he's choking on smoke as his body goes even hotter.

"Needy little thing, couldn't even wait until morning to have your hungry hole filled." He hums softly, a hand moving to cup his sac and slowly starting to squeeze him there. Dabi whimpers as that pressure starts to choke back his pleasure. "I should hold you tight, just like this and not let you finish while I make you messy."

"No, please, sir, please, so close."

"Yeah, baby boy?" He lets go of him in favor of moving his hand over the mixture of lube and pre he's sure is leaking out of him, gathering it up on his fingers before those are pressing against his hole as he keeps moving inside of him. Oh god, Dabi makes a sound so desperate he thinks he sounds like he's going to die. "What will you do if I let you, even though you misbehaved? You didn't even ask me if I wanted to play like this before you did it."

Didn't, probably should have, but his lover sounds teasing, not angry, and Dabi is desperate. "A-anything, please, sir, please, Tomura, please."

"Anything?" His fingers circle his stretched, dripping rim and Dabi keens.

"Anything! Sir, please!"

"Good girl." Humiliation surges through him, smoke leaking out from his cheeks as he goes so hot. And then Tomura is sinking two fingers in alongside his cock and Dabi's vision whites out as that extra stretch is too much. He cums so hard that he feels his release hit his face as it splatters over his chest and stomach, his muscles tightening around the intrusions inside of him and Tomura just keeps fucking him through it. Does it until Dabi is mewling and whimpering as his nerves are all hot and oversensitive, just on this side of pain.

He thinks he might get a reprieve when Tomura pulls his fingers out and stops bouncing him on his cock. But it doesn't last long, his lover sitting up, catching him around his waist, and then shifting their positions. He gets Dabi onto the mattress, face pressed into the pillows as he wraps his hands tight around his thighs and pulls him so that his ass is in the air and he's spread wide. And then he shoves right back inside and starts to fuck him so hard that Dabi can't help the desperate sob that comes out of his throat as he shakes his head.

"T-too much, Tomu--!" He keens.

"You said 'anything', sweetheart. And I know my little girl can go again with the right encouragement. Isn't that right? You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

So embarrassing that makes his need spark so sharply again even through his stinging nerves. He sobs against the sheets, clutching onto them just to hold onto something as he feels his sanity shaking apart with each hard thrust.

"You know you have to answer, baby, or I'm going to be upset with you. And you want to be my good girl, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," the word is honey and acid mingling on his tongue, making his spent cock twitch humiliatingly.

"That's better. Now, since you didn't let me sleep, and since you touched yourself without permission, I think you've more than earned a punishment." His lover folds himself along his back, pressing a kiss against the nape of his neck. "So I'm going to keep fucking your hungry pussy until you pass out. Does that sound fair, princess?"

"Yes, Daddy," The words are practically a moan this time as he lets go. He wanted Tomura's touch anyway. He'll get his fill of it now.

He squirms a little beneath him, reaching his hand back between his legs. Maybe if he misbehaves badly enough he'll wake up still stuffed full of his lover's cock too.

#ask #asks #shigadabi #my writing #kink ranking ask #nsft asks #nsft txt

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uhohbestie · 4 months

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I really love you guys art and writing!

Can I get nice advice for writing in general or for writing arguments? I’m kinda stuck on that part and I really enjoy you guys writing!

Heyy, thank you so much! 💫 ;w; We love getting messages like this, it's such a mood booster! (Lock: literally I sent this to Key last night and was like "I'M SO EXCITED TO ANSWER THIS" lmao)

We raaaaaambled, so Writing Advice is beneath the cut :3

As for writing advice, in general and specific both, I think a key component is to really get into your characters' heads. I like to think of it a bit like acting--when you write, you're not just someone keeping a record of events that have occurred, you're the actor playing every role on stage. You should know the characters you're trying to pen inside and out; what makes them happy and sad, what makes them frustrated and angry, what scares them and what they aspire to. Or, more simply put, you have to filter a character down to what makes them tick. Give them a Fear, give them a Motive, give them things that drive them to push forward, and things that hold them back. Above all, make sure that you know how those things for one character are different from another, because that's where the conflict arises.

Which brings us to arguments! It's easy to just write angry words and cussing or insults but, while those might add to an argument, substance is what's important. Even in real life, arguments happen because two people strongly Believe In Something. Whether that's some huge disconnect between morals and lifestyles or just a simple "I'm right and they're wrong." So give your characters a clear Belief about the topic they're fighting about, and then lean into your "actor" role and pull up how they feel in detail. And I'm not talking 'I feel upset' or 'I feel mad,' I mean how honest do they feel they should be while fighting? Are they passive aggressive? Are they holding back their words? Are they deliberately trying to make things worse? Are things falling out of their control and they just don't know how to stop?

Really embody the character you're writing--if you were them what would you do to hide/protect/fight for something? What are your limits? How low are you willing to go?

And then, after you've got that substance--the meat, if you will--of the argument down, everything else is just embellishment! So go crazy with descriptions! How do their voices sound? How hot do their bodies go? Are their faces flushed? Is someone angry crying? Is their heart racing? Do they feel like they're going to vomit?

Describe in and around them and really make the reader feel immersed in the scene, like if they try, they could feel all the same things your characters could.

Annnd, that's all I got 😂 I'm sure there's plenty more advice out there that's more specific than mine, but that's generally how my thought process works so there you have it hehehe

I hope you're able to find something worth implementing within it, and good luck with your writing!! 💜

(Lock here chiming in to say: editing is good! read what you wrote out loud to yourself (if possible). Find what you like to write (I love to write people talking about their feelings, especially when they get emotional!) and dig in shamelessly, even if it feels like overkill! A good piece of advice I got once was to think of writing like getting dressed to go out: put everything on, and then remove one thing. I don't know why, but that really clicked for me. ALSO, when you edit: never delete anything. Copy out the parts you're removing and save them in a different file, you never know when the scene/conversation/exchange that didn't fit that moment will suddenly find a home several pages later.

A big thing I always try to keep in mind while writing is: every character thinks they're right, even (especially) when they're 100% wrong. Not even to a villain degree-- everyone every day is thinking "I'm doing my best." (Which is what makes catastrophic mistakes or miscommunications even worse!)

Also, when writing arguments or conflict: never be afraid to let your characters sit in their feelings and be miserable for a while. A lot of things in life take a long time to work themselves out, and sometimes a character needs to go to bed angry, or go no-contact for a week, or take a five year break where they completely reinvent themselves before things are ever properly resolved.

Also good luck and have fun <3 writing is fun )

#if all else fails #scrap what you wrote and start over #I know I know it sounds awful #but sometimes what you wrote the first time is a road block #and a fresh start is all you need to get a scene Just Read #ANYWAYS I HOPE ALL THE ADVICE DOESN'T COME OFF AS PRETENTIOUS #I SWEAR I'M BEING SO GENUINE LMAO #🔑#asks #lumyxluminous #🔒

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scruffandyarn · 2 years

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Take My Hand, I'll Start My Journey (1)

A couple of things before we get this party started...

The title needs a little work. The story does too. All of this is completely unbetaed, so if you're reading and all of a sudden it's "damn, scruff, what the hell happened here?" it's all me. I'm trying to edit as I post, but we'll have to see how well that turns out.

My computer keeps freezing whenever I try to copy/paste the entire story, so I'll post it in parts. They'll eventually all be up, no worries.

This is a female!reader-insert fix-it fic of The Mummy Returns, with the pairing of Ardeth Bay x f!reader. Did I rewrite the movie with a reader character? Essentially, yes. This fic covers the entirety of the movie from the second-person perspective of the reader.

For warnings, whatever's in the movie, assume it's here. Additionally, there is mention of the reader sustaining previous injuries, one of which has left her unable to have children (if I ever write more of this, that will be addressed in more detail then). The reader and her sister, Faith, were nurses during a war, and Faith was killed. Reader's father was killed in WWI. There's some reliving of embarrassing moments, including mentions of behavior while the reader is under the influence of a medicinal substance (which will also be further addressed should I write any more of this). There's 'damns' and "hells", two 'bastards' and one 'son of a bitch' for the profanity.

The reader works as Alex's governess.

I tried to avoid any physical descriptions of the reader. If you see any glaring mistakes, lemme know.

If I've forgotten to mention anything, my bad. Just send me a message.

Here we go:

Part 1 (no Ardeth, yet)

“Alexander Rupert!” The frustration in your voice was tempered by the fact that you were panting. And leaning against a crumbling statue for support.

“Uh, I can explain!” The sandy-haired boy held up his hands in surrender and slowly began to back up towards the tunnel he’d just exited.

You growled as you pushed yourself up and started stalking towards him. “No, you can’t.” You gripped his shoulder harder than necessary and maneuvered him back towards the entrance of the temple. “Do you hate me or something?”

“No! I don’t hate you! Why would you think that?”

You eased up on your grip and sighed. “I know you think I’m no fun when I make you stay put, but kid,” you stopped walking and squatted down to look him in the eye. “I’m here to make sure you stay safe on these digs. That’s what your parents hired me for. And if I can’t keep you where they told us to stay and you get hurt, they absolutely could fire me and leave you at some boarding school when they travel.”

“They wouldn’t!” He immediately wrapped his arms around your neck, gripping you like you’d vanish in front of him if he didn’t. “You’re part of our family.”

You sighed again and returned the hug. “Even if they didn’t, I would be absolutely devastated if something happened to you. Because you’re my family too. Ok?”

You felt him nod against your neck and pulled back. You tousled his hair as you stood up and he immediately scoffed, putting a grin on your face.

“Come on, Alex,” this time, you held out your hand and he took it, letting you lead him back to the temple. “I think we should continue working on your engineering lesson.”

“You remembered the cheese this time?” He looked at you skeptically.

You pulled a wadded handkerchief out of your pocket, opening it slightly to reveal the wedge. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Once you had made your way back to where Rick had told you and Alex to stay, you went to your bag and pulled out the schematics Alex had completed before you’d left London. Looking over them, you had to admit the kid was brilliant, and while a lot of it was due to his parents, you took pride in having at least a small part in it as your role as his governess.

Of course, a typical governess would be teaching the child in the comfort of a home, but you’d jumped at the chance to take on a job that would allow you to see and do more than spend your days in a stuffy room teaching from a boring text.

Not to mention, giving you the built in excuse to avoid dresses of any kind. Something your time as a nurse didn’t allow.

And, you adored Alex, the whole family, really. Even that ridiculous uncle of his, once he’d learned that you wouldn’t tolerate him attempting to charm you.

You just wished Alex would stay put, once in a while at least.

“Alright, kid, here’s your plans.” You handed him the papers. “I’ll gather the materials, and you start building.”

“I’m going to need sticks, and twine.”

“I’ll go get some sticks. There’s twine in my bag. And don’t even think about using the pocket knife to cut it until I’m back.”

As he started stacking bits of broken pottery that were scattered around the room, you dropped the cheese on the ground next to him and headed out of the temple.

You were on your second run for more sticks so Alex could “build a better mousetrap” when you heard horses approaching. Alarmed, you dropped everything and dashed towards the temple, skidding to a halt just as three armed men stalked through the entrance.

“Damn.”

This wasn’t the first dig-site you’d been to with the O’Connells where others had turned up. Most of them had been armed with some sort of weaponry, but all of them had excavating tools. These men didn’t, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

No tools meant nothing good.

As quietly as you could, you snuck in behind the three men, your eyes frantically searching for Alex. You were able to draw in a shallow breath once you spotted him hiding on the scaffolding.

“Knock, knock. Anybody home?”

You locked eyes with Alex just after sneaking behind a statue. You pressed your finger to your lips, probably unnecessarily. The kid wasn’t stupid, but his nod helped to ease a miniscule amount of your fear.

If only you could get to your bag and grab your pocket knife--maybe that would ease a little more. Unfortunately, even after one of the men left, there were still two guns between you and your knife. And really, what good would a knife do against one gun, let alone two?

Options. You needed options. You needed something. Anything.

Maybe, if you could get closer to one of the tunnels leading further into the temple, you could draw the men towards you and give Alex a chance to run for it.

Not the best idea, but if it kept him out of harm’s way…

Holding up two fingers, you mimicked a slingshot, then pointed at the men. Alex nodded again and slowly pulled the item out of his pocket. Once he was ready, you counted down with your fingers.

As soon as the man cried out in pain, you darted towards the next statue over, tensing up behind it when you heard the cocking of a gun.

This was it.

Except, no shot came.

“This place is cursed.”

You rolled your eyes. Sure. Cursed by an eight-year-old.

You gave it a couple of minutes for them to get distracted by more of the pottery before you chanced peeking out from your hiding spot. You caught Alex’s gaze, nodded towards the men, then counted down.

He hit his mark and you made your run, only to hear Alex let out a laugh. It was short and quiet, but you still heard it. And if you heard it, the men probably did too.

Damn it! You were so close to the tunnels, maybe one more statue, and you could make it and lead them away.

Forcing yourself to swallow your fear, you waited another few minutes, hoping the men would get sidetracked by more ancient items and forget if they’d heard anything. You gave Alex the countdown and hoofed it as fast as you could.

“I’ll take care of this.”

Your fear rushed back, tenfold, and you felt the room begin to spin. They must have spotted you. Except, looking around the statue, they weren’t headed in your direction. Instead, they were heading straight towards Alex.

You were left with no choice.

You ran towards the tunnels, not caring about staying hidden. “Over here, you bastards!”

Alex’s gasp at your profanity would have been comical if this wasn’t life-or-death.

“You get her. I’ll get him.”

No no no no no! They were both supposed to follow you! You had to think fast! Except, the sound of yet another gun cocking left your mind completely blank. Running was your only option--you couldn’t save Alex with a bullet in your brain.

You led your pursuer down a tunnel, trying to remember the turns you were making, hoping you could double back and intervene before the other man got to Alex. As soon as you saw an alcove, you ducked into it, praying that the man would rush by you.

“Come on, sweetheart! I won’t hurt you none if you just show your pretty face.”

Finally, after what seemed like years, he was past your hiding spot. As quick as you could, you hurried back the way you came. In your hurry, you slammed up against the wall, the thud echoing. Gunfire, and the sound of bullets ricocheting off stone, followed.

“Damn it!” Shaking off the pain from your collision, you kept moving until you were back in the temple. You spotted the other man, knife between his teeth, attempting to climb up the scaffolding, just before the man who had originally departed came running into the room.

“Spivey! Jacques! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

The man who had been chasing you immediately took heed. “Come on!”

The man after Alex slid down the ladder he’d been climbing and kicked one of the scaffold’s support beams before following after.

“Alex!” You ran to try and keep the entire thing from falling, but you miscalculated, and pulled too hard on the wobbly structure.

“Watch out!”

The scaffold swayed in your direction, and you moved to try and avoid having it fall on you. “Jump!” you screamed at Alex, holding out your hands to grab him. He fell into your arms, hard, knocking you backwards into a pillar. The force of your hit toppled the pillar, starting a domino effect of each pillar knocking down the next, all the way around the circular room.

“Wow,” Alex breathed as you set him down.

“Your mom’s going to kill us.”

Before you could stop him, Alex ran to try and keep the last pillar from falling.

“Alex! It’ll crush you.” You ran after him, tackling him out from under the pillar as it collapsed into the wall, knocking a giant hole into it.

Water immediately rushed into the room and you and Alex shared a look of bewilderment before turning back to the sudden flood. The two of you looked at each other again, even more confused, when Alex’s parents washed up at your feet.

“Mom, dad. I can explain everything.”

You smiled ruefully, knowing exactly what would happen when they learned just how close to danger their son had been.

“You see, there were these men--they were bad men, and ______, she tried to lure them away from me, but only one of them followed her, and the other one came after me when I hit one with my slingshot, and then they all ran out and ______ caught me but I knocked her into the pillars and it’s my fault we broke the wall.”

Evelyn and Rick looked up at the two of you, identical looks of…something…on their faces. You couldn’t tell what was running through their minds.

“Are you two alright?” Evelyn finally asked as she pushed herself up, a little squish sound with every movement. “Either of you hurt?”

“I’m ok, mom.”

“What about you, ______?” This time, it was Rick who asked. He was still on the ground, looking completely exhausted, his hands clutching onto some sort of box.

“I’m so sorry, I really thought they both would follow me, but they didn’t and I had to double back and--”

Rick held up a hand to silence you. “Alex is fine. Are you?”

“Oh, um…yeah. Peachy.” You offered your hand to help him up.

He grabbed it, making sure you saw him roll his eyes as he hoisted himself to his feet, putting minimal weight on you. “Let us know if you start feeling less than…’peachy’ and we’ll see about calling a doctor once we’re back in London.”

“I’m so glad you’re both alright.” Evelyn wrapped the arm not used to hold her son around your shoulders.

You stiffened slightly in surprise. They weren’t going to fire you?

“And you, young man,” Rick pointed at Alex, who made a show of gulping, “You owe ______ an apology for sneaking off from her earlier. If we have to pay her extra for chasing after you, it’s coming out of your allowance.”

“Aw, dad!”

Take My Hand Masterlist

#the mummy returns #fanfic #ardeth bay #ardeth bay x reader #scruff's stuff #the mummy #Ardeth bay fanfic

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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Cheating!h blurb where ana asks why they dont have sex or at a party and she’s trying to pull him into a room and y/n watching him try to make excuses and then next time having sex with y/n he says anna keeps trying and she has the pride he doesnt give in... or something exploring that situation

warnings: smut, cheating, angst

“Anna, I just-“ Harry huffs as she tugs him into a spare bedroom of the party after he had put up a valiant fight to keep them in the main area.

Her hands are unbuttoning his already barely buttoned shirt, running down his bare skin, and he is cut off by a sloppy kiss to his mouth.

Fear shoots up through him, it’s not YN, he doesn’t want this with her.

“C’mon, it’s been almost six months and you still haven’t touched me. Just fuck me,” Anna complains, fed up with the lack of or more like nonexsistence of their sex life.

It was near impossible to believe, someone like Harry who oozed sex out of every pore of his body wasn’t sexually active or interested in fucking his girlfriend.

When Anna takes a different approach of going for his belt buckle, mouth trailing against his collarbone, and attempting to get to his groin - which hadn’t hardened in the slightest.

“Enough,” Harry states firmly, grasping her wrists lightly and making her look at him, “I don’t want to have sex right now, okay?”

His girlfriend’s face falters, “You never want to.”

“If you don’t like it break up with me,” He hisses, knowing YN is going to get suspicious the longer they’re in a room together.

Anna, who really did have a kind heart, frowns, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything. I would never force you to.”

Harry just rebuttons his shirt, “S’fine. Let’s just get back to the party and have a good time, yeah?”

She nods as Harry swings his arm around her shoulder, unlocking the door, and pausing when he sees YN a bit of the ways down the corridor - staring at the two leaving the bedroom.

“I’m going to get a drink,” He dismisses bluntly, his focus set on the girl who was visible angry with him in the kitchen.

Before he can get out a word, she steps forward and swipes her thumb against his collarbone.

It comes back with the waxy substance of Anna’s bright mauve lipstick.

“Have fun in there, did you?” YN asks, she tries to keep her tone cool and unbothered by Harry sees right through it to the insecurity.

“You know I didn’t,” He replies between gritted teeth, how could she get jealous when this was all her?

He didn’t want a girlfriend.

Well he did but he only want her and she fucking knew that.

“If you wanted me to believe you, maybe you would have wiped her lipstick marks from your neck and chest,” She chuckles and it makes Harry’s hair on the back of his neck stand up.

It was the distinct chuckle and tone she used when she was upset but wasn’t going to admit it over her dead body.

Before he can call her out, she shoulders past him, disappearing into the dancing crowd of people and out of his side.

“Fuck,” He mutters, running a hand through his hair before trudging off to find Niall and Zayn - to distract himself.

“Stay the night, please?” Anna asks softly when Harry pulls up to her small, quaint little house that fit her perfectly.

“M’sorry. I have a long day tomorrow.”

It was a lie. It was rarer that he told the truth to his girlfriend than fibbing.

“So? Let’s cuddle, do something,” She begs, frustrated with her emotionally and sometimes physically distant boyfriend.

Harry shakes his head, “Maybe next weekend.”

He always said that.

It never happened.

—

As soon as he drops off Anna, his next stop is a route that is ingrained in his head front and backwards, her apartment.

He has a key, doesn’t bother knocking and just barges into the dimly lit house with her shoes tossed clumsily on the floor - almost trips.

When he finds her, she’s in a towel - freshly showered, and brushing through her hair in her small walk-in closet.

She heard him come in, knew he was storming in here, and still didn’t turn around when he slammed open her bedroom door.

He’s crowding behind her, knocking the brush out of her hand, and pinning her to the wall, “You’re so bloody ridiculous. You jealous little brat.”

YN doesn’t respond, her body still wound tight with tension and a gluttonous feeling of rage for earlier in the night.

“Been fuckin’ you and only you since I was seventeen. Y’know that I didn’t fuck her, didn’t even touch her and you still have the nerve to act like a crybaby,” Harry seethes, his whole chest pressed against her back, no room to escape.

“Her lipstick was all over you,” She argues back weakly when his hands come to the knot in her towel, teasing at unraveling.

“Yeah because she was begging me to fuck her and I said ‘no’ so she tried to get in my pants and I pushed her off.”

“Why?” YN murmurs, quiet in the small space.

“You fuckin’ know why,” Harry growls with his teeth grazing across her bare shoulder blade.

“Say it.”

“I pushed her off ‘cause you’re the only person I’ve fucked since I was seventeen. My cock is yours,” He rasps, untying the knot and letting the towel drop.

He wishes she would just end all this bullshit.

Let him have her fully and completely but she was so fucking afraid of getting hurt when it wouldn’t happen.

“Go on, tell me who owns this cunt,” Harry demands, hand tucking between her thick thighs to cup her puffy mound in his hand.

“H,” She whimpers as his finger lightly slides up the wet groove of her center with a careful drag.

When she doesn’t give him the answer he wants, he gives her clit a hard pinch, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Yours, fuck - it’s yours,” YN huffs at the slight but welcome pain on her nerves - relaxing when it returns to soft strokes.

“Anna is pretty, y’know? Had her on me, kissing my neck, unbuttoning my shirt and shit,” Harry hums against her ear, two fingers sinking into the tight heat of her body.

He continues, “Didn’t even get hard when that happened. That’s how fucking trained I am for you. What a tight fucking leash you have me on.”

YN turns a bit into putty at his words, insecurity slow flooding out of her body, and feeling more like how she usually does.

“How do y’ever forget? How much I love you?” He asks in true disbelief, it literally oozes through his pores how much he adores his high school sweetheart.

“Don’t-“ She squeaks desperately.

“Why won’t you let me tell you how much I love you, baby?”

His voice like dark, sweet honey that seeps into her every nerve-ending and makes her feel lethargic, in a boneless silky way.

“Stop plea- Just touch me,” YN begs when his fingers crook into against her plushy, tight walls with focused strokes.

“You need to admit it, y’stubborn little thing. I know how in love you are with me,” Harry pushes, needing to hear validation from his favorite person on this earth.

He squats down, spreading her cheeks, and leaning in to lick from the top of clit all the way back to her other entrance.

His large palms keeping her apart, digging into the thick skin until his fingers are white - tongue finding her core and darting in to her most sensitive area.

“H, oh my god,” YN moans, head falling forward against the wall, pushing her hips backward into his mouth.

“Darling, c’mon. Show me how sweet y’can be f’me,” Harry goads encouragingly, it always took a little bit of effort to get her to break.

“I love you….s’much,” She whispers, voice cracking on the last syllable as he rewards her with a suckling kiss to her clit and slips his fingers back in.

“I know y’do, baby. You know I’d never give it to anyone but you,” Harry coos, anything to get her to soften her harsh edges, chip away at her stone wall.

Her hand reaches behind to weave through his hair, her stomach sucking in harshly as she feels her tight band snap as she releases.

“O-oh, you’re mine. Y’mine,” His love chants as she rides out her intense wave of her orgasm as he helps her through it.

“M’yours,” Harry agrees immediately, standing up and a smile breaks on his face when she turns around and wraps him into a hug.

“I love you. I know you didn’t touch her. I just hate it,” YN murmurs softly, undoing his shirt and sliding it off of his shoulders.

His smile fades at her words, “Then make it stop. The minute you tell me you’re ready to make this work, I’ll break up with her.”

“I’m no-not ready,” She stammers, eyes widening like a deer in headlights at his words.

So afraid. So fucking scared.

“Okay, okay,” He soothes when he sees her chest start to rise faster and faster with anxiety.

He doesn’t want to drop it.

He wants to shake her and ask her how the fuck she doesn’t see that they’re already in a relationship and she’s being blinded by irrational fears.

Harry waddles them over to her messy bed, pushing her back and adjusting until she’s in the center - staring at him with doe eyes.

He loves her so much it hurts to look at her for too long.

When he tugs off his jeans, taking his phone out to put on the side table - he sees an unread text from Anna.

I’m sorry about earlier. I really want to make it work with you. You’re a great guy x

Harry should feel bad. Maybe his stomach should have dropped or something at how awful he’s being to that girl.

But when his love is splayed out, pliant and malleable for him, he can’t find an ounce of fucks to give as he tosses it on the bedside table.

He had been in love with this girl since he was sixteen, never fell out of it, he was addicted to her - willing to go through all this bullshit if it meant he had her.

It always felt like the first time, crawling on top of her, and bending down to pull her puffy lips into a strong kiss as he slides in, always a pleasant stretch.

As they move together, in a familiar rhythm, she murmurs against his lips, “One day, I’ll be ready.”

“Please, make it soon, darlin’,” Harry pleas, swallowing harshly before pushing his emotions into hard, deep thrusts.

#cheating!harry masterlist #cheating!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles #Harry styles smut #Harry styles angst #Harry styles au #cheating!Harry blurb #blurb

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Note

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the bad batch #tech #tech x reader #my easy breezy beautiful nerd boy #ask box open #i'm feeling creative in this chilis tonight

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

day 4 ❅ let’s go below zero and hide from the sun

i love you forever where we’ll have some fun

day three ❅ day four ❅ day five | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeeeeee meery christmas eve everyone, here’s day four!!!!! day four is my favourite out of the five, so i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3 as always, please pay attention to the warnings n stay safe!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), implied noncon, sub-drop, panic attacks, fingering, cockwarming, car sex, mentioned drug use, generally toxic relationships, size difference, verbal fights, tense family dynamics

words: 8.4k

synopsis:

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

Sunlight streams through the crystal window, tiny dust motes playing hide and seek between the rays, painting golden beams across the smooth skin of Touya’s bare back, his skin almost sparkling in the warm light.

A little whimper slips from between your lips as your eyelids stick together, sealed shut by dry salt, brow furrowing as you finally pry them open. They hurt, dry and tacky and squinting against the too-bright light, spitting a hiss through your teeth.

“Ow,” you whine as you try to roll onto your side, every muscle in your body aching and stuffed full of exhaustion.

You’re sweating—Touya is always way too hot, and this bed is decidedly much too tiny for the both of you—raising a heavy arm to try and shove the sheets down to your waist, only to find that you can’t. It takes your hazy mind a few moments to realize that the sheets are stuck to your skin.

Bleary eyes blink twice, raising your head off of the plush pillow with immense effort and gazing down at your naked body. The muscles in your arms are screeching in protest as stiff, sore fingers fist in the sheets, giving one hard yank and ripping the material from your body, a sharp gasp hitching in your throat.

Hard, dried cum is splattered across your entire torso, wincing a little as you arch your back and watch it crack on your skin. Vibrant petals of indigo and violet have bloomed across your body, growing in places you don’t ever remember them being planted in.

What the hell happened last night?

It’s hard for you to recall, really, eyebrows knitting as you think hard, sifting through all of your recent memories and trying to remember when someone spurted cum all over your body.

Everything from last night is nothing but a tangled mess in your mind, with loops and crisscrosses, certain memories seeming to overlap, to morph together the more you think about them. It’s as if you’re watching an old film through a thick cloud of fog, flickering and stained with sepia as the sound keeps cutting in and out, the projector stopping once in a while, stuttering and repeating frames or burning holes through the filmstock.

It takes every ounce of strength you have to roll your beaten body onto your side, yelping softly from the massive effort. A sudden rush of tears pricks your eyes, burning in your throat as you try desperately to hold them back, to swallow them silently like a good little girl.

But it’s hard, tiny hiccupped sobs attempting to climb up your raw throat, catching painfully in your chest as you strive to suppress them, to gulp them back down, to force them back into the core of your body and stay put. Yet they refuse to cooperate, becoming more and more vicious as they fight against you, causing you to cough and choke on them as they finally escape your lips, and you mentally berate yourself for such a stupid rush of senseless emotions.

Don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry. It’s too early—you’re going to wake him and he’s going to be—

“Baby?” Touya croaks, voice deeper than normal, hoarser than normal.

And, God, he sounds so fucking hot in the morning.

“M’fine,” you say, though the words just come out sounding garbled and wet.

“Baby, baby, no,” he’s saying softly as he pushes himself into a sitting position, sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his chest, strong arms hooking under yours as he pulls you up and into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you whine into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly as tears begin to leak from the corners.

“For what, princess?”

You don’t know. You just are. Shaking your head in response, you shove your face against him, letting your tears drip off your jaw and soak into his skin.

“Alright, alright,” a large hand pets your back rhythmically, up and down, up and down, fingers tracing along your spine. “Niichan’s got you,”

“What’s going on?”

The unexpected voice startles you, and you freeze in Touya’s embrace.

“Is she okay?”

It’s groggy and rough, vibrating in his throat, and you nuzzle into Touya’s shoulder, chest hiccupping.

“I don’t—I’m not sure,” Touya responds, and you can hear it, that hint of worry laced in his voice, accompanied by a sprinkling of frustration, but it only makes you cry harder, entire body trembling against him.

The other bed groans as Natsuo slides out of it, bare feet padding against the hardwood, your mattress dipping as he sits on the edge a moment later.

“Aw, poor baby,” Natsuo purrs, a soft, massive hand clamping down on your tense shoulder, thick fingers digging into your muscles. “Was last night too much for you, sweetheart?”

His voice is so patronizing, and you whimper a little against Touya, who kicks his younger brother’s thigh with his foot.

“Don’t be an asshole,”

“Says you,” Natsuo scoffs. “I’m being serious. It might be sub-drop,” The bed shifts again, and then kisses are being pressed to the column of your spine, down, down, down your back, words murmured sweetly into your skin. “I’m sorry, babygirl,”

“S’wasn’t too much f’me,” you mumble, heat seeping into your cheeks as both men laugh.

“Definitely sub-drop,” Touya says with a sigh, resting a large palm on your head. “I’ll run a bath,”

“I’ll make some tea and eggs,”

Peaking out from Touya’s shoulder, you watch as Natsuo heaves himself off the bed, snatching his shirt up from the floor and slipping it on before exiting your bedroom with nothing but his Frosty the Snowman briefs as bottoms.

Touya gently deposits you on the bed, slipping out from under you and shaking his head with a chuckle when you whine loudly, making little grabby hands for him, muttering Yup, definitely sub-drop under his breath.

Touya pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a nondescript black t-shirt over his head before he returns to the bed, laughing again at the involuntary pout set on your lips.

“C’mon, brat,” he murmurs affectionately, wrapping your naked, cum-stained body in the sheet before he hoists you up, carrying you across the hall to the bathroom and placing you on the counter, still swaddled up.

“Bubbles?” You ask, voice small as he bends to start running the bath.

“I dunno if we have any, princess,” he says with a small frown as he turns back to face you, sapphire eyes scanning the washroom quickly.

It turns out you do, in a pink bottle with faded Disney princesses on the worn label, hidden behind half-finished cans of old hairspray and expired toothpaste, covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Very fitting,” Touya snorts.

It must be over ten years old, but that’s alright—bubble bath doesn’t expire, does it?

Touya pours a bit too much of the syrupy magenta substance under the running water, resulting in you being encased in a mountain of foamy suds that reek of artificial bubblegum.

“Y-You’re not coming?” You ask, a frown materializing on your face as you watch Touya turn off the tap, wiping some of the bubbles that cling to his arm on his thigh.

“No, baby,” he says softly, kneeling in front of the tub. He guesses your next question before your dazed mind can find the word. “Because niichan wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you if he did, and that’s not what you need right now,”

“I could handle it,” you grumble, and Touya laughs, eyes glittering.

“It isn’t a question of whether or not you can handle it, it’s a question of whether or not you need it,”

But even without him snuggled behind you it’s nice nonetheless, your niichan cleaning your body slowly, unhurriedly, dragging a rough cloth across your skin and lathering soap in little circles, cleaning the sweat that has dried sticky and salty on your neck and collarbone, then elbow-deep in the water as he gently pries your thighs apart, scrubbing away the dried cum. Soft, murmured affirmations spill from his lips as he works, praising you for being such a good girl last night, for being such a good girl as he washes you.

Good girl, very good girl, his good girl, his best girl.

❅ ❅ ❅

Just past noon, Rei kicks you all out of the house.

“The Takasu Snow Park is open until four today,” she tells you curtly, practically shooing the five of you out of the cabin. “Don’t come back until it’s closed.”

She lets you take different cars, this time.

“And Touya, Shouto,” she calls from the doorway, lips pressed in a firm, thin line.

Both boys freeze at the sound of their names, hesitantly turning to meet their mother’s gaze.

“Don’t forget that you’re doing the dishes tonight,”

Shouto scoffs as he turns away, climbing into the back seat of Natsuo’s car, and Touya rolls his eyes, muttering something about being treated like a child, to which Fuyumi retorts that it’s only fair, considering the fact that he’s been acting like one.

❅ ❅ ❅

The Takasu Snow Park is just under an hour from the cabin. It’s surprisingly busy for Christmas Eve, filled with high-pitched squeals of excitement and bubbles of laughter as children wrapped up in brightly coloured snowsuits waddle around with tubes in tow.

And Touya drives right past it.

“Niichan, I think you just—”

“We aren’t going tubing, baby,” he says nonchalantly, a wicked spark glinting in his eye as he glances over at you, lips tugging up into a crooked smirk at the way your head quirks cutely, shaking it a little to indicate that you don’t understand what he means. “Niichan would rather play with that pretty pussy of yours instead,”

And he does, finding a shaded little nook just off the main road, snow squeaking under rubber tires as he pulls into it, partially obscuring his car.

“C’mere, princess,” he breathes, patting a thigh. “Come play with your niichan,”

You scamper across the center console and crawl into his lap, thighs straddling him and giggling a little as his fingers inch up, up, up, until they’re pushing your white lacy panties to the side and gliding against your slit.

“Something funny, pretty girl?”

“No, niichan,” you gasp as a finger dips into you, curling as he drags it out and repeating the action a few more times before adding another, your head finding purchase on his shoulder.

Nimble fingers work slowly, lazily, messily, Touya’s free hand busy scrolling through missed text messages on his work phone as he lets you pathetically rut against his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, craning his neck a little and allowing you to trace along the brilliant ink that stains his skin with your tongue.

And it’s nice. It’s almost romantic in a sense, just the two of you silently enjoying each other’s company, the only noise your gentle little mewls and a howling gust of wind every once in a while. The countryside, draped with freshly fallen snow from the storm yesterday, glitters in the late afternoon sun, the cloudless sky as blue as Touya’s eyes. You sigh dreamily as you gaze up at it, basking in the feeling of your niichan’s fingers buried inside of you, stroking your silky walls intermittently, just the two of you in your own little world, protected from everything else by the Audi’s bulletproof glass.

“W-Wanna cockwarm you,” the words are mumbled against his neck sleepily, your eyes lidded and heavy, only half conscious and barely aware of what you’re saying.

But you can feel his cock, hard and hot through dark denim, and it makes your little hole clench, fluttering around nothing. “Jus wanna be full, wanna be close,”

Touya’s chuckling as he shifts a little, hands slipping between your bodies to unbuckle his belt. “That so, princess? Is my baby girl being a needy little slut?” And despite the degrading words used, his tone is warm, gentle and full of compassion. “Niichan will let you sit on his cock if that’s what you want,”

“Please,” you’re whining, pulling back to gaze at him with bleary eyes. “Please, please,”

“Alright, greedy little thing,” he hushes you like he’s calming a fussy baby, shucking his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring out, using his thumb to push it forward, presenting it to you.

“So pretty, niichan, so pretty,” you’re mumbling as a small hand wraps around the base, squirming a little in his lap and lifting yourself to hover over him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his hips.

He lets you do all of the work, merely watching you through hooded eyes, an odd little grin present on his face. Touya doesn’t normally allow you to cockwarm him, hates how goddamn teasing it usually is, but he figures that today we have time to kill, so why not?

“There you go, baby,” he murmurs as you sink down on him, a loud moan getting caught in your throat. “You feel better now, huh? You feel better now that niichan’s stuffing your little cunt full?”

A soft whine is all you can manage, nodding dumbly against his shoulder. Yes, yes, you feel better, you feel right, you feel complete.

And you can’t help but hump him a little, hips rocking against his in tiny, shallow motions, clit catching on his pubic bone with every push forward and drag back.

“Yeah, that’s it, princess,” he breathes, though his eyes are still focused on his phone, reading an article about a drug bust you’re sure his gang was a part of. “Use niichan to get yourself off, come on,”

He tells you to go slow, to be careful, cute pussy still sore from the abuse it suffered last night, and you obey, hips moving in unhurried motions, just enjoying the feeling of him being inside you, of him being this close, of how good it feels, sweet little whimpers of niichan, niichan, being huffed out against his neck.

It takes a good half hour of grinding before you’re finally creaming all over his cock, body trembling in his arms as he hushes you through it, whispering into your hair how good you are for him, one of his hands gripping your hips and forcing you to keep moving until your body collapses against his, boneless and pliant. Touya affords you a few moments to come down, cock still buried deep inside you, twitching as it patiently waits for your breathing to calm.

He isn’t gonna fuck you, he tells you as he shifts your limp body off of his cock, not with how you were feeling this morning. But he doesn’t think it’s very fair to make niichan suffer with such a hard cock, especially after he just let you cum all over it.

You don’t think it’s very fair, either, murmuring your agreement to him as your hand wraps around the shaft, his cock jumping at your touch.

It’s still so wet from all of your own juices, aiding your hand as it pumps him, hard and fast the way he likes it, obscene squelching echoing throughout the car.

Heat floods your cheeks while you watch your motions, stomach curling in on itself as his cock gleams with your slick, and it’s so hot, that’s so hot baby.

It doesn’t take long to have him panting out those gorgeous sounds, throaty moans and broken little whines, and you can tell he’s close when his hips begin to shift, thrusting into your fist. But you don’t want him making a mess all over his nice car, or his pretty sweater, leaning down to close your lips around the tip and suckle, tongue swiping across his slit as your hand works.

He whimpers out a curse before his hips stutter, thrusting his cock into your mouth as it paints your throat with spurts of burning cream. And you swallow it all, like the good little girl you are, looking up at him with sparkling eyes as you thank him for his cum, and God he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

❅ ❅ ❅

Christmas Eve dinner consists of a symphony of forks dragging across porcelain and spoons scraping against bowls. Rei tersely shoos everyone out of the kitchen the moment it’s over, brusquely ordering Touya and Shouto to get started on their chores.

The rest of the family shuffles into the living room, sitting stiffly on the couches, the television’s volume low as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer plays on the screen.

Fuyumi tries to reason with her mother in a hushed urgent voice, tries to tell her that it’s a bad idea to leave the two of them alone, especially with Touya surrounded by so many objects that could potentially be used as weapons.

“They’re adults,” her mother responds, tone clipped. “And they aren’t alone,” grey eyes glance over at the kitchen, at her eldest and youngest standing together at the sink, frothy bubbles beginning to build as the tap runs. “I can see them perfectly fine from here.”

“Mom—” Natsuo begins, cutting himself off at the glare his mother shoots his way, swallowing his words and nodding instead. “—is right. Mom is right,” he looks over at his sister. “They’re fine, look at them,”

But his voice is high, thin, glassy, the words trembling ever so slightly as stone eyes dart towards his siblings, both with rigid shoulders, weighted with the thick tension suffocating the room.

“They should be fine,”

But it’s hard for you to watch, too much for you to watch, entire body consumed by sharp anxiety as you observe Touya’s stiff movements. His jaw is set, nostrils flaring as he glares down at the sink, frustration and anger and red-hot hatred beginning to ooze through his mask of passivity, to seep through the cracks Shouto’s dexterously created using hostile comments and snide glances as his tools.

And on Christmas Eve, that mask finally shatters.

Because Touya doesn’t have it in him to continue his act of indifference anymore, worn out and exhausted by the effort. Trembling hands pluck a spoon from the mountain of dishes sitting in the aluminum sink, wetting it with water and then laving over it with a soapy sponge.

He’s sure he’s coming down—even though it isn’t time yet, even though he knows, deep down, that the comedown is still a few hours away, even though he knows he knows his body better than this, has been swallowing oxys for so long that he’s got the comedown memorized, right down to the fucking second—but he swears he can feel it, can feel the migraine beginning to throb behind his eyes, can feel the cold sweat beginning to bead at his temples, can feel the chills beginning to course through his body despite how warm the cabin is, teeth grinding to keep from clattering.

The air stings his clenched teeth as he sucks in a breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, trying to force his mind to focus on the dish in his hand, on the warm water cascading over his skin, on the light scent of artificial lemon wafting from his sudsy skin. It’s fine, he’s fine, all he has to do is wash a few stupid dishes and then—

“Listen—”

“Shut the fuck up and scrub,”

“I just wanted to—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Touya growls, gaze hyper-focused on the plate he’s been cleaning for over a minute now.

A lie. He has a lot to say to him, but he’d rather not make their mother cry, again, desperately hoping that Shouto will just shut his mouth and finish cleaning his side of the skin so they can get this fucking over with.

Shouto sighs, deep and patronizing, scoffing as his chest rises with the force of it.

“You’re impossible,” he grumbles. “Why can’t you—”

But then it’s all bubbling over, acidic words flowing from his mouth before he has a moment to consider what he’s saying. He wishes Shouto would’ve just left it, would’ve gritted his teeth like Touya and finished their chores silently instead of trying to play some fucking martyr, instead of trying to fix something that has always been broken.

“I heard what you said in that fucking washroom,” Touya cuts him off, eyes finally flashing to his face, jaw clenching twice as he glares at his baby brother. “Don’t you ever fill her head with that bullshit again, do you hear me?”

“She’s my step-sister, too,” Shouto shoots back, scrubbing turned needlessly aggressive, eyebrows set in a deep furrow as he glowers at the bowl in his hands.

“I don’t care,” Touya hisses. “Stay the hell away from her,”

Something massive, sharp and shiny catches his eye as he turns to deposit the clean dish on the drying rack, quivering hand hovering over it in hesitation. A butcher knife, gleaming in the dim, warm light of the kitchen, stuck halfway in the knife block.

Beside him, Shouto snorts, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust as he looks back to his hands, rinsing the bowl under a stream of hot water and placing it on the towel-covered counter.

“What? You gonna stab me? Really? In front of mom on Christmas Eve? Were the bloody nose and the black eye and the split lip not enough for you?”

No, of course not; it will never be enough for Touya.

“Why not?” Touya asks, voice calm, sounding almost serene, for the first time tonight. “It’s not like she’d miss you. I’m the one she took with her when she left, aren’t I? I think we both know that mom loves me more than she loves you—isn’t that right, scarface,”

And that—that has Shouto freezing mid motion, hand halting under the flowing tap water, half rinsed glass still in his grasp. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, Touya watching him almost lazily, that annoying indifferent smirk finally forming on his lips, achingly familiar.

Heterochromatic eyes glaze over and Shouto swallows roughly, jaw clenching twice as he turns towards his eldest brother, the glass clutched in his sudsy hand squeaking as his grip tightens. And for a moment, Touya thinks he’s won, breath bated as he waits for that first tear to escape, to roll down Shouto’s unblemished cheeks and fall crashing to the floor.

But then Shouto’s rolling his shoulders once, twice, puffing his chest out just a touch as he straightens to his full height, nearly a full inch taller that Touya, and exhales forcefully through his nose.

“Y’know, if you loved her—I mean, if you really loved her—you’d let her go,” His voice is sharp, clear, ringing throughout the kitchen, ringing throughout Touya’s head, bouncing off the walls in his mind and reverberating. “What you have, what you’re feeling, isn’t love—it’s obsession.”

That infamous smirk begins to fall, cobalt eyes narrowing at his baby brother’s words, breath beginning to quicken. Shouto sees it then—that final crack in the mask Touya’s so painstakingly crafted, in the mask Touya so expertly worn for so many years—and he strikes.

“It’s possession.”

No. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this—it’s all lies, isn’t it? Touya tries to scoff, tries to roll his eyes and shake his head at such ridiculousness, but it feels like his body’s encased in ice, frozen straight to the core.

“It’s insecurity.”

Blood rushes in his ears, but it fails to drown out Shouto’s crisp voice, his words slicing straight through the white noise. Touya wants to tell him to stop, wants to tell him to shut the hell up, wants to silence him by driving that huge knife straight through his fucking chest, but his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, refusing to obey his brain as it shouts at it to fight back, goddamn it!

“I meant what I said to her in that washroom,” his younger brother spits, words dripping with hostility as his eyes narrow, giving Touya a once-over like he’s the most pathetic thing Shouto has ever laid eyes on. “She does deserve so much better than you and you fucking know it, but you’re too selfish to let her go. That isn’t love.”

And it’s those final three words that finally have the mask breaking into tiny fragments and falling away, revealing glassy sapphires and a twitching nose, a trembling chin and a hard swallow. It’s those final three words that have it shattering concurrently with the glass in Shouto’s hand, shards clattering to the tiled floor, smashing into smaller pieces upon impact.

It catches Fuyumi’s attention first, who had been on edge and observing the pair sharply, body coiled and ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

“Shouto, your hand!” she cries as she leaps up, eyes wide and trained on the blood oozing from Shouto’s palm, rushing down his arm and dripping off his elbow.

But neither of them break their stare, Shouto entirely numb to the pain, Touya entirely suffocated by it, molars grinding together as he tries in vain to stop his chest from stuttering. It isn’t until Fuyumi grabs Shouto by the shoulders and forces him to face her that their gaze is broken, the youngest finally looking down to find his palm stained with viscous crimson.

Frantic sapphire eyes dart around the room, something akin to panic clawing at Touya’s chest, tearing him open from the inside out and making each breath more painful than the next. He needs to go, he needs to leave, he needs to get the hell out of this kitchen, out of this house, needs to, needs to, needs…

Feet stumble a little as he rushes up the stairs, catching himself on the railing twice as he ascends to the top. Someone calls his name, he thinks, but he can barely hear it over the intense ringing in his ears, his vision fading in and out of focus. The door to your shared bedroom slams open, brass knob whacking off the drywall and leaving an ugly little hole not unlike the larger one Shouto’s head left in the living room wall the day before.

Startled and gasping, your book falls from your hands and tumbles to the floor as Touya barrels through the threshold, making a beeline for the nondescript chest of wooden drawers tucked into the corner, yanking it open and beginning to riffle through the neatly folded clothing.

It sounds like he’s muttering something to himself, but you can’t discern what it is, heart beginning to thud against your ribcage. The tufts of hair at the back of his neck are coated in sweat, sticking to the skin, his breathing harsh and uneven as a curse hitches in his chest, rapidly moving onto the next drawer when whatever he’s looking for doesn’t turn up in the first.

A potent mix of adrenaline and dread floods your veins, and for a moment you’re frozen, little fingers curled so tightly in the sheets under you it’s painful, breathing stopped as you watch your niichan urgently rummage through the second drawer, his back beginning to hiccup.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what the hell is going on, unblinking eyes watching his motions in some sort of daze. For a moment, you’re terrified he might be overdosing, frantically searching for—for—you don’t even know, for some sort of antidote Natsuo might’ve given him, or something.

But then, he chokes out a pathetic little half-sob, trying in vain to swallow it back down akin to the first night you spent at the cabin, and then you’re leaping off the bed and rushing towards him in alarm, wrapping your arms around him tightly from behind, and he just…breaks. Collapses against the wooden chest hard enough to make the entire thing wobble, burying his head in his folded arms as his entire body shudders under the force of the sob that tears through his chest.

“Niichan!” you gasp, pawing at the front of his shirt, trying to make him move to face you. “Niichan, niichan, what is it? What’s wrong?” your own voice breaks with the threat of tears as you speak, heart racing in your chest.

He doesn’t respond, merely turns in your embrace and collapses on you instead, face buried in the crook of your neck as he weeps, big juddering breaths that have his entire back convulsing.

The action surprises you, a stark contrast from his stubborn resistance from the first night, but it worries you, too, such surrender uncharacteristic of him.

But your body’s running on autopilot, immediately petting his hair as your other arm tightens around his waist, clutching him. Soft hushes fall from your lips as you hold him, rocking your bodies slightly as you whisper into ivory tufts; it’s okay, you’re there, it’s alright, you’ve got him, you love him.

And the sob that rips from his throat as those last few words leave your lips is nothing short of vicious, has him coughing wetly into your neck and whining a little, large hands curling in the material of your dress as he tries to pull you closer, closer, closer.

“Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong,” you beg and your voice cracks, blinking hard against the tears flooding your own eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help, please,”

He shakes his head, whimpering incoherently into your neck.

Can’t…Won’t…Pathetic…Disgusting…

“Please,” the word catches in your throat as tears finally escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks in pairs. “Please, let me help, let me make you feel better,”

“I—I—I’m—” he tries, shaking his head again, but you urge him to continue, plead with him to try again. “Need to get out, n-need to—to make it stop,”

You aren’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t matter, body moving on pure instinct the moment the words are out of his mouth, little hand snatching the keys to the Audi off the surface of the dresser and dragging him along behind you.

❅ ❅ ❅

The road is empty, silent, entirely barren as the Audi weaves through it, fat snowflakes beginning to drift down from the wispy clouds that decorate the night sky, taking turns blanketing the full moon and softening it’s beams of ivory light.

You don’t drive very far. You haven’t a clue where you’re going, but it doesn’t matter, frenetic eyes searching for the first little secluded clearing you can pull into.

Touya is unsettlingly quiet, save for his soft sniffles and the gentle rustling of his clothing as he uses a sleeve to wipe at his nose. Hiccups are still catching in his chest, but he’s trying his hardest to stop them, to quiet them, growling a little in pure frustration each time one escapes. Your stomach churns uneasily at his muteness—you wish he would just say something, glancing over at him worriedly with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, his sapphire eyes destitute, bloodshot and glassy as they stare indigently at his knees.

The small village that the cliff overlooks emits a warm glow of golden light, hovering hazily over it like a halo. Christmas lights are strung up on a few of the cabins, little glowing dots of red and green and blue lining the roofs. A dusting of snow has begun to collect, like gingerbread houses sprinkled with icing sugar.

Touya is still silent when you cut the engine, stays silent when you turn to peer at him from your spot in the driver’s seat, stays silent when you place a dainty hand on his bicep, rubbing soothing circles into the clothed muscle and sighing.

“Niichan,”

Nothing.

“Niichan, look at me,”

Nothing.

“Touya-nii,” you murmur, kicking off your boots and climbing over the center console into his lap, his arms immediately opening to embrace you. “What’s going on?”

His gaze still avoids yours, despite the fact that his hands are curling around your body, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to make you wince, needing you close, closer. And his voice is so quiet, almost desolate as he answers.

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

Cobalt darts around the car, trying to look anywhere but at your face as sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip, an attempt to quell its quivering. A soft sigh leaves your lips as gentle hands cup his face, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Let me in,” you whisper, soft little thumbs caressing the ink under his eyes. “Let me help,”

Burning sapphire sears into your eyes, gaze penetrating and powerful as it shines with unshed tears, and you have to force yourself to not look away, to keep staring into those pools of gleaming blue, feeling as though you’re staring directly at the sun.

He doesn’t blink, but the tears collecting in his eyes become too many, too much, spilling over his lashline and cascading down inky cheeks, leaving little gleaming trails in their wake. He inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest for a moment before exhaling slowly, the breath trembling.

“I don’t even know where to fucking start,”

And his voice is so low you nearly miss it, raw and hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“Take your time,” tiny fingers run through his hair again, his eyes closing with the motion, more tears dripping down his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just…Tell me what’s bothering you,”

What is bothering him? It’s hard to say, not because it’s complicated, but because he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want to accept it, doesn’t want to admit that his baby brother’s words have affected him more than he ever thought they would.

If you really loved her…You’d let her go.

He does really love you, he wants to scream until his throat is sore, until his throat is bleeding, molars grinding at the thought of anyone thinking otherwise. He loves you so much, loves you too much, loves you more than he’s loved anything in his entire fucking life, he’s sure of it, positive of it.

He’s loved you since he first began stealing kisses from you, in the kitchen when mom wasn’t looking. He’s loved you since you tiptoed to his room, mumbling about a nightmare and seeking solace in his warm bed, in his warm arms. He’s loved you since you sobbed into his chest, that night you told him you wanted all of him, that night when he realized that you love him, too. He’s loved you since you let him permanently sear his name into your skin, branding you as his forever.

Yes, he’s possessive, and yes, he’s selfish, and yes, he can be a fucking asshole, but he does love you. Really loves you. He can barely remember his life without you in it, everything blurry and out of focus before you entered the frame. You’re all he’s got, all he’s ever had, all he ever wants, and the thought of you being unhappy, the thought of you wanting to leave, kills him, drives a large stake straight through his chest and clean out the other side, spearing him.

And yet, he fails to put any of these thoughts, running a mile a minute through his mind, into words. Patient as ever, you wait, petting his hair, planting kisses scattered across his face, tracing patterns on his skin as a war rages inside his head.

“I’m—It’s fucking pathetic,”

“It isn’t pathetic to be human, Touya,” you whisper sadly, little thumbs swiping across both cheeks. “You don’t have to keep it together every minute of every day,” you remind him gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re allowed to be ‘weak’, too,”

He shakes his head, but refrains from arguing with you, because he can’t. Because he knows if he opens his mouth, if he tries to speak, he’ll start sobbing again. Sapphire tears away from your gaze, unable to hold your eyes anymore as his chin begins to quiver.

“I do really love you,” he whispers finally, head dropping, eyes squeezing shut against the prick of tears.

“I know you do, baby,” you say softly, fingers rubbing circles into his biceps, though he can hear the confusion laced in your voice.

“But do I—Do I des—”

He can’t. He can’t force those four simple little words out of his mouth, getting caught at the back of his throat, tangling into a giant ball that aches when he tries to swallow past it.

It’s starting again, that feeling from the kitchen, building in his torso, growing, stretching, higher and higher and higher until he can’t fucking breathe. A sharp gasp hitches painfully in his chest as he desperately tries to inhale, tries to suck an adequate amount of air into his lungs, coughing on the saliva pooling at the back of his throat.

“Do I—” the words escape his lips in a pitiful whine, voice cracking.

A sudden flash of blistering fury rips through his chest at his own cowardice. Disgust churns in his stomach, leaving a stinging bitterness lingering on his tongue, revolted at himself for getting so goddamn emotional over this, for letting Shouto’s words eat away at him, corrosive and parasitic as they take root in his brain, infecting his consciousness until it’s all he can fucking hear, think, see.

Tiny fingers find his face, hooking under his jaw and tilting it up, gently forcing him to look at you again. The pads of your fingertips dance along his skin, tracing along his jaw and then up his cheek to catch in the endless stream of tears.

You don’t say anything, because you don’t have to, tender little touches speaking volumes more than your words ever could, inspiring a bout of intense strength as he powers through the sentence, forcing the trembling words from his throat.

“Do I deserve you?”

And you’re so shocked by the question that your fingers halt, and his body stills, his breath stuttering in his throat, staring at you in an almost urgent manner, pleading with you to tell him the answer he’s so desperately seeking.

Salty water trickles over your thumbs, the sensation breaking you out of your reverie, response flowing from your mouth seamlessly, without a second thought.

“Of course you do,” your eyes search his face, studying his features slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

The question leaves your lips before you even know what you’re saying, but your voice is soft, kind, full of so much concern and affection as your fingers begin their ministrations again, tracing the ink decorating his cheeks.

He refuses to tell you, shakes his head as his lips press into a firm line, expression hardening. Blue fire ignites in his eyes, and you have your answer.

Shouto’s words from that first day in the washroom drift through your head, but you don’t press. Regardless of whether or not Touya had heard them on the twenty-first, it is fair to assume that Shouto must have said something along similar lines tonight, triggering this reaction.

Sighing, your expression softens, forehead falling forward to knock against his, hands still on either side of his face, keeping his gaze from escaping again as you speak.

“You—you’re sure?”

“Niichan, my niichan,” you murmur, pecking his lips in a chaste kiss. “That isn’t yours to decide, or Shouto’s to decide, or anyone’s to decide,” and your voice is so tender, filled with so much love as tiny fingers run through his hair, tension dissipating from his shoulders with each comb through. “It’s mine. And I’m telling you that you do deserve me,”

“Do I?” he chokes out brokenly, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. And the look on his face, azure eyes glazed with a thick shield of tears as they desperately search your face, chin trembling almost violently as he swallows a pitiful whine, pierces your heart; and you swear you can feel it shattering into a thousand little pieces, puncturing the surrounding organs and making your whole chest ache.

“Yes,” you whisper, tiny hands flexing on either side of his face as you grip him tighter, blinking rapidly to clear your own vision. “Yes,” you repeat, louder, stronger, fiercer, silencing whatever he was beginning to respond with by crushing your lips against his.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re murmuring between kisses, spit slicked lips sliding against his as he sobs into your mouth.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, voice raspy with tears. “I love you, I love you,”

And, truly, you’re the only thing holding him together at this point—have been the only thing holding him together for a long time now. You’re the glue that keeps his life from falling apart, you’re the stitches that keep his very soul intact, sewing him back together each and every time he begins to unravel, keeping him complete, keeping him whole.

Fingernails dig into the skin of his cheek as you hold him in place, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nibbling, relishing in the quiet, broken moan you pull from him. A little tongue laps at the salty tears staining his cheeks, licks along his jaw as his hands grip the meat of your ass, trying to pull you closer as he breathes out your name.

“I love you,” you whisper, words punctuated by kisses down the column of his neck. “So much,”

A whine gets stuck in his throat, head tilting to allow you more access to move as large hands paw at the hem of your dress, rucking it up around your waist. Something pokes you, prods you, pushes up into you through the thick, rough denim of his jeans, and you inhale sharply, instantly consumed by overwhelming need—the need to feel him, hot and pulsing and driving into you, the need to make him feel better, to make him forget, to remind him that you’re his, and he’s yours, the need to be claimed.

It hits your like a fucking freight train, burns through your veins and shoots straight to your core, sharp spikes of heat that have you huffing out his name.

“I need you,” the words are whimpered against inky skin as you grind desperately against his hard cock, clawing at his chest, his biceps, his belt. “Niichan, I need you,”

“Yeah, baby?” he pants into your mouth, hands kneading your nylon covered thighs as he presses his clothed cock against your core, forcing a mewl of his name from your throat.

“Yes,” you cry pathetically, and it’s almost too much, the scalding, throbbing heat collecting between your thighs, hips gyrating in quick little circles as you try to alleviate some of the tension coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. “Yes, yes, need you t-to fuck me, to—” a sharp gasp cuts you off as he bites into your shoulder, growling darkly against your skin. “—To fill me up, to remind me who I belong to,”

Strong, lithe fingers tear into your thin tights, hooking into the holes they create and ripping the delicate material. Dark eyes flit down, rabidly scanning your clothed little cunt, white lace soaked and stuck to you, outlining your folds. Touya chuckles, delivering a superficial slap with the back of his hand before pushing your panties to the side.

Niichan, niichan, you’re whining out the honorific, fingers tangling in his sweater and tugging roughly as his digits caress your slit, urgently shaking your head.

His lips tug down. “Baby, you know I—”

“No!” you pout, eyebrows knitted together, Touya’s eyes flashing dangerously at being so rudely cut off. “I don’t want your fingers, they aren’t enough,” Because the need to be filled, to be stretched, to be owned is almost voracious now, desire clawing at the pit of your belly. “Mark me, claim me, breed me, I-I’m yours,” you’re wailing, cunt achingly empty, the pulsing in your clit nearly too much to take.

A snarl rumbles in his chest, large hand snaking around your bent leg, wedging between your thigh and calve and gripping the back of your knee, hitching the leg closest to the center console up in one swift movement and planting your foot on the console box, thighs stinging from the sudden stretch.

One of your hands latches onto the handle above the door while the other clutches his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles through the knit of his sweater while he fiddles with his belt, squirming a little and shoving his jeans down to his knees.

Not a second is wasted as the head of his cock nudges against your fluttering hole, and then he stills. He wants you to beg, needs to hear you beg, and so you do, high-pitched and whiny as your hips instinctually wiggle.

“Please, niichan, please! Want it, need it, need you,”

And then he’s shoving himself into you, a hiss slipping from between your teeth, familiar, welcomed tears springing into your eyes, a guttural groan catching in his throat.

It stretches, aches, stings so good, so right, so perfect as he bottoms out, pressed snugly against your cervix, and pauses for a moment, cock twitching inside of you, strong hands on your hips preventing them from rocking forward and forcing you to just feel him for a second, every inch of him, buried deep inside you. The sigh that falls from your lips is nothing short of dreamy, mumbling about feeling whole again, and he chuckles.

Yeah, that’s right, princess. Only niichan’s cock can fill you up like this.

His thrusts start gradual, fingers flexing on your hips as they dig into the sensitive flesh, forcing you to slide nearly all the way off his cock before pushing you back down, hips pressing up to meet yours, cockhead grinding against your cervix as he stuffs himself in your cunt, gaining a little more speed with each motion.

No one but niichan could ever make you feel like this.

The words are whimpered between fierce, messy kisses, between ravenous, devouring kisses, between the clacking of teeth and the slurping of tongues, glistening saliva, sticky and sweet and laced with the taste of blue fire and Marlboros dripping off your chin.

And he needs to hear it—needs to know that you belong to him and only him, needs to know that you want him and only him, needs to know that only he is deserving of you, worthy of you—so you tell him, in breathy little whines, that no, no one could ever make you feel this good; yes, niichan’s the only one that can fill you up this fully, this wholly, this rightly, eyes rolling back and sharp cries echoing through the car as he pounds into you, deep little grunts falling from his lips in time with each snap up of his hips.

“Tell niichan—ah, fuck—tell niichan how badly you need his cum,”

Senseless babbling flows freely from your lips the instant he asks for it, forever incapable of disobeying a direct order from him—please niichan, need your cum so bad, need to feel it in my belly, need to feel it in my brain, please, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me!

“Christ,” he chokes out, hips beginning to falter, muscles bulging and tensing as he forces you to keep bouncing on him, hard and fast and deep. “Cum with me, baby,” he nearly begs, voice more wrecked than you’ve ever heard it before, inspiring a whole flock of butterflies in your tummy. “Be a good girl and make a—make a mess all over niichan’s cock,”

And it’s the sense of desperateness, of urgency, of sheer neediness sown deep into his broken voice that has you spasming around him, that evokes an orgasm so intense it makes you choke on your own scream as it slashes through you, gurgling on spit and tears as violent tremors course through your body.

Hot, thick spurts of cum fill you, your name escaping his lips in a cracked whine, his hips continuing to lazily roll against yours as you milk him for every drop of cum he’s got, as you beg him for more, more, more.

Overwhelmed by emotion, you collapse against his heaving chest, hiccupping out pitiful little sobs between your harsh breathing, and he hushes you, fingers petting your sweaty hair as he murmurs against your scalp—shh, it’s alright, he’s here, he loves you, you’re his, and you did so well.

“Do you want to leave?” the question is uttered softly, after your breathing has calmed to tiny sniffles, voice so genuine it’s almost painful, curled up in his arms as your bare cunt presses against his pelvis, cum still leaking out of you. “Just say the word and we’ll go, baby,”

Swallowing thickly, he’s silent for a moment, considering. Patiently, you wait, nuzzling comfortingly against his neck and licking at the sweat pooled in the dip of his collarbone. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, laced with a hint of disbelief.

“Really?”

You pull back to gaze at him.

“Yes, really,” you whisper, catching a tear with the pad of your thumb and placing a soft kiss against his cheek. “You are more important to me than anyone else in that damn cabin by far, and I don’t care if it upsets them—if you want to leave, if you need to leave, we’ll leave. Say the word, and I’ll drive back, pack our shit, and we’ll be gone. You don’t even need to get out of the fucking car,”

Shining sapphire eyes study your face intently, searching for any sign of hesitancy, finding nothing but sincerity.

“I love you so much,” he laughs wetly, more glistening tears escaping his eyes with the motion. “So fucking much,”

Tingling warmth blossoms in your chest at his words, at his laugh, conjuring a watery smile of your own as you pepper his face with kisses, soft lips ghosting across his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and forehead until he becomes too impatient, large hands cupping your jaw and pressing your wandering lips against his.

Giggles erupt from your throat, and he’s sure that’s what liquid sunshine sounds like, allows the noise to wash over him, to bathe him in your everlasting light, to warm him to his very core. A little tongue darts out to lick teasingly along the seam of his lips, evoking an involuntary smile of his own before his tongue escapes to meet yours, another precious squeal of laughter echoing through the car.

Yes, he thinks, as your laughter vibrates against him, arms tightening around your waist as he cradles you against his chest. This is what love feels like.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi #AAAAAAAH okay #this made me cry lol #idk if it'll make u cry but it made me cry #anyway merry christmas eve i love u lots!! <33 #tw pseudo-incest

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adhdeancas · 4 years

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wait so fellow adhder I'm I think that actually all of the TFW are actually ND. Cas has autism, dean has adhd, and hear me out, Sam has ocd. the intrusive thoughts? obsessive behavior? eating and acting clean literally to a point where it is inconvenient for everyone involved? I think he is obsessing over being clean and fresh (compared to demon blood and souless Sam, sleazy and nasty Sam) also I have a few reasons for thinking dean us adhd but y do u think so sorry I'm rambling

let’i’ve been waiting all my life for you to come into my inbox and talk to me about this

of COURSE TFW are ND!!! of course!! and yes, yes, we all know Cas has autism I love my autistic angel and i love the hc that Sam has ocd because it does fit really well!

(sectioned all of this out because it’s better for adhders to read, you get it)

his ocd directly bleeds into his poor self-esteem like you said with the demon blood! he feels the need to be pure and even though he canonically knows that these things (like eating clean, running, etc) can’t help his problem, he still tries because he kind of... has to.

also OCD is often connected to a need for control, and the physical state of sam’s body is the one thing he has control over (which is also where we get into eating disorder territory). Sam has had so little control over his life, especially growing up, and for most his childhood, he didn’t even control what he ate (with Dean making/buying his meals). SO once he gets out of that environment, he hyperfixates on this new freedom!

we can also go to the hand pressing with this. a literal compulsion that even after the effect of the pain wears off once the hand heals, he still does it as a grounding method. nonsensical compulsion to calm anxiety? yes OCD

can also be linked to childhood trauma but what ND can’t be amirite

emotional regulation once again - remember Angry Boy King Sammy? So angry he doesn’t know what to do and can’t control it and feels like he’s gonna explode with the rage?

intrusive (sometimes violent) thoughts are a huge marker for OCD and Sam’s obviously sometimes come from Unnatural means but they are also a part of him and kind of always have been

religious themes are also huge in OCD which Fits and makes me EMOTIONAL Sam I’m so sorry he spent his whole childhood feeling unclean and unholy and Fixated on that to the point of praying to a God his family didn’t believe in just so he could be Clean fuck

also i think it’s really interesting and cool that of the two brothers, Sam shows the most obvious signs of OCD even though he is canonically the messier brother and the brother not worried about IRL germs (i know the writers didn’t try to do this but i don’t care they didn’t play into the OCD means i must germex! trope)

AND ADHD DEAN!!!

let’s first look at the obvious: Dean is highly skilled in combat, even though he hates physical exercise. Why? ADHD brain tied up with anxiety is hardwired into flight or fight, not sit and focus on one thing. it’s constantly picking up on threats and peripheral vision and all that shit

he also has a spotty history with books! like i’ve said before, not shit writing, this is Dean’s ADHD. Dean as a kid read some high-brow books and he still does occasionally but he doesn’t nearly as much as an adult because it became much harder!! and because he just couldn’t devote that much attention, even as a kid, to things that he wasn’t really interested in! This is why he hates research

he’s known far and wide for his impulsiveness, his knee jerk decisions. it’s part of what makes him a good hunter and part of what makes him human disorder incarnate - It’s ADHD

Low frustration tolerance and rejection-sensitive dysphoria! Dean has a really hard time regulating his emotions and especially anger - especially especially especially when he feels like he’s being rejected or abandoned. it’s literally his worst fear

^^^^ rejection-sensitive dysphoria also plays into his low self-esteem (god poor kid to have RSD in an environment growing up where Everyone Was Constantly Busting Each Other’s Balls and couldn’t be emotionally available to also tell you they actually love you), high self standards, and social anxiety (he’s a bullshitter, his chameleon charm is also a symptom of his social anxiety and RSD)

also Dean has lots of sleep problems both ways and complicated relationships with motivation and inner restlessness versus a yearning for stability

comfort items / food!! now i can’t find the research on this so forgive me because i know i’ve read it somewhere that ADHDers tend to gravitate toward familiar things or foods! (like Dean’s burgers and his car / motels that are all basically the same) it is a very ND thing in general as well

along that line, ADHDers tend to have sensory processing issues - it’s why Dean has an Outfit Recipe of the same types of clothes that he sticks to - also why he delights so much in sensory stuff like magic fingers and the Dead Guy Robe

(((jfc i thought of this point while writing out the last one and then forgot it and had to stare at the screen for a minute, now I’ve forgotten it again while writing this thank you adhd))) AH YES! auditory processing! Remember how we make fun of Dean for his lame comebacks? Remember how we make fun of him for his buffer speed in The Scene? baby that’s because it takes him five extra seconds to translate those words let alone RESPOND

not to mention people with ADHD often have much higher rates of anxiety/depression (duh) and substance abuse (yes)

lmao in researching this the article I was looking at says that lead exposure as a child can lead to ADHD and jfc you KNOW those shitty motels had Exclusively Lead Paint smh

BUT ONE OF MY FAVORITES of course has to be that Dean gets along so well with autistic Cas!! as an adhd dude with an autistic best friend, WE DIG! adhd and autism go so well together because we can get each other in ways that others just Can’t. adhd and autism have a lot of overlap/similarities in brain function and shit.

tend to eschew social conventions and be much more straightforward/want that in others

they can both have the tendency to fidget and depending on upbringing mask that for some people - which also leads to being social chameleons

they both have comfort items / foods that NT find really strange or childish in my experience

sensory disorders!!! cas with his ONE OUTFIT and Dean with his different colored ONE OUTFIT

Anyway i’m in love with this and i have so many thoughts but here are a few of them thank you very much for this ask i love that you came to me

#ask #willowwisk #adhd dean #dean has adhd #autistic cas #cas has autism #ocd sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #neurodiversity #tw: abuse #tw: eating disorders

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illuminatedquill · 3 years

Text

My Name, The Review (Mostly Han So Hee)

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

- Unknown

To be upfront, I have to state that revenge stories are not my cup of tea.

I don’t personally condone the notion of revenge and once you’ve seen one revenge story, you’ve seen them all: the outcome is always the same. The Count of Monte Cristo is kind of the granddaddy of all revenge stories and it’s hard to improve - or change - on that one. But it’s always a lucrative genre - think John Wick - and so people always flock to them. Revenge is such a personal notion and one that people are always fascinated with.

You always want to know what price people are willing to pay when faced with such extreme loss.

Han So Hee’s newest drama My Name doesn’t do anything extraordinary or try to change up that old tried and true formula. There a few twists and turns in its short eight episode format but I guessed right off the bat who was responsible for her father’s murder and I felt a personal sense of vindication when I was proven correct at the end.

I’m not going to go too deep in the story because, to me, that was the weakest part of this drama. It starts off promising but rapidly gets weaker with each following episode, which is unfortunate, considering the solid premise set up by the first episode. We see Yoon Ji-woo’s life, such as it is, completely upended by the loss of her father and her increasingly desperate actions to find his killer lead her down a dark path.

I’m going to touch upon this briefly because it’s something I want to address in another post but the short format of this drama proves to be its undoing. This should have been a slow burn story - setting up Ji-woo’s circumstances, her growing bond with Pil-do and the Captain along with the rest of her squadmates, her general characterization and increasingly desperate effort of maintaining these two separate, yet conflicting identities - all of it being mostly shoved aside in favor of a bland narrative that only seems to serve as how to get Ji-woo to the next big action sequence.

It’s a travesty. I understand what Netflix is doing here with shortening the length of their exclusive kdramas and so far it’s been working - mostly. But kdramas are meant to be 16 episodes, usually, for a reason. It gives the story and the characters the proper amount of time to develop and grow and move forward in an organic way. The recent Netflix exclusives I’ve watched - Extracurricular, Squid Game, and now My Name, suffered from this problem to varying degrees but I think My Name has the worst of it. The characterization suffers, something that kdramas excel at, and the story stops being about substance and more about spectacle.

So, in short, I did not like My Name. It doesn’t live up to the strong premise set up by the first episode for the reasons I wrote about in the previous paragraphs. It does have a lot going for it - amazing acting talent, awesome OST, and top tier cinematography - but all that doesn’t make up for the lackluster story.

Choi Mu-jin ended up being my favorite character. HIs actor, Park Hee-soon, is a veteran actor and the perfect choice to play this dark criminal overlord who’s suffering from a wounded heart. His downfall throughout the series as he unravels from the consequences of events he set in motion is heartbreaking, even as you loathe the actions he takes to set things right. Just like Ji-woo, he ends up losing everything important to him, but unlike Ji-woo, you feel for his losses. I credit that to Park Hee-soon’s incredible performance; you hate him, but cannot outright call him a monster. He’s too human for that.

But what about Yoon Ji-woo? Well, that’s an interesting conversation. That’s mainly why I’m writing this. Because, as I said before, I don’t really care for revenge stories. But Han So Hee chose this as her next project and I was interested to see if she could redeem herself after her performance in the frustrating Nevertheless.

If you came here for my usual analysis or review about the other aspects of the series, I apologize: I watched this for Han So Hee. This review is going to be mainly about her.

And what did I find?

Well, let’s talk about it. But before I do, I want to emphasize that I am a fan of Han So Hee, so please do not mistake my criticism as dislike for her as an actor or person. I am critical because I know she can do better and want her to succeed in her career.

As always, potential SPOILERS ahead. Read at your own risk.

Hollow People

I’m of two different opinions when I think about Han So Hee in My Name.

The first is that she didn’t disappoint. Her transformation here is a far cry from the shy, passive Yu Na-bi in Nevertheless. Yoon Ji-woo/Oh Hye-jin/Song Ji-woo, whatever you want to call her, is a vastly different persona and one I commend her for undertaking in such a dark, heavy kdrama such as this. It takes guts to pull off a character like Ji-woo and I think Han So Hee did the best she could give.

But I found Ji-woo to be a frustrating character just like I did Yu Na-bi. And that has partly to do with Han So Hee’s performance again. I cannot say whether or not she did the character justice here. I keep changing my mind but most of the time I lean towards a solid ‘no’. But she succeeded in getting past the shadow of Nevertheless and I will always consider that to be a win.

But I wanted more. Much more. I wanted this to be a complete game changer, a career maker for her, and she fell completely short of that here.

When I think about top tier acting in kdramas about grief and revenge, I think about My Ahjussi and Hotel Del Luna - specifically about IU’s performance. She has a similar profile to Han So Hee; someone who presents an ethereal, fragile, innocent appearance and was type casted in those roles until her breakout in My Ahjussi. Her character, Lee Ji-an, was so full of dark cynicism, rage, and grief, despite being someone so young and so fragile looking, that IU was virtually unrecognizable. And her other iconic character, Jang Man-wol in Hotel Del Luna, was classy, larger than life, but at times, so consumed with revenge and hatred for those who betrayed her that you felt like IU’s small frame would burst with the force of those emotions.

I expected to see a combination of those two characters here in Han So Hee’s performance for My Name. I expected a Ji-woo who was on the outside calm, cool, and collected but, inside, screaming with pain and rage and grief from her losses.

She didn’t do that. Which leads me to my second opinion which is that she did something different from what I expected and it’s why I’m so frustrated and, yet, intrigued by her acting here. I really want to know why she chose to portray Ji-woo the way she did.

Ji-woo is hollow. Completely empty, devoid of life, laughter, happiness, sadness, or even grief. She’s someone who has lost the last thread of humanity connecting her to this world and is going through the motions.

From the beginning of the drama, we see that Ji-woo is already burnt out from her life. She’s on the edge, one foot already hanging over into the gaping abyss, and her father’s death finally gives her that last push. Mu-jin, the criminal overlord, is the one that catches her and gives that spark of defiance inside of her new life, fanning it into a roaring fire of hatred and need for revenge. He saves her life, in a cruel, twisted way.

And after the first episode, we never see that fire again. Ji-woo is ridiculously stoic, never opening up about her life, living a spartan existence, waiting for the day when she finds her father’s killer. She follows Mu-jin’s commands religiously, never really thinking for herself, always reacting to situations instead of taking any sort of character agency.

Which is a shame because I could be writing about Yu Na-bi with that last statement. The same issue I had with Na-bi I now have with Ji-woo - they don’t do anything proactive. At all. Both are given situations and have to react to them. Ji-woo is impressive in her improvising and quick thinking, but she doesn’t plan ahead or question her orders - she just does what she’s told and moves on to the next clue in her quest.

I mean there’s that first scene where Mu-jin shows Ji-woo the gun used to kill her father. That should have been an immediate red flag. How does he know that? Was he there?

But she doesn’t think about, doesn’t even question it until the end. I know you can write it off as her being blinded by her need for revenge but she’s been questioning and probing and hunting for answers the whole time and suddenly you expect me to believe that she doesn’t question this hugely important piece of info popping up. What.

We see glimmers of that fire here and there - some with Pil-do, some with Mu-jin - in the pure unguarded moments when she actually does open up and talk about herself. But that’s it. She’s more of a character sketch than a fully developed, layered, nuanced human being. You see small instances of where there could be more but it’s never fully explored or delved into.

You see instances of sheer cunning and badassery (not just in the fight scenes) where Ji-woo is two steps ahead of the game. When she used the gun that killed her father during the raid at Mu-jin’s new meth factory? What a brilliant move. Not only did she save Mu-jin from being captured, but she also re-ignited the investigation into her father’s murder knowing that the gun would be found and analyzed. And, unknowingly, she started her path towards the truth, something that Mu-jin immediately realizes when she calls him about it. God, what a moment of ingenuity on her part.

And you never see that kind of genius again for the drama’s remaining duration.

I despise that. Ji-woo really could have been an amazing, heart wrenching, layered role and she gets reduced to being a whirlwind of fists and violence.

At the end Ji-woo acknowledges that she now knows the price for revenge.

“I have to become a monster,” she snarls. She’s lied, manipulated, lost precious people, and killed her way through dozens to get to where she stands at the end. It wasn’t worth it.

But she’s come too far.

That last fight is where I finally was impressed with her performance. But it came too little, too late. Han So Hee is amazing when gifted the chance to actually show emotion. I think it’s one of her stronger aspects that got her noticed in the first place. But then came frustrating characters like Na-bi and Ji-woo who are quiet, reserved, and ask for the performance to come from a series of physical nuances - a glimmer of the eye, a tremble in the lips, a clenched fist.

And I don’t think she’s mastered that just yet. Again, I’m looking to IU’s performances in My Ahjussi and Hotel Del Luna as setting the bar for these kind of anti-heroines. She nailed those roles.

Ji-woo really shines in the action scenes and that’s where I really got a sense of her character - reckless, head strong, fiery. She dives headfirst into the fights with an expression of anticipation that is almost welcoming. Fighting to fight, fighting to die.

Han So Hee really did well in these and I can only imagine the physical toll it took on her considering how little time she had to prepare. You almost believe that the petite, slender Ji-woo really could fight off whole mobs of thugs and hitmen. The plot really stretches that into near superhuman levels towards the end but Han So Hee’s desperately breathless performance really sells that she’s still human and can be hurt despite bludgeoning twelve guys to death in a single scene.

This sense of hollowness that pervades Ji-woo’s characterization is something I struggle with. You really sense that she is living for nothing more than to avenge her father’s death. Her apartment is bare, empty of anything resembling a personality; some water bottles, a home exercise set, a drawer containing her father’s urn and a picture of them when she was younger. She has no hobbies, no friends, no interests outside of her work and her mission. Her fashion is practical and conservative.

This is someone who’s personal tragedy has eaten up anything resembling humanity within them. Whose devotion towards setting that tragedy right is the only thing moving them forward. So the hollow, dead eyed performance of Han So Hee makes sense, right?

It would, if it weren’t for the director’s words about Ji-woo.

“I wanted this drama to be about someone who, in the process of finding themselves, loses themselves.”

Ji-woo, supposedly, loses herself in this drama.

But what does she lose? How much further can she fall? That’s the issue I take with here. Because if it’s about Ji-woo turning into a monster, then that humanity is already mostly gone. Ji-woo, for most of the drama, is an unlikeable protagonist and waiting for her to take that next step into darkness was almost entirely the driving force for me to finish this.

There’s nothing wrong with having an unlikeable protagonist, provided that you still give us reasons to root for them. The director’s previous work, Extracurricular, introduced us to Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri; high schoolers that ran a prostitution escort service as a side business. They did terrible things to stay alive and keep ahead of the police on their trail, but you still felt for them, understood their plight, and wanted them to get out free and unscathed despite that.

That doesn’t happen at any point here for Ji-woo. At least for me. Outside of her father’s murder, I can’t find anything to like, sympathize, or endear me to her. You want her to get caught and I breathed a sigh of relief when Pil-do finally talked some sense into her.

(His line about revenge: “I was stabbing myself.” Loved that. Ahn Bo Hyun did a solid job here - I thought Pil-do was going to be an asshole, but he was surprisingly a sweet heart. I wanted more scenes of him and Ji-woo since he brought out that long buried humanity. And his chemistry with Han So Hee was palpable. Again, another missed opportunity in this drama.)

Shooting Gang-jae was supposed to be the turning point in a long, miserable process of her getting darker and more ruthless in her decision making - but it never happens. Because the drama is eight episodes. And we don’t see her build relationships with anyone at the organization outside of Mu-jin or at her official job as detective while working for the police, except for poor Pil-do. So when the reveal hits about who she really is and why she’s really there, it doesn’t hit nearly hard enough. You don’t feel bad for her, really experience that sense of loss. There’s no sense of regret or remorse for the things she does; it’s all cold, almost robotic. Which is why I don’t get that sense that Ji-woo’s losing herself throughout this journey.

She’s already gone.

Final Thoughts

Would I recommend this drama? Yes.

Despite my less than stellar review, I still think it’s worth a watch. Just don’t think too deeply about the plot holes or the poor pacing (it’s way too short and goes way too fast); don’t get invested too much in any of the characters. It’s still entertaining (the fight scenes!) enough to be an enjoyable weekend binge thanks to the solid acting, direction, and music.

For me, I wanted more. I didn’t get it. In my opinion, Han So Hee hasn’t quite found that iconic character yet that really showcases what she can do. But with the success of this drama, I’m sure other directors are eyeing her for their next project. I’m sure she’ll find it soon and I can’t wait to see what she’ll do next.

Don’t know what kdrama I’m going to post about next - there’s still the Alice in Borderland vs Squid Game analysis I want to do and then I’d like to talk more about the problems inherent in these Netflix exclusive kdramas, so I’ll still be posting here and there but I haven’t seen any kdramas being teased in the near future that really excite me.

Hometown Cha Cha Cha was the last one. Feeling a drought coming on . . .

Maybe I’ll write about some older ones that I haven’t watched yet. Who knows.

Until next time. See you all then.

#my name #kdrama #netflix #han so hee #yoon ji woo #oh hye jin #song ji woo #ahn bo hyun #jeong pil do #park hee soon #choi mu jin

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love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Sauriosapien

M sairosapien X F human, 6,429 words.

This story does not have a reader-insert because I wanted to focus a little bit more on some characters that I came up with. This involves an established relationship, some fluff, and four tiny velociraptors. Enjoy!

The sun was blazing hot in the sky, so much so that it was uncomfortably warm even in the shade. A heavy mugginess hung in the air, so much so that Grace felt like she was inhaling through a damp rag. Sweat soaked through her loose ranger clothes. Even with her sleeves and pant legs rolled up, she was still overly warm. Fortunately, the trees were closely clustered enough that the sun only peeped through in tiny patches, dappling a few small areas of the ground.

Despite being so hot that she barely wanted to move, her tiny pack of velociraptors was running around like their tails were on fire. Rococo was perched in one of the trees, chattering furiously at Boho, who had her head stuck under the roots of one of the larger trees. Minimalism was hunched behind Grace’s legs while Maximalism oscillated between chattering at her and trying to snatch one of the tiny amphibians crawling through the damp undergrowth.

“C’mon babies!” Grace called, her voice higher pitched. “We got hunting to do!” She lifted her clicker and pressed the button a few times.

Rococo hopped out of the tree and skidded to a stop in front of Grace. Boho was right behind her. Maximalism fell into line next, chittering eagerly until Minimalism crept up next to him. Grace cooed to them. “Good, good! Okay, here. Sniff this.”

She crouched until she was on their level and held out a chunk of eggshells. Rococo’s nose was there in a second, snuffling intently. The other three were less enthusiastic, but Grace made sure they all got a good sniff before she stood back up. “Okay, babies! Go hunting!”

She clicked the pointer three times in rapid succession. Rococo placed her nose to the ground. A moment later, she gave a triumphant croak and took off into the trees. Boho and Maximalism fanned out on either side of her, with Minimalism bringing up the rear.

Grace ran after them. Despite only being the size of cats, the raptors were fast. Only the rustling in the undergrowth ahead of her let her know where her pack was. They called back and forth, little piping noises that blended with the usual cacophony of the forest.

Running was easy for Grace. Her body settled into an easy rhythm, burning with exertion, but not agonizingly so. She kept up a steady pace, keeping her raptors just in her sight. They worked best when she wasn’t crowding them.

After about fifteen minutes, Boho sent up a hooting signal. The rest of the raptors peeled off, following her lead. Grace followed them, slowing her pace as she approached so she didn’t trample over anything important.

Her raptors were chittering excitedly when she came upon them. Between the four of them, barely concealed in the branches, there was a nest of off-white eggs. Grace crouched next to it, voice hushed. “Okay, come back, babies. Yes, yes, good job.” Treats were passed out to the whole team, with a special helping going to Boho. She chittered and preened, giving the rest of the raptors superior looks. Grace laughed. Their little competitions inspired them to work harder, and Boho and Rococo had a particular rivalry.

Treats dished out, Grace reached into one of her back pockets and pulled out a notebook. She jotted down her rough coordinates, the size of the nest, and the number of eggs. Donning gloves, she prodded and poked at the eggs, rotating them and checking for unusual shell weakness, cracks, or any other signs of disease. Satisfied, she returned the eggs to the nest and carefully covered them once more. She walked over to one of the nearby trees and scored the bark before applying a sandy substance made from a mixture of crushed insects. The bitter, acrid smell was sharp enough to make Grace shy away, but it wouldn’t bother the mother of the nest and it would let her raptor pack know they had already visited that area.

The nearby undergrowth rustled. Grace drew up stiff, her raptors circling around her. Rococo sniffed at the air, head twitching back and forth. Then she dropped out of her alert posture and chirped reassuringly to the others. The rest of the raptors relaxed and Grace followed their lead. They would only be this relaxed around someone they knew. So, the person coming through the trees must be-

A flash of green and pink darted out from between the trees and skidded to a stop. He stood just as upright as a human, but he balanced on large, bird-like talons. His tail swung behind him, acting as a counterbalance. A massive hot pink crest of feathers covered the last quarter of his tail and crowned his head. Fangs glinted as his mouth stretched into a smile.

“Gracie.” There was a slight rasp in his voice, a noise that traced deliciously through Grace’s head and sent tingles along the back of her neck. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Howdy,” Grace said, tilting her hat back. “You could have just waited for me to head back to town. I’m kind of working right now.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than Rococo charged their visitor. The rest of the pack followed her, working their small, feathered wings to propel their jumps so they could attach themselves to his chest. He staggered under the unexpected weight and sank to the ground, lifting his tail awkwardly to prevent his crest from getting dirtied.

“Seems like these guys want a break,” he said. Minimalism chittered wildly from her position on his lap while Boho buried her face into his head crest. Rococo, perched on his shoulder, made an attempt to corral her subordinates that was cut off when Maximalism started snapping at her tail feathers.

“Seems more like someone’s being a distraction,” Grace said. She gave a sharp whistle. Rococo, Maximalism, and Minimalism snapped to attention and formed their line in front of her. Boho kept her face pressed into his crest until Rococo rounded back and drove her into position.

He carefully got back to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothes. “I’m surprised you’re working,” he said. There was something deliberately airy and casual in his voice. Too casual. Grace paused, taking her attention off her raptors.

“Why are you surprised?” she asked carefully. She tried to rack her brain. Was she forgetting something?

“Oh,” he sighed, scanning the trees around him. “It’s nothing major. Only that you told me last week you were going to take a day off so we could actually spend some time together.”

Ah. Shit. Grace felt her face go hot with shame. Oops. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I totally forgot what day it was!” She considered blaming it on her unfamiliarity with the Sauriosapien calendar, but that wouldn’t have been true- even with the standard human calendar, she was always mixing up dates and forgetting things.

He frowned. His crest was pulled tight against his head, feathers tucked in to display his irritation. That was far worse than the aggressive puff he showed off when he was really and truly pissed; this was more akin to someone saying ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.’

“Look, I really am sorry. Uh, hold on. Let me take these guys back home and get a little washed up, and maybe change into some nicer clothes and I’ll be right there.”

He shook his head. “Don’t bother. You’re already out here and in the middle of work, and these guys are already all wound up.” He gestured to Boho, who was practically twitching with the effort of staying still and in line. “I was just coming to make sure nothing happened to you.”

Grace felt her shoulders droop. “Oh. Thanks for that.” Her eyes were stinging slightly with humiliation and anger at herself. “I’m sorry you came out all this way. Maybe we can go out tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “I took off work today.” Irritation was thick in his voice again. Grace slumped her shoulders. He worked in a particularly popular boutique and getting specific days off was always difficult for him.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me to go home? I can always do this tomorrow. I’ll just let everyone out in the yard and they’ll run themselves out,” she said.

He gave a snort, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “You remember what happened the last time they were in the yard for more than an hour without supervision.”

Grace grimaced. As many times as she reinforced the fence and made it taller, the raptors found a new way to get out. The last time, Rococo and Boho had managed to dig underneath until the chicken wire had come loose and had squirmed free. Everyone but a very lonely Minimalism had been gone by the time Grace made it back, and she’d spent much of the night tramping through the forest looking for them. “Then they can go in the coop. They’ll destroy it, but I can clean it up later.”

“That’s not fair to them,” he said, and despite the situation, Grace felt her heart surge with affection. Even pissed off, even if it would benefit him not to, he cared for her raptors. “You’ve already wound them up for work. Just let them continue.”

“Are you really sure?” Grace asked. He waved a hand at her dismissively.

“I’m sure.” He gave her a smile, though it was clearly tense and tinged with sadness. “I know you have a lot of difficulty with remembering dates and things that aren’t on your schedule, but… well, I really would like to spend time with you more often than a couple evening every week. And it’s frustrating when you don’t remember these kinds of things.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. It’s not that it’s not important to me. It is! It’s just… if things aren’t part of my schedule and I don’t have reminders, then I tend to forget them.” She pulled her hat off and ran her fingers through her hair. “You know I missed my own birthday a couple years ago?”

He looked at her a little blankly. “Er… that’s important?”

Right, egg-laying people didn’t think about birthdays the same way. “Uh. It’s like forgetting your hatching day, I guess, but birthdays have more cultural significance to us.” He nodded slowly, though he didn’t seem to understand. “Days just kind of all blur together for me. Time is a flat circle and a total scam and I don’t know dates very well and I’m sorry. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

He stared, but his lips were quirking like he was trying to hold back a smile. “We’ll have to work on this in the future. I just came out to make sure that you were all right.” He turned, waving a four-fingered hand over his shoulder. “I’ll see you when you’re home from work.”

“Velly, wait!” He paused, looking over his shoulder. Grace swept her had back up onto her head and offered him an apologetic smile. “I, uh. I feel bad that you came all the way out here for nothing. Why don’t you stay a little bit?”

Vel paused. “You’re working.”

“I know. But I mean, the pack knows you pretty well. You probably won’t be much of a distraction for them.”

He tried to give her a serious look, but his lips were twitching again. “I’m pretty sure that you’re not supposed to be on a date during the work day either.”

“No one will find out. We’re in the middle of the park. You just need to head back before I go to the ranger’s center. And it’s not like you didn’t already sneak in.”

He laughed. “Well. Yes. That’s true.” His crest fluffed up, his tail swinging back and forth. “Are you going to have to take me in?”

“Hey, if you give me any trouble, I might have to cuff you,” Grace said with a grin. She didn’t miss the little shiver that moved through Vel’s crest. “Maybe I’ll just restrain you and leave you in the woods for anyone to find…”

Rococo, apparently irritated at being ignored, took that moment to nip at Grace’s boot.

“Okay, okay! Come on, let go.” She shook her boot and the raptor detached. Rococo trotted back to the others, but Grace could tell her patience wasn’t going to hold for much longer. “Like I was saying,” she continued, turning back to Vel, “I can’t trust you to leave on your own, so I guess you’re going to just have to come with me. No trying to escape or anything.”

Vel grinned. “No, ma’am.”

Grace turned back to her raptors and clicked her clicker. They all skittered back into formation, looking up at her expectantly. “All right. We found one. Go get another one!” She clicked the clicker rapidly and the raptors took a moment to snuffle at the ground before plunging into the trees. Grace took off after them, Vel following her.

The raptors pulled ahead again, stunningly fast for such little animals. Grace followed at a small distance, careful not to go at much more than a jog. She was fast, for a human, but she couldn’t maintain the speed for very long. As long as she could trace their path through the trees and hear their calls back and forth, she could track them.

The bigger concern was Vel. He was already starting to lag, even after only a minute or so of running. He was not as well-trained as Grace, nor as fit, and no sauriosapien was as good of an endurance runner as a human. He might be able to outrun her in a sprint, but the further they went, the less likely that was.

Vel looked to be on the verge of collapse by the time the raptors called out again and came to a halt at another next. Grace, slightly winded, leaned on the nearby tree. Vel hunched over, making wheezing noises like his lungs were going to come out of his mouth.

“You good?” Grace said. He gave her a thumbs-up, then sagged all the way to the ground.

“I can see why they like humans to do this job,” he said. He rested one of his hands on his chest as he panted. “I think my heart’s going to explode out of my chest.”

“Hey, humans may be better at endurance running in general, but a sauriosapien could do this job,” Grace said as she bent down to uncover the nest. “Don’t throw your whole species under the bus because you’re really out of shape.”

Maximalism had found the nest, and he was crowing over the others, holding his second treat in his mouth like a prize. Minimalism crawled up next to him, chittering anxiously until he allowed her to take a tiny nibble of the treat, then he gulped it down. Grace waved them off, checking the size and integrity of the nest.

Vel, having recovered slightly, rolled onto his side to watch her. “What exactly are you doing with that nest?”

“I told you about this the other night,” Grace said, not looking up from the nest. Vel pushed himself up into a sitting position, shifting his robes around him.

“Yeah, but I had a hard time figuring it out. I’m better when I can actually see what you’re doing.” He crept closer, though he paused a short distance away, like he was concerned that his presence would disturb the nest.

“There’s a few species of microraptors whose nests have been damaged recently. There’s some kind of disease that’s been going around and causing all sorts of problems with the shells.” She covered the nest back up and scent-marked it. “I’ve been trying to tag the number of nests there are and making sure the eggs are in good shape. If we find any nests where the eggs look weak, we’ll tag them and collect the eggs. Hopefully we’ll be able to raise them until they can hatch and be returned to the wild.”

“Oh,” Vel said. He crept a little closer. “How’s this nest doing?”

“All good. I haven’t actually seen too many bad eggs in the past couple of days I’ve been doing this. Hopefully that means that the disease hasn’t been spreading too much.” She gestured to the raptors and clicked at them. They circled up around her. “And we’re keeping our eyes peeled for any rat dens we find. If we locate those, we-”

Minimalism let out a loud peep and darted out of the circle. She plunged her narrow muzzle into a nearby bush, snapping wildly. There was a squeak, some thrashing, and Minimalism withdrew her head. A rat dangled from her jaws.

“Oh, good girl!” Grace got down on one knee. Minimalism ran over, giving up the rat in favor of another treat. “Yes, you’re a good girl! You’ve done very well!” She carefully placed the rat into a plastic bag and eased that into her pack.

“What do you do with the rats?” Vel asked. He looked mostly recovered from his mad dash, his crest perking up once more.

“Send them to a lab. They usually run some tests on them, try to do a blood panel and figure out if they’ve got any diseases they’re spreading. There’s been some concerns that the rats are actually spreading the disease that’s causing the nest weaknesses.” Grace got back to her feet, her knees cracking loudly. “Ugh, I’m like an old woman.”

“And yet, you’re still more fit than me,” Vel said. He clambered to his feet and shook his robes free of leaf litter and debris from lying on the ground. “Do we have to run again?”

Grace laughed. “I’ll see if I can slow these guys down, so we can give you a break.” She clicked at the raptors a few times. “All right, slow, babies.” Rococo chirped in confirmation, then turned and chittered at the other raptors. Satisfied her message had been conveyed, she took off, the others fanning out behind her. Grace straightened back up. “Come on.”

This time, they went at a light jog. It barely winded Grace, but Vel still struggled to keep up. At least this time, he wasn’t wheezing so alarmingly when he breathed, so Grace didn’t have to be constantly worried he was going to collapse.

Vel was at least able to keep up as they tracked down and assessed the nests. The frequent breaks they took while Grace examined the eggs seemed to be helping him keep up, but by the middle of the day, he was definitely flagging. Even Grace, with her much better stamina and training, was starting to feel the beginnings of exhaustion.

“We’ll take a break,” she said, signaling the raptors. They were starting to look fatigued as well, mouths hanging open as they panted and their feathers drawn tight against their body in an effort to calm them down. “I need to eat lunch anyway.”

Vel collapsed next to her as she spread out a mat and set down her packed lunch. “Here. I brought some dried meat with me.” She offered him a package wrapped in paper. He opened it and pulled out a jerky strip.

“Thanks.” She knew it wasn’t his favorite, but he ate it without complaint.

“I don’t have much for you,” she said, digging through the pack. “I know running around all afternoon must be making you hungry. Er, I might have a few hard-boiled eggs.”

“I don’t want to take your lunch,” Vel said as he snapped down another strip of meat. “You need to eat more than I do.”

Humans, thanks to their endothermy, needed to eat much more frequently than sauriosapiens- at least three meals a day, nearly two thousand calories, compared to the typical two-meal, thousand calorie diets of the sauriosapiens. The sauriosapiens were only selectively endothermic, with their bodies heating up with exercise and cooling down when they were inactive or sleeping. That meant their bodies could manage with far fewer calories, though after running around for a while, there was quite a large loss of energy.

“Missing one meal won’t kill me. I’ll be fine.” Grace pulled out a couple of hard-boiled eggs. They were large enough to fill her palm, much larger than the chicken eggs she’d been used to at home. She passed one to Vel, who hesitated for a moment before cracking the shell with his claws.

“Thank you.” He took a bite out of the white, eyes drifting half-shut as he tasted the rich fattiness of the yolk. A lot of food in sauriosapien culture was fixated on fattiness and oils. It was an easy way to get calorie-rich food, considering that they couldn’t taste sugar and were fairly carnivorous. Grace hadn’t eaten much in the way of refined sugar since she’d arrived, only managing to scrounge a few pieces of fruit that she grew herself. She took a piece of dried fruit from her bad and chewed idly on it.

The raptors gathered together, chittering and playing with each other. Grace watched as they tumbled around, hopping over each other, nipping at tails, and generally enjoying themselves. She could see Vel giggling at them out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said. Vel licked some egg yolk off his finger as he turned toward her.

“Well, we were supposed to have a date today,” he said. There was a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice. Grace ducked her head, a flush of shame touching her cheeks.

“I really am sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

“I knew what I was getting into then I started dating you,” Vel said. “Remember when there was a holiday in the middle of the week and you tried to go into work anyway?”

Grace pulled her hat down over her head to hide her face. “Ugh. Please don’t remind me.”

Vel laughed into his hand. “You were messed up for the rest of the week. Kept thinking you had days off when you didn’t… and the raptors were confused too! Poor Rococo, she started yelling at you, trying to get you to go out and then you started to think maybe she was right and not you…”

Grace swatted his shoulder. “Keep teasing me and I’ll make good on my threat to tie you up.”

“Will you?” Vel asked, his voice dropping into a lower register. Grace pressed a finger to his forehead and pushed him back, causing him to break into another fit of soft giggles.

A shaft of sunlight broke through the trees and fell across Vel’s face. His green scales gleamed under the sun, glossy as ocean-smoothed glass. Grace took a moment to just take in his face. His teeth gleamed, sharp as knives, but somehow also attractive. His eyes were glistening, beautiful gold. Grace swore that when the sunlight struck them, they illuminated like a chunk of pyrite. His feathered crest twitched and flared. The motion of the feathers was always fascinating, the way they ruffled in response to his emotions. Touching them was always a wonderful experience. Feeling their slight motions against her fingers was grounding, the reassuring contact of another living being that trusted her completely.

Vel was attractive, by both human and sauriosapien standards. The human standards would be satisfied by his reasonably tall stature with smooth, lithe muscles, his flowing grace, and his fine-boned face. The sauriosapien standards were satisfied by the bright green of his scales and the brilliant pink of his head and tail crests. Not only were they an incredibly vibrant pink, but they were thick and full and expressive. Grace had seen the interested looks of other sauriosapiens when they walked through town together. Whether or not they approved of his relationship with her, she wasn’t sure. She could observe their attraction to Vel with a sort of clinical detachment, but when it came to how people viewed her, she had no idea.

“Are you still hungry?” Vel asked. She looked down. His head had migrated onto her lap somehow, and the side of his face was pressed against her middle. “I can hear your stomach growling.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I know a place-” She trailed off. Huh. Maybe she could really make up for screwing up their date.

“You know a place?” Vel prompted, lifting his head. She turned her attention back to him and scratched along his crest in that just-right spot. He made a trilling noise and went nearly limp.

“Never mind. We need to get moving.” She carefully tucked any wrappers and containers back into her bag and swung it up onto her shoulders. Vel got to his feet, shaking some leaf litter from his clothes. They were in typical sauriosapien style, which meant they looked a little like a fancy hospital gown to Grace’s eyes. They were essentially robes that clipped together in the back, which gave ample space for their tail. She’d seen a few sauriosapiens try to put on human clothes before, which was always amusing. The head holes were never big enough to accommodates their stiff crests, and the pants were just a complete disaster, what with their digitigrade legs and tails.

On the other hand, humans who wore sauriosapien clothes, along with the inherent indignity of the outfits nearly always being too big, tended to have their asses hanging out through the tail hole, so it went both ways.

They started through the forest once more, this time with Grace reigning her raptors in close. A series of whistles and click signals kept them close by, though she couldn’t prevent them from running ahead at least a little bit. They jumped in and out of the undergrowth, scaling the trees on occasion and snapping at insects that settled nearby.

“Are we still looking for nests?” Vel asked. Despite the slowed pace, he was still panting a little. Going to slow was nearly maddening for Grace, but she slowed down a hair more.

“We’re going to put a pause on that for now,” she said. “There’s somewhere I want to check out first.”

“Oh,” Vel said. He fell silent, devoting most of his energy to walking. Grace focused her attention on watching the raptors jump around. Rococo snapped a bright flower from a nearby bush and bolted back to her, chittering furiously.

“Thank you,” Grace said. Rococo relinquished the flower when Grace offered her a treat in return and immediately bolted back to the others, chirping with excitement. Within moments, the other raptors were gathering up flowers and offering them to Grace. Her arms filled with the sweet-smelling blooms, the raptors chittering and hopping up and down around her.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Grace said. She waved her hand at them, dismissing them. They plunged back into the undergrowth to find some other game to play.

“Did you train them to do that?” Vel asked, looking at the flowers with amusement.

“No, they kind of trained themselves,” Grace said. “They know that performing certain behaviors will get them treats. If one of them sees another getting a treat for something, they’ll all repeat it until I stop giving treats. They know that when I make the cut of signal, though, no more treats are coming and they need to stop. I don’t want them completely stripping the forest of flowers to get treats.” She gathered the flowers in her arms into a bouquet. “Here.”

Vel blinked as she thrust the flowers into his arms. They were a cacophony of bright colors that complimented his brilliant pink crest. “Oh,” he said. He wasn’t able to blush, thanks to his scales, but his tail whipped back and forth so fast it knocked down a sapling. His crest flared, feathers spreading into a brightly colored crown. “Thank you.” He adjusted them to sit in the crook of his elbow. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe. You’ve got a lot of admirers, you know.” Not only was he handsome, but his shy, slightly submissive personality was considered the height of masculinity to sauriosapiens. Sure, males were typically expected to make the first move in relationships, performing display behaviors with their feathers and showing off for any females they were interested in, but Vel would have had enough admirers that one of them would have taken it upon themselves to ask him out.

“I don’t know about a lot,” Vel said, his crest twitching with embarrassment. “And we don’t really give flowers as gifts. Carved bones or teeth are more likely. But I know flowers are more important to humans.” He removed one of the flowers with the longest stems and turned to tuck it into Grace’s hair. His claws were sharp enough that any touch against Grace’s thin human skin was dangerous, but she’d never felt any sort of threat from him. He didn’t even cut a hair as he slid the flower into place behind her ear.

“Really important is an exaggeration. But it’s a common gift.” She carefully adjusted the flower so it wouldn’t fall out. “Here, let me.” She plucked another flower from the bouquet, picking a pale yellow one that would offset the hot pink nicely, and tucked it into his crest. He made a soft rumbling noise in his chest as her fingers trailed along the edge of his crest.

There was an irritated chirping at her feet. Grace looked down to see Rococo and Maximalism peering up at her. Boho and Minimalism were only slightly further back, also staring. Their impatient gazes made Grace realize that she and Vel had simply been staring into each other’s eyes, not moving at all.

“We should keep going,” she said. She waved her hand to the raptors. They took off into the trees. “Come on.” Without thinking, she linked her fingers through his and pulled him along after her.

Vel struggled to keep up with her still, so she was very much dragging him through the undergrowth. He clutched her hand with both of his as he panted. “Uh. Hah… Could… Gracie, could we please slow down a little?”

She slowed her steps just a bit and he stumbled into her, letting his body weight fall onto her. She bore it with only a little effort. He was almost exactly her height, but all sauriosapiens were light-boned and limber, so he weighed less than he appeared to. “Do you want me to carry you?” she teased, thought she knew he would say no. It was probably for the best. She could have lifted him for a while, but it was awkward carrying something the same size as her and she couldn’t carry something even only three-quarters of her body weight for a long time.

“No. You just gotta stop moving so fast. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.” Vel lay a hand over his chest as he straightened up. Once he’d managed to regain his breath, he glanced around the forest in curiosity. “Where are we?”

The trees were thicker around them, their canopies clustered close together so their leaves blocked most of the sun. The humidity of the forest was thicker, but the lack of sunlight added a little coolness to the air. Without as much sun reaching the forest floor, the undergrowth had mostly cleared. The raptors hopped around the enormous tree roots, even darting under a few particularly enormous ones that bulged up from the ground.

“We’re closer to the middle of the forest. Come this way.” Grace picked her way over a few of the larger roots. Vel followed, his hand still gripping at hers. The ground grew damp under their feet the further they went. Vel managed it a lot better than Grace did- his feet were broader, allowing him to balance well on the spongey ground. A couple of times, his grip on Grace’s arm saved her from falling face-first into the muck.

Grace picked her way over the crest of a small hill and stopped. “Okay. We’re here.”

Vel peeked over her shoulder and his breath caught. The raptors, chittering with delight, hopped down along the sloping ground in front of them until they hit the waterfront.

In the middle of a circle of trees, covered with tangled green vines, there was a crystalline spring of water. Lily-like flowers dotted the surface, adding splashes of bright color in the green.

“Oh!” Vel said. His crest flared and his tail whipped back and forth. Grace couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen this place before. I didn’t even know it was here.”

“Technically, we’re not supposed to be here. It’s in the restricted section of the park, because of these.” Grace crouched down and pointed toward a particularly thick patch of lilies. Under the plants there was a tiny, darting crowd of fish.

“Because of fish?” Vel said, crouching next to her. The fish were small, barely longer than the first two joints of his finger, and mostly tail. They had mostly dull coloration, except for a brilliant red splash on their backs. He reached his finger toward the water, like he was about to stroke them, then pulled back with a cautious look at Grace.

“I wouldn’t touch them,” she said. “They’re sensitive little things. And they’re not actually fish. They’re the tadpole stage of a kind of amphibian.”

“Like a frog?” Vel said.

“Sort of. A little more like salamanders, actually. They’re about this big, only as long as your hand, and they’re pretty similar in coloration to these little guys. Mostly greenish-brown, with a big splash of red on their backs. They’re pretty uncommon in the area, though. Most of the time, they lay their eggs in the rainy season, when a lot of temporary puddles form. When they fully metamorphosize, they find a damp spot and bury underground until the next rainy season, when they can find a mate and lay their eggs.” Grace indicated the circumference of the pond. “This spot’s the only place where you can consistently find them. It’s fed from an underground spring, so it’s here year-round. Every year, you can find a few tadpoles here. We use it to keep an eye on the population.”

“How come no one’s allowed to know about it?” Vel asked.

“Uh, the tadpoles get hunted a lot. See the red spot on their backs? That secretes a kind of hallucinogenic substance. It’s deadly to sauriosapiens, and to most other species here, but to mammals, it acts more like a slightly milder form of acid.” Vel gave her a bewildered look. “Uh, it’s like a euphoria-inducing drug that can give you really nice hallucinations. Humans like it a lot. There’s a big underground market for it, so smugglers try to catch the tadpoles every year. But because the nests move every year, they need to look for them. We’ve done a pretty good job so far at keeping this spot safe- as long as they can’t find a regular spot to pull the tadpoles from, their hunting shouldn’t put too much of a strain on the population.”

Vel nodded. “It’s a shame. It’s beautiful here.”

Grace nodded. “It’s one of the prettier locations. If you stay here for a while, you can usually see some animals come through to drink.” She let her hands hang at her side, pinky finger just barely brushing against Vel’s. “Thank you, by the way.”

He glanced at her. “For what?” “For forgiving me. For coming along with me on my work day. For being understanding. For letting me speak about the tadpoles. I don’t often get to discuss these things with other people.”

“Oh. You don’t need to thank me for that. I like listening to you speak. You have a very soothing voice.” Vel was quiet for a second. “Oh, and you’re welcome.”

Grace hummed and threaded her free hand through his crest. His eyes drifted shut. He leaned back against her. A soft rumble sounded through his chest, almost like a purr. Grace felt her eyes closing as well. It was beautifully warm, and if she shifted a little and dangled her feet in the water, it added a cool, soothing element. Vel shifted a little to wrap his arms around her.

And then about twelve pounds of velociraptor cannonballed itself into Grace’s stomach.

She jerked, limbs flailing involuntarily. Vel’s head, previously resting on her shoulder, shot up. The soft dirt at the edge of the pond crumbled under their sudden movements and gave way. Vel barely had time to shriek before he slid sideways into the water.

Grace, sitting on a better-structured patch of dirt, didn’t slip, but was soaked anyway by Vel’s panicked flailing. It calmed within a moment when he realized the pond was only about five feet deep and he could stand pretty easily. He shook his head, spraying water from his crest.

“Ow,” Grace said. Boho, the raptor who had launched into her stomach, blinked innocently. The three other raptors watched with the wide eyed interest of children whose sibling had just broken a prized possession.

Vel spat out a mouthful of water. “Are you all right?”

“Nothing I haven’t been through before,” Grace said, fixing Boho with her sternest stare. Boho’s crest drooped and she crept off of Grace’s lap like a scolded puppy. “Are you all right?”

“Wet,” Vel said. He braced his arms on the bank and heaved himself up. “But not harmed.” He shook himself off like a wet dog. The water cleared fairly easily from his scaly skin, but his crest and tail were saturated, as was his outfit. Grace’s clothes were similarly soaked.

“I was going to suggest that we headed back,” Grace said, “but I suppose it makes more sense to wait here until we dry off.”

Vel smiled, sharp teeth glinting. “Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes, first? It might help them dry quicker.”

Grace lifted an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “I suppose.” She smiled at him as he stood and started to undo the straps of his clothes. “I love you.”

Vel paused in his undressing to kiss her forehead. “I love you, too.” His grin widened and became wicked. “Now strip.”

#exophilia #exophilia writing #lizard folk #sauriosapien #monster boyfriend #monster lover #dinosaur #OCxOC #fluff #established relationship

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some-dr-writings · 4 years

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Rantaro, Chiaki, and Ibuki x S/O who’s scared of touch asking to hold their hand

Rantaro Amami:

· “You don’t like touch?... Okay.”

· Rantaro never pried you was to why you didn’t like touch. All he knew was you didn’t like it at the very least and that was enough for him. Didn’t matter what the reason was, in the end you didn’t like touch, so he respected that.

· However, touch was rather important to Rantaro, extremely actually. He cared about you; you were his partner. After having lost all of his little sisters, he was scared of losing you too. When out he needed you close, hold your hand or something to place his heart at ease and know you were still by his side and wouldn’t just suddenly disappear when he wasn’t paying attention to you for a moment like had happened with others so many times before.

· Talking through both of your needs you came to a compromise. When out Rantaro could hold on to a piece of your clothing whether it be the hem of a shirt or the end of a sleeve or scarf. It was an arrangement you both could be comfortable with.

· It was another day of searching, simply walking along down that snowy street. A chilling wind rolled past kicking up some snow as it went. He pulled up his scarf just a bit higher to shield a little more of himself from the cold. The crunching sound of the snow beneath your feet was a delightful contrast from the silent world the powdery substance had created, like placing a blanket over one’s ears. It was so quiet he could here even your meek, mumbled voice.

· “Rantaro?” “Yeah.” “……… uh…” Rantaro simply waited patiently. He didn’t mind the lulls in conversations like most would. They were good moments to collect your thoughts on what the other had said, even if it was just wondering what they could want. “I… I’m not sure if I’m okay with touch yet, but… maybe… we could try? J-just this once, since we both have gloves on… I think I’ll feel safer trying like this.” “Okay. Would you feel better if I took your hand, or do you want to take mine.” “U-uh… I… I don’t know…” “… “Maybe we could both go for it?” “Y-yeah! I think that’s good!”

· Whether from the cold or from fear or nervousness, Rantaro couldn’t tell why your hand lightly trembled in his, but that didn’t matter. You wanted to try and was something he was going to cherish forever.

Chiaki Nanami:

· Chiaki didn’t particularly mind your no touching rule. You must have had your reasons for it so she didn’t push you. Besides touch was not the only way to connect with a person, you could still happily enjoy paying video games with one another, hell if you wanted the distance you could even play on opposite sides of the world and still connect.

· It didn’t matter the game whether single player or co-op, competitive or cooperative you’d play any and all games together. Often you’d end up just talking about whatever, the recent chaos Chiaki’s class had gotten into, the rough day you had when someone bumped into you sending you into a panic, some random thing in the news, the latest video game releases, didn’t matter really you just liked talking with one another.

· “Did you at least go to the nurse’s office?” Your response was a bit prolonged, just a single drawn-out syllable as you tried figuring out where on the map exactly the new boss had appeared. “Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeaah. Yeah, I did.” “… Y/N you’re going the wrong way.” “Wait… No that’s the only path to the boss.” “The pathway is blocked, take the mountain rout.” “Oh!” “… You’re awfully distracted. Did something happen at the nurse’s office?” “No, no. I… I’m just… tired. Tired of getting so worked up all the time at the slightest contact. It’s been years now, but I still get so panicky. I hate it. I just want to not have to deal with this anymore… I just… I wanna hug you and hold your hand without feeling scared. I know you won’t do anything and yet I still… Aaaand I die great- just great!” Chiaki gently took the controller from you and placed it aside. “Let’s take a break from the game, okay?” “No, we don’t have to stop because of me.” “But you’re not having fun so there’s no point.” “… Okay.”

· You simply watched as Chiaki went about saving and shutting off the system before placing away your controllers. “Chiaki! I wanna hold your hand!” “Will you be okay?” “I’ll make myself okay! I’M FINE!” “Chords of steel, nice. But I don’t like the sound of this.” “But I can still try, right?” “… If you want too.” Both your hands gripped around one of her’s, your nails just digging in. Your hands trembled under the pressure and your breathing wavered. Then you let go practically throwing your self back. “Nope-no-no, i- no- I just can’t- UGH Why!? Why does this have to be so stupid-” You were suddenly caught off guard feeling a blanket tossed on you. “… Thank you.” “It’s okay. I know how frustrating this can be for you… Want to play a good puzzle game to distract you?” “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Ibuki Mioda:

· As much as you cared about one another, at first things were extremely rough. Ibuki was a rather naturally touchy person so trying to get used to not touching the person she loved took a bit to get used to, but she forced herself to stop for your sake, as much as she wanted to hug you and such, it would never be more important than your comfort and feeling safe, she never wanted to ever scare you. Thankfully there were plenty of other things you could do together like write and play music, go to amusement parks, go traveling, maybe go hiking, or visit a zoo, perhaps try something new like going to a spa, didn’t matter you could just do anything together.

· It was pouring outside so after some running around in the rain for the fun of it and drying off the pair of you here hidden away in Ibuki’s room. Instruments and papers were scattered about, the pair of you writing down any lyrics you could think of, Ibuki constantly changing instruments to make up an accompaniment to go with it. It was rather random and bombastic, but it was a method that had made many a great song and really, the end result didn’t matter to either of you, it was just fun making up stuff. Though there was also fun to be found in perfecting songs as well.

· You sat on the bed trying to strum the strings of the bass guitar as Ibuki wailed away, one foot on the ground, the other propped up on the seat of a chair. You ended up placing aside your guitar opting to draw Ibuki, she looked kind cool, posing and playing away. “Hmm? Hey, how come you stopped?” “Eh, I still don’t know the bass, Buki.” “Whaaaaaaat? It’s fine I’ll show you. Let’s play!” Ibuki wasn’t half-bad as a teacher but often her lessons would derail at some point and the pair of you would end up doing something else. “Sure.” And so you picked back up the guitar.

· “Wait. Back up. I place my fingers… here?” “Not exactly. You gotta use all your finger, get all those strings!” “Uh… Hey, could you maybe… place my fingers for me? and hold my hand in the right place?” “………” “Bu-” “Sure!” Though Ibuki sat beside you, she made sure to not get too close. She could hear how your breathing wavered a bit from the contact, but you were doing okay, not screaming like you used to when she accidentally tackled you into a hug from behind. She was glad you got comfortable around her, even after she messed up so much. She was glad you were both trying.

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twink-appreciation-posts · 4 years

Text

3 Hours & 37 Minutes - Spencer Reid x Reader

Request by @slutforthegubes

spencer won't pay attention ti you, so you put on his favorite lingerie set and walk into his office. you sit in the chair and start playing with yourself with your vibrator(bonus points if its one of the ones youre not supposed to have). he warns you to stop but when you dont he bends you over his knee and makes you count while he spanks you. then he fucks you bent over his desk. (this is v dirty oops 😳)

daddy spencer daddy spencer daddy spencer daddy spencer dadd- you get the idea.

3 hours & 37 minutes. That’s how long Spencer had been locked in his office ignoring you. Of course the “ignoring you” part wasn’t his intention, but it was a byproduct of him working so diligently. You had made a few attempts to pull him away from his work to no avail, and you were getting pretty sick of it. Fine. He wanted to ignore you? You’d just create a situation where it would be impossible for him to not pay attention.

You raked through your closet, finding a lacy set of lingerie that you had been saving to surprise him with eventually. Well, you figured, using it today would certainly be a surprise. It was black, sheer, and exposing. The perfect combination of things to catch someone’s eye. You changed and wondered if walking into his office wearing only this would be enough to get his attention. It would, you were sure, but it would be too nice.

“Spence!” You yelled out from the bedroom, giving him a final chance to save himself before you hatched your plan. No response. He was still too lost in thought to hear you. Oh well.

You walked back into the closet, reaching for a box that held another surprise. Spencer had a whole.. thing… against you having certain objects. Specifically, he had told you that you weren’t allowed to have a vibrator. You remembered he had instilled the rule after you had been especially bratty and he had made you edge for an hour without letting you finish. You, being the instigator that you were, proceeded to finish yourself off with a vibrator you kept in your bedside table, and he all but lost it. You vaguely remembered saying something along the lines of ‘why do we need men if these exist?’. Overall, he had a bad experience with you and your vibrator, so he did away with it… or so he thought. You, of course, hadn’t used your secret toy since you had bought it, but you were sure that if there was any time to use it, it was now. You grabbed it, clutching it in one hand and made your way to his office. You didn’t knock and he didn’t look up as you walked in. He always got so hyper focused on what he was doing and now it would lead to his downfall.

You pulled up an extra chair, lounging back, and called his name. His head snapped up and he turned around to face you, the document he was holding slipping out of his hand as he observed the sight before him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned.

“What you’re apparently too busy to do.” You replied, switching on the vibrator. His eyes darted towards the toy and you could already see the anger forming on his face.

You spread your legs, putting on a show, and began to run the toy up and down the fabric of the panties, letting out a dramatic moan.

“You stupid fucking whore,” Spencer breathed out, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Is this really how you wanna get my attention?”

You started off slowly, your empty hand dragging down your right side to grip your breast, pinching your nipple over the practically see-through fabric of your bra, your hips involuntarily bucking at the sensation. You watched as Spencer’s face grew stern, eyes hiding a fire behind them, and the way his cock grew hard beneath his pants. He was leaning forward now, and you locked eyes with him as you pulled your panties to the side, the vibrator pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked up straight away and you let out a shaky breath at how sensitive you were. You locked eyes with him as you dragged the vibrator down from your clit to your hole and pushed it inside yourself with a loud groan of pleasure.

“If you’re going to put on a show,” he said lowly. “Then make it a good one. Spread yourself open for me, slut. Let daddy see everything.”

You scoffed. Did he think you were doing this for him? No. You had met your goal, gotten his attention, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of listening.

“So now you want to look at me, huh?” You questioned breathily, still pumping the toy in and out of yourself. “Well I’m sorry, Spencer, but I’m a bit busy.” You were pushing all of his buttons. Speaking in such a bratty tone, speaking his name with such venom. You had to admit you were scared you may be digging your grave. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and you bit your lip, pleading with your eyes and trying to catch your breath.

You wondered, for a moment, why he wasn’t stopping you. Why he hadn’t immediately taken away the toy, but as your legs shook and you got closer to your climax you realized. He was watching, waiting for the moment that would be most inconvenient to stop you. And you were right. As you struggled to contain your moans you watched him stand up, walking over to you and snatching your hand. He was quick. Aggressive. In one swift motion he had grabbed your hand and pulled it away from your body, ripping the vibrator away as well. You could feel it in his bruising tight grip that he wasn’t playing around.

“What did you think was going to happen when you came in here dressed like this? What did you think I would do when you started touching yourself? Did you think you would convince me to be nicer to you? To give you attention?” He seethed, using his other hand to grab the vibrator from you, switching it off and tossing it onto the floor.

“Because all it did was remind me of how you never seem to learn your lesson. I don’t know why I even waste my time with such an insolent little slut. You just can’t help yourself. Always doing things you’re not supposed to, never listening to a word daddy says, but who’s attention are you always vying for?”

You looked up at him, opting to stay silent.

“Not so bold now, are we?” He questioned. He backed away from you, sitting back down on his chair, and tapping his hand on his knees. “That’s fine. You don’t have to apologize yet, you just need to come show daddy how sorry you are.” Your eyes widened as you realized what he wanted. Oh. You hopped out of your chair, cautiously walking over to him, and as soon as you were within grabbing distance his hand snaked around your waist, pulling you towards him and bending you over his knee. “How many do we think you deserve for this little show, hm?” He questioned, a hand rubbing over your ass gently, soothing before the inevitable pain. “Maybe 20?”

You shook your head violently. “N-No. Please no. Too many.” You breathed out.

“Well if I let you decide your own punishment it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, now would it?” He chuckled. “Fifteen, then. And you’re going to count and thank me after each and every one, isn’t that right?”

You gulped, body tensing. “Y-Yes, daddy.”

You felt the warmth of his hand leave your body and you closed your eyes, bracing yourself, until you felt the hard blow of his hand landing back onto your ass.

He paused. Waiting. “One. T-Thank you, daddy.” You said softly.

“Good girl.” He retracted his hand again, landing another blow, and the process continued. At around number six you had tears welling in your eyes. You were so focused on the pain you forgot to speak up, whimpering instead. “If you don’t count then we’ll have to start over.” Spencer warned, and you became panicked, quickly spitting out the number and your thanks. By the time your punishment was over you were openly weeping, your nerves burning from the repeated abuse. “Are you sorry?” Spencer asked you as he sat you up.

You sniffled, nodding. “I’m sorry. I won’t ever do anything like it again.”

“Good, baby.” He was sweeter now, a shift in mood from a few seconds earlier. “You look so pretty with your ass all bruised up for me.” He wiped a tear from your eyes and you smiled weakly. “But daddy isn’t done with you quite yet.” He stood up, hoisting you with him, and pushed the chair out of the way. “Tell me what you you want, slut.” He was kissing your neck, hands groping at any of the bare skin they could find.

“I-I want you to fuck me,” you moaned out, leaning into his touch. “Please. I-I’m sorry for being bad but I promise I’ll be good for you now.”

“Yeah? You think you deserve to be fucked? After everything you’ve done?” He asked, tugging your panties down your thighs.

“I wanna show you that I can be a good girl…” you explained. “Want you to use me to make yourself feel good.”

That seemed convincing enough because a few seconds later and your face was being pressed into his desk, files scattering around as he bent you over. You cried out gently as he pushed into you. He let out a groan of satisfaction, giving you minimal time to adjust before he began to thrust at a fast and steady pace. It stung, the feeling of his hips snapping onto the sensitive and bruised skin of your ass overtaking your senses, and you mewled in pain. He didn’t care, though, a hand moving to push your face further down into the wood of the desk. The hand was tangled in your hair, tugging gently at the roots, and you felt the desk shake with the pressure of each thrust.

You were whimpering, more tears threatening to spill, but beneath the pain you could feel your orgasm building. You barely had time to announce it before it flooded over you, your body clenching around Spencer. A few moments later you were being pulled up by your scalp as Spencer sunk his teeth into your neck as he came, the warm substance filling you up and dripping down your thighs.

You were exhausted, almost flopping back down onto the desk as he loosened his grip on your hair and pulled out of you. “You know I was on the last document of the night when you came in,” Spencer told you, his voice hoarse. “If you had just waited two more minutes I wouldn’t have had to do any of this.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. Of course. Luck was never on your side. “Oh well, not being able to sit comfortably for a few weeks isn’t too bad, plus you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

He raised his brows at you. “Watch yourself, we can make those few weeks a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You shook your head. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #dom!spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #dom!spencer reid #i didnt proof read this im so fucking sorry

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seeuonadarknite · 4 years

Text

puppy — yandere oikawa tooru x f. reader

hi i got inspired by @vermiliren’s yandere prompts and used two different prompts 😳 it’s been a while since i’ve watched hq (need to get caught up tBH) but the hq boys are fun to write for and i wanted to try it out with oikawa so i’m sorry if i didn’t portray him right-

warnings: toxic parents, kidnapping, abuse, noncon, degradation, facefucking

"Seriously? You lost another game?" The tantalizing tone of Oikawa's mother made him want to cringe.

It felt as if all his parents cared about was his volleyball career. They never asked about his wellbeing, they never asked about his grades, and they never asked about his social life. All they seemed to care about was volleyball.

And that's all anyone really cared about when it came to him. He was the great king, after all. He may have had good looks, but his fan club would have never supported him if it weren’t for his talents. It sucked.

Glancing up at his mother and father, who both seemed very distressed at his recent loss, he sighed. "Sorry, ma. I know you were rooting for me. I'll get em next time!" He sent his mother his signature grin, in hopes of receiving reassuring words or at least a smile back.

Nothing. She didn't even bat an eye. "Go to your room. I can't bear the sight of you right now." It was as if she wanted to call him a pathetic, good for nothing kid. It was frustrating; having parents that lived through him. If he wasn't successful, then they weren't successful.

The pressure was immense. Not only did he feel pressured by his team and fans, but his own parents too! If he made a simple mistake, he'd be done for. His stress was building up; he needed to relieve it before he messed up again.

Pushing his seat backwards, Oikawa departed from the dining room table and made his way down the stairs. His room was pretty secluded, he opted on taking the basement because it was spacious and pretty soundproof. He didn't have to worry about his parents hearing him yanking it, right?

Wrong. He didn't have to worry about the girl that had been locked down there in his closet. Without time to spare, Oikawa pulled the closet door open, revealing your peaceful, unconscious body.

It was really a shame that he had to disturb your peace. "Wake up, puppy." Your bloodshot eyes shot open, only to meet with your kidnapper's dull brown ones.

How long had you been in here? It was really a mystery to you. Oikawa had purposefully taken all clocks out of the room. He didn't want you to have a sense of time, he wanted you to suffer. He believed you deserved to go through the same misery that he did.

"You love me, right? So you wouldn't mind me using you to destress. It's real tough being in my shoes, you know? You have it easy!" The way he spoke sickened you.

It was as if he believed you were living the dream down here. You didn't have to go to work or school, so what was there to complain about? All you have to do is sit back and let Oikawa use you however and whenever he pleases.

Unfortunately, you were far too weak to fight back. Your body was scattered with bruises, scars, and love bites. He ruined you; you were a perfectly clean canvas before he painted you with bruises. All you could really do was beg. Beg like a pitiful puppy at the mercy of a cruel owner.

"Please, T-Tooru.." You knew how much he enjoyed hearing his name roll off of your tongue. "..Don't do this. I'm— I'm still sore from last night!" And you were. The previous night he had yanked your hair, slammed your face into the hard flooring, and fucked you from behind. All because you told him you missed your family.

A small chuckle sounded throughout the four walls of his room. What were you thinking? He couldn't care less about your wellbeing. "I will use you however I want to."

These were the last words that fell from his mouth before shoving you to the floor and placing a foot in between your breasts. "Beg me to stop." He looked down at you with a terrifying gleam in his eyes. One that told you that he could kill you if he wanted to.

"P-Please! I-" A fit of coughs erupted from your throat. "..can't breathe!" You felt as if you were about to lose consciousness when he finally stopped applying pressure and removed his foot. However, your torment didn't end there.

Dragging you up by your hair, Oikawa sent you a glare before giving you another command. "On your knees." Before you could receive another unethical punishment, you quickly obliged, getting into the said position. The position made you wince a little, thanks to the bruises that covered both of your knees.

Oikawa smirked at you before unbuckling his belt and pulling out his cock. "That's a good girl! Now, suck." He didn't even give you a chance to retaliate as he nudged the tip of his cock up against your lips. You reluctantly parted your lips, allowing him to push himself further into your mouth with ease.

Your pace was slow and lethargic whilst you uncoordinatedly swirled your tongue around the length of his cock, pumping whatever you couldn't fit into your mouth with your hand. Unfortunately for Oikawa, you had little to no energy, so you didn't put much effort into your movements.

This just wouldn't do. It felt like he was getting sucked off by a zombie. Letting out a dramatic huff, Oikawa gripped your hair with both of his hands, pushing your head down to the base of his cock. Your eyes had widened as you gagged, feeling the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You couldn't throw up, especially not on his cock. He'd fucking kill you if you did. But god, his cock was making you gag like crazy. It'd be a miracle if he managed to cum without making you vomit.

Whenever he would pull your head away and give you a second to breathe, he'd immediately push you back down, thrusting into your mouth as if you were some sort of toy. Maybe he had forgotten that you were human, just like him. Hell, maybe you had too.

His hands mercilessly tugged at your hair, causing pain to course throughout your scalp. You let out a small whimper, sending vibrations through his cock. This action only caused him to pick up the pace of his thrusting. "Fuck, you really know how to turn a guy on, eh?"

His fingers crept up onto your head, purposefully digging his short nails into your scalp. He loved seeing the pained expressions you'd make at him as you gagged on his cock. "If only the school knew where you really were.." He grunted, temporarily pulling his cock out of your mouth to bask in your expression. It was perfect, he loved the way your pupils seemed to dilate ever so slightly at his taunting words.

"You're not dead! You're here with me, taking my cock like the slut you are— fuck!" Just degrading you like this really turned him on. His cock twitched inside of your mouth one last time before he shot his load into your mouth, filling your oral cavity with his semen.

"Don't even think about spitting it out. I'll just make you lick it off of the floor like the puppy that you are." You knew better than to disobey him. His threats weren't empty, and you'd prefer not to taste the floor; Oikawa was enough.

Pulling his lengthy cock out of the warmth of your mouth, Oikawa watched as you reluctantly swallowed his sickeningly salty semen. Not only was the flavor revolting, but the substance was thick and always stuck to your throat. It was gross.

Oikawa watched your face contort into a cringe as you finished swallowing his semen. God, this was a sight he'd never grow tired of. Crouching down to reach your height, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

As he leaned away, his eyes made contact with yours. It was odd, the glare in his eyes had softened. Was he really going to act like he didn't just force you to down his cum just a minute ago?

Caressing your cheek with his hand, he let out a dreamy sigh. "You’re such an obedient little puppy.”

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter part 3

Y’all cannot stop me from writing this series 😭😭I want to write more gwynriel, but the thought of a love triangle has angered me once again, so my hyper fixation has transferred elsewhere.

If you have any suggestion for future fics leave a comment below.

"Do you think mates are as rare as the Fae say? Everyone in my life seems to have a mate, yet lore claims it to be rare." Nyx turned his head from his spot next to Isa in the meadow. They laid right next to each other as they stared up at the sky. Close enough to touch, yet not feeling it necessary in the moment.

"That iz odd that your entire family iz mated." She laughed. "Your family are the only mates I have ever met, so I would say it iz rare for everyone except them." He sighed deeply.

"What troubles you?" Isa turned her head away from the sky to look at Nyx.

"What if I never get a mate?"

"Then you never get a mate."

"Isa, I am being serious right now." He groaned as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, so that he could look at her without the grass getting in the way.

"I am too. It will happen or it will not happen. No point in fretting over it." She shrugged as if it truly did not bother her. Nyx did not understand her.

"You really do not care if you ever find a mate?"

"I do not need a mate to find love or pleasure."

"But what if you find your mate while with someone else?" He felt the need to point out. He could not love someone while his mate was still out there. Nyx thought it selfish to love someone with the knowledge they were not his mate. What would they do once he did find his mate? What would he do?

"Like my father and your mother?" Isa raised an eyebrow at this.

"Well not exactly like that, but yes I suppose." Nyx laid himself back on the grass and looked back up at the sky. Isa turned her head away after a minute as well.

"Well if they were truly my mate, then they would wait for me. And if the person I was with is not my mate, then fate has us ending at some point, no? I would let everything occur naturally I suppose."

"If you were my mom, would you have left Tamlin for my father if he had not been awful?" Nyx had always been curious about Isa's opinion on the matter. She always seemed so spiteful of Feyre that perhaps she had heard a different story than what Nyx knew to be true.

"Yes. I would have found myself unhappy with life as a wife. I was made for so much more than that." She let out a deep sigh. Nyx contemplated her answer. He supposed that to be true. He could not imagine Isa playing house wife to anyone, but especially one that expected her to pop out babies and display herself only when beneficial to them.

"Would you ever marry?" He asked. She seemed quick to offer a marriage proposal to Nyx when they first met, but that had obviously been a joke.

"For love?" She shrugged. "I am far more likely to marry for political power than I am for love. I am strides behind with alliances among the seven high lords. When I take power the Spring Court will be weak simply because I am unknown of. Other courts will test my strength and intelligence."

"That is strategic." He also felt it was sad. She clearly was not a romantic at heart like he was. "I want more from life than power. I want what my parents have. Is that too much to ask for?" Nyx found himself frustrated with the fact that he had not found his mate yet. He had to keep reminding himself that it took his father five hundred years and his grandfather nine hundred years. It might make him mad if he had to wait that long though.

"I shall pray to the spirits about it."

"About what?"

A noise interrupted them before she could respond. Both of them stood quickly to surveil their surroundings. They saw nothing, but moved to put their backs to each other so that they could not be blindsided. Isa pulled her two short swords from their sheaths as Nyx prepared his ax and shield.

"What was that?" He whispered to her. She shushed him as they turned simultaneously with their backs still firmly placed together.

"Let's get out of here." She finally responded back but before he could respond a figured winnowed right in front of each of them and blew a powdery substance onto them. They winnowed away again just as Isa lifted one sword.

"Shit." She muttered. Nyx tried to winnow only to discover that he could not. Fucking faebane he thought. Nyx's hand went slack around his ax, and then a group of six males approached them. They came at them from Isa's side so Nyx turned to face the males. He stumbled a bit. The line of Fae males stopped about twenty paces away. Nyx did not recognize them. It was possible that Isa did, but she did not say otherwise as they stood across from them. Each male was armed with a weapon and a shield.

"I will take the three on the left. You got the other three?" She asked. He did not respond as she ran towards them. He wanted to wait to let them make the first move, but after she started running, the assailants came forward as well.

He seemed caught in a trance, watching Isa fight. One of her swords clashed with the tallest male while she simultaneously swiped at another one of the fighters. The tallest one swung his arm out, almost decapitating Isa, but she bent backward at the last second. She sliced an artery in one of their legs before checking her surroundings. Nyx assumed she was looking for him, but he had not yet moved for some reason. The second of distraction allowed for the tall one to cut her arm. It was so deep that Nyx swore he could see the bone all the way from here. The only acknowledgment of pain from Isa was a grunt, and then she ran her sword right through him. Nyx was jostled from his trance by an approaching fighter. Surprisingly, he walked up to him at a leisurely pace. Isa, once again, glanced back.

"Nyx!" She shouted as the male lifted his weapon. Isa tried to run back towards Nyx, but was tackled to the ground as she started to flee. Right before the male delivered the killing blow, his face started to droop. Nyx stared in horror as his face appeared to be melting off. The assailant went to grab at his face as he stumbled away from Nyx. His screams would haunt Nyx's nightmares for a very long time after this. He looked for Isa again. She was slicing the neck of one of the males on his knees. To his surprise though, her tattoos were glowing. She used witch magic, he realized.

"Move your ass, Nyx." She shouted from where she engaged all three males.

He continued to find himself surprised that they focused all their attention on her. He was not proving to be much of a threat, he supposed. He willed himself to move towards Isa, but something stopped him. He wanted to help his friend, he truly did. Her use of blood magic made things complicated. He did not want to be associated with the mayhem that was bound to be the consequences of it. As she took out her fourth male, the last two winnowed away. He watched her take a deep breathe of relief. Their eyes made contact, but before she could start berating him, the males reappeared right in front of Nyx.

"Fight!" Isa shouted. Nyx assumed his reflexes were worse than he originally thought because he did not move a muscle. The males smiled at each other and then they burst in flames. It horrified Nyx to watch them burn, to hear their pleas and screams. He could do nothing to stop it. He flicked his eyes to Isa as she intently watched the burning men. Her tattoos were glowing still, and she was reciting something. He could not hear her, but watched as her lips moved. After what felt like an eternity, the males were nothing but ash. He could hear their screams echoing in his ears though.

"Vat da fook vaz dat?"

It was the thickest he had ever heard her accent which meant she was spitting mad. He could not necessarily fault her for her anger, but he was in shock. Even in war, he had not quite seen brutality to that extent in a fight. Nyx continued to stare at the body with the face that Isa melted off. His eyes flickered back to her. She was breathing heavily and had a deep cut on her arm that she was now trying to twist around with a ripped piece of cloth from her dress. Her tattoos were no longer glowing, but several new ones appeared on her hands and fingers. They looked similar to her others, but now they were bright red and irritated as if someone had scratched them into her skin instead of tattooing ink. She wiped sweat and dirt away from her forehead and roughly pulled her hair away from her bruised face in a messy updo.

"Are you actually insane?" Isa asked.

She was more composed now as she slipped into strategic mode. She was planning on what to do now since Nyx was obviously going to be of no assistance and they could not winnow for probably a few more hours. He continued to stare at the bodies, thinking of how easy it seemed for her to do this. Even now, she seemed unbothered.

"I mean when Lucien said you were a mediocre fighter, I assumed that meant you vould at least fight. Not just stand there as I did all the work."

She was digging through all their pockets rather roughly. She was looking for any identifying information from their attackers, but it only managed to annoy Nyx. She did not have any respect for the dead if this was how she handled their bodies.

"You melted his face off." Was all he could say. Her head snapped up to glare at him harder than she ever had anyone else. She was upon him in an instant, shoving him by his shoulders.

"To save your unhelpful ass!" She screeched.

"You set these two on fire!"

"Well I apologize that in the heat of battle I did not consider more humane methods of death." She turned to walk away.

"My father was right." He muttered to himself. Isa stopped cold in her tracks, slowly turning around. Her face was void of emotion.

"Say that again." Her voice was deathly calm. It unnerved Nyx after what he had just witnessed.

"You have claimed that witch magic is not malevolent. Clearly, your definition is a bit skewed."

"I make no apologies for how I save the people I love. And you have no right to pass judgement when you just stood there and watched! You vould have let them butcher me, yet I am the immoral one?"

They both recognized what she accidentally admitted but neither of them was willing to call attention to it or address it.

"Why did it have to be like that though? You could have used any method."

"That iz not how it works." She grabbed at her hair, clearly frustrated. "I request the help from the spirits and they oblige. I do not get a choice in the manner of their help. But trust me, it iz not without a price."

"What is the price for this?"

She pursed her lips. She would not tell him what she must give for saving both of their lives.

"You have been waiting to throw this back in my face, no? Waiting for one moment where you could prove your parents were not in the wrong?" Isa was pacing back and forth at this point, but her tattoos had finally stopped glowing.

"Trust me, I never expected something like this from you." Nyx spat at her. He wanted to reel in his anger. However, he found it almost impossible.

"Do not zit on your high horse and pretend your father would not have done the exact same thing for your mother."

"We are not my parents." He reminded her. She tried to compose herself before Nyx could see her reaction. Unfortunately for her, she was not fast enough. Nyx watched her flinch at his vehement response.

"Vell you are certainly right about that. Neither of your parents would have stood and vatched as the other risked their life."

He had no excuse for why he stood there. Normally, he would have fought side by side with her. He had fought in battles before and he thought he had seen all the evils war had to offer. This was a completely different level. While they had been outnumbered, the males were unskilled and untrained. Isa could have held them off alone with no magic. It may have required more effort, but Nyx believed any magic was unnecessary. As much as he wanted to help, for some reason his body refused to move. The faebane the attackers used did not allow for them to winnow away, but Nyx had never heard of it impacting the body physically.

"You could have shape shifted." She laughed almost hysterically at that.

"If you knew what my other form vaz, you vould realize that death by it vould not be lezz brutal."

He shook his head and finally moved from his position. He started scouting the area to make sure there were no more assailants hiding anywhere.

"Oh, zo now you are helpful?" It was full of sarcasm as she rolled her eyes. She plopped herself down on the ground and closed her eyes.

Nyx was not exactly sure why he was so angry. Perhaps it was because he felt embarrassed that she saved both of them while he stood there like a statue. Perhaps he felt lied to like everything she had ever defended was really just a scheme to win over the Night Court. But truly? It had more to do with the fact that if he had aided Isa, she would not have felt the need to use her witch magic.

"Damn-ti your parents to come retrieve us." She demanded after laying down on the grass and covering her eyes with the crook of her arm to block out the sun.

Now why could he not think of that before? Just another thought to make him feel guilty. He almost corrected her enunciation like he normally did, but he stopped himself in the last second.

"Oh and next time, a zimple thank you vould suvice."

***

"What the hell happened?" Tamlin shouted as Feyre and Rhysand winnowed in Isa and Nyx. Isa was looking worse for wear, but since neither of the children were talking, the high lord and lady did not have an answer. Tamlin zeroed in on Isa's hands and the new tattoos that were present.

"Oh Isa," his voice changed and was suddenly much graver than it had been. "What have you done?"

"Vat I had to." She snapped as she dropped herself down on the couch in Tamlin's study. She was exhausted after the fight and just wanted to sleep.

"Well you look fucking fine." Tamlin turned his glare to Nyx from where he stood in front of his desk. "Care to explain why you leave with my daughter in perfect condition, and return her home on the brink of collapse?"

Nyx clenched his jaw. He did not want to say anything in front of Tamlin or his daughter. He wanted to go home and talk to his parents. Though, his parents kept giving him nervous glances, so he was unsure if they would be willing to do that right about now.

"Just leave it." Isa muttered. Her eyes were closed with her good arm thrown over her face. Rhysand scanned Isa's entire body. His eyes rested on her hands like Tamlin's had.

"What did you give? To protect our son?" His voice was soft and his eyes were sad. He must have known more than Nyx about potential consequences of witch magic. Feyre sat next to Isa on the couch to grab her hand. Nyx was confused by his parents change of heart where Isa was concerned. Previously, they had always been antagonistic towards her, but now they were being...soft.

"My first born." She muttered. Feyre sucked in a harsh breath as Tamlin closed his eyes in frustration. Nyx did not know how to feel. She was willing to give up her first child for him? He felt that only proved his point further. What kind of female was willing to give up a future child for a male she barely knew just three months ago? And one that was not even her mate? Nyx furrowed his brow.

"I never asked you to do that." He defended, but he was only met with three pairs of glaring eyes that told him to remain quiet. Isa must have been exhausted though because her response was understanding.

"I know."

Tamlin did not understand, however. He pounded his fist on the desk.

"Isabelle, you are my only offspring. It is your responsibility to continue the family line. There will be no one to succeed after you die, if you do not conceive multiple children. You know how difficult this is for the fae." Something he said ignited a fire in Isa. She immediately sat up from the couch to glare at her father.

"That iz not a fair responsibility to put on me! You could have more children! All you would have to do iz stick it in a different woman everyday until one stuck."

"Isabelle, watch your mouth." He scolded her as though she were a child. Tamlin walked back around the desk and took a seat. Isa took a long, deep breath before speaking again.

"I do not," she paused nervously, looking around. "Think I vant children." She finished. Isa rubbed her hands together in a way that she normally did when she felt anxious. Suddenly, Nyx felt his parents and him should not be here for this conversation. It felt private. Nyx never knew Isa may not want children. They had never really discussed it, but had assumed- as much as Tamlin did, apparently- that she would have at least one to continue the line.

"Oh." Tamlin awkwardly shifted in his chair. He made eye contact with Feyre and tried to motion to her to say some words of comfort. Feyre patted Isa's arm gently.

"You might change your mind once you find your mate?" Feyre offered unhelpfully. Tamlin put her on the spot and she was unsure what words of comfort Isa may be seeking. Those were not it if her reaction was anything to go by. She huffed loudly.

"Does not matter now, no? I cannot have children without sacrificing the first one which I vill not do. Besides, I am no mare meant for breeding. I vas meant for something more than being stuck at home caring for and nurturing a child."

"That is hardly a fair assessment of motherhood Isa." Feyre shook her head as she said this. "You can still do great things and be a mother."

"Are you to tell me that you took trips to the Court of nightmares to handle izzues while Rhysand stayed home and breastfed Nyx?" Isa raised her eyebrows at his mother. "That you vere able train amongst Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel while pregnant? Vould you have ever earned the title 'cursebreaker' if you had been a mother at the time?"

"Motherhood is not without challenge." Feyre once again defended.

"And that is what I speak of. I do not want challenge. I have too many obstacles to overcome as it is. I do not want to add the obligation of a child to that." Isa pulled at her hair. Nyx felt it best that he stay quiet. There were too many emotions flying as it was, no need to add fuel to the fire.

"Enough." Tamlin declared. "Isa, you are right. I should never have put that responsibility on you. I could just as easily have another child."

Isa let out a breathe in relief. Nyx could see that she feared disappointing her father. He wondered if she would have had multiple children if Tamlin had insisted on it. Luckily for Isa, Tamlin seemed to have changed his ways from when his mother and him were together.

"I think it is best if you were to leave." Tamlin suggested as he stared at Nyx's parents. "I need to check on Isa's wounds and continue this conversation...privately." Feyre nodded before walking over to where Rhysand stood.

"Thank you again, Isa." Rhys murmured before grabbing both wife and son and winnowing away.

"Thank fuck." Is all Isa managed to say.

#nyx acotar #tamlins daughter #tamlin #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar

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