#there is something so desperate and emotional and raw about this dynamic and it makes me fucking wild

[littlemsshoney]

Insatiable Hunger

Hannibal Lecter × patient!reader

Warnings: unhealthy dynamics, obssesive relationship, slight stalking, Hannibal bring emotionally manipulative dunno

(first time writing about hannibal, kinda nervous be aware)

At first you were just another patient, a potential pawn or a future extravagant dinner he would enjoy some Friday night. Another lost and troubled soul that was unfortunate enough to find him.

However his interest grew like a forest fire, a burning insatiable hunger consumed him more and more with each one of your sessions.

There was something about you that caught his eye. The way you talked, the way you carried yourself.

He started taking notes of every little detail of your life and with some research of his own he soon knew every aspect of your life. Where you live, where you work, who your friends are, which cafe you spend your Saturday morning everything in.

He knew that he should feel bad for crossing such a line between a therapist and a patient but he didn’t really. After all, it wasn't that hard. With your social media your life was practically an open book for everyone to read and enjoy and if he didn’t then he was sure someone else did.

Only the thought made him angry. It wasn’t about your safety but more about his hurt ego. He had his eye on you, no one else should change that and he should make it known.

Of course he had always been a fan of traditional courting so don’t be confused when you start bumping into him in the most random places at some point with the excuse of cheering you up even being invited to one of his glamorous dinner parties. All of those situations you tried to avoid and refuse gracefully, not because of being aware of his true intentions but rather because you knew there was a thin line you shouldn’t cross.

So you didn't leave him any other way. He truly wanted to be gentle and kind with you and treat you like the precious, vulnerable creature you were in his mind but you just won’t have it the easy way, will you?

The thought of being patient- one of the tarits he awlways took pride on- now felt like a real torture. He wanted to consume you whole. There was something about you that reflected some part of him, an unknown familiarity of your pain. He wanted to break you down, then pick up your parts and build you up. Then do it all over again.

Your sessions were heavy at least. Raw honesty from your part and emotional manipulation from his all to serve the creation of an intense bond, a codependent relationship.

Your wellbeing and mental health had turned into a chess game and the game was anything but fair. In less than two months your whole well being was hanging from a thread and only he could help you or tear you apart.

One can only imagine the sadistic pleasure he took from your vulnerability and pain. Comfortably he sat at his armchair watching as you fell apart in front of him each week feeling worse and worse. All he had to do was just watch and enjoy, proud of his creation.

In his free time he recalled how beautifully you cried, so broken and desperate for him to fix you but all he wanted was lick your tears and take you in. He imagined you being under him, crying - from pleasure - his name rolling off your tongue over and over again.

Soon he had you feeling as if the whole world had turned against you. You couldn’t even trust your own judgement, you had cut ties with most of your friends -Dr Lecter advised you that none of them were genuine-you had become more and more isolated, you felt like you’re turning paranoid.

And then the final act of his play

“I’m really sorry I didn’t know where else to go” and like clockwork you deliberately walked onto his trap, basically sealing your own fate. All he had to do now is hold his door wide open for you to come in.

And then checkmate. That eventful evening standing on the doorstep of the only person you thought truly cared about you. He let you in and like a wounded bird he took you into his arms with such generosity and kindness in contrast to everyone else in your life. The irony.

“It will all be alright”

You wrap your arms around him, holding onto him for dear life, holding onto the only person that seems to understand you and actually wants to help you. As you cry on his shoulder he rests his chin on your head and gently caresses your hair.

Despite your persistence to resist him you are finally giving in. He kisses the crown of your head and though you know it is wrong you let him. You would let him do anything to keep him and he knows it.

Frozen in place you close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, then your eyes and cheek. You know what comes next yet you do not pull away, you don't resist what’s inevitable. A second passes and he doesn’t move, you open your eyes to see him staring at your lips. Now you know you want it, you feel his hunger as your own and you’re starving for it.

Grabbing him by his expensive tie you kiss him, not gently as he did but with desperation and need to be seen and understood.

Pleased he lets you have control just this once for the rest of your time together. He knew you would soon come to realise it’s only him you ever needed.

[cursedvibes]

I know you like tenken, takaken and sukume but what are some other relationships or dynamics do you like in jjk and why? Could be romantic, platonic, familial, antagonistic or just plain toxic and fucked up, anything.

Thanks for the interesting ask! These are my favourites at the moment.

Mahito & Yuuji

I think it's the best antagonistic relationship Yuuji has in the entire manga. I like them both as a ship and platonically for what we get in canon. Although considering the scene in the anime where Mahito tries to murder kiss Yuuji, you could say it's one-sidedly canon.

I miss Mahito a lot lately and come to only appreciate him more and more with time. He was very good at building up a sense of dread and he has a viciousness to him that's lacking in the current Shinjuku fight for me.

He mirrors Yuuji without literally being related to him (so far, who knows what else Gege will reveal to be in Yuuji's gene cocktail). Yuuji learns something from him, reflects upon himself, his actions, who he wants to be and why he fights. They are both still figuring each other and themselves out. Both of them grow during their fights and become more dangerous, desperate and feral any time they meet. I love how Mahito is not only able to break Yuuji, but also to break him. Yuuji's hatred for Sukuna is smouldering, while for Mahito it is a raging fire. Yuuji has nothing to learn from Sukuna and no interest to engage with him anymore, while for Mahito it was raw and personal and resulted in Yuuji embracing the disgusting and ruthless side of himself that makes him so cold against Sukuna.

It's been great to see how even now Mahito still influences Yuuji. He was the first one who really taught him about the soul and what it can be capable of. Any time the soul is brought up, Yuuji's first thought is how Mahito was able to manipulate and contort it. He is able to hurt Sukuna so much because of what he learned from Mahito. As much as I miss Mahito and his personality, it wouldn't make sense to bring him back now, so I'm glad to see his continued impact on Yuuji this way. Overall, what I like about the two is how "juvenile" their conflict is. Cruelty of a child and innocence of a child clashing and both of them improving, growing and maturing through it. I also think it's very fitting that Yuuji never got to exorcise Mahito because the message is that Mahito represents a different side of him and he shouldn't ignore or destroy that side, he has to embrace it to be able to stomach what lies ahead.

Maki & Mai

If done right, I'm always a sucker for twin relationships, especially the codependency in it. I wouldn't say Maki & Mai are my favourite example of them or the best written one, but I still like them for what they are, particularly everything in Perfect Preparation and the Sakurajima colony. It could've been better and more consistently set up, but the payoff is still emotional and impactful and that's what I like them for.

Both of them need each other, wanted to help each other in their own way, but they never saw eye-to-eye or managed to communicate properly until after Mai's death. They were holding each other back through more than just the jujutsu consequences of being born a twin. Mai wanted Maki to give up and live with her at the bottom and Maki thought she had to shoulder all responsibility and could only go on and pave a way for them alone. Even after the have "become one" in a jujutsu sense and Maki unlocked her Heavenly Restriction, they don't immediately work together and have to learn how to communicate with each other and lift each other up, make up for what the other can't do. And through understanding Mai better and learning to hold her and fight together with her, she also begins to understand herself better.

I wish we got a more in-depth look at them, their past and relationship while both were alive before the Perfect Preparation arc. I hope Maki's arc will have a satisfying end and she will find something meaningful to do with her life.

Hakari & Uraume

Every time the leaks come out, I'm hoping for at least a glimpse at these two. There's been setup for some really interesting exploration of the themes of humanity and strength here. They are also just such a funny duo and it gets more and more hilarious the more chapters pass by and we don't see them. While Sukuna plays whac-a-mole with the main group, Hakari and Uraume have been "fighting" for 20 chapters now without seemingly getting anywhere except gossiping about what happens over at the main source of action. Wouldn't be surprised if we skip back to them to see them eating ice cream while watching the others get beaten up.

On a more serious note, I really hope the little speech Uraume gave in ch 245 gets picked up again and explored upon because it was the most interesting commentary we got so far on the source of sorcerers power, what it means to be human when you are so strong and also Uraume's background. Uraume's view of humanity and strength seems to slightly differ from Sukuna's and they also seem to reflect upon it more. They say forming relationships and fear of losing said relationships is what makes you weak and yet they have no problem following Sukuna and worrying about him. They are even open to forming bonds with others like Kenjaku or even Hakari. Hakari is actually the person we have seen them be most relaxed and friendly with so far. With Sukuna there is always a remaining formality and Kenjaku annoys them, but with Hakari they chat like a normal person. They make fun of him, but it's very colloquial. It seems like they actually came to see him as a true equal. There is no binding vow or old history binding them together, they simply want to keep Hakari from interfering with the fight and through that they got to engage with him without any pretence.

I just wish we actually got to see how their relationship developed over that now pretty significant amount of time and to see more of Uraume's worldview and maybe Hakari's too. He broke away from Jujutsu Tech and was left to build up his own independent existence together with Kirara. Very similar to Uraume and Sukuna. Now if we could only explore that connection between them more. On page. Not off-screen. I would've taken that any time over the pointless intervention from Geto's cult members or Kusakabe sacrificing himself.

Kusakabe & Yaga

I think this is Kusakabe's most interesting relationship and what actually gives him some depth beyond Exposition Guy. It's also where we see Yaga's more overtly caring side beyond his interactions with Panda. Unfortunately, it gets overlooked a lot, in part because Gege doesn't linger much on it beyond one or two chapters and Kusakabe's last words before getting cut down. There is literally nothing about this ship in fandom spaces. Probably because for some reason people think Yaga isn't hot enough (he's the literal definition of a dilf what more do you want?)...

Chapter 147 is interesting because it shows us the closest relationships and most hidden secrets both Kusakabe and Yaga have. We learn that Yaga not only makes autonomous puppets, but he actually has a whole Hundred Acre Wood-type of retreat full of the souls of dead people, children in particular. They aren't weapons like Panda, they don't fight, they are just allowed to live there. Protected by Tengen interestingly enough. She probably just doesn't care what he does or thinks it mildly interesting/quirky. This is also where we find out that Kusakabe has a sister (Usami?), who has been severely traumatized to the point of being catatonic and lost her son, Kusakabe's nephew. Despite the taboo, both Kusakabe and Yaga are willing to raise the dead not only to help her, but also to give Kusakabe something of his family back. It's the most vulnerable moment we've gotten of him and it speaks of their deep bond that Yaga was willing to do this. Doubt he would do this for just any jujutsu teacher (who doesn't even work for him). Creating that kind of cursed corpse isn't easy after all. But nothing strengthens a bond like necromancy. Kusakabe's last words about Yaga in ch 254 are also interesting. He fights for Yaga, knowing he wouldn't force him to do this, but reflecting on how they used to be able to fight together. They must have known each other for a long time. Kusakabe tells himself multiple times to not linger on the dead, but any time he does, it's because of Yaga.

A very interesting relationship with much potential that goes underexplored. I would've much preferred for his relationship with Yaga to be highlighted more in his fight against Sukuna than that out of place "interview" where people who barely know Kusakabe explain his character to us. If they could bring Gojo and Nanami back from the dead, they could've shown Yaga too. If you really want me to believe that Kusakabe is a kind person, show me more of how he acts around the people he actually cares about, i.e. Yaga and Miwa. He's a very different person around them, particularly Yaga and that's when he allows himself to be vulnerable.

So yeah, I think they explored each other's bodies to help each other through their grief.

[nyxofdemons]

unable to get behind the idea that fizz "forgave blitz too quickly" or that it was a writing flaw how easily he accepted blitz's version of the story or whatever like. no!!! it makes sense!!!

blitz was his best friend!! of COURSE he wouldn't want to believe that blitz tried to hurt him so badly!! blitz tells him what happened and fizz IMMEDIATELY softens in the way he's looking at him. he doesn't even look mad or like he thinks he's being lied to, like -

LOOK AT HIS FACE HE WANTED TO FORGIVE BLITZ SO BADLY. HE NEVER WANTED TO BELIEVE THAT BLITZ DID THIS TO HIM ON PURPOSE.

even all his little microexpressions in this one scene say SO MUCH

fizz probably spent SO LONG trying to rationalize or explain what happened to him, he probably spent AGES hoping so badly that there was an explanation that DIDN'T involve his best friend hating him so much he tried to kill him as painfully as possible

and to say it feels contrived; i just. fizz CARES!! the same way blitz has always CARED!! they never wanted to stop being in each other's lives - they both suffered a major trauma and were made to believe that the other one hated them, but they were BEST friends and always had been. how could either of them ever not jump at the chance that it was a mistake? how could fizz not cling to the possibility that his best friend might be able to still be his best friend?

[regulusrules]

A very long meta explaining why the confession scene in Good Omens is the best that has ever been written and performed on screen

First of, the scene begins with two different realisations that makes each of them believe that their dynamic will significantly change (Crowley wanting to confess his love and Aziraphale wanting to break out the news about heaven). This, you can see, creates an unprecedented shift in their energy, makes them super excited (Azi) and super nervous (Crowley) to break the news to one another. And despite the two matters being drastically different, when Aziraphale begins his revelation we don't get the Miscommunication trope where Crowley listens to the offer and passively retreats back his emotions. No. He is steadfast in his resolution, in his love for Aziraphale.

And that right here is king attitude no.1, because even if Aziraphale just threw something so godforsaken on him, he won't allow himself to be cowardly or let go of the one person he loves more than eternity. Crowley still bares his heart, still lets it all out, because he will not lose Aziraphale in his naivete of still believing that Heaven is good and Hell is evil. (I write this with supreme detachment of my own beliefs lol) He tries to make Aziraphale understand that sides didn't do them any good the past 6000 years, that the only solid foundation they ever had was them, and that Crowley would rather have them than have everything.

The way you hear Tennant's voice breaking when he said “And we spent our whole existence pretending that we aren’t”, is the perfect reflection of how Crowley genuinely despairs the time they lost and wouldn't have any more of it. And even with how bare and raw he's feeling with revealing all this, he still goes on. He still tries to tell him and I would like to spend our whole existence together, but struggles and struggles because he's strung wide open. But he keeps trying.

Now you see here a moment of disbelief on Aziraphale's behalf, because he doesn't understand why Crowley would refuse going back to heaven with him when all Aziraphale remembers of Angel!Crowley was how utterly bright his eyes shone when he lit up the stars and surely Crowley must miss that too? He wants the same thing Crowley is saying, just in a different dimension. The “I can make a difference” immediately changes to “We can make a difference” because that's all what’s ever been for Aziraphale; them changing the small engines of the world according to their partnered will. He is genuinely benign and not ill-intentioned when he says “Nothing lasts forever”, because he truly wants a better life for them, a better existence. And that's when it gets better: Crowley has his walls back up, he's walking away, because he can't bear that he was never enough as he is for Aziraphale. That he was never worth reciprocation.

But Aziraphale doesn't let him leave.

And that is king attitude no.2, because he doesn't want Crowley to leave when things are strewn all over the place that they don't know where they stand. All Aziraphale ever wanted was for them to stand on the same ground. He asks him to come back to him but hides it by finishing it with “to heaven!” because the whole conversation is going too fast for him, and he's undergoing a religious crisis of sorts that does not end in 6000 years, yet even so he still doesn't want to lose Crowley because he's everything he has and he can't do it without him and “I — I need you!”

And that's when it gets reaaally interesting. Aziraphale's expression then turns from sorrowful desperation to rageful desperation, because he's baring his heart and Crowley is walking away from him. Their solid ground is completely shaken when he says “I don't think you understand what I'm offering you” because he's trying to be subtle about his love for Crowley and still direct as much as he can, but Crowley responds with a condescending “I think I understand a whole lot better than you do” and if this isn't peak human beings in their arguments, I don't know what is. Because we all think we are so misunderstood every time we get into an argument with someone we love, and we absolutely despise it when we feel patronized, so it's no wonder Aziraphale bitterly says “Then there's nothing more to say”, because if Crowley understands, truly does, then he'd see right past his fear to how much he loves the ground Crowley walks over.

And on the other hand I don't believe Crowley truly meant to be patronizing, but in a desperate last attempt he wanted to make Aziraphale understand what he is trying to say, what he spent his entire eternity feeling for Aziraphale, what Aziraphale would be giving up if he goes to heaven. What their life sounds like with no nightingales.

“You idiot, we could've been.. us” is the very culmination of love confessions. It took every single emotion and equated it. Tennant's delivery of it was unsurpassed in the way that it truly covers everything. And the way he grabbed Aziraphale, not entirely lovingly but desperately and angrily and, honest to God, awfully, is the reason why their kiss is so perfect. No queerbaiting, no beating around bushes. It is raw and sad and giving and agonising. Crowley wants to say see what you're giving up? See what we can have? And all Aziraphale thinks is how could you lay this on me now after everything, after every chance we could've been something, after me loving you from the first time I've met you. He's angry towards himself too, because nothing he can offer Crowley will be good enough that he chooses him instead of his choices. Sheen's choice in making his character grab Crowley's shoulder and let it go and then grab it once more in desperation is so unexplainably perfect of how much Aziraphale wants to hold onto Crowley.

But in the back of his mind, Crowley isn't choosing the same. Instead, Crowley's choosing to run from something that no doubt will rebound in their faces. They are angels and demons of heaven and hell, how could Crowley expect they could run and hide without being a repercussion later on? At least what Aziraphale is suggesting ensures that they will have a high position of power, enough to make them together, enough to make them happy, but instead, Crowley is walking away.

And when Crowley lets go of him, not the other way around because of course it is Crowley who must let go and detach from the utter pain that pierced his heart, you can see his expression being one of defeated longing. He sees all expressions passing across Aziraphale, sees how torn apart the other man is, too, and awaits just a semblance of anything they could work with. But instead, Aziraphale's face closes, and he tells Crowley “I forgive you”, and Crowley thinks this must be his second falling, because he's never felt more pain. “Don’t bother”, he says, yet still waits for Aziraphale outside and doesn't leave until Aziraphale has left him. Because in the end, Crowley would always be there for Aziraphale, even if he doesn’t feel worthy of it.

And that, my beloveds, is why eternity will remember this scene.

[boxofthings]

got any roach-centric fic recs? like idc the pairing, ghostroach/soaproach/ghostsoaporach any thats roach focused plzz

*cracks knuckles* I GOTCHU ANON this is my time to shine

If anyone wants to reply with their own pls do!

(These are in no particular order)

GhostRoach:

i left my heart in the mountains (right next to yours)

I'm going to want you 'til the stars evaporate

and here i stand (in the dirt with you)

These are all by Santihan and ugghh these were the fics that pulled me back from my near decade-long ghostroach obsession sabbatical. Well-written, emotional, they are amazing, my favs, I will rec these til I die (the first two are painful :'))

Things That Burn by abel_obel

Such a good one, I always go back to this when I'm in a ghostroach mood. Good ol' classic person A gets injured and person B freaks out

Roach Wouldn't Really Do It...

Exhaustion's a Funny Thing

Both by tinyduckies! Def read the TWs for the first one, but arghhh, I go back to these ones a lot!. I really like how the first one's more realistic/gritty when it comes to the aftermath of surviving Loose Ends

Second one's just a lovely depiction of Ghost and Roach's dynamic. Loved the banter and the second chapter ends real sweetly :)

The Barracks: Part 2

Ulterior Motives

Both by doberman, these two are much longer fics (which ghostroach is in desperate need of) and are such interesting reads!!

The first one is an AU that takes place in a pub with Ghost being his repressed, unhealthy self, and Roach coming in as the new co-worker to sweep him off his feet lol

The second one is ongoing and takes place slightly after MWII with Ghost meeting Roach outside of deployment

Sovereign by Applescone

God, this one really puts me in an introspective mood. It's so well-written and just feels so grounded and human. Takes place years after Loose Ends, with Ghost and Roach rekindling their relationship whilst dealing with the complications of Shepherd's betrayal and death

我给你早在你出生前多年的一个傍晚看到的一朵黄玫瑰的记忆 by Alex_Upshur

Ok I know this is in Chinese, but just use a translator like I did and yeah, while it won't be as accurate as the author wrote it, it's still a really lovely fic and i adore it :') A lil bittersweet look into the 141's lives and sweet moments with Ghost and Roach <3

Of Doubts and Dreams (Retold)

The Hook Up

All written by Call_Of_Booty, an og ghostroach author from wayyy back during the og trilogy (and ff.net) days. The first one's a rewrite of one of their old fics and it focuses on Roach and Ghost's dynamic up until the night before Loose Ends.

Second one's about Roach deciding to leave the SAS whilst he and Ghost have complicated feelings for eachother due to past hookups. Both great reads!

Distance Makes the Heart Pissed Off by krwaken

I'm sure every GhostRoach shipper knows this one lol. A lovely 200k word slowburn of these two <3

Fear & Delight by EpiKatt

Hornet's Nest with more GhostRoach :))

Tell Me Why This Has to End by Feral_Raccoon

ANGST :( Post-Loose Ends. Ending broke me haha

and you wrote your name / right there next to mine by cheese_n_crack

more Loose Ends angst :( A bittersweet ending with Ghost and Roach looking at the stars in their final moments

You'll Get Sick Anyways by ghostslefttit

Very short, but very cute lil fic with Ghost taking care of a sick Roach :))

If We Crash (I Hope We Do) by mintyiecat

Man I can't even begin to describe how much I love this one. Portrays Ghost and Roach's relationship post-loose ends where Roach is now a civilian. Loved how the author depicted their relationship as not flawless. Felt very human and raw. Very sweet ending :)

GhostSoapRoach

Something in the Orange by fixfoxnox

Y'all been knew this would be on here lol

Follows Roach's pov where he's been reincarnated into the reboot timeline with all his memories from his old life and him trying to make his way back to Ghost. This one makes me sad as hell. Has all the feels :')

Something in the Orange by insomniamemoirs & RandomWordsAndStormyDays

Funny how my top two GSR fics are named the same thing, but hey, they're both amazing. I was apprehensive because of the "calling Soap Roach by accident" trope, however they really diverted my expectations and made these three really feel like equals in a relationship. Really love how they made sure to establish a strong dynamic between Soap and Roach instead of pitting them against each other. And Roach isn't just some 2D character here, he's very nuanced and I love it!

Freezing Waters by AmphibianEft

Sweet fic of Roach getting injured and Soap and Ghost freaking out and taking care of him

Stress Relief by Anonymous

Just Soap and Ghost taking care of Roach after Hornet's Nest (smut) :)

SoapRoach

Leg Day by tinyduckies

Good ol' smut lol (09 soaproach mm)

Everything That Isn't Said by pajamabees

More 09 smut

Taste by fixfoxnox

Just 3.5k words of Roach wanting to kiss his captain :)

fall for me by punishervest

Just a sweet moment between 09 Soap and Roach with Soap reminiscing on his past with Price but also considering how he wants something more with Roach <3

She (Means Everything To Me) by mylareading

Just 1.9k words of Soap being down bad for Roach (super sweet)

Roanig (Roach x Konig)

I Really Like The Way You Stare At Me by turqu0ise

The fic that introduced me to roanig <3 Just a cute fic focusing on the development of their relationship

Subatomic by tinyduckies

Another nice fic focused on the development of their relationship. Loved the interactions they had in this :)

These are the ones I have so far! I'm sure later on I can add to the list, and if anyone wants to reply with their own feel free :)

I've also been made aware there are Keegan/Roach fics, but I haven't gotten around to reading them yet, but def check out their tag anon! Hope this was an adequate rec list haha

[eldritch-spouse]

I so desperately wanna praise Cero to the point of getting him under me, and then continue calling him gorgeous, and such a good king😭

[Yes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Fem reader. It's short, gomen.]

You're not sure how you've made it this far.

Both in terms of survival, and in terms of your flimsy plan.

See, being forcibly married to the Icon of Pride is no walk in the park. Maybe it could be, if said park was loaded with mines and you had to tip toe your way through it knowing that any wrong step will blow your legs off. Point being- Watching your tongue and your mannerisms is something you've had to learn the hard way. In fact, a lot about you had to drastically change during the time you've spent with Cero thus far. And it's all been worth it- Because you have the King wrapped around your pinkie now. And you're getting ever closer to that sweet goal of seeing the surface once more. You can almost grasp it, almost!

You just need to suck up to him a little more. As painful as it sounds.

See, Cero's a pretty man, in your opinion. His face is well-sculped, he's got an elegant form, dresses objectively fine and even his body language seems to have been tailored to complete perfection. It's easy to let that dazzling appearance get the best of you and start complimenting him, getting closer. But as soon as he opens his mouth and all that raw narcissism comes out- The rose lens shatters. It's needless to say you have very mixed emotions about the King.

But now is not the time for turmoil or feelings, you need to stay strong.

It wasn't that hard to "tame" Cero, all things considered. He's a vain man, and as his chosen Queen, your opinion of him is the one that matters the most. So, through trial and error, you've found that the more you reward and convince the demonlord that he's at his peak when he's beneath you- The more power you slowly attain. Of course, it's all a game of subtleties. You can't just turn to him, demand he get on his knees and stop bothering you- No, you have to tell him how much better you can see all his majestic features when he kneels, how he's so handsome when he's silent, it gives him an air of mystery...

It certainly helps you've always been good with words. Or, at the very least, decent at bullshitting an excuse on the spot. It's gotten you so far here, you can hardly believe it.

The "worship sessions" are the moments in your tilted dynamic with the King that allow you to make the most progress. Put simply, these are a clause that Cero left purposely vague in your horror novella of a marriage contract. You really did expect these sessions to be nothing but scheduled boot-licking... But he made it pretty clear you were expected to lick something else very soon after the contract had been signed. Once nothing but mortifying encounters to be dreaded, these have become vital to getting Cero to back down. To learn what makes him tick. To dominate him.

And truth be told, it would be lying to say you haven't began to enjoy yourself as soon as a modicum of control fell back into your hands. It feels good to have him in a vulnerable position, to have an Icon of Hell lie beneath you like an insect. Perhaps it's what has helped you keep motivated and play the role of the immaculate Queen, even outside the bedroom chambers.

Well, you can't afford to stall any longer right now. You have to make this next one really count! If you tickle him right, you might just get to see your family before the holidays.

It's with a final sip of overly expensive wine, brought to you by a diligent imp, that you adjust your silky black robes and watch the same little demon part the doors to your shared bedroom open. There's a deep breath, your mindset shifts, and then you walk in.

" Took you long enough! "

Of course the first thing Cero does is bitch at you. Classic.

He's bare, seated on the edge of the large bed, legs crossed just like his arms, and a mighty scowl on his chiseled face. Even ridden of any clothing, he manages to look as if nothing were amiss. In this state, you can observe all the patches of skin where his brilliant white is taken over by salmon, spots he did try to hide from you at one point. Hey, at least he's more comfortable in his body now? You think?

Regardless, your stare is more fixed on his hair. Cero usually lathers it with enough products to keep that poor thing uniform, each side perfectly measured and pointed outwards. While you tend to think it's kind of silly, most demons in his ring revere it and try to imitate the style. You much prefer it in the state it is now, straight, flowing, covering his chest and back beautifully. Why doesn't he wear it like this more often?

" You should know I don't like to be kept waiting by now. "

His voice startles you, and there's no doubt left in you that he offered you that pause on purpose, just so you could admire him.

" O- Of course my King, forgive me, I just... Got flustered. " You make it a point to bat your eyelashes, looking away.

He buys it. Hah, the silence says it all.

" Well then, make it up to me. "

Fine, you prissy bitch.

Getting up close and personal with the King, you think you'll never quite get over the way he's still taller than you, even when seated. Sure, the bed is naturally taller to accommodate him, but still, it makes you feel like every move you make really does have to be expertly measured. Tangential observations aside, you manage to pry one of his hands apart with care, bringing it to your lips. And thus, the theatrics start.

His knuckles are kissed individually, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin before your trail of kisses moves on to his palm, wrist, and up his arm. It's more gentleness than he ever deserved, but you don't let that bitter note ruin things. " My gorgeous emperor, I should never make it so you have to wait for me, my imperfections hold me back from being the lover you deserve. " And almost mechanically, at least to you, two of his fingers are slipped into your mouth.

Cero's claws are always sharpened to fatal perfection, allowing them to graze the vulnerable flesh of your insides continues to be a perpetual gamble, risk and reward, the pointed ends heavy on your tongue even as you focus on sucking them. The other looks mildly flustered, quickly losing focus at the repetitive back and forth of your plush lips. It doesn't help that you moan, selling the point that you're so taken with lust for him that, between sucking his digits and his cock, the difference is minimal.

" ... Lecherous creature. " He mutters, trying to regain some semblance of composure. It was dead on arrival, he's got nothing on you.

" Can you blame me? " Those fingers are popped out, slickened, though it doesn't stop you from nuzzling onto his open palm. " Many are the parts of you I'll never tire of, your excellency. "

Cero grins, liking where this is going. " Is that so? "

" If you'd lay down for me, I could list them. " Some part of you is already regretting the amount of prose you're going to have to pull out of your ass on the spot, but you steel yourself by saying this is necessary. Oh, if he'd just let you have him like this without having to wax poetic first, wouldn't things be so much simpler? One can dream.

" Very well. " He concedes after a silent beat, adjusting so his head lies on the pillows. Cero's stance isn't exactly relaxed, but you can't tell if that's due to discomfort or anticipation.

Nonetheless, you crawl atop him with little hesitation, grasping the sides of his face. " I would trade the whole world just to look at you and your gorgeous eyes. There's a sharpness to your gaze that sends shivers down my spine. " He grins, flush deepening, already dipping into the comfort of your words, getting his fix per say. " And I wonder, oh so often, what I did to deserve your lips on mine. "

You're kissing him before he can comment, a soft embrace that picks up heat the longer you keep it up. Cero's claws lace through your hair and force you to kiss him harder, to pant against him, your tongue joining his, but never really able to dominate it. When he growls into the kiss, you know he's getting a little too confident, so you pull away, pecking at his bottom lip and chin instead.

He's already squirming, impatient demon that he is, always on the search for instant gratification in spite of demanding thorough worship from everyone around him. Or is it just that your words get to him in a way that others' don't? That he gets this excited, this fast, just for you? A quick glance down is all it takes to know. More than half-hard already, you're flattered. Your trip continues to his neck, gentle and ever slow. It'd be an instant mood killer to mention the King's unique form of vitiligo, you know how sensitive he is about it, so you avoid spending too much time around places which are "blemished"- His words, not yours.

When you get to his chest, you make a show of splaying your hands across it greedily, kisses deviating to the side where your thumbs tease pebbled nipples. " You make me feel so safe, make me feel warm, I would live happily in your arms, because who could hold me better? " You're hurting yourself with your own cheesiness, but he's very much enjoying himself. You get a quiet noise out of Cero when you pop one of his nipples in your mouth, doing the same to the other but noting the way he grows almost irritated with impatience.

By the time you're licking down his tummy, Cero spreads his legs beneath you and makes a groan that can almost pass as a whine. " Oh, will you hurry it up?! " He bites his lip. " Vixen! "

This time, you do laugh. " But my King, I'm not done! We're only just getting to the finer parts. " Would it kill him to be mildly agreeable? Probably.

Eitherway, you give Cero what he craves, crawling back to put your face between his legs, your own kicking back and forth leisurely. You grasp his cock. " This is my favorite part. "

Cero huffs, although smiles. " Of course it is... "

You don't hear him complaining though. Your kisses along its length are more teasing than anything, a spare hand circling around his tip just to feel his legs shake from overstimulation. " Again, can you blame me? As if anyone else could compare, let alone a human- " He whines from the torture, hips rising slightly. Or maybe it was the implication that he's the best you've ever had. Which, realistically, he is. " It's not my fault you introduced me to a whole new level of pleasure, is it so surprising that I'd want you this bad? "

Cero gulps, sweaty, high on the praise. " W-... Well, when you put it like that, I really can't fault y- Ohhn-! "

You finally take him into your mouth, sparing no gentleness or hesitation this time. He's a large Icon, you still need some training before you can take that pretty purple-ish length down all the way, but you're getting better at it- Enough to get him to make whorish noises, at least. Practice makes perfect, as they say. You never let him have a breather, intent to drive him to the brink as fast as possible.

With your mouth currently in use, there's no point continuing the prose on Cero's "immaculate gracefulness", but you don't think there's a need to anyway. Keep him waiting for more, keep him on the edge, maybe this time he'll grow the guts to beg you.

You just have to work harder at it.

He'll crack one day.

[catelyngrant]

The Doctor Who Script collection dropped earlier this week and I've already spent, uh, many hours digging through various scripts (including all of the SJA scripts!), but if you've been here awhile, you know that the first one I went for was School Reunion.

It was really fun reading through what was changed, what beats were scripted vs. which weren't, and the emotional backdrops. One of the things that struck me most was that, for a very bittersweet episode, the script absolutely leaned harder into the bitter side of bittersweet than the episode as aired did. There were elements that I'm very glad didn't stay as well as moments I desperately wish had been kept. Overall, it was a joy to see the original draft of the story that got me into Doctor Who all those years ago.

He's so happy. Transported. Mesmerised. Dazed, reeling from the encounter. Oh, my HEART. This scene was pretty much aired as written, and David played it to the nines, of course, but it's really sweet to see how explicit the script is about how overwhelmed the Doctor is in this moment. So much of the episode focuses on Sarah's emotional reaction (rightly, if not always perfectly) and the hurt/discomfort that colors their relationship once she realizes it's the Doctor, so to have this moment of the Doctor's unadulterated happiness to see her is really lovely.

More highlights (including things that were cut, changed—for better or worse, and just directions that made me happy or that I found interesting) under the cut!

This scene was definitely different. The script didn't include the bit about them both investigating at the school and it has a bit more flippancy. I can't imagine this scene without the iconic slow shot of Sarah backing up and turning to see the Doctor behind her, so I'm really, really glad that they moved away from the idea of them colliding into each other and leaned into the gravitas a bit more.

Oh, what I would've given for them to have kept this!!!

On to the diner scene...oh boy, feelings about this. I've written essays about this scene—how in some ways it feels perfect and appropriate and Sarah's grief/lines like "you were my life" make a lot of sense in the context of the shock and hurt of an old wound reopened so violently, how that shouldn't be taken to mean that she'd wasted her life or that she's been paralyzed by a broken heart for thirty years, how everything is heightened and that's okay even if, on their own, some of these beats paint a grim picture—but whew. This would've been harder to swallow with the last bit, which I remember Lis having mentioned as something she fought back against.

I actually do love that she mentioned UNIT and Harry! But yeah, very glad that Lis talked them out of the last lines. There clearly wasn't an effort to adhere to Big Finish canon but minimizing and deflating her successful career on top of everything else would've been upsetting, and there just wasn't a good reason to paint her entire life as tragic outside of the raw reactions the Doctor's return illicit.

"If I thought about you..." Project it onto my GRAVESTONE!

THIS WAS SCRIPTED I AM SCREAMING, this is one of my FAVORITE little beats of the episode (so much so that I made a gif out of it like 13 years ago!)

The Sarah/Rose dynamic was a little 🙄 in the episode and a little more-so in the script, but I liked this bit:

The explicit apology is nice, but goddamn, I wish they'd kept "He doesn't deserve us."

I'm fascinated by the fact that in the script, she shrugs him off! The script generally has a slightly more bitter tinge than the episode itself did, which is so interesting to me, and that I'm glad was tempered.

The goodbye scene as scripted is set in the ruins of the school. I like that they moved it and created some space and time—everyone's changed clothes, they've had some breathing room, emotions have cooled a bit. It serves the scene better than I think this would have. This bit of the script includes a line that I always assumed had been cut given her line in the episode about "And like I said, I wouldn't have missed it for the world". Other than that, the dialogue and beats are pretty much what we see onscreen.

And then:

I have a very messy tangle of feelings about "Last chance" / "I know" that I'll be sorting out for the next 4-6 business weeks, so...stay tuned. (I also have an essay about ace-spectrum Sarah Jane that builds on the "he was a tough act to follow" line that WILL exist outside of my head at some point!)

Anyway! This was a fun deep dive 💞 I got a Doctor/Sarah-inspired tattoo earlier this month so I'm really in my renaissance era here!otp

[m0srael]

FIC REC:

A wee spinoff of my lapsed but not dead series, Reading Recs From Friends

I Was GIFTED (!!!)

The Waiting by @oknowkiss w/ art by @babooshkart [Drarry | E | 43k] cw: substance abuse, depression, grief

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love. inspired by the fantastic song "this tornado loves you" by neko case.

One Sentence Recap: Everyone in Harry's life is trying desperately to drag him out of the past, away from the moment he lost Draco to the unknown, but what if the past is the only thing that will save them both?

"I have waited with a glacier's patience Smashed every transformer with every trailer 'Til nothing was standing 65 miles wide Still you are nowhere Still you are nowhere Nowhere in sight" -Neko Case, This Tornado Loves You

This song is one of my absolute favorite songs of all time--it captures the raw emotion of frantic, seemingly-doomed, mutually destructive love in a way that doesn't deny its potential, all-consuming beauty. There's something painfully sweet about the music, the lyrics, and also this fic that @oknowkiss wrote based on a prompt I submitted for @hd-wireless 2023, and then GIFTED to me! Elaine and I share a deep love of complicated, plotty, twisty stories--I gaze up at them in awe every time I read something new by them because they are such a master of plot and narrative. This story is no exception--the characters are exceptionally imagined, the world is rich and unique, the mystery keeps you guessing in the best of ways, and the twist will absolutely take your damn breath away. I laughed, I cried actual tears, and I had to sit for a long time once I finished trying to figure out how to breathe again. Here are some specific things I loved about this story:

👨🏽‍🤝‍👨🏼 The Relationship Dynamics This particular song certainly opens the door for angst and tension and HOO BOY does E deliver on that front. Harry's depression and grief over Draco's disappearance feels so palpable and relatable. At times I pitied him, felt real heartbreak for him, and wanted to give him a firm slap to the back of the head. Draco is ESPECIALLY magnificently realized in this story--he has every characteristic I love: sharp and witty, scared and desperate, arrogant but deeply unsure of himself. He is the perfect foil to a Harry who is unmoored and craving some sort of connection with someone or something. The tension between them crackles with unspoken resentment, fiery sexual attraction, and the sort of nihilistic self-importance that seems to saturate early adulthood. It makes for some INCREDIBLE smut--no spoilers but there is a scene that begins in a dive bar in Alaska that you will be thinking about probably for the rest of your life🔥🔥. E also crafts some incredible relationships between Harry and the rest of the characters. The dynamics between him and Ron and Hermione are delicious as they worry for his very sanity and try their best to be good friends to him. E's OCs are spectacular--there is one in particular who has my whole heart, I don't even need to tell you which one you will absolutely know.

🌎 The World Building Elaine takes a very cool approach to ministry training and curse breaking that I've never read before--their descriptions of the training camp are so vivid I could picture everything so well as it happened. This story takes us and the characters around the world, and E really takes the time to ground us sensorially and paint us an incredible picture of exactly what Harry is experiencing. His depression and grief come through in the environment that he's built for himself--there are little symbols that reappear throughout the fic that feel like gentle taps on the shoulder--remember this?. It's a really masterful way of making an expansive, potentially disjointed universe feel smaller, traversable, and knowable. It can also be very challenging to describe brand new magical mechanics and theory in a way that a reader can understand, without bogging them down in detail--again, E does this beautifully. I felt totally sucked in to the world they crafted!=

📝 The Plot Look, it is very hard to write a mystery story that doesn't alienate the reader but still holds back some twists and surprises. It's even HARDER to do all of those things when you're writing in not one, but TWO timelines, and E absolutely smashes it with this fic. I had so many (incorrect) theories about what the hell was happening as I was reading--it was so fun to take the little crumbs E was leaving and try to make sense of them while Harry also tried to make sense of them. I am so delighted that at the end, some of the things I speculated about came to pass, but there were many things that I didn't see coming!

🎨 Bonus: The Art @babooshkart NEVER MISSES that is a truth universally acknowledged, one affirmed by the art they created for this story. Pictures, imagery, and the act of looking play such a vivid role in this story and Boo manages to capture so many of the little details Elaine uses to activate her narrative and her characters in a single, incredible image. Looking at Boo's art invites us to step into Harry's shoes, and lets us a little further into his world. The lighting in the photo feels close and intimate to the point of being lonely, the clutter Boo included in the scene echoes Harry's feeling of being crowded and overwhelmed by the case and by life, and as always Harry are (young) Draco are depicted beautifully.

Thank you for writing this story and gifting it to me!

More to read from @oknowkiss: 📚 a licence to kill [Drarry | M | 11k] 📚 Their microfic may 2022 series, jesus, etc. [Drarry | E | 3k] 📚 the complete idiot's guide to losing your entire mind [Drarry | E | 10k] 📚 Historians [Drarry | E | 30k]

More to look at from @babooshkart: 🎨 Boo's own Wireless 2023 contribution, Keep Driving [M] 🎨 The art they made for booktopus's Reverse Bang fic, A Convergence of Inks [G] 🎨 This steamy Dronarry they did for HP Triadfest 2022 [E] 🎨 Twenty five (25!!!!!!) drawings they did for 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2021

[jeysuso]

The thing is, my heart absolutely breaks for Josh. He just left a storyline he helped build into one of Wrestlings' greatest of all time. He's at the most popular of his career with so much momentum behind him, and this is what they do with him. Night one on Raw there was so much promise there. The crowds reaction, the nobody trusts Jey story. They just squandered it with a performer who has proven he can carry an emotional story. Like Jimmy betraying him AGAIN, there was NO emotional carry over from that story. We had something on Smackdown then nothiblng since. They came face to face after Jimmy rejoined the Bloodline? They made it all about Cody/Roman. We know Jey can carry and kill those kinds of stories, so it's lost opportunities and laziness. They want us to be emotionally invested in Jimmy/Jey for WM? Then make us EMOTIONALLY invested. It seemed like there were so many stories and news about Jey in the beginning when he first came over and nothing now. This is his reward for all that work? Make him Cody's lap dog because Cody has all the personality of a dried out twig? When Jey had built a dynamic character with a rich history, any good writers wet dream, they squandered. I really hope those rumors of him going back to Smackdown are true because they seem to at least give a fuck about him even when he's only on screen a couple minutes.

i mean, i half agree with you, bestie, but i have to disagree in terms of smackdown caring about him more. i don't think that's true. the build-up to summerslam was absolutely dire, imo. the writing was shocking. and, honestly, josh didn't even seem all that invested in it either when we've seen what he can do when he really buys into the material he's given. we didn't get any of that. i'm still of the opinion that the wwe didn't expect jey's popularity to skyrocket in the way it did, and they haven't known how to handle it when they're desperately trying to create the face of the company in crusty.

and on top of that, we don't really know that josh didn't agree to this lmfaooo. like, the thing is, it's easy to say poor josh but he'll have had some inkling in what was going to happen when he agreed to a singles run. i know the wwe like to just throw stuff together last minute (and i know the tag team specifically was thrown together last minute, but cody bringing jey back won't have been), but from the ariel interview before mitb, it sounds very much like the usos at least have the respect from the wwe in that they're approached to discuss any potential singles run. they're not just told they have to do it. and that's backed up by the fact that chad gable's also said the same thing re: the alpha academy and his singles run, too, that he was approached and offered it as opposed to being ordered to do it by creative. so i find it hard to believe that they didn't tell josh he was going to have some "storyline" if you can even call it that with cody, honestly.

i also don't really want him to go back to smackdown because there's no championship run on there for him. there's the american belt but now that'd mean having some storyline with logan paul and i'd rather eat bricks, as much as i've warmed to logan. the ideal place for him is on raw going for the big championship, and yet. because i'm pretty certain that once he goes back to smackdown and they do this jimmy vs. jey, we're looking at an uso reunion inevitably. he won't be a singles competitor in the same way jeff hardy became a singles competitor, or edge. so keeping him on raw but giving him actual story (that doesn't involve cody) is ideal, imo.

[bruiisedpetals]

5, 9, 19 for Vida 👀👀👀👀

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 + 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. [..] VIDA WATERS.

05. what are the top kinks that your muse enjoys? impact play; light facial slapping, hand spanking || no implements. breath play; choking specifically, see oral fixation* bondage; restriction, usually with hands (eg. pinning down), with the right partner extends to the use of actual restraints || cannot be rope or leathers; linens or ribbons preferred voyeurism; in many forms. semi/public or risky intimacy, group sex/watching others (context and partner dependant), being watched by someone, public teasing or risky performance. with the right partner it would also extend to her submissive self being made to watch their partner without permission to touch. dynamic play; such as elements of dominant/submissive dynamics, all veering on the more tender side of D/S; such as being made to be quiet, making others vocal, various elements of control and/or power || not master/slave, nor similar displays of possessiveness; while not strictly a kink it's a general concept, examples would be biting, bruises, love-bites, words of adoration or of ownership, scratches as evidence of pleasure (not pointless harm). an oral fixation; sucking on her partner's fingers during sex or sexual acts (occasionally biting), being gagged or quietened such as with a hand over her mouth, or fingers down her throat, is one in particular. if she is feeling shy or submissive herself, she will also suck on her partners fingers to keep herself quiet. rough sex/sex as a non verbal outlet; when tied with emotion, or used as a mutual release. there is something very freeing about understanding that she and her partner are both using each other in a selfish, raw, and carnal way; often involving many of the aforementioned kinks .. must involve a level of trust and understanding.

09. do they prefer/tend to be dominant, submissive, both, or etc.? the clearest one to address is the fact that she is (thus far) exclusively dominant with female partners; whether that is a softer dominance or a more 'rough' one. she is a very dominant personality and enjoys holding power over others (with consent), beyond that, she also is an attentive dominant in the way that she deeply enjoys and gets off on the way someone has to trust her in order to submit in any sense to her in an intimate setting. vida's experiences with males are completely dictated by the dynamic pre-established between them and enforced by her self-protection traits. ... her true preference is unknown to her because she hasn't explored both sides of her sexual self fully, but she could be likened to a switch. dominance, or a dominant 'bottom' is often where she finds herself as a default when it comes to men, which she is comfortable with and enjoys greatly. very rarely do men actually fall into a submissive category, which often leads to a very intense power-struggle of shared dominance; when sex veers close to a fight; leaving scratches and bruises in its wake. submission, for vida, is something she doesn't give up to anyone, and she hasn't done so fully ever. showing and sharing vulnerability goes far deeper when in such an intimate setting. relinquishing control is something she aches for, but will not give away to someone she can't fully trust. and she trusts very few. she's not been able to completely explore that side of herself, but she knows it is there and desperate to get out. vida can feel that aspect of her responding to others in a way that is exhilarating and equally terrifying. she is hyper-aware of the risk that comes with surrendering herself to someone who could, but chooses not, to take advantage of her. vida's submissive side is so, so deeply woven into her psyche that she knows she will just fall apart under the attentions of the person she submits properly to, but only if she truly believed that someone would be there to put her back together again.

19. how does your muse feel about eye contact during sex? taking into account that vida, whilst sexually experienced, is sexually selective; she finds herself in a position where eye contact completely enhances the experience for her. the right kind of eye contact within sexual intimacy can utterly rob all the air from her lungs, make her heart thud against her ribcage, and make her tremble all over. additionally, someone forcing her to look into their eyes, when she is in her (rarely shared) submissive space, makes her fall apart in the most raw kind of way.

[molinaskies]

Sonic's Next Emotional Arc: Skepticism and Doubt

IDW SPOILERS – Read up to the latest issue (41, at time of writing) or at least issue 40 before reading this.

I keep seeing arguments about how “Sonic and company don’t even seem impacted by the severe stakes of the Metal Virus and the pain they experienced.”

In the nicest way possible, that’s absolute cap. Here’s why:

When I first read Belle’s introduction in the Chao Races arc, I thought Sonic’s standoffish nature towards her (especially how he held his reservations through the following two issues) was out of character for him, but now, I think it makes complete sense (and is genius on the part of Evan Stanley).

Why?

Sonic was waiting for her to turn on him, just like how Mr. Tinker did.

I’ve spoken at length about Sonic’s emotional intelligence, so I would bet real-world money on the fact that Belle’s denial of her creator and her overall appearance clued Sonic in immediately – when he asked about who built her, he was referring to Tinker from the start.

Sonic’s friendly by nature, which is why he’s so chummy with her after Tails makes a case for her. The same idea goes for while they’re in battle, where Sonic’s attention and priorities are heavily shifted. Otherwise, however, notice how he’s crasser with her in his dialogue.

Note the distinct lack of apology from Sonic (by design; an explanation is not an apology and he knows it) and the elliptic pause.

Here, Sonic gives in rather begrudgingly, but his tone changes from actively defensive to teasing (a level down in Sonic’s defence mechanism – “a step above Eggman," I’ll call it), where he’s not comfortable really chatting with her but will riff off her, instead.

Once in the company of his friends, Sonic is more willing to keep her around, especially with someone else. Once again, when Sonic isn’t playing tour guide, his demeanor resets and… he’s confused; lost in thought until Amy requests his attention.

Here, note the realization within Sonic that Belle is here to stay, as well as his apology (with a distinct lack of an explanation – this is especially important).

Sonic finally accepts that Belle will be good for his friends and for their cause, but he doesn’t tell her (or anyone) his thoughts because 1) he senses that Belle 100% is in denial and isn’t ready to face certain facts (something Sonic, himself, is familiar with), and 2) he recognizes that he has no right to instill within Belle the same doubt he’s been living with since issue 1 (at an absolute minimum, too, given the history of this damn hedgehog).

Eggman, during the climax of the Metal Virus arc, has an amazing one-liner that sets up Sonic’s current emotional arc, in which Sonic won’t be so trusting of new faces and new situations. In the moment, Sonic tries to brush it off, but such little details – the retraction of his ears and his sweat – give his genuine discomfort away, because Eggman is right.

Sonic’s biggest desire of Eggman is for him to be a better person – something Sonic knows that Eggman is very seriously capable of, both through the existence of Mr. Tinker upon complete amnesia and by the historically significant grace periods that Eggman goes through to aid the greater good (Sonic Adventure 1 and 2, Sonic ’06, and Lost World, to name a few examples).

Side note: reread issue 23. Sonic is genuinely at his most desperate, and it's raw and painful and good. Easily a standout issue in the Metal Virus arc.

Sonic’s choice to spare Mr. Tinker is one he’s done nothing but defend whenever it’s been brought into the discussion, but in private, Sonic doubts his decision and feels immense guilt and responsibility for the losses his friends have seen and experienced to the Metal Virus.

Remember, too, that this comes nearly right after an approximate seven-month war that Sonic’s overzealousness (and subsequent defeat and capture) effectively started. We also see post-Metal Virus that Sonic seems significantly more protective of his friends compared to the start of the comic. He’s hyper-aware of his place in the world and in their lives, and he wants nothing more than to protect them – his somewhat-awkward, non-verbal communication of how much he adores them (Tails and Amy, especially).

Also, a very sweet detail here on the left: Sonic pushes Amy’s and Tails’ heads down to protect them from being waterboarded, and immediately, Amy goes to do the same for Sonic. Those two are so pure in their connection - whatever that means to you - and Amy is best girl (and y’all can @ me lol).

In a way, Sonic’s actions as of late have been the direct cause of a lot of very serious problems, and Sonic isn’t so ready to make another grave mistake. Belle was (and is) a living, walking, talking, and sentient reminder of what could be Sonic’s biggest regret and point of eternal conflict – the point of reflection in which he realized the absolute pain he put his loved ones through.

However, despite all of this, Sonic isn’t ready to give up hope. He’s changing his tactics up a bit, which shows his growing emotional maturity, but he still wants to believe that everyone can be good, that every problem can be solved, and that every person can be redeemed – including himself.

I want to share another excerpt from Japanese Sonic X. At the end of episode 38, after Sonic and Shadow save the planet from the falling ARK with seconds to spare before the point of no return and irreparable damage, this exchange between the president’s aid and the president’s driver (Sam Speed) occurs:

Sonic’s unparalleled optimism has been a core characteristic of his for a long time, and I really like how well the IDW comics have adhered to this fact while enabling Sonic to open up and be a teenager as it’s because of Sonic’s age and development that he experiences such waves of both optimism and doubt.

Sonic has never lived in a floating timeline. He’s grown and regressed and matured through every experience he’s had. He’s a thoughtful, dynamic, intelligent character who doesn’t take anything for granted. At least, not anymore.

(and people say nice things about him – LOL).

[candychronicles]

yes sir // i. midoriya

A/N: my take on the bnharem workplace au collab! this is pretty much porn with plot, there’s no real interesting background. i just wanted to write sexy times with midoriya hehe

CHARACTER PAIRING: Izuku Midoriya x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,765

WARNINGS: an obnoxious amount of pet names, soft-ish dom, dubcon maybe?? if you squint??, power dynamics, possessive izuku

SYNOPSIS: an infatuation with one of your bosses turns into something much more interesting. 

Click here to go to work on admiring all the other pieces!

work was never fun but when you directly responded to three equally attractive ceos, it tended to make things easier. despite them all being incredibly attractive, you found yourself particularly drawn to one man in specific: Izuku Midoriya.

he was the face of the operation, the one who greeted the media with a smile and ran lectures, pep talks and gatherings with the employees. not only did he have the charm, but he was smart and analytical, something that came in handy when dealing with other businesses and creating interpersonal relationships. he strived to make everyone feel like they belonged and that’s why you never put any thought into the bright smiles and big waves he gave you as he passed your office every morning.

Bakugou was who you usually worked under, the man being brash and loud but incredibly intelligent and covering a lot of ground when it came to running the company, especially when it came to logistics and timelines. you weren’t his secretary and yet often found yourself in his office helping whenever he called. you would say it was annoying except it meant that he favored you and you often got added perks because of that, like a flexible work schedule and unlimited premium coffee from his personal stash. 

Todoroki was a man who you seldom interacted with but had nothing but pleasant things to say. he was cold and standoffish at first but as you chatted he became more relaxed and willing to talk. he handled a lot of the behind the scenes, keeping up with IT and using his connections from his wealthy family to bring in new business. nonetheless, he was a pleasant man and tried to interact in his own odd way at any appropriate chance he got.

you never realized you had any special treatment outside from your own boss but it became more apparent over the months that they had all taken a liking to you in some form or another. you became absolutely ecstatic when you learned you had a chance with Midoriya, an awkward and yet sincere drunken love confession thrown dramatically your way outside of a business gathering. since he wasn’t technically your personal boss and you harbored a secret crush on him, it was all too easy, with the alcohol flowing through your veins, to say yes to a date with him.

despite his inebriated state the night before, he stayed true to his word and took you to a relaxed and private restaurant, one that you were sure wasn’t cheap as there wasn’t even prices on the menu. he told you to not worry about it and just enjoy the night and enjoy you did. after some awkward laughs here and there, you really got to know him and what he was like: funny, charming, truthful, determined, emotional, raw and bursting with the desire to be understood the way he understood other people. 

you took his truth and ran with it, confiding in him about anything you could think of that was appropriate for a first date and then some, over time learning all there was to know about one another. you spent many a night laid on his chest, confessing your hopes and dreams, listening to his own and promising each other that you would both work towards your desires as hard as possible. 

things outside of the bedroom, however, stayed incredibly private. you understood that he was a shy man by nature and was nervous that your position would be undermined or belittled by the other employees if they found out that you two were together but as time went on, you grew more and more frustrated about him keeping you a secret. all of his reasons, he claimed, were to protect you but you didn’t care and if he didn’t tell you the honest truth soon, you were going to burst.

it only took a few more weeks before things took an interesting turn. you had yet another argument with Midoriya, begging and pleading with him to not hide you anymore, to wear you on his arm with pride and shower you with even the tiniest of affection, but he was not budging, claiming he didn’t want you to get hurt and sad over the other employees judging you despite him not being your actual boss. when you confirmed to Midoriya that this wasn’t a real relationship and cut things off, you were intrigued to find Todoroki at your office door with a bouquet of flowers asking you on a date.

whether it was out of spite or a sheer desire to be seen and acknowledged, you accepted without any hesitation, donning your best dress and heels for the icy man. he took you to a much fancier and flashy restaurant than Midoriya did, flaunting his wealth without a care in the world. you tried some of the finest wines and foods, enjoying the live music and chatting casually with Todoroki. outside of his awkward demeanor, it was a good first date and you had fun, certainly appreciating all that he did for you, but you realized it didn’t matter because you were still head over heels in love with the green haired guy with the golden heart. every little thing Todoroki did, you caught yourself comparing and contrasting with what Midoriya would’ve done and with a sad smile, told him you had fun but that you were going through some personal problems and needed some time before trying anything else. he was nothing but a gentleman and insisted that it was okay but despite his words, you still felt a pang in your heart, guilty for leading him on in the first place.

work the next day was rather uneventful, time spent chipping away at paperwork and organizing events for the next day, Bakugou sliding into your office with an unusually sad look on his face as he handed you your favorite coffee and slid back out, not acknowledging you otherwise. you hummed appreciatively nonetheless, savoring every sip like it was your last. just as you were walking out the door, the last person in your department to stay behind, you got a text from Midoriya asking you to meet in his office to discuss something.

you swallowed thickly, knowing there may be another argument approaching and hoping your heart could handle the pain. with a soft knock to the large wooden doors, you stood, waiting for him to invite you in. 

the door creaked ominously open before you were yanked into the room, wood slamming heavily back into place as he crashed his lips against your own without any warning, harsh and fierce and nothing like he had ever been before. 

you tried to create some space, some sort of distance between you two in order to process the situation but he was relentless, attacking you with such fervor that you had no choice but to follow along, desperate to know what he was thinking.

you didn’t have to wait long before he slowed down, pressing his forehead against your own, breath fanning against your face as he collected his thoughts.

“you went on a date with Todoroki,” he stated simply, eyes shut as he focused on you, your body movements, the way your heart leapt into your throat and your pulse point jumped at the comment. 

“i did,” you replied, squinting your own eyes at him as best as you could in your position, trying to figure out what his next move was.

“why would you do that?” he questioned, hurt laced in his voice.

you contemplated for a few moments on what to say, finally deciding on the truth: “i was hurt and thought that maybe i could get over you by going out with him but i couldn’t. i just wanted someone to show me off for once, not be ashamed to be seen with me.”

“sweetheart,” he sighed into your mouth, lips ghosting over your own. “i was just trying to protect you from the judgement you’d get being with me, but if you’re that insistent in being shown off, then let me show you off.”

one gentle kiss after another was placed on your face, from your temple to your nose to your cheeks to finally your lips, sealing them with yet another searing kiss. you whined into his mouth, enamored by the taste of coffee and mint on his tongue. he pinched your ass and smiled when you squealed, taking advantage of the sound to pick you up against the door, hiking your skirt up to your waist and pressing one experimental finger to your clothed slit, noticing each and every breathy moan that left your body.

“let me take these off, yeah?” he asked, not waiting for a response before he not so delicately ripped your panties off your body, assuring you he’d get you a new pair after you protested against his actions. 

he walked casually over to the desk, setting you down and spreading your knees apart as he kneeled, face cooing over your cunt. you tried to squeeze your knees together in embarrassment but he only pulled them open again, tsking as he brought his thumb pad up to your clit, rubbing delicate circles around the bud as he watched your mouth open into an o.

he continued to rub in circles, changing the pace and pressure as he analyzed your every move, watching to see what made you feel the best. when he was satisfied with the pace, he brought his other hand up to delicately insert a finger into your dripping hole, curling to try to find the place that made you see stars behind your eyelids. it only took a few moments before he hit the spot, your head fallen back and toes curling in pleasure. 

“look at me and nowhere else or i won’t let you cum. do you understand?” he asked, forcefully grabbing your chin.

“y-yes sir.”

he nodded, satisfied with the eye contact before resuming his movement, eyes boring into your own as he watched you struggle to breathe and watch him back, his cock straining in his pants as he watched your eyes water, tears spilling over your cheeks as he brought you so incredibly close to your orgasm.

“sir, please let me cum. p-please, i don’t think i can hold on any longer,” you finally begged, giving into what you knew he secretly wanted.

“my sweet angel wants to cum? i guess she’s been such a good girl that i’ll have to indulge her,” he cooed, picking up the pace and inserting another finger, making it just enough to have you unravel in seconds. 

your head remained still, eyes locked on his own, but your body shook from the mere exhaustion you felt as you forced yourself to not throw your head back in pure ecstasy. he helped you ride your orgasm out with steady thrusts, his long, scarred fingers hitting all the right ridges. 

“look at you being just a doll,” he murmured, opening your mouth to stick his dripping fingers in, pressing down harshly on your tongue, smiling when you gagged. 

“i think my sweetheart deserves a bit of a reward for being such a good girl, hmm? what do you think?” he asked, removing his fingers from your mouth to allow you to speak.

“please sir, please, i need,” you stopped, hiccuping, not realising you were crying as you begged for him.

“you need what angel? c’mon, use your words.”

“i need your cock, please, i need you inside of me. i’ll be good, i’ll be so good, i promise. just please fuck me.”

before you had a chance to realize what was going on, he pulled you off the desk, flipping you around so that your ass was on full display. he gave it one appreciative slap before his belt was being unbuckled, his pants falling to the floor as he pulled out his cock, aching to be buried inside your wet cunt.

“relax for me sweetheart. i’ll take care of you.”

the tip had you instantly pressing yourself into the desk, but as he continued to push into to you, you relished in the way he stretched you out, making you feel so full and warm.

“more, m’need more, please,” you begged, squirming around as you tried to fill yourself up with as much of him as you could.

he obliged without hesitation, sheathing himself fully into you, eyes rolling back into his head as he felt you squeeze around him, pulling him impossibly closer. he placed his hands against your hips to steady himself, pinching the flesh and breathing deeply through his nostrils as he attempted to control himself but once you started begging again, hands gripping the other edge of the deck as you attempted to ground yourself, he lost all control.

“don’t say you didn’t ask for his angel.”

his hips snapped out before surging forward, thrusting hard and deep, his tip kissing your cervix and fingers bruising into your flesh. you cried out, not sure what you were feeling but incredibly happy anyways. his cock pounded in and out of your squelching cunt, your cream dripping down your thighs and his. you felt every little vein, the curve of his shaft, how he fit into you so perfectly, how he was made for you. your vision went white and you held onto the desk for dear life as your legs gave out from under you, your cunt clenching aggressively around his cock as you came.

“i’ve got you, just relax.”

your body went limp as he leaned over you, propping you up against the desk as he continued to thrust into you, moving smoothly as your liquids pooled around his pelvis. your hands kept gripping the desk for dear life as you tried to catch your breath but with every snap of his hips, every nip to your shoulder, every searing hickey left on your neck, had your head reeling and the coil in your stomach building once again.

“‘Zuku, i don’t know how much longer i can hold out. m’gonna cum again,” you whined, breathing heavily as you tried to prolong it for as long as possible.

“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it one more time, just cum for me, it’s okay. i’ve got you.”

it only took three forceful swirls of his fingers on your aching clit to have you squirting all over his cock, your cum gushing everywhere as you arched your back and dug your nails into the glass of the desk. as you squeezed around him, you felt Midoriya cum, burying himself deep inside your pussy, head coming down to rest on your shoulders.

without saying anything, he pulled out gently, wincing as he saw the disheveled state you were in. he helped you sit back on the desk, pulling out some napkins to clean you and then himself up, offering you some water and helping to pour it in your mouth, wiping away your mascara stained cheeks.

“are you okay?” he asked once you had settled down a bit, pulling down your skirt and shakily standing on two legs.

“what are we Midoriya?” you replied, not wanting to let the post sex haze ruin what you had orignially come for.

he sighed, walking over to you and holding your hands in his own, bringing them up to kiss them before responding, “i wanted to protect you but i see how selfish that is now considering the fact that you didn’t care. i’m sorry i didn’t listen but i won’t hide from you anymore and i won’t hide you from the public, no matter what.”

you nodded at his response, eager to be with him again and not be held in the shadows. 

“but in order to do that, i have got to put a few mutual friends in place.”

quizzically, you watched as he sat down in his computer, motioning for you to sit in his lap. he tapped away at a few folders, watching in confusion and then embarrassment as he pulled up a video, one of the encounter you just had. 

“i’m sending this to Bakugou and Todoroki. they always talk about how they could fuck you better, how they could make you scream louder, make you listen, make you theirs. this will prove otherwise. you want me to show you off, have you be mine unconditionally? well you’ve got it babe, loud and clear. you’re mind, understood? and nobody will get in the way of that, not even them.”

[inkykeiji]

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.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Caught In The Middle•

Summary: First loves always leave a mark, yours was Hitoshi Shinsou, and you were his. Life got messy, careers got in the way. You still find each other, you always find each other.

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinsou x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: This is one angsty boi, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), crying during sex (not dacryphilia), a lot of emotional vulnerability.

Word Count: 4,012

A/N: I've been wanting to work on writing some more emotionally raw scenarios. I didn't do a lot of sexual dynamic in this, just two people loving and needing each other. Not my usual thing, but I hope y'all like it! Please let me know! Much love<3

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You wait where you always do, on a rotting old bench hidden behind several twisted, dying trees. The path in front of you leads to a pitiful little shack, held together by patch work and spite. It's a beautiful little place, though, despite the crumbling wood and the slight lean the whole structure has. It has its charm, it has its secrets.

The weather is soothing tonight, a starry sky above a lovely summer evening. It could almost make a pretty little painting, if it weren't such a dark secret.

You hear footsteps falling behind you, crunching the gravel as the tread. You don't turn to see who it is, you're not worried, you already know.

You hear the feet stop behind you, feel the strong presence, smell the warm scent he brings. Just being this close to him wraps you in something so peaceful, so easy to fall into. Strong, capable hands spread over your shoulders, thumbs rolling into every tense place within them.

You look down at your palms and feel the shame grip your heart when you see the dried blood there. It's a part of the job, at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Finally, you turn to face the man behind you. As always, you melt into the peaceful, enchanting feeling his gaze provides. You recall the timid, exhausted, beaten down boy you once fell for. His tired eyes and his lopsided smile, and his desperate need to help.

The memories contrast heavily with the strong, proud beauty before you. He stands tall, he looks aware, purposeful and brave. He still looks like he could use a few extra hours of sleep, but he no longer looks completely deprived of it. His beauty is the messy kind, but it enthralls you nonetheless.

"Hard work today?" Hitoshi asks quietly, a knowing look in his soft, amethyst eyes.

You nod, folding your hands into each other as his own work at your aching shoulders.

"It wasn't really hard. I'm used to it, it was just messy." You explain, trying to remain resolute.

He answers with a sigh, hands working at the back of your neck now.

"You don't have to do it." He tries.

You feel him pulling the strings of your chest as your eyes fall to the path again, unable to hold his sweet, honest gaze.

He's always had too much good in him, too much optimism, too much hope. That's why he makes a good hero though, a great hero, really. That had been the divide between the two of you, you couldn't trust like him, you couldn't hope like he could. It was simple when you were two high schoolers with simple ideas that made for harmless debates. In time, it became not so simple.

He acquired his hero's license after endless hours of hardwork and dedication, and you watched from the stands. A drop out who simply couldn't go along with the charade. There were never any hard feelings between the two of you, and you remained lovers for a while after, it remained as it was for a bit. Two kids too wrapped up in each other to care how heavily their morals contrasted.

After some time, after settling into your places in life, it became less simple. He found his spot in the hero charts, you found yours among other vigilantes desperate to expose corrupt heroes. This of course made any kind of simple public relationship less easy and less acceptable.

As he gained more of an understanding of your grey morality, and you gained more of an understanding of the depravity of his society, it became impossible for the two of you to live and let live. So you found your peace with the secrets you two could keep in the tiny shed down this path.

You had loved each other before all of this, you had loved each other in the back seats of cars, school dorm rooms and other secret places. Keeping yourselves hidden is something you both learned to do well, for the sake of maintaining whatever sacred connection you had stumbled upon together.

"You're thinking." He observes, removing his hands in favor of striding around the bench to seat himself beside you.

"I do that." You mutter, hands still fidgeting at each other.

You're both silent for a moment, calculating your next moves.

"I don't want to think anymore." You whisper, you fight the burning in your eyes and nose as best you can, willing the tears not to fall.

He takes a deep breath in, it's not steady, it's not composed, it's full of trembling and uncertainty.

"I don't want to either."

So, neither of you did.

You find yourselves where you always do, pulling at each other on the tattered mattress on the floor of the shed. Candles are spread throughout the room, just enough to bathe you both in a heavenly glow. A large lock holds the door closed, it keeps your secrets in, it keeps the world out.

His lips are delicate against your neck, his hands are steady on your waist, but the thudding of his heartbeat betrays him when he presses his body against yours.

"We can't keep doing this." He sighs against you. He says it every time, but he always comes back.

"You don't have to." You bring your hands up to cup his face, a mistake on your part as the look in his eyes crumbles your resolve.

"Toshi, please don't go." You beg, clinging to him as the thought rips you to shreds.

"I won't, god I won't, I can't." He confesses before pressing his lips into yours.

It's a mess of a kiss, nothing but need, desire and tears as you work against each other. Hands find clothes to rip off, hearts nearly escape their cages as delicate fingertips ghost across soft spots. It's a beautiful, well learned dance, something perfected over time.

His body rolls on top of yours, he nudges your legs apart with his knees as he settles between them. Every inch of your skin meets every inch of his, then the heat spreads, consuming both of you. Your skin boils as he rolls his hips against yours, you shudder and sigh and hold on tight.

"M-more, please, need more." You plead, your voice doesn't sound like your own. It sounds like it belongs to a lost, lovesick girl… maybe it does…

"Anything, I'll give you anything." He responds.

His mouth is hot and open against your flushed skin. His hands cradle the tuck of your waist as he paints your chest with sweet, sloppy kisses. He blazes a trail down your body, leaving nothing but ashes and glowing embers in his wake.

He moves a leg over each shoulder, the sight makes you smile, recalling the first time he found himself in this position.

"What?" He questions, a smile playing at his lips as he presses them into your thigh.

Your hand slips into his hair, letting yourself fall away from the worries of social structures, letting yourself fall into the little world you've created in this shed.

"Just thinking about the first time you tried this." You let yourself laugh a little when he rolls his eyes and groans. He really had tried his best, he just missed a couple of important spots, mostly one important spot, completely.

"I was learning, don't be a jerk." He continues kissing up your thigh until he reaches the crux of your leg.

"Plus, I got much better at it." With that, he casts you a devilish look before sliding his tongue sideways across your lips.

He teases your clit for a fleeting second before drawing back, watching the way your eyes flutter and your lips pout.

"You did, but you turned into such a tease." You gather more of his hair, involuntarily rolling your hips up a little.

He hums in response, sliding his hands up the outside of your thighs so he can gather the rolls of your hips.

"You make it so much fun." He gives you another gentle flick with the tip of his tongue, making you jump and whimper for him.

"Gorgeous." He sighs, drops his jaw then, lets his broad tongue loll out completely and licks a long, slow strip up your center.

"Oh fuck." You shudder as your back lifts slightly and your legs attempt to close.

"Keep them open for me, sweetheart." He tells you, the tender name makes your chest ache.

Before you can respond, he licks again, this time he closes his lips around your clit and sucks. You can't help the way you shiver and cry out, or the way your legs close around his head. It's too good, it's too warm and wonderful.

"Stubborn girl." He mutters before placing his hands under your knees.

He folds you up as he moves to kneel between your legs, the tops of your thighs meet your stomach and your breath catches as you watch him devour you with his eyes.

"Hold this." He squeezes your left leg.

You hook your arm around it, nodding as he lowers his torso back to your core. He keeps his hand on your right leg, and let's the other fall between your bodies so he can play at your slick entrance with his middle finger.

You bite your body lip as you clamp around nothing, teased by the presence of what could be inside you. You glance down between your bodies, eyeing the way his finger glides up to your clit so he can rub lazy circles against it. Most of all, you're hypnotized by how pretty his cock is.

"I know you want it, baby, just give me one, and I'll let you have it." He promises as he slides two fingers in.

His slow, calculated movements have your mind spinning and your body twitching. You open your mouth to ask for him to use his tongue, but he beats you to it. He drops his torso, keeping his hand locked on the leg he's got cranked up. You cling to your opposite leg when his tongue meets your clit.

His fingers drag in and out at a curve, bending inside you to reach the spot that makes you see stars. His tongue rolls against your sensitive bud, persistent and electric as he stokes the fire in your core.

You feel your body tighten up, your free hand grasps at his messy waves again, your body seizes. He bends you and bends you, working relentlessly with his fingers and his velvety tongue.

You're so close, so damn close, you feel it tickling your ribs, pushing tears from your eyes and in your trembling thighs.

You need more. You need something to push you over, you just need him.

"Toshi- please, I wanna- fuck baby."

As you whimper out your plea, he adds the slightest bit more pressure to your clit, and it rips you apart. You shatter and break in against him, crying out his name in broken praise, body rolling against him as he works you through it.

"That's it, that's my girl." He sighs as he watches the way your body moves against him, watches the way you writhe in the pleasure he gives.

"Fuckin' gorgeous." He breathes as he crawls up your body so he can take your lips into his own. You pull him into you with greedy hands, clinging to this moment, needing it to last, not ready to let it go.

"Need you, please, need all of you." The words come out like a sob, spoken mostly against his lips.

He gathers one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers as he presses it into the mattress, his forehead meets yours as he grabs his length so he can run the head against you.

"You've got me, you've got me baby." He promises before pressing in. He's done it countless times, in endless positions, but the feeling never ceases to leave you light headed.

You both lose yourselves completely, finally together, hidden so perfectly in your little haven. You feel so full, so loved, so complete.

"God, fuck, your cunt." He nearly cries, wrapped in your warmth, enamored by your body and the way it ticks for him.

He buries your face in your neck, squeezing your hand and releasing a broken moan as he rolls his hips into you.

His free hand comes up to hold your face, yours holds his wrist, desperate for an anchor as he splits you open so sweetly. Every nerve within you feels so tender and raw, everything about you aches for him, everything in you needs him.

You cling to each other like a lifeline as he builds a mind numbing pace, it's nothing hard, nothing rough, but it's deep, it's all consuming. You both moan and cry against each other for a bit, letting your bodies work, letting your brains stop thinking.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart, can I please fuck you, really fuck you, need more of you." He begs between messy kisses against your sweat soaked skin.

His request makes your skin ignite with white hot anticipation.

"Please- Toshi, fuck me how you need to, I wanna take it, I can take it." You let the tears fall freely, let them wet your cheeks and wash away any reservations.

As if you've unhooked the chain of a rabid animal, he growls against you and rips his hands from yours. The grab under your knees again so he can fold you just how he likes. He uses your body as leverage, holding himself up by the hold on your legs.

"You're so fucking tight like this." He chokes out as he adjusts his hips, pulling back slowly.

"Tell me you need it, tell me you need me." He says, it's not an order, not an exercise of control. It's a prayer, it's something he's desperate for, something he can't live without.

"I need it, baby I need you." You reach around your legs to hold his forearms, needing to be connected to him in every way you can, "I need all of you." You sob, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

He breaks then, seeing you all pretty and broken, hearing you beg for all he has to offer. With the last shred of self control he has, he bends to kiss you. It's slow, reverent, worshipful. It's everything you need to forget about everything that comes between you outside of this room.

When he pulls back, your breath is held, his body tenses and he finally, finally, let's himself go. He fucks you, he fucks you hard. His hips slap against your as you sob into the air, thanking him, praising him, loving him. The drag of his cock in and out of your quivering cunt is enough to reduce you to a sniffling mess.

He watches your face diligently, paying attention to how your lip quivers when he angles his hips upwards, admiring how pretty you look all flushed and tear stained. His hands gorge themselves on the backs of your thighs. Your body sings for him, only him.

"You take it so well, take it for me some more, just a little bit more." He gasps as you tighten around him, spun on by his praise.

All you can utter is one, desperate "more" as he ruins you.

"Fuck, baby, I'll give you more." He releases your legs, letting them fall to the sides.

He grabs your hips and hauls your ass onto his thighs. Braced on his shins, he fucks up into you with everything he has, and it pays off almost instantly.

You scream out, reckless and unashamed. It's too good to hold it in, the pleasure is too fluorescent, the love is too overwhelming.

"Oh god, come on sweet girl, give me all of it." He sounds almost frantic as his thumb finds your clit, he presses down perfectly, rubs it so sweetly, sending even more electricity through your entire body.

You reach out to him, one hand fisting the sheets, the other searching for him, desperate for something to ground you.

He grabs you immediately, tangling his fingers in yours as he did before. He lets his thrusts slow in favor of rolling them up into you as he plays with your clit, easing you through every pulse, making sure you feel every shock.

Slowly, he lets you wind down, paying close attention to every twitch and whimper.

"You're stunning, you're so fucking perfect." He bends down to kiss up your stomach, he slides his arms around your waist and brings you up slowly. You wrap your arms around his hips as he kicks his legs out in front of him. Your lips meet each other so gently, giving and taking flawlessly.

"More, please baby." It's the only request you have capacity for.

He smiles against your lips, his hands fall to your hips, guiding them so they roll against his. You whine against him as his head presses into some forgotten soft spot inside you, your hands claw at his shoulders as you let him direct your movements. More, you just need more more more, all that you can have while you still can.

"Good girl, my good girl." He pants against your neck, his hands slide up so he lock his arms around you again, so he can keep you close, so you won't slip away.

"That's it, just like that." He encourages as you pick up the speed of your hips. There's no real in and out movement, but there is the most steady rubbing of your most sensitive parts, and it's heavenly.

"More baby, just a little more." He coaxes.

Always more, you're always so selfish with each other, glutinous when you can finally indulge in this.

Despite your oversensitivity, despite the ache in your bones, you work harder. You roll against him, almost riding but not quite pulling yourself away from him to do so.

He shivers and moans beneath you so beautifully, you never want to stop, you want to stay like this. You want to keep working with him forever, making him feel like this, watching his pretty pink lips part and tremble as you provide him with his only release.

His fingers bite at your waist and his mouth gets needy against your neck. He just needs more.

"Take it, Toshi, take anything you need."

He looks up at you with such a searching gaze, with some kind of strange, broken wonder. He moves you both until he's leaning his back against the wall, still holding you like you might break.

"I have everything I need." He admits, pressing a long kiss into your shoulder, "I have it all."

Your hands thread into his messy hair, cherishing this slowed moment of tenderness.

"-But I want this." He sighs before planting his feet on the mattress so he can thrust up into you harshly.

One hand flies to the wall as you wail from the pleasure, the other stays in his hair, pulling at his roots as he fucks up into you.

"Like that! Just like that baby, holy fuck." You sob, letting your head fall so you can chant your praises against his damp hairline.

"You always liked it like this." He muses, somehow managing a chuckle.

You have always like it like this, the first time he did it left you begging for it for weeks. You were house sitting for one of his friends right after graduation, you took advantage of the empty house and fucked like rabits. That was before everything got messy, before everything you two have had to be placed under lock and key…

His thrusts hit you somewhere deep and achey, his arms cage you against him, and it takes little to no time for your body to wind up and shatter once again.

"I'm so close, I'm so fuckin close." He cries against your chest, "Help me, talk to me, please- help me." He begs.

This hand grabs at your face, forcing you to look down at him. Big, shiney tears are falling from his marvelous eyes. God, he's beautiful, your beautiful boy.

"Baby, please, let me feel it, I wanna feel it inside me." You answer, letting him slam his hips up into you as he chases his own end.

You let yourself cry against him then, really cry, with your whole body. Somewhere between sobs you mutter enough praises for him to unravel. He grabs at your back, digs his nails in as his hips stutter.

"Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna, fuck fuck fuck." He nearly weeps when he finally stills, hips pulsing up into yours as you both hit that rapturous wall.

You're both a mess of trembling ecstasy as you cling and shiver and fall. You're close enough to kiss, tears mixing as you share space and air. Your bodies roll and twitch as you work each other through every spectacular feeling, every shock and wave and pulse.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." Hitoshi cries against your lips.

"I love you, all of you." You reply. You do, so much it hurts, so much it rips you apart when you lay down without him at night.

You catch your breath together, never letting go for even a second, bringing each other back down to earth. This is always your favorite part, the part where you settle, where you whisper sweet confessions. When you wipe the tears and feel so completely known and understood.

"Thank you." He whispers.

All you do is nod, placing a lazy kiss on his forehead. Your heart is so full, your mind is a blurry mess. All you know is Hitoshi, all he knows is you.

He rolls slightly so he can lay you on the bed next to him, setting you down like you're something sacred. You settle on your back as he settles on his side, propped up on one elbow as he runs his hand over your forehead, brushing the sweaty hair away.

You ease into the tender moment, meeting his eyes, listening to him breathe. You grab his wrist and bring his hand down so you can kiss his palm, thankful for the touch that makes you fall apart.

"'We can't keep doing this'?" You tease.

He looks down at you knowingly, eyes full of familiarity, full of safety.

"We have to, don't we?"

It's a heartbreaking realization every time. That there's no way out of doing this. There's no way for him to walk away from his duty, he's too good, people need him. There's no way for you to join him, not with all that you know, not with what you've done.

"I always will, as long as you will." You promise, fiddling with his fingers as his other hand falls to play with your hair.

"I always will." He says, "Anything for you."

It's almost like you're two lovesick teenagers again, making promises too big to keep, making plans too grandiose to achieve. It's all you have, though. A busted up old shed and some poetic pillow talk. It all settles in your chest and burns, as always, you just want more. More of this, more of him, more of what used to be.

"Do you think…" You falter for a moment, afraid of your own question, "Do you think we'll ever find a way? Do you think we can ever-"

"Yes." He wraps his hand around yours, "We'll find it. Whatever it takes. We'll have this."

Maybe it's a promise that can't be kept, something that will only exist here. For now, you have your little world, you have your locks and your doors and your secrets. You have Hitoshi, you have that sweet, lanky, mess that taught you how to love. As terrifying as it is, he has you too, all of you. He has for years, he probably always will. However it ends up, you'll have this, you'll have each other.

[gaycatwizard]

I feel like "bad/flawed characters that are still likeable" are just some of the Best characters and tend to have a bit more emotional staying power, that they're more relatable and more interesting, more memorable. We need more of them, but they're really... hard to do? Not necessarily hard to make, but hard to do well. Because the amount of flaws and Badness (in a moral/philosophical sense, not quality of a character's design and personality) can vary so drastically, along with the amount of redeeming traits and their potency. It can be hard to want to "copy" or mimic the exact ratio from the character that inspired you. Tangent: it's fine to be inspired by one or more works. It's fine to allow it to influence your works. It's hard distinguishing from "I want to do x, but that's basically just rewriting one of my inspirations but with a palette swap" and "this inspires me so I want to use certain elements/themes/ideas/technical aspects of it." That's not the issue here, y'know. But like... I think the sheer variety you can have in Loveable Asshole characters like that, in the ratio of how bad and how good they are, is part of what makes them so interesting, so realistic, so powerful. Like... there are characters who are overall pretty good people, but are rough around the edges in a way that clearly makes them sympathetic and likeable. There are characters who are basically layer upon layer upon layer of mistakes, hatred, and bile with the tiniest nugget of good at the center, that you rarely get a glimpse of, but feel something raw and enthralling because of that. Like... I think Bojack Horseman is a good example, especially because it has a lot of different Likeable Bad People varieties and it does them all really well. Also Bojack Horseman is a good show and, not unlike JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, I want to talk about it at every given opportunity. Bojack himself is a cynical, selfish, destructive, defensive, spiteful, jealous, vain, self-loathing, stubborn piece of shit. He's a bad person and that's... kind of the point of the show. But his entire character, his entire arc that spans the whole of the series, revolves around the diamond buried deep in that rough. He wants to change, but he's so set in his negative ways (and so used to being surrounded by such negativity and toxicity) that he doesn't really know how. Every time he wants to change, he doesn't know how and fails to keep up with his new habits. Every time he's doing well and making progress, some external factor comes in and pushes him violently back down the mountain, back to square one. But he makes an effort, it's very obvious that he doesn't like being this way, that he regrets the things he does, that he feels remorse for the pain he's caused, and he does finally change and improve, things do finally get better for him. His foil (who has such an AMAZING dynamic and relative arc with him I could write a whole essay just on that), Mr. Peanutbutter, is sort of the exact opposite. They have similar careers and positions in the world, but everything goes right for Mr. Peanutbutter. Everyone likes him, everything is handed to him on a silver platter, he's perfect, he's happy, he's attractive, he's popular, he's everything Bojack isn't, and yet somehow he's drawn to Bojack and always wants to try and be his friend. But as Bojack slowly improves over the show and the softer, nicer, Better side of him becomes more and more prominent and common, the negative side of Mr. Peanutbutter slowly gets revealed over the show. He's also selfish and stubborn and stupid and persistent and dangerously disconnected from reality and his interpersonal skills are absolute shit. He puts on that act to make people like him. As the show goes on, it's slowly revealed that he doesn't really pay attention to the wants or needs of others, like, at all. That he only ever really cares about himself and just wants to do and be everything and anything as long as people like him and it makes him happy, regardless of who it hurts. It's amazing. It's in F is

for Family, too. Netflix Adult Animated Sitcoms are very often hit or miss, but these two are absolute homeruns. Frank, the protagonist, of F is for Family is selfish, violent, short-tempered, arrogant, judgmental, ignorant... but he's remorseful and introspective and intelligent and, in a very convoluted and misguided way most of the time, incredibly caring and devoted. He is a piece of shit and he's terrible, and a lot of why he's still likeable, why he's allowed to be so politically incorrect and abusive is due to the setting. Parenting norms were different back then and, now with hindsight, we know that those norms weren't good and you should NEVER hit or yell at or emotionally degrade your kids. The show is a perfect mix of "everyone is a product of their time and environment" and "no matter the time and place, people are people and we have the same thoughts and feelings and struggles," all without glorifying or excusing the terrible actions of the characters with the excuse of the time period or due to being "protagonists" or having redeeming traits. They're human, flawed, some incredibly so, and that's what makes it so good. It's part of why I like F is for Family more than most Adult Animated Family Sitcoms. You've got the typical stupid, selfish, arrogant, etc. Bad Dad and his Housewife, but there's still chemistry. They're still unique, three dimensional characters that clearly love each other and have a reason to still be together despite arguing and hardship. Same with how Frank and Sue treat their kids. They're not great parents, but they're trying to do their best (which isn't always good) and they do clearly love their kids and want the best for them. Their kids are resentful at times and hate their parents for some of the things they do, but they do stick together at the end of the day because there's that underlying realization that none of the mistreatment is done with malicious intent. That doesn't excuse it, but they're all just fucked up and trying to do their best. And they do have sad, relatable characters that are clearly bad people and aren't likeable, despite having sympathetic traits. Like Ginny. Her husband, that she loves dearly, is gay and simply doesn't love her the way she loves him, their marriage is hollow and empty. But she constantly forces her suffering on others, regardless of whether they want to hear it or are emotionally equipped to do so. Attempting to leave the conversation or explain that other people have problems too means, to Ginny, that you're a terrible human being who can't be there for someone in pain or that you're selfish and disgusting and never stop thinking of yourself. She has every right to be upset, but she takes it out on others and manipulates them, and that's not okay, and the show depicts it that way. There are so many options for character arcs with these characters, too. They don't even have to be related to their flaws, they can be entirely external or related to something like relationships or interests. You can show someone working on their flaws, acknowledging that they're not perfect and they might be bad, but that they want to do better and actively try to do so; they don't avoid responsibility or blame others, they own up to it and do their best to improve. Hell, even just coming to the realization that you are responsible for your actions, not anyone else, and that you have to put in effort to change could be that arc. You can have someone get worse, whether an intentional path of bad decisions without regard for others or a failure to understand which decisions are right. Some people have redeeming traits, but still aren't redeemable. Some people don't get better. Some people still get better, but get worse first. There are so many real, relatable options that show the darker, uglier side of life that we so desperately want to experience and perceive (likely due to the cathartic and taboo aspects), and bringing up flaws and shortcomings and anything else in this context can start interesting conversations and challenge

us to think about things we may not have before, or from a new perspective.

[darthmaulification]

din djarin nsfw alphabet

A/N: i STILL have writer’s block when it comes to all the other stuff i have to get done that it’s INFURIATING. 🙄😤😡 i literally write two (2) sentences, and then my head says “no thoughts, all done :)”.

so anons still waiting on your stuff, have faith, i will get them done eventually!! 🙏🙏😭😭

but i want to get more stuff out more regularly, so take another nsfw alphabet, my brain is melting. 💗

(again, i imply fem!afab!reader and also, there is sensitive content (abortion) under X)

nsfw below the cut! 😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Din may be a bit unsure at first, but he is so sweet when it comes to aftercare. He’s got a caring nature already, and when it comes to making sure you’re clean, comfortable, and content after sex, Din is very soft and gentle. He’ll be asking you the whole time about what you need, how you’re feeling, complimenting and praising you for being perfect. Once he’s done making sure you’re okay, Din will conclude every time with kisses and cuddles, holding you close to him all the while whispering to you in Basic and Mando’a about how much he loves you.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Honestly, Din has spent so long without showing someone else any part of him, that he is fairly insecure about how he looks. He’s a tad... embarrassed by his body, because he wants it to be perfect for you, but he doesn’t feel like it is (of course, you think he’s perfect). Din has a lot of self-criticisms, he worries that he’s too old for you, that his nose is too big for your liking, that he’s got a soft tummy and not like men your age. So Din doesn’t have a favorite body part, he’ll just like anything that you like.

Now on you... Din is a big fan of your face. He comes from a culture where one’s face is kept hidden unless you’re family or spouse, so to have you in all your glory and beauty is almost overwhelming to him. He loves your eyes especially (windows to the soul, and all), how they’re so expressive, what they look like when he’s fucked you cockdumb... all glossy and hazed... Din also loves your lips in particular too, the smile that tugs them up, what they look like when you say his name... and for another obvious reason that tends to happen when you’re below his belt on your knees...

(Also Din is a boobie man, full stop).

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Din cums a lot, and he wants it all over you. If you let him, he’ll splatter his nut on your face, belly, breasts, ass, and other places that he loves and wants marked. He likes seeing you all messy and sticky, covered in the stuff that he creates just for you. Din goes kinda feral though if you beg him to cum inside you, allow him to bottom out and let loose past your tight cervix straight into your womb... makes his brain fizzle out. Also, Din’s cum tastes abnormally sweet, almost too sugary, much like the sweet man himself.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

Din wants to be cucked. Like he really wants to watch someone else fuck you (consensually, of course), and him not being able to do anything about it. It’d be such a fucking tease and edge for him that the thought makes him feel some sort of way in his pants.

Also, not so much of a secret but still dirty, Din can play the role of a dom to a T, but in his heart, he’s a sub. Just take the reins on day, there’s not much he’d be compelled to do to stop you.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Most, if not all, of Din’s sexual experiences before you were clumsy, quick fucks with sex workers at brothels or cantinas. He had most of them when the desire became to high to ignore, so really the closest around satisfied him enough. And although most of the conquests had no specialness or emotion to them, they did shape the way Din moved around bodies, aided in his ability to please and such. So Din is rather experienced, he knows what he’s doing and how to make things steamy, but he’s really never been able to truly connect with someone before. Even though he’s well versed in the art of sex, there’s a few learning curves for him to accomplish, particularly making sure he meets your needs the way you want them met, not how he thinks you may want to do things.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

By far, Din loves nothing more but to bend you over a table, or the console board of the Razor Crest, and pound into you from behind like there’s no tomorrow. He loves to have the warmth of your ass, heavy and plush, against his pelvis all while he’s up to the hilt inside your core. Din also likes the control it gives him, having you squirming and moaning under him, one of his hands heavy on your back keeping you down while the other squeezes your thighs and hips, or plays with your clit. Din might also get a bit grabby with your hair, pulling back your head enough so that he can nibble at your neck and hiss all the dirty things he wants into your ear.

The close second for his favorite position though is having you tied up to the bed, wrists and ankles bound. It’s one of Din’s favorite sights in the entire galaxy.

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Din is serious about making sure he’s doing all he can to make you a moaning, cockdumb mess, that’s for damn sure. He’s very driven in that regard, serious about the task at hand and all the things he has to do to make sure you know just how much he loves you. Din isn’t a stoic robot though, he’s too vibrant and compassionate of a man for that, so he’ll being saying sweet things to get you to blush and smile, grinning against the shell of your ear before kissing your neck, maybe nipping playfully at your ass or stomach too... Din knows how to give a good time.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Din is a functionalist, so he likes to keep his bush below the belt to a minimum, or at least manageable, so he trims it and sometimes shaves it fully. Though he does have a tendency to let it grow a bit if he’s having a dry spell or if he just doesn’t have the motivation... but once the tuft starts catching on the zip to his pants (he goes commando, the dork), that’s when Din knows he’s got to shave. All his body hair elsewhere; head, face, legs, back, arms, etc, Din doesn’t care much about except his moustache and tasteful stubble which he does really like to keep. Of course, Din keeps everything as clean as a whistle.

On his partners, Din doesn’t have much of a preference, but he does lean towards someone who at least keeps their stuff trimmed (and clean, of course). However, he won’t force you to do anything, it’s your body, your decisions.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Just... so intimate. Of course, Din fucks like a beast in rut, but he’s so consuming and raw with it, it’s nothing short of perfect. Din wears his heart on his sleeve, so sex is constant “I love yous” in every word and action, even when it’s all vulgarity and dirty and horny, but it’s love nonetheless. You’re able to feel it from how he presses against you, molds against you like liquid heat, how his hands make your body his own, how he kisses you with stars in his eyes, how he tells you over and over again both vocally and silently, “Thank you”.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

Mm... it depends on his mood. He masturbated more when he was younger, when he had more time and drive to do so. Though once he got older, and life happened, and he’s almost non-stop running around chasing quarries... Din’s just too darn tired. It got even less so when Grogu came into his life, because oh my Maker the horror Din would feel if somehow his son caught him in the act. But Din is only human, and has that accursed Mandalorian sex drive, so sometimes the urge does rear it’s head, and he’s gotta make his hand and penis best friends again.

Doesn’t help when you’re occupying his thoughts either.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Y’know that cliché where it’s like “normal looking person whose an absolute freak in the sheets”? Yeah, that’s Din. This man is the epitome of that. Here’s his kinks:

Bondage. Din really likes the sight of you tied up on the bed, at his mercy like a bunny in a hunter’s trap. He wants to have you bound by your wrists and ankles, maybe even tying you to the bedposts, and fucking you senseless while you beg to be able to touch him too. Din favors using handcuffs (technically binders, but Star Wars lingo is silly sometimes), but he’ll use whatever you’re okay with too. And, of course, if bondage isn’t your thing, he won’t ever force you to do it. (psst, Din doesn’t mind being tied up either)

Spanking. Kind of the only aspect of the “S” part of BDSM that Din will every really partake in. He likes landing a good few firm swats on your flanks, likes seeing your ass and thighs jiggle from the force of it, the bright flush that may appear afterwards if you let him go at it a while. Din also likes just being able to touch your ass too, so a nice spank to your bottom becomes the physical message of “You’re in for it tonight, mesh’la”. Oh, and he’ll make you count.

Daddy kink. Oh Maker, if you call him Daddy, he’ll lose his mind. Din has such a big Daddy kink that even if you call him it in a nonsexual situation, he’ll be feeling that warmth until he’s able to steal you away and rail you good. He loves being the Daddy and you being his “Sweet girl” or “Cyar’ika”... the dynamic runs him wild.

Breeding/pregnancy kink. Din wants to fuck a baby into you so badly he dreams about it. It’s been impounded into him that family and parenthood are really big deals, so you bet your ass he wants to fulfill that part of his Creed by making sure your pussy’s stuffed, womb is filled to the brim, and your breasts are swollen and milky. Din wants so so deeply to see you pregnant with the kid that you and him make, he desperately wants a family with you.

Breast/nipple kink. Yeah, Din really really likes your tits. There’s something about the shape, the texture, size, weight, etc that activates some primal monkey part of his brain that has him drooling. Din loves to knead and fondle your breasts, roll them under his large hands, press them together, watch the soft flesh squish and mold around his fingers. He especially loves the cute nipples of yours, pinching them between his fingers, tweaking them. Din also really likes sucking on your tits, leaving marks all over them, playing with your nipples with his tongue...

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

When you both have the opportunity, Din really really likes taking you in a good, proper bedroom, something that the uncomfortable, tiny bunk on the Razor Crest really doesn’t account for. If it were up to him, he’d want to spend his entire life with you in bedroom fit for a king, taking you over and over again on a mattress that feels like a cloud. It’s no shock then whenever Din actually shills out the credits (being the frugal man he is) to buy a hotel room is the sex borderline godlike.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

A sure-fire way to get Din fully and completely riled up would be to wear something real scandalous. Be that a shirt that shows a tad bit more, or pants that are tight enough to reveal you aren’t wearing panties, or (Din’s favorite) a set of cute lingerie... Din will get hard in his pants. It’d be even more so if you tease him in public, but be warned he’ll fuck you mean for that.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Very early on, it was, obviously, taking off his helmet. If you asked, or Maker forbid tried, the mood would drop pretty extensively if not entirely from Din. He’d get uncomfortable, go silent, and the first time it happened, he left the room. Removal of the helmet was a very big one before he eventually showed you his face.

After you’ve been able to kiss his face over and over again and cry because you think he’s so beautiful? Nothing comes to Din’s mind really besides the kinks that are... nastier. Like literally, y’know... some other bodily... stuffs. Anyways, Din is pretty adaptable when it comes to kinks/positions and stuff. The pros of already being a kinky man...

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

Okay, Din really loves his dick sucked. The way that you wrap your lips around his shaft, kiss the tip of his penis, fondle his balls, lick and slobber on him... makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. He especially loves being able to watch you try and take all of him in your throat, seeing the tears of pleasure squeeze out your eyes, the way you hollow your cheeks around him and suck. Din loves it when you go down on him.

... Now that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like going down on you. There is no place Din would want to be more than with his face between your legs, lapping at you like a starving animal. He’ll spend hours with his mouth on your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit, driving orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re shaking from overstimulation and begging him to stop. Din loves your pussy, the way you taste and smell... drives him wild.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

Din will most often rail you into the mattress with a fervor. He tends to fuck hard, and he likes to play rough. The pace he keeps is something that makes you see stars every time he thrusts, when he ruts into you so hard that your entire body moves. However, Din does this all with a type of passionate sensuality that leaves you in tears, he fucks you sure, but it’s also fully fueled by unwavering love. When he’s feeling especially sentimental, Din will indulge on this love, and he’ll go slower, deeper, make you feel nothing but the weight of him.

And PDA... Well, Din doesn’t take the helmet or beskar off in public, so PDA is every time Din steps in front of you to shield you protectively, it’s when he offers to carry whatever you’re holding, it’s when he fights for you, it’s when he stands close to your side, when he sends you long side-eyed glances that make you feel the love, it’s when he nudges your shoulder with his, when he lets you wrap your fingers around his, when he drapes you with his cloak, surrounding you with him... It’s the little, subtle things, the personal things that mean you’re closer to him than anyone else.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Maker, yes. Din becomes kinda addicted to having sex with you, so any and all chance to pull down his and yours pants and rut you both into a quick release is perfect for him. They don’t happen all that often, you’re both too busy most of the time, but if there’s a window of opportunity, Din will take it.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

Din’s kinda a big baby, so anything you may want to try with him in the bedroom that’s out of the norm will have him a stuttering, blushing mess. Most of the time though, once you’ve explained whatever you’re wanting enough, he’ll be down to do it because he knows you’re fine with it, and so is he. Though Din has his limits, a few things in particular that he’d never risk: safety and his Creed. He won’t ever try something that would potentially put the both of you in mortal danger, and wouldn’t do something that breaks his Code. Other than that, Din does enjoy pushing the boundaries a little once you’ve started, and he might even become more advantageous.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

Din can last long enough, that’s for sure. He’s not borderline superhuman like some other men, but Din doesn’t tap out early either. With the skill he has with his hands, he’s easily able to make you cum a couple times before he dicks you down, and sometimes he’s even able to draw out an orgasm or two when he’s balls deep inside you. It all usually depends on his energy level, if he’s pumped up and well rested, expect a long, long night, but if he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, honestly he might just cum if you jerk him off a little bit.

Though sleepy sex with Din, although it’s very short, is also a bit of an exercise in absolute trust with him. He’s able to fall asleep in your arms, all worn out and buzzing from his orgasm, it makes him feel fully at peace.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Haha, no. Din is such a minimalist, he didn’t own any type of luxury like that, unless you count the handcuffs, but he technically uses those for his job. It really is he just doesn’t have the space nor the credits he’s willing to spare, and he didn’t have a partner before you so really it would’ve been pointless for him. But now that he’s got you in his life (and bed)? Yeah, Din might splurge a little bit and buy some things to make your romps a bit more... interesting. Be that a vibrator, some silky rope, a plug... just some fun things.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He likes to tease, because edging you edges him and that satiates the deep-rooted sub inside of him. Din likes to have you begging for release just as much as he likes the feeling of his cock practically screaming to sink into your velvety core. The teasing really goes both ways, even if Din is the one who’s technically doing all of it. He also gets really into dirty talk (for as long as he can actually speak) and will be saying all sorts of nasty things in your ear like “C��mon, cyar’ika, tell me you want my fingers” or “Pretty girl, use your words. You want my cock or no?”.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Din is loud, but in a quiet type of way? He like... whisper yells, like his voice is already naturally low, so when he’s got you all in his grasps it’s like the volume of his voice doesn’t increase, but the intensity does? Din fills the room, essentially, being the only thing you hear, even over your own moans, squeals, screams, etc. It’s mostly a lot of strained dirty talk, like each word Din says to you is determined, but he’s got to push them through clenched teeth because his dick’s twitching so hard and your pussy is just too good... and shit, once you’ve drawn the first moan out of him, it’s over for him. Din will be moaning. Once he’s lost in the sauce, which happens sorta quickly, Din becomes just as incoherent as you, maybe being able to babble out something about seeing you fat with child or maybe about how well you’re swallowing up his cock, but it really devolves into lengthy, horny moans and hefty grunts. So yes, our man’s is loud.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

Din loves when you tell him how much you think he’s attractive. He’s spent basically his whole life with his face in a bucket and his body in armor, so he’s never gotten compliments about his authentic self before. This kind of hampered his self-confidence and racked up his insecurity? Din doesn’t necessarily have any specific qualms with how he looks, but he also is very unsure of how you think of him. So when you tell him that you love his face; his crooked, hooked nose, his soft, honey brown eyes, his patchy stubble, and even his ridiculous moustache... it makes his heart soar.

This same sentiment goes for his body too, which Din does have a couple of more prominent issues with. For one, he’s a tad soft around the middle (age + indulging himself + taking excessive off days = weight gain) which makes him feel semi-insecure about what you may think when you don’t see chiseled, perfect abs, and he’s just generally self-conscious about his age. But when you’re fine with it? When you say you find his chub endearing?? That he’s really not that old and that he shouldn’t worry about it??? Din is beyond happy.

And in a complete 180, Din has a very high sperm count. Like astronomically high. A medical marvel type of high. So... if you indulge on his desire for a big family... expect a lot of little Djarin brats really fast.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Din is built like a himbo. He’s built like he’d ask you what pussy size do you wear when he buys pads for you. He’s built like the dude that comes into the store you work at every so often who’s just so captivating and out of this world handsome that you stare at him as he looks at the same thing he always does, until he leaves after not buying it for the third week in a row. He has a very good figure, muscular in all the right places from a lifetime of brutal physical activity. Din’s arms and shoulders are probably his best feature, the entirety of the appendages being toned with taut, powerful muscle and perfect for holding you. His chest is quite toned as well, though his pecs are softer and have a smattering of chest hair brushed on the muscles. Although he has a relatively trim waist and a defined Adonis belt, Din’s belly is actually pretty soft. He’s like a muscular boy, but with a bit more chub (if anyone gets that reference, you’re extra sexy), so Din doesn’t have a defined set of abs. He does have a dark happy trail that leads to the special someone between his thick-muscled thighs.

He also, from time and age, has a bit of a weathered look to him that makes him look experienced and jaded. His body also has a smattering of scars, most of them old and silvered, from scuffles and fights he’s had in his past. 

Big Dick Cum Daddy Din is hung. His penis is a mouth-watering 9 inches (22.86 cm) of throbbing glory, not overly girthy (2 inches, 5.08 cm, in width) but perfect nonetheless. He has a very prominent vein on the bell end of his cock, as well as fairly defined ridges on the sides, like he’s fucking ribbed for your pleasure. His penis is actually circumcised, so the head of his cock gets especially red once you’ve got all the blood and horniness in his loins. Din’s balls are perfect too, weighty things that hang a bit lower that only shows their virility.

Din is pro-choice. He’s a firm believer in people having autonomy over their bodies and having the ability to choose. So when it comes to abortion, even though the thought admittedly makes Din a little uncomfortable, he would fully support his partner choosing to have one, if that was their decision.

Also, Din is a bisexual icon, I don’t make the rules.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yes. Ever since you come into his life, Din is horny like a teen boy all over again, it’s almost ridiculous. At the very beginning, it’s just a lot of him fantasizing about what he wants to do to you, because A) you’ve both just met, B) his Creed, and C) it’d be so embarrassing for him for you to find out how much you affect him. But once you two start getting closer, and spend weeks and months dancing around each other, Din starts to get a bit more flirty, more frisky. You definitely start noticing how much he’s wanting you, so really it comes to the point that at any time you reciprocate your feelings and consent, Din will be on you in a second. After that first time, it’s over for y’all. Din will want to fuck all the time, everywhere, whenever possible. Your pussy becomes his dick’s permanent home.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Din isn’t an easy sleeper in general, so after sex it’s really not much different. It always takes a while for him to fall asleep, so you’ll definitely be passed out before he even starts to feel tired. He’ll spend most of his time after making sure you’re taken care of with his exquisite aftercare, and then mumble sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep. Even after you’re out, Din will still lie awake and talk to you quietly about anything and everything that comes to mind before he eventually falls asleep too.