#It has given me new perspective on things like: not getting wet

[completeoveranalysis]

[3]

FISH AND RAIN FANTASTIC

THANKS xxxHOLiC THIS IS EXACTLY THE MOOD I CRAVED

[littlelovelyra]

The First Move. (Pt 2 of The Change)

Astarion x F!Tav

This time she will not get away. This time Aurelia will pay for helping him. You want to hear her scream.

3,344 words.

Part 2/? I’m thinking of making this a series leading up to C*zador’s demise. I’ve switched perspectives a few times here because there were certain moments I wanted from Astarion’s eyes and not Tav’s, I hope it’s easy to follow.

Part one here

Mature themes Minors DNI

Summary: It has been a few weeks since Cazador turned you into a spawn and returned you to your lover in the hopes of destroying him. He was so sure Astarion would leave you behind and give up. Instead, Astarion has embraced you and your changes, providing you with all the love and care that you had given him. He has seen how hard it has been for you to get used to this new way of living, as you haven’t been yourself. To distract you, he has taken you out for a lesson on hunting. However, it seems there are other plans in store for your evening.

Warnings: Fluff, cuteness, sappy, mentions of Cazador/abuse (I try not to do this too intensely), suggestive flirting/language, death, Tav gets called a wh*re so there’s a warning for that too.

Tav:

As you sit on the balcony of the Elfsong Tavern, you hear his voice lingering in the back of your mind, “I have big plans for you”. The sun sets across the sky, painting it a beautiful pink and orange, and you catch yourself savouring the view, knowing that once the tadpole is gone, you will not have the luxury of witnessing such beauty again in person. However, your thoughts keep returning to Astarion. You imagine him all alone, going through these changes with nobody by his side, and your heart aches for him. How much pain and loneliness he must have experienced all these years.

The nightmares are always the same. You find yourself in a cold, wet cell as Cazador throws you around like you weigh nothing. It all happens so fast. Panic and fear take over your entire being as he bites down on your neck. Once he leaves the cell, you look down at your hands, only to realise they are not yours. No, these hands belong to Astarion. Shortly after, you are transported out of his body, looking into his cell, watching him cower in fear, his soul breaking repeatedly. That’s when your screaming begins.

“So my sweet, what do you think?” He asks you, taking both your hands in his and dropping his gaze to meet your eyes.

"What do I think about what?" you ask, looking confused. Concern floods his features instantly. "Sorry, I've done it again, haven't I?" You squeeze his hands and offer him a small apologetic smile. A feeling of shame courses through you. He's been so good to you since your change. He never lets go of you during the evenings, holding you through the nightmares just as you held him through his. You want to be more present for him, but your lingering thoughts betray you. Every good thing he does to support you, you just can't help thinking how he had no one.

His hands gently cradle your face as he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. "You never have to apologise to me, my love. I understand what you're going through. I'm here if you want to talk about it," he says softly. He brushes his lips against yours, kissing you slowly. A tear escapes your stinging eyes and trails down your cheek, meeting your lips. He pulls back for a moment, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. His body no longer feels cool to the touch, you had always wondered what it would feel like if the two of you ran at the same temperature, and now you know. At first, you mourned the coolness of his skin, but this warmth, this closeness, makes you feel his love even more deeply.

“I had asked you if you would like to come hunting with me this evening?” He’s moved back again and watches your face cautiously, you see he doesn’t want to pressure you, his eyes filled with unwavering love and patience. 

“I would like that very much, Star.” You reach your hand up and stroke his cheek feeling your heart swell as he closes his eyes, leaning his lips towards your palm and breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Come on then.” He takes your hand in his as he stands and leads you to the ladder back down to your private quarters.

________

Astarion:

 “First, we need to get changed into darker attire, to blend into our surroundings easily so we don’t draw any attention to ourselves” You shift out of your shirt and move towards her, gently removing her blouse, running your fingers down her arms making sure you stop to hold her hands and kiss her cheek. 

Turning to the cupboard you retrieve two long-sleeved leather tops, two hoods and two black trousers. As you hand her one set she arches her eyebrow and looks at you with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Matching hunting outfits?” A short soft giggle escapes her mouth and you spring to life at the sound. 

“Do that again, little love.” You say wrapping your arms around her. Your skin feels warm against hers, Gods it’s been weeks since you have heard her laugh. You would give anything to hear it again. “So loved. You are so loved. You don’t even realise how much of my heart you have.” Your thoughts press into hers, you rarely use the tadpole but there are moments such as this where you make exceptions. Words that are only meant for her, you send them straight into her mind filling it with as much love as you possibly can. She buries her head against your bare chest and you feel a small smile spread across her face. 

“I can feel you smiling darling, that's not very nice of you to keep such a beautiful thing hidden from me.” Your words are an exaggerated whine. She doesn’t budge as soft giggles start bubbling from her, sending small shivers down your spine at the sound. “Would it surprise you to know that not only did I get us matching hunting outfits but I had also purchased us matching lacy under clothes, bows and all. Bright magenta even. I thought It may accentuate my wonderful figure.” Your tone is playful as you step back giving a little playful twirl. 

She pauses for a moment then laughter erupts from her while a wide smile spreads across her face and you feel as though you just might die at the sight of it. You meet her gaze with your smile plastered across your face as you make your way back to her. Swooping her up, you kiss her deeply and gently place her back onto the ground. “As much as I love being your personal clown, my love, time is of the essence here and we have some hunting to do.”

You both change into your hunting clothes and set off hand in hand.

****

After a short walk just outside of Rivington, you find yourselves perched behind a boulder carefully tracking a bear that is lazily moving through a clearing heading right towards you. For a brief moment, you wonder how your friend Halsin may feel knowing what your choice of cuisine has been as of late.

“Okay, my sweet, the trick here is to wait for the right opportunity to attack. Patience is key, if we move a second too early or late that could cost us our meal.” You have chosen to communicate this through the tadpole to ensure that everything goes according to plan. She needs a decent meal and this bear could fill you both easily.

“What’s with the berries we placed? Is it really going to fall for that?” She sends a mental note back, you sense a bit of doubt coating her words. You simply turn to look at her and raise your eyebrows acting offended, she silently raises her hands in surrender.

Just as you had planned the bear spots the berries and cautiously approaches them, scanning its surroundings. “Hold absolutely still, do not breathe. Once it lowers its guard it will drop its head and start eating. The very moment its mouth touches the berries we flank each of its sides and I’ll make the move. Understood?” You look at her and she nods her head ever so slightly.

The bear dips its head to eat and you take your opportunity, the two of you flanking each of its sides and before it even has a moment to react you are at its neck, swiftly and mercifully bringing it to its end.

“You first, my love. Drink till you feel satisfied.” You watch a she slowly approaches the bear, whispers something in its ear, strokes its face, and sinks her teeth into the creature. Moments later she steps aside for you and you take your fill.

The two of you find yourself lying in the clearing staring at the stars. You can’t help but feel somewhat reflective of the first moment the two of you found yourselves alone in a clearing. She was so trusting, so soft, you close your eyes offering a silent thanks to whatever gods brought her into your life.

She shifts turning on her side to face you and you turn on yours moving closer to her. You extend your arms and wrap her into an embrace breathing her in. She smells of cinnamon and petrichor… cool, refreshing but also warm and homey. The moment is interrupted as you feel her body stiffen beside you.

“What is it, my love?” You watch her gaze staring behind you. Slowly you turn yourself and you see Leon approaching you and your beloved. Again. Just like the night in the tavern. You both spring to your feet and you hold her firm behind you.

“One more fucking step and you will not live to see another day.” You hiss out as you ready yourself for a fight.

“Come, brother, you have proven your point. Bring her with, he will forgive you.” Leon speaks slowly as he inches forward two steps.

“Ignis!” You fling out a firebolt landing right at his feet. “I said don’t. Fucking. Move.” You growl through gritted teeth. You know Aurelia will be somewhere nearby, they never travel alone.

As if on cue she steps out into the clearing to your side and you feel Tav shift her attention to Aurelia, her body begins to shake as your arm stays protectively in front of her. She starts to step out from behind you, and you notice her hands moving in a fluid motion, a pale purple light emanates from them. You know this spell. She is going to cast a hold on Aurelia.

“Going somewhere?” She cocks her head to the side, with a small smirk, her voice is soft and menacing as she extends her hands outward successfully trapping Aurelia in place. Reaching into your boot you retrieve a dagger and expertly throw it straight into Leon’s chest, just missing his heart.

“If I were you, brother, I would be running now.” You start stalking forward as Leon disappears in a cloud of red ash, leaving Aurelia trapped by the hold spell.

“Darling, how long can you concentrate for me? I would love to have a word with my beloved sister.” You kiss her cheek as she walks with you toward the trapped spawn.

This time she will not get away. This time Aurelia will pay for helping him. You want to hear her scream.

_____

Tav:

As you focus on Aurelia, your eyes never waver from hers, your concentration unbroken. The rage building inside you feels like it could set you on fire. In the background, you can hear Astarion rummaging through his backpack.

“What are you looking for Star?” You call out to him.

“Don’t worry about me, just, hold her there. You’re doing great my love… AHA! There it is!” He walks past you, places an amulet around Aurelia’s neck, and grips her wrists firmly with his hands. “Alright, you can drop the hold now, she won’t be able to go anywhere. I… “obtained” this amulet from some weirdo in an alleyway back in Baldur’s Gate. The wearer can't use any form of magic and yes before you ask I already got Gale to fact-check this. It will work.”

You release the holding spell and watch as Aurelia tries to teleport herself and Astarion from the clearing. Her eyes widen in panic as she realises that she cannot move. "Why can't I move, Astarion?! Let me go, brother!" Her voice rises in fear.

“Hah! Haha! Leaving so soon sister? I thought you were up for a little family reunion?” He says twisting her arms as he drags her to a nearby tree. “Tav darling, please be a dear and get the rope from my backpack. We need to secure our guest.” His eyes meet yours as a sly grin spreads across his features. You simply nod, retrieve the rope and help him tie her to the tree.

You watch as he pulls another blade from his boot and lifts it, running the sharp edge slowly down her cheek. She wails in pain as blood trickles down her face.

His voice is low, the words coated in venom as a growl forms deep in the back of his throat: “You dared to show your face near me again? Near her?" The sound sends a cold chill down your spine. “You have made a grave mistake finding us again, sister. And this time… I am afraid you will not be returning to your Master. No. Your little part in this game ends here.” He takes his dagger and thrusts it into her side, a blood-curdling scream erupts from her mouth.

“You can kill me brother, but he will find you and your little whore of a pet. He will take her you know? His most beautiful spawn. Heard it myself” She spits the words in your direction as you watch Astarion’s body become tense.

_____

Astarion:

Whore? Rage fills your body, causing your hands to tremble. His most beautiful spawn. You level your gaze with Aurelia and breathe out “I’m going to fucking kill you… and then… then I’m going to kill him and ANYONE ELSE who even looks at her the wrong way.” Before she can retort you swiftly thrust the blade upward and end her sorry existence.

You wipe the blade clean on the corpse’s attire and retrieve the amulet from its neck. Slowly you approach your lover, cautiously placing your hands on either side of her arms. Her eyes have grown distant again and you pull her against your body. “Come, we’re done here. That will put a few obstacles in the way of the ascension.”

**

You arrive back in your room at the Elfsong Tavern and guide her to sit on the bed. She hasn’t said a single word since leaving the clearing. You prepare a warm bath for both of you, dropping sprigs of lavender in the water. As the scent slowly starts to fill the air, you inhale deeply. Walking back to the bed you kneel before her, assisting her with her boots and carefully start to undress her. Taking her hand in yours you lead her to the tub and gently lift her over its edge. She slowly sinks into the water, and her muscles begin to relax, releasing the tension they’ve been holding.

You undress from your bloodied clothing, chucking them in the corner of the room, grabbing a washcloth to wipe off the blood on your skin before you climb into the tub and settling yourself behind her. You grab the soap and sponge and you start slowly working the soap into a lather on her back. Her head drops forward slightly and she exhales a shaky breath as she brings her hands to her face. Her body begins to shake with soft sobs that make your chest feel like it’s caving in. Saying nothing you tenderly rotate her to face you as you wrap your arms around her, bringing her against your chest in a cuddle.

Your head rests atop hers “Shhh little love. I’ve got you. You are safe.” You run your hand up and down her back and place a soft kiss on her temple.

“He won’t stop will he?” She says quietly into your chest.

“I’m afraid not my sweet. He might be all the more furious now since he’ll need to replace Aurelia for the rite.” You know she needs to hear the truth, it’s no use sugarcoating the situation. “We will get through this. You will get through this. You will adjust to this new life, I know you didn’t choose it, not many of us do. But, you are not alone and I will be here when you are ready to talk about it. I can see it eating away at you.” You press the palm of your hand against her cheek as she looks up at you she presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Astarion… it’s not that I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. I… I have accepted it. The reason I have been so silent is because all I can think about is how you had no one. You went through all of these changes, alone… I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have felt like.” Her eyes scan your face as she continues, “The support you have offered me, I can’t stop thinking about how you never had this and it breaks my heart. It makes me hate him more than anything I have ever hated. I have never felt this much hatred towards another being in my existence. I’m scared of him getting his hands on you. I will do anything, anything to keep you safe. I thank the gods it was me they grabbed that night.” Her eyes glisten with the tears that are making their escape down her cheeks.

Incredible. You think to yourself, her life changed overnight and all she can think about is you over these last few weeks. How lucky you are to know a love like this. Never in your 200 years did you think you would be out of Cazador’s grip let alone finding love and feeling the most seen you have ever felt.

“Little love… you are… so selfless.” You scatter tender kisses over her face. “You have shown me a love that I never believed existed. You make me feel seen, heard and safe. With you, I feel like I can take on the nine hells themselves. You don’t need to worry about what I went through. Although it was… difficult… it led me to you, to this and I would do it all again if it meant you were waiting for me at the end.” You bring her lips to yours and kiss her deeply, feeling her body melt into yours as she wraps her arms around your neck. She rests her head on your shoulder, and you both stay there, enveloped in the warmth of the water and your embrace.

“I promise you this, Cazador will die by my hand and it will be a painful death.” You whisper into her hair breathing in her scent.

“As long as I am there to watch you do it.” She whispers back her breath cool against your neck.

“As you wish, darling.” Your smile spreads softly across your face. You know, and you believe that even he knows… Cazador is on borrowed time.

You are coming for him.

***********

Part 3 here

[moon-buggg]

Outside perspective

a bit of a look into how the townsfolk view YN and their curious new companions. I... may have gone a bit overboard with making it read like a classic gothic horror story lmao. eventually I will get an ao3 account up and running and start posting these there.... someday

word count: 1113

content warnings: brief mentions of grave robbing, Sun and Moon are referred to as 'it' by the narrator who doesn't know them

I do not know what drives a man to madness, what seed of evil must be planted to allow one to turn his back against all that is right and moral. Men far smarter than I have argued since time immemorial over the root cause of evil; whether it is some inborn trait, a dark miasma that consumes one whole, the work of devils, or simply the nature of free will. I know not from which deep recess of hell such wickedness sprung forth, but I know that I have seen its face. It is a face that haunts my dreams- my very being. A face that looms over the night and seeks to destroy all that righteous men hold dear. A face that is impossible to forget. A face I cannot possibly begin to describe here, for fear of calling it forth to haunt me further.

Should such evils have a singular origin, it is whatever dark corner spawned that wretched doctor. 

I still remember the fateful day they first appeared like a grim specter over our small village. The veritable calm before the storm. It had been raining heavily for several days, the roads transformed into a dense mud that threatened to consume any unlucky enough to be forced out of shelter. That day the rain had given way to a cloying fog, out from which stepped a stranger, cloaked in what might have once been a pristine white coat but was currently stained with the evidence of their struggle with the muddy roads.

I wish I could say I had sensed something was wrong the moment they stepped foot into my tavern, but truthfully I had felt sorry for the wet, muddy thing slumped over my counter looking for a hot meal. I know now the error I made welcoming them not only into my establishment but our town.

They were moving into the old manor in the woods, and, unable to locate it in the fog, had resigned to seeking warm shelter and a meal, both of which I was readily able to provide. They avoided talking about themself as much as possible, simply stating that they had business which was to be tended to alone. I assumed they were a melancholic artist or poet looking to escape the woes of city life. It was not until much later I learned they were a doctor, of all things.

They did not leave their name.

Fed, rested, and provided with the best directions I could manage, the stranger was gone. I had tried to offer them board for the night seeing as the rain was picking up again and was sure to make their trek all the more difficult, but they were adamant they did not mind the weather and would rather settle in sooner than later.

I was left with the distinct impression they were an odd sort, an eccentric type, but largely put the stranger out of my mind. Little did I know at the time what would come of that fateful meeting.

Soon enough, a routine was formed. The first of every month the doctor would emerge from their isolation, buy barely enough food to last one person a month, and pick up an order of all manner of strange tools and supplies imported on their order from the grocer, purchase one sweet pastry from the baker, and return on their lonesome to the woods.

No one has ever seen them in town on any other occasion, for any other reason.

No one has ever seen who digs up the graves, no matter how many souls take watch over the graveyard.

So, needless to say, people were unsettled when this familiar routine was so completely altered one spring morning. When on their monthly entrance into town they were shadowed by two towering automatons. The metal jesters, for they were curiously fashioned after circus clowns, followed after their master like loyal dogs.

The first, whose face was fashioned after the sun with large bronze rays that reflect the early morning light in pale imitation of the real sun, moved most jovially down the street, practically bouncing with each step in a manner most discordant with the confusion and dread slowly spreading amongst the townsfolk. As if for an invisible crowd, every movement was performed. For what reason had the doctor fashioned such strange creations, and what fresh terror would they unleash upon our town? It strayed from its companions as the group continued into town, moving its face as if taking in the streets for the first time, its face an unnerving grim permanently etched into painted porcelain. Though uncanny in face and movements, this first jester seemed almost welcoming when compared to its twin.

As if a dark mirror to its solar companion, the second automaton seemed to soak up shadows like the night itself. It hovered just behind the doctor, its face a tragedy mask warped into lunar shape. Rather unlike its brother, this jester seemed to take no interest in observing the town, simply following its master with movements far too fluid and precise to be of man. Whenever a concerned bystander would stare too long or stray too close, the lunar automaton would, without a face capable of expression, turn and stare at the offending party, leaving the distinct impression that it was glowering at you. A most unnerving effect best compared to an overzealous guard dog.

I watched as the trio disappeared into the store, and, as if the spell keeping me in place was broken, remembered my purpose in being out so early. I could not linger and gawk at the mad doctor and their metal entourage any longer, though I was later told by the grocer that the solar automaton was quite chatty. I went about my day, resigned to putting the strange occurrence out of my mind until late at night, when solitude and darkness draw out the shadows of one's mind.

I could not help but ponder the nature of these frighteningly human automatons, and I am sure many of my peers laid away doing the same.

Bodies are going missing, that is the only thing we know for certain, and it only started once that doctor came to town. No one knows what they do sequestered in their manor, isolated in the woods, until suddenly they appear with strange creations that move and talk in a pale imitation of man. Laying awake, staring at my ceiling and overcome with a dread that seeped into my very bones, the nature of these beings haunting me. What wicked deeds mar their creation, what secrets are hidden in their metal exteriors.

[leomoon65]

Your first time with Dina

little info for you preference: afab reader, she/her perspective, wlw based but has a bisexual undertone just no men sexually.

summary:

you've liked dina for a few years now but never wanted to ruin your friendship but what happens when dina invites you over and a game of truth or dare turns sexual?

warning: virginity taking, p*rn categories mentioned, smut, , strap, teasing, edging, slight degradation, sexual tension, light language, mention and small affects of weed, 18+ minors dni, semi slow burned, idk im probably forgetting some this was written at 5am

a/n: i never wrote anything like this, let alone posted. this is proofread (update at 5am, it barely is) but im known for having spelling/grammar errors due to personal reasons so pls go easy on me. also, dina and the reader are in college to make everyone legal. i apologize for this being so long, i really wanted to add detail and make it the best i can. please enjoy (:

*a little background*

dina is your childhood best friend, she's a year older than you so you have always looked up to her and she protected you. you've had your ups and downs, complained and cried over various ex partners, came out to each other and have been through thick and thin. she is your person and you are hers.

*dina texts you*

"hey y/n, wanna come over, smoke a bowl and chill tn?"

you smile at your best friend's text responding "yes ofc idiot" as you make your way back from your last class of the day. you are glad you don't have to work another shift at the local retro video game store that mind you, dina always stops to bother you almost every shift. you can focus on the weekend and just have a night with your best friend.

you make your dorm, change into a white cropped shirt, jeans, your campus hoodie (go longhorns) and a pair of vans. "i'll be out for the night" you tell your roommate nancy. "oooo are you finally going to get laid?" nancy giggles to herself. "shut up, no it's dina, we are just going to smoke and i'll probably end up staying the night, text me if you need anything" you say with a smile and you're off. since dina is a sophomore she's in a different dormitory then the freshmen like yourself. making your way to the sophomore dorms you excitingly knock on dina's dorm room. the infamous "808", which happened to be your lucky number that dina was filled with joy when she was given her new dorm earlier this year.

dina: "y/n!" dina says eagerly as she pulls you into one of her famous dina hugs. "how was class?" "how are you?" "is anyone bothering you, i can stand up for you if you need me to?" "do you have enough money in your lunch account?" dina's proceeds to ask more questions before you giggle and reassure that everything is well, no one is bothering you, no you did not set your dorm on fire, and yes, you are good with money. dina reminds you she asks these questions out of love and it's her "best friend responsibility" you just stick your tongue out and make your way to her couch.

dina is wearing the university t shirt but cropped, some gym shorts and socks since she's at home, you notice her stummy poking out of her shirt and can't help but blush and think about what her shirt would look like off and on the floor "hey you!" she says snapping you out of your mini wet--- daydreaming session. "huh?" you say nervously. "can you turn some music on, grab the bong, and our favorite blankets?" "i'm making us some chicken with rice for dinner and i need to watch the oven so the rice rises properly." (she's quite the perfectionist) "sure thing"

you get up, go into dina's room, grabbing her childhood blanket off her bed next to her childhood bear "Mr. Dinaworth" she named when she was 4. dina's blanket consists of ladybugs on sunflowers, it was the blanket that she slept/sleeps with/ has around whenever she is at home. you grab another big blanket you too use when you come over, just a grey and white blanket that is pretty thick and big enough to warm the both of you. you come back put the blankets down, grab the bong from the bathroom since dina just cleaned it out before you came and had not had the time to grab it earlier. you finish by lightly plopping yourself on her couch. "alexa, play vibe music" "playing trust issues by drake on amazon music" the music is low and you smell the amazing food dina is making, you make your way over to her. "can i help?" dina smiles, "yes, you can help by sitting pretty on the couch it's done, it just needs plating". your face gets red from the "sitting pretty" phrase making your way back to the couch. dina is back five minutes later. "for you" she says handing you her famous chicken, white rice with soy sauce and broccoli on a plate. "you do too much for me deen" you say as you start eating. dina responds "what, i have to make sure the pretty girls in my life are fed". there it is.. those damn butterflies in your stomach... "no no you think to yourself , dina is a natural flirt she doesn't mean it like that let along towards you". you sit your food and catch up with dina as every other hangout goes.

about an hour later, dinner is all cleaned up, the music is going and you and dina are buzzed off of the hits you've taken but this is nothing new for you two. "hey let's play truth or dare" dina says. "what are we? thirteen?" you giggle as you start to feel the affects of the weed. dina laughs and puts her hand on your thigh "casually" you feel yourself start to get wet and tingly, "no it's the weed, it's stuff she got that's why i feel like this" you think. "no we are not thirteen but i wanna have some fun, not just smoke our brains out to frank ocean, drake and kehlani all night" she giggles again, ahh you could hear that giggle all day and never get sick of it, it's the same giggle she had when yall were kids, never changed but you love it regardless. "fine, this better be fun" you say noticing dina hasn't moved her hand form your thigh. "sweet" she smiles with intentions that you don't notice.

"truth" you say as you two start the round. "pussy" dina says finally removing her hand from your thigh, you're a water fountain at six flags by now but you never admit that to your best friend, that would be weird. "what is your favorite season" she asks with seriousness. "are you fucking with me?" you laugh, ask me something better than that. "oh? you want a challenge huh? you think you can handle it? she smirks at you. "come on deen, bring on" you think she'll ask you something pg-13 of what boy/girl do you like on camp--- " "what porn do you watch?" woah holy shit, you weren't expecting that. "don't challenge me pretty one without expecting some heat back". there you go, looking red as bob the tomato himself. "umm umm, usually lesbian but i get some straight just for... strap affect" *as you giggle. dina raises her eyebrow... "your virgin ass knows what a strap is?" you laugh again, "yes dina i wasn't born yesterday". dina's mind really races, she has a strap in her room that she wanted to use... "no no dina, play it cool, you can't scare her off now"

"dina truth or dare" you ask snapping her from her thoughts. "dare" she says with confidence. "hmm i dare you to do a flip" you say nervously not wanting to push any boundaries. "really? that's sooo easy, you know i was in gymnastic as a kid" she gets up behind the couch with enough room and flips backwards with ease. "oof im not as young as i used to be" she giggles. "okay okay my turn lets kick it up a notch" she sits and gets oddly close to you, "who, on campus is the prettiest girl to handsomest guy on campus?" you sit and think, "well i don't really talk to many guys but adam is kinda cute and helps me with my math homework but i would never sleep with him, girls... mmm... *the weed and confidence booster kicks in a little*

"i know a girl, she's jewish, looks a lot like you" *you giggle highly. "Talia?" she says mentioning her older sister who is eight years older than you and seven to dina. "no no silly, i'm talking about y---" reality hits "shit shit, i gave myself away, fuck this new weed, fuck why did it say that, she's gonna hate me, she's my best friend". you are interrupted again by dina saying "do you like me y/n". fuck, dina can be intimidating to others, she scared off your ex girlfriend once, friends who have wronged you and even your own mother when need be, but this intimidating stare was filled with passion and soft eyes but confusion over all. "y-- yes, i do, fuck i didn't wanna ruin anything because we have been friends for years and i didn't wanna fuck anything up... shit i should g---"

a/n: woah, sorry this super long, i had to split it into two parts, it'll be up on my page as well. i hope you all enjoyed reading my first smut fic. i'm sorry if things aren't your tea, i wrote it from personal reads to personal ideas. if you want anything else that i'd be comfortable reading let me know. you don't see too many dina stories but i hope this once you enjoyed.

- c

[kisaraslover]

Do Mokuba and Kisara have any activities that they like to do together? Is Kisara more of a gal pal to him, or more like a big sister?

hello! so sorry for the late reply, if its any consolation i opened it on my phone and hallucinated my response multiple times before going "ill reply on my laptop later"

to me its definitely a case of "you cant just slap on Traditional Family Dynamic on all platonic relationships" Kisara the woman isnt motherly or nurturing, i know most people want her a "big sister" figure to Mokuba but her themes are social outcast, benevolent yet lonely, angry yet merciful, self sacrificing but hard to connect, shunned and worshipped woman of unknown origin. shes pretty much a wet pathetic meow meow on the surface. that much is impossible to miss so no matter how or when they meet Mokuba would be the one looking out for her. in the soft ways a young boy who grew up too fast tries to care for someone older than him.

think about it. shes scaredgirl core even when all the logical signs in her speech and her actions point to her being calm, coldblooded, levelheaded person, her body language is caving into herself, turtlenecking, backing out until she hits a wall, her self preservation hard to miss. Mokuba would immediately take notice of it (he used to too. though now its Fake It Till You Make with the kaiba bros) and regardless of how calm she might seem i can see him very subtly caring for her in small ways. he'll be more animated and loud if shes embarrassed, he'll step in front of her in a crowd so she can follow, in all joke fights or general seto bitching, him and kisara are a unified front. tho their win rate against him is crazy high theyre never NEVER above dramatically hugging each other, sinking to their knees, begging this tyrant to stop abusing his two very soft and kind family members (guilt tripping older siblings on how they used to treat you is always morally correct. im the older sibling its fair ok)

from there its easy to see him turning to loving her really deeply. while her connection to seto is significant and mokuba is happy for it, kisara herself is a fun, strange little lady, always down for his shenanigans, easily excitable about trying new things. mokuba, as the self proclaimed jack of all trades kaiba brother needs to try out many hobbies, learn about all subjects on earth, taste all arts he can and kisara is a wonderful partner. shes down to earth and humble in a way that puts things into perspective (she has that effect on both kaiba brothers lol. world wont end if you lose this game. there there) and mokuba would enjoy the chilled out nature of her because the kaibas are EXTREME.

anyway so the boyish ways he carefully regards her go both ways, she would be very attached him (dragon!) but she'd not care for the ages at all. she'd be like "OMG MY BEST FRIEND MOKUBAAA!!!" in her mind whenever she spots him. if all goes well and she is given a happy ending, she only enjoys companionship later in life. i like to imagine her having meaningful and rich relationships with different types of people as an adult but it WOULD be missing something important. monkeying around. silliness. and the eternal youth swagTM of mokuba kaiba would be her precious childhood silliness she missed out on. she would get to experimentally Commit To The Bit. her smart humor and his sharp wit, when they get together, leaving behind only the dumbest bits... their chemistry.

best trios are ones where all the members feel like the thirdwheel and knowing how seto-kisara and seto-mokuba are its only fair kisara-mokuba is LINKED for life.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Shattered Identity

Chapter five: Pizza party at Vlad's! And gross horrors, lots of gross horrors.

Chapter one. Chapter two. Chapter three. Chapter four.

"Jeez, you two almost gave us a heart attack!" Tucker halfheartedly scolded the half-ghosts in the hallway as he texted Danny the message that the two broke off their fight on their own. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad things didn't get uglier than this, but next time, at the very least, yell for us if something happens instead of just turning the office into a haunted confetti storage room."

"Sorry Tucker, I didn't know you and Sam were here in the first place."

Danielle sheepishly twiddled her thumbs while her new little brother tapped on the bandages on his neck with an annoyed huff in response.

"Oh.. right, no vocal chords, my bad..." The geek winced. "Maybe we can get you an airhorn later."

"Or he could just scream without words." The technically older clone offered. "You two heard the ghost speak, right?"

"Huh, I always figured that ghost speak would sound... creepier and less like random animalistic noises?"

"♓︎♐︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⬥︎♋︎■︎⧫︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ♍︎❒︎♏︎♏︎◻︎♓︎♏︎❒︎," [if you want it to sound creepier,] Jack cracked his neck at an unnatural angle, the sickening sound followed by the squelches of wet ripping noises reverberated through the mansion and the action left the bandaged head dangling limply, giving the impression it was only attached to his body through the bandages on his neck themselves... "♓︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎ ❍︎♋︎🙵♏︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬧︎□︎◆︎■︎♎︎ ♍︎❒︎♏︎♏︎◻︎♓︎♏︎❒︎..." [i can make it sound creepier...]

"Gah! Never do that again!" She shivered and punched the older halfa's arm, who let out a raspy chuckle as he reattached his head and opened the office door.

An uncomfortable silence fell as the destroyed state of the office was discovered, much worse than how the sparring spirits left it, large globs of bright magenta ectoplasm had grown(?) all over the office, globs that weren't just the messy aftermath of the brawl, they were writhing and squirming as if they were alive, some of them even had developing eyes and teeth..

"❄︎◆︎♍︎🙵♏︎❒︎, 💧︎♋︎❍︎, 🙵♏︎♏︎◻︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ ♎︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎♍︎♏︎..!" [Tucker, Sam, keep your distance..!]

The two humans, while they didn't understand what the ghostly host said, understood the unknown nature of the threat at hand as well as his body language and backed away from the scene while the mansion's owner took a slow, hesitant step into the infested office, trying not to catch the attention of the strange creatures, their unfocused eyes instead drifting over the room itself as the bandaged ghost gingerly searched through the rubble looking for the most important items to salvage from it.

"...What are these things..?" Danielle's voice stayed small to not catch any unwanted attention from the unknown ghostlike entities as she followed him, her fist alight with a charging ectobeam as she kept an eye out for sudden movements from them.

"I_D-O-N-T_K-N-O-W" He spelled out on the recovered Ouija board "I-V-E_N-E-V-E-R_S-E-E-N_A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G_L-I-K-E_T-H-I-S_B-E-F-O-R-E"

Sure, from their perspective, 'Jack' not seeing anything like this was a given, he hadn't existed for very long, but Vlad had genuinely no idea how he had done this. A failed copying attempt that he didn't think through during the fight? Maybe a mishap with etco-barriers? ...Something else entirely..? All he really knew was that this was his ectoplasm everywhere and that it was alive.

Cheese curds! He should've known that he was biting off more than he can chew!

How was he supposed to handle this on his own?!

His powers were useless like this at best and detrimentally unstable at worst,

he couldn't get across how important this was to Danny without telling the truth,

but he can't tell Danny the truth!

Let alone Dani!

If they know that he's the real Vlad and he has all his memories but almost none of his powers,

they're going to take advantage of his weakened state and kick his butt!

and

at this rate all of Amity park is going to be enveloped in whatever this horrific ecto-gunk was before he even had a chance to carry out his plan-

and

Maddie is going to see it-

and

use it as a reason to make MORE of those horrible guns-

and

use them on the gunk as well as every single ghost in her sights-

and

she'd naturally set her sights on the ghost zone itself-

and

there wouldn't be a war between humans and ghosts,

and

except that it would be a genocide that he couldn't stop-

and

and

and

and

and-

Snapping out of the downward spiral of negative thoughts, Vlad felt the familiar lab coat being draped over his shoulders as well as two people touching him, one hugging him from behind (the person in question being small enough that people might mistake it for a piggyback ride), and the other who was awkwardly patting his shoulder.

Ugh, was he crying..?

Well, now he had another reason to keep his true identity secret from Danny and the others.

He would die of embarrassment if they knew that he wasn't a clone, still had his memories intact, and yet was still reduced to this weak, pathetic, over-emotional wreck, either they'd find it hilarious or worse, still pity him despite everything.

Part of him wanted to break off the hug to preserve the tatters of his pride and dignity while another part of him just wanted to stay like this a bit longer.

As humiliating as it was for him, it was also kinda nice to be held, to be reassured (albeit clumsily), to be comforted, to be loved.

"Uh, guys, hate to interrupt something but I just wanted to let you know Sam's ordering pizza, what flavors do you want?"

Both saved and damned by the pizza orders, the three halfas broke it off and Vlad put the lab coat on properly.

"Uh Pepperoni?" Danny shrugged.

"Also Pepperoni" Dani nodded.

"E-X-T-R-A_C-H-E-E-S-E_P-L-E-A-S-E"

"Got it" Tucker gave them a thumb's up and turned to head back to Sam before popping his head back in. "Will the cats try to attack the pizza guy?"

"NO_I" He fumbled with the planchette in an attempt to cover up the slip. "V-L-A-D_D-I-D-N-T_O-R-D-E-R_T-A-K-E_O-U-T_O-F-T-E-N_E-N-O-U-G-H_T-O_W-A-R-R-E-N-T_T-H-A-T_T-O_M-Y_K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E."

"Okay, thanks!"

The tech geek left for real this time, leaving the three to their own devices.

"So Danny, have you met my new little brother?" The physically youngest ghost gestured to the tallest.

"Jack? Yeah, he showed up at my house and named himself after my dad."

"You named yourself after someone you just met?" Dani snorted in amusement.

"T-H-E-R-E-S_W-O-R-S-E_N-A-M-E-S_T-O_G-I-V-E_Y-O-U-R-S-E-L-F_A-N-D_B-E-S-I-D-E-S_H-E_S-E-E-M-E-D_P-R-E-T-T-Y_N-I-C-E" Vlad shrugged nonchalantly.

From the dishonest ghost's actual perspective, it was something done because he named himself after the first thing he saw (that being the giant oaf) and he stuck with it because in foresight, 'Vlad naming his son after him', would break Jack Fenton that much more during both the reveal of Vlad's death as well as the funeral, in which he and Maddie would either figure out on their own or he'd tell them in his speech that he never had the chance to meet his father before his untimely tragic fate. And Maddie would feel all the more guiltier when she finds out that her horrible gun has taken a human life, one that, while she didn't care very much for, was important as well as cherished by many...

"So how did you know how to find Danny's house so quickly? Or did he bring you there?"

"H-E_F-O-U-N-D_M-E_I-N-J-U-R-E-D_A-N-D_T-R-I-E-D_T-O_H-E-L-P" The bandaged spook explained, being honest yet vague. "A-N-D_I_C-A-M-E_B-A-C-K_I-N_T-H-E_M-O-R-N-I-N-G_T-O_P-R-O-P-E-R-L-Y_I-N-T-R-O-D-U-C-E_M-Y-S-E-L-F."

"Well that's my super-cool cousin for you!" she playfully punches her gene-donor's shoulder. "Always willing to help!"

"Heh, yeah..." Danny gave a nervous smile to his clone and a concerned to 'Jack'. "Hey, speaking of which, you and I need to talk about your... 'issue' in private."

"G-I-V-E_M-E_A_S-E-C-O-N-D_T-O_G-R-A-B_M-Y_T-R-A-N-S-L-A-T-O-R"

Danny nodded and waited as the lanky spirit visually followed the charger to the discarded aid and cleaned the non-living ectoplasm off of it before putting it on his neck and giving him a thumb's up which Danny gave back.

Following the fourteen-year-old out of Dani's presumed ear shot, the lab coat wearing specter nervously picked at his hand's bandages wondering what 'issue' Danny was talking about, his mind almost imminently racing towards him asking 'did you get your memories back?' or something similar.

"Okay, so, don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you and Dani aren't fighting with each other anymore, but right now, we're playing with fire with this cover up. You might not remember, but she's been through a lot because of you- er, Vlad, I could not care less who else does and doesn't know the truth, but she needs to sooner rather than later."

Unbeknownst to the two of them, the clone was eavesdropping out of their sight. Her concern for her new little brother turning into intrigue.

"I know." he nodded somberly. "I plan on telling her everything after the funeral itself. I agree that she does need to know soon, but right now there's too many moving parts to keep track of and I don't know how she'll react to it."

Danny crossed his arms as he frowned at the taller halfa.

"Look, I might not know what I've done, but I get that I've done a lot before waking up and that there's no amount of verbal apologies that would undo all of it. However, this is for her safety too. Like it or not there's two problems that take top priority: Your mom's gun that will cause ghost zone genocide if nothing's done with it, and the power vacuum Vlad's death will inevitably cause. If you think that it causing genocide is just a hyperbole, think back on it, all it took was one hit to reduce a fully-grown, powerful halfa down to just a damaged core desperately clinging onto life, a core that would've shattered if left on its own, so tell me, what do you think would happen if you or her got hit with it?"

"...We'd instantly die..."

"Exactly, and your mom, a competent ghost hunter, knows how powerful that thing is and if it doesn't have any drawbacks from her end, she most likely wont stop using it until every ghost in her sights is dead, yes, even the good ones as well as the not as good but still likeable ones. As for the power vacuum, there are a handful of ghosts who know Dani's origin other than us, ghosts who would be more than happy to kill the only known heir to Vlad's estates while she's none the wiser. But if I handle the funeral *just* right, I could kill two birds with one stone, keep your mom from using the gun ever again and seal up the power vacuum. I know that she'll hate us-"

"Us? Where did you pull 'us' from?"

"Danny, she'll hate me for obvious reasons and hate you because you knew this big secret about me this entire time and never told her. But it'll be okay because she'll still be alive when she hates us, alive and safe. Which in a messy situation like this is the absolute best possible outcome."

"...Right..." Danny sighed.

"Hey," Vlad put his hand on the teen's shoulder reassuringly "she might hate me forever, but not you. Either someone she knows and trusts other than you will talk some sense into her or she'll cool off on her own and realize that you're not the bad guy in this. That in some cases, there isn't a bad guy when there's a bad situation and that sometimes, bad things just... happen and good or neutral guys are bad at handling it."

"Yeah... Thanks, I needed that..." he softly smiled.

Assuming that the conversation was wrapping up, Dani flew back to the office with new secret information to chew on for herself as well as keep hidden from her cousin and brother.

She already knew about Vlad's death and some things were self-explanatory, like the new gun being a big problem, but just how much did Jack Masters know? What dark secrets did the clone of Vlad hide that he shared with Danny and yet were so horrible that she'd never forgive him if she knew?

Was his original purpose not to tie up the loose ends Vlad's death left behind like he said but instead he was made with some of his gene donor's memories intact so that Vlad had pseudo-immortality only for Jack to betray his 'father' by living a different and new life?

Did he try to hunt down Danny and his parents just like how she originally tried to capture him?

Maybe even something worse..?

At the very least, they weren't worried about his malnourished frame meaning something bigger than it was, or Vlad's disease being fatal for Jack, or even the living ectoplasm he created was dangerous like she originally assumed the talk was about, and she could find some comfort in knowing that he valued her safety and well being over their bond as family. Her new brother might be shady, but he had a heart somewhere in those shadows.

"Oh hey guys! How was the talk?" She innocently greeted them as they approached the office.

"It went well."

"Yes, it was rather... informative." Jack picked at the bandages on his forearms while looking around the destroyed office for a distraction. Wait, where did the living ectoplasm go?! "Oh right! I can't believe I almost forgot the records!" He blurted out to keep the two from panicking as much as he was.

"...Records?" Danny raised an eyebrow at the pair.

"Yeah, fake marriage certificates, divorce paperwork, birth certificates, Social Security Numbers, school documents, passports, a not-fake-but-still-legally-questionable death certificate, maybe a fake death certificate for a woman who doesn't exist or two..." Jack listed off on his fingers "My job's more than writing the death certificate and will and calling it a day."

"Woah, woah woah! What do you need all that for?"

"Daniel, the days where someone can just pop into existence as the ages we are without any records of existing prior without drawing suspicion are long behind us. Sure, we could get away with not having them if we intend to live as a state-crossing nomads for a couple of weeks or months if we're lucky, go feral in the woods and let the public come to the conclusion that we were raised by animals while our bio parents abandoned us, or live in the ghost zone where there's a lot less organized existence trails, but we can't live like the average human person without this stuff, not in the long term in the human world. Sooner or later, the government is going to catch up to us and when that happens, we at least have something to shoo them away."

"Huh..."

"Wait, going feral in the woods is an option?" Dani asked her two-day-old physically older brother.

"Yeah, but it's not a good one. Trust me, I tried." Vlad waved off without further elaboration and shuffled the documents.

"Guys, pizza's here!"

Saved by the pizza yet again, the three changed back to their human forms and followed the geek back to the Mansion's foyer, where Sam was waiting for them along with several boxes of pizza and cans of soda were set down, almost enough to feed a frat party rather than a small group of teenagers who happened to have different diets. ...He had a strong feeling that they paid for all of this with one of his debit cards.

"Here you go." Tucker handed the bone-thin halfa five boxes. "I figured you could use it."

"Thanks..." Vlad stared at the boxes in his hands and gestured with his head. "...I'm just gonna, eat these in the other room..."

"No! No! You can stay, we won't judge!" Dani tugged on his sweater sleeve while giving him puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, but all of you get ONE question each, so use it wisely." He set the boxes down and sat on the floor next to them, crossing his legs while opening the top box

"What makes you think we're going to ask questions?" The goth raised an eyebrow "Everybody but Danny already saw your gross ecto-oozing fa-OH MY GOD!"

Everybody but Dani stared at the sight of Vlad's scarred, almost mangled-looking face in horror as the eldest teen just rolled his eyes at their terrified expressions, pocketed his face mask and munched on a slice of cheesy pizza while the others gawked at him like he was some sort of monster.

"...Does it hurt?" Dani was the first to break the awkward silence. "To eat, I mean..."

"Nope, I don't have any working nerves in my face." He lied nonchalantly between bites, not wanting them to know how much pain he was actually in. "Regardless of if its supposed to hurt or not, I can't feel a thing."

"..So if I punch you in the face, you wont feel it at all?" Sam was the next to ask.

"Yes, and you wasted your one question on that, so now you can't ask if you can test it." Vlad immaturely stuck his tongue out at her while she rolled her eyes out of annoyance and took a slice of her cheeseless mixed veggie pizza.

Tucker sat down near Jack and subtly studied his face while opening up the box of meat lover's pizza, if he was only going to get one question about this clone of Vlad's abnormal medical condition, he wanted to make it count.

From what he could tell, the marks on his face were less like acne scars like he assumed they should be (given that the clone probably had ecto-acne at one point, just like his gene donor with a chronic condition) and closer to... either really severe chemical burns or someone pouring boiling acid on his face. Closer, yet not identical to.

He couldn't tell how damaged the upper half of his face was due him having band-aids covering up some of the damage, but even then it was clear that the disfigurements around the clone's mouth were the most intense.

Whatever was used to scar his face ate off his lips and chunks of his cheeks, giving his left-side profile a ghoulish, too-toothy grin regardless of if its owner felt like smiling or not while the right side had a half-inch wide strip of flesh ending the 'smile' while also creating another hole in his face, and if he looked closely enough, he also seemed to be missing a part of his tongue in a way that made it look like there was a bite taken out of it...

"...Can I help you?" Jack asked without bothering to hide the irritation in his tone.

"O-oh uh... I just wanted to ask..." Darn it Tucker, think! You can't waste this question! "I couldn't help but notice that the lower half of your face seems more visibly damaged than the upper half, and that part of the inside of your mouth was partly eaten too, I don't mean to sound insulting but was that just random chance or was your... ...illness on the top half of your head focusing primarily on eating chunks of your brain instead of your face? Again, I don't mean this in an insulting way..."

Sam burst out laughing while Jack's expression went from annoyed to mildly intrigued, he opened his mouth to answer, paused, thought it over, and his mild intrigue turned to dawning horror...

"I... I might have to get back with you on that because I don't know either." Jack cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his nervous voice crack. "Oh Calzones, if he's right and I really am physically losing my mind... Oh Bread Sticks..." He muttered under his breath while holding his head between his hands. "...It explains so much, too much..."

Danny lightly tapped the older teen's shoulder. "Have you ever tried to eat by sticking food through the hole in your cheek?"

Vlad let go of his head and stared at him blankly, seemingly gone through the five stages of grief in five seconds and left so perplexed by Danny's question that it seemed his mind was catching up with the second halfa's words.

But you know what? He hadn't tried before, before, his time was too swamped with hospital trips and robberies to afford the hospital trips to mess around with the odd yet neutral characteristics of his condition. He should fix that while he could, for science.

His index finger idly traced part of the hole to make sure it wasn't bleeding while his other hand picked up and rolled up a slice of pizza, and he stuck the entire slice through the hole, chewed it for a bit and swallowed it.

"I have now, and the experience isn't different enough from eating normally to warrant switching to the hole."

Danny blinked at him, processing what he had just witnessed. "...Okay, I know you said one question but now I have to know; do you have two sets of jaws?!"

"I'll... Also have to look into that." He nervously smiled while screaming internally.

[hertwood]

dts s5 e6-8

e6: -having flashbacks of having to defend oscar to my mom for this why does the show try to lean into otmar's perspective so heavily GROSS -nah im full tinhatting i do not remember this whole bit where everyone hypes up oscar in interview before he has his lil chat with mark netflix u slimey lil bitches -oh if i was here when this news broke summer break 2022. i would've been inconsolable. i'm sure it was nuts, ballistic. maybe it was good i wasnt there. idk if i could've handled it akldkfjadslkfjasdkfj -lando saying "i already am (leading the team)" was not that rude it was just the TRUTH sorry -daniel speaking italian is so important actually -"ive been in this sport for 25 years i know what im doing" king that only makes the fumble THAT much more embarrassing COME ON -otmar talking abt how well oscar took all the shit we offered aren't we owed a contract? reminds me of timeshare schemes like actually just u paid for xyz if you dont have a contract in place he doesnt owe u anything maybe do contracts better next time :) -unfortunately zak brown is right!! its a pr disaster is the 5 million worth it!!! and they didnt even get the 5 mil!!! how do lose ur job speedrun masterclass here!! -i do wonder how much netflix inflated daniel's chances for the alpine seat, bc from what i've heard it wasnt really in the conversation. idk i wasnt there but it would make sense for netflix to lean heavily into this narrative -did not realize liam was sitting Right There when pierre was askin abt the gossip aldfjaslkfjaksjdf -the way how in season 1 its like NO DANIEL DON"T LEAVE RED BULL i feel the same way abt pierre going to alpine. like ofc it made perfect sense at the time and you cant fault him for it but like no babygirl its bouta implode PLEASE -rip all the tiktok edits that were muted in the umg purge that paired "good luck to oscar" with "if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing." thank u taylor couldn't have said it better myself -"do you regret anything that's happened?" "um. no :)" U TELL EM BABY

e7: -i'm sorry but geri seemingly getting boiling water from a tap to make tea is so fucking insane rich person cursed -was originally gonna include this funny shot of christian standing looking out a balcony like sharpay evans in high school musical in my s5 gifset but due to recent events i will not :) -i just think. that including this whole bit abt how much checo loves his family in the same episode as the monaco gp where he allegedly cheated on his wife was a CHOICE. interesting. -lewis's monaco 2022 outfit is one of his best outfits ever. its so iconic 2 me -HI ALEX -so many cinematic parallels to discuss. s1 max putting it in the wall in practice and ruining his race to prove he was faster than daniel. known parallels to brocedes ALLEGEDLY trying to sabotage eachother by crashing in that corner in monaco. hmm hmm hmm. much to think -im sorry the sainz collision is just so goofy. i remember watching the replay of this quali and being bamboozled. befuddled. deeply amused. what a stupid fucking sport -'for fucks sa-........okay this is typical monaco isnt it" MAX GETS IT -i honestly dont mind wet monaco races just bc by nature of the track its on average slower therefore less dangerous. i'll take a wet monaco over a wet spa any damn day -ferrari's double pit fuck up is PEAK embarassing ferrari strats. like to do a bad strat is one thing but to just mess up the strat ur trying to do. peak biblically cursed charles leclerc moment

e8: -god i wish i got more into yukierre. i see the appeal. unfortunately they just dont give me brain worms -many thoughts. um i think focusing on yuki's temper is just. unfair. like sure he should work on it but thats an issue with many young drivers its not a unique failure on his part -i have given thoughts on japan '22 before i'm not rly gonna rehash but i really wish the didn't gloss over it on dts. i think it was an important moment in the sport to have a big conversation abt rain safety. -oh this nyck supercut is gonna be painful knowing where it goes :/ -god remember when ppl thought nyck was gonna lead the team? leave yuki in the dust? even /i/ had him above yuki in my preseason predictions isnt that insane? -"im happy, i'll take that, that you'll miss me at least 2 or 3 minutes" god forgot the most romcom ass shit since sebchals we'll start by holding hands -nando n lance having this crazy crash and now a year later they're fucking on the reg. happy 4 them

[rahleeyah]

d. c. anon saying hello!

I’m very curious to see if the finales this season (or maybe early next season?) bring together all these little nuggets of wisdom we have been getting all season from benson or if it all was just how it was written, with no connection/complete coincidence, and we were all reading too much into what she has been saying?

Or if we will know what m meant by saying “it’s not like it seems” or something like that. I know I’m getting the quote wrong.

With that being said, im loving this arc. Oscar papa bring brought in was purely for the fans 😂😂 however Amanda? Was she always this amazing profiler? Genuinely asking bc why else would she have been brought in? Like to serve the purpose of highlighting that Amanda clocked Elliot for leaving Liv? Again for the fans?

welcome back anon!

if we were still under wet lettuce's reign of terror, I would not be able to say with any confidence that I think there would be payoff for all the threads that have been woven so far this season, and Olivia's nuggets of wisdom in particular (physician heal thyself indeed). however. the premises are under new management and that new management has so far done a much better job of telling a cohesive story across episodes, and so I am cautiously optimistic that Olivia's lightbulb moment is incoming. it feels, very much, like somebody over there knows what they're doing, and the fact that the last couple episodes of both shows were left in the same hands gives an even greater potential for a satisfying payoff, tho I continue to remind myself of how s14 ended - we may very well be left on a cliffhanger. which like, that's a solid way to insure a big audience for the premieres, whenever they may be. so we shall see.

oh, Amanda. so Amanda's thing has always been psychology - she has, in a few episodes scattered across her decade on the show, expressed a particular interest in getting inside the minds of the most deranged killers. it is her thing, tho it's always bothered me; I am thinking of the machine elves episodes now, and Amanda's interest in and defense of alternate theories of consciousness, an interest which has always seemed at odds with her intensely narrow view of the world (for example, "abuse victims deserve the abuse bc they allow it to happen" is a theory she has espoused more than once, which, lol).

so the thing is, right, is that it isn't out of left field or anything, her wanting to do these things, it sits right inside of the characteristics they have given her. the thing is, I've never seen any reason to believe she speaks with any authority on the subject. she took point on a few interrogations - the Henry Mesner fiasco comes to mind - and has attended lectures - as they all have - but like. My girlfriend has spent a lot of time learning about serial killers. no one is calling her to be a profiler. I feel like Amanda was brought back not for her skills but for the Drama(tm). Some fans like her very much, bringing back a familiar face for a finale is a good way to boost ratings, allowing us to see Olivia interact with Amanda after we have watched Liv grieving her absence is compelling from a character perspective. and that's the thing, right, is that this is entertainment, so it doesn't matter if Amanda has any skill as a profiler - just like it didn't matter that Nick's pivot into science seems super weird. it's a "willing suspension of disbelief" moment, I think, and I may fuss about it on occasion but I'm not like. mad about it lol

I did want to see Elliot and Amanda acknowledge that they have something in common in leaving Liv, so I'm glad we got that, though "I left bc I'd killed a teenager about the same age as one of my own daughters and the brass were going to make me do a number of things I personally find intolerable and even then I might not get my job back and I can't risk my pension and I have a toddler to raise and I can't talk to Liv about it bc I'm in love with her and if I see her face I'm gonna throw everything away for her" and "I took a new job and then never called her again and made my husband, who is her friend and sees her very often for work, promise not to tell her I'm pregnant for reasons as yet unspecified" are not exactly the same thing.

[greaseonmymouth]

I do not intend to write an entire dissertation in this tumblr post, but I am dropping a bunch of links and sources for further reading about monsterfucking and monsters and I really feel like I need to contextualise some of this reading material instead of just dumping it all on you. This is the piss on the poor website and very few of you are going to go and read all of these sources, because frankly, most of them are academic and this isn’t university. (if I were to teach a course on monsterfucking, however…)

tumblr has 10 links per post limit, so at the bottom there is a link to the googledoc with this exact same text AND ALL THE LINKS. yes you do have to scroll to the bottom sorry not sorry.

For starters, everything that follows is wholly my own opinion. I’m going to be making statements here, and I will be basing those statements on informed research and experience, and also just, you know, my opinion. These statements are subjective to me and everyone can feel free to disagree. I can’t be arsed softening every statement with ‘in my experience’ etc. because I am tired and I want to go to bed. Fewer words will make that happen faster. Though I do cite direct quotes, this isn’t an academic paper, don’t treat it as such.

There are two strands of monsterfucking: cishet female gaze monsterfucking and queer monsterfucking. 

The article I linked in my original post and criticised above falls into the first camp. My issue with the article is not that it is a cishet perspective on monsterfucking, my issue with it is that the author, Emily Gould, completely ignores any queer facets (and indeed, origins, as in the case of omegaverse) of monsterfucking and that she wrote this sentence: “It seems, also, like the romance genre as a whole is being pushed by monster romance to make things in human-human books as freaky as possible.” seemingly without pausing to consider that harem, reverse harem, and moresome erotica and romance fiction have existed for decades. The fact that these are now being called ‘Why Choose?’ stories doesn’t change that, and is, I would argue, merely a symptom of marketing. (The fact that this bookriot article treats it as new, is frankly also disappointing: https://bookriot.com/what-is-a-why-choose-romance/ .) Romantasy isn’t new either, the term is. This term is far more marketable than the more longwinded ‘high stakes fantasy romance’. I would also argue that as soon as the term took off, the genre evolved and that it is now a legitimate subgenre of its own within the wider fantasy romance umbrella. Perhaps ‘Why Choose?’ romance/erotica fiction has as well, I’m not nearly as familiar with it. The way traditional publishing is going, particularly since TikTok really took off, punchy buzzwords that are hashtaggeable, shareable, nay, spreadable, are what sells books these days, so the book industry, with financial stakes in everything bookrelated, absolutely encourage this. 

And yet, Emily Gould didn’t stop to consider why in omegaverse ‘slick’ is a thing? Vaginas famously do get wet and slippery when aroused, so male omegas (for a given definition of male, considering omegaverse’s gender and sex defying worldbuilding) who do not have vaginas, instead have anuses that produce ‘slick’. I’m tempted to wonder how on earth the cishets function in the real world if they can’t make up their own shit. Am I shocked and surprised that they took omegaverse and ironed out all the queer wrinkles until it turned into a kinky version of cishet alphahole erotica, reinforcing the exact same patriarchal structures that omegaverse broke to begin with? No. but here we are.

It’s established academically speaking, and I’d say generally speaking - this isn’t niche anymore, monsters and queers are mainstream now - that monsters in literature are representations of the Other. The monster is intricately tied with race, gender, sexuality, religious, and other marginalised identities. Queer people are Other. We are monsters. I don’t mean this in a bad way - I very much subscribe to the Hopeful Monster (McCormack, 2015) ideology in this regard, which is to say in simple terms that monstrous difference is a positive thing that drives change and progress. So, not to fall victim to the xkcd 2501 (https://xkcd.com/2501/) effect, here we go.

Monsters for beginners:

Monster Theory: Reading Culture 1996., edited by Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. University of Minnesota Press:. 

The Ashgate Research Companion to Monsters and the Monstrous 2013., edited by Asa Simon Mittman, Peter J. Dendle Routledge.

(Examples) Monster as Other - look, in other languages too:

Izaola, Amaia and Imanol Zubero. 2015. "La Cuestión Del Otro: Forasteros, Extranjeros, Extraños y Monstruos [Otherness: Outsiders, Foreigners, Strangers and Monsters]." Revista De Sociologia 100 (1): 105-129.

Kearney, Richard. 2003. Strangers, Gods, and Monsters: Interpreting Otherness Psychology Press.

Khabibulina, Liliya F. 2017. "МОНСТР КАК ДРУГОЙ (ДРУГАЯ) В СОВРЕМЕННОЙ АНГЛОЯЗЫЧНОЙ ЛИТЕРАТУРЕ [Monster as the Other in Modern Literature in English]." Вестни�� Пермского университета. Российская и зарубежная филология 9 (2).

Now to the (monster)fucking point!

At a very basic level of an embodied monster in fiction (i.e. a werewolf, zombie, vampyre, minotaur, tentacle monster, blue alien, etc.), the embodied monster communicates something about the culture it belongs to (Mittman 2013, 7) and is, for marginalised groups and cultures, empowering as a means to understand and describe the processes which abject, reject, and exclude them (ibid., 8). What does that mean in simple English? 

Well, when you write a romance novel about a woman taking a job at a minotaur milking facility and falling in love and lust with a client, then the story represents something. People have actually written papers about Morning Glory Milking Farm, here’s one:

Vivanco, Laura. 2024. “Feeling Judged: Reflections on Pornography and Romance from a Minotaur Milking Farm.” Journal of Popular Romance Studies 13.

Vivanco discusses the world-building in the novel and how it makes subtle feminist points about patriarchal society structures and the dominance of the penis. She also makes the point that this novel is “designed to appeal to readers’ desires while not provoking their fears”, by which she means that the monster here represents a comforting Other. The minotaur isn’t a human man, so the power difference of the real world is erased and replaced with a fantasy power difference. Minotaurs don’t really exist, in the same way a big hulking man with a big dick does, no matter how gentle he may be - so a female reader can give into that fantasy without being triggered. Gould’s article also gives this as the very reason for why monsterfucking narratives are so appealing.

A multitude of pop articles about monsterfucking follow the same train of thought, consider all of these hosted on bookriot, all by different writers:

Monstrous Affections: Exploring Romance and Monsters Lyndsie Manusos, Oct 23, 2019

If your only mention of queer monster romances is to bring in Chuck Tingle specifically as a joke, then, uh, I don’t have much respect for your history of sexy monsters actually.

A Brief History of Sexy Monsters Julia Rittenberg, Oct 4, 2021

This one actually treats monster romance novels as a joke:

Quiz: Which Monster Romance Should You Read this Halloween? Alison Doherty, Oct 10, 2023

Despite listing only het novels, Jessica gets my respect for this:

“There is just so much to love about these monster romance stories, but in the end, it comes down to this: if the protagonist doesn’t have to go through a makeover or extreme change to be loved just as they are, then neither should their monster love interest. Their transformations can be extensive on the inside if they need to become better people, but they don’t have to change a thing about their appearance. In fact, it’s their monstrous appearance that makes them who they are.”

Where To Get Started With Monster Romance Jessica Pryde, Oct 31, 2023

I suppose Alison is trying to keep an open mind in this one:

The Strangest Romance Novels Alison Doherty, Apr 15, 2024

To go on about Morning Glory Milking Farm for a bit more before getting into queer monsterfucking: Vivanco quotes Sananja Basker in her paper, who makes the point that Morning Glory Milking Farm presents a deeply fetishistic view of interracial, rather interspecies, relationships between white women and black men. Basker makes the connection that monsters in these contexts, while representing a racial Other, do so relying on racist steretypes. Or in other words, find-replace ‘minotaur’ with ‘black man’ and there is no perceptible change. 

This very brief chapter in a book about tumblr (yes I am referencing this chapter ONLY so I can make you all aware this book exists), mentions these points in discussing the type of posts tumblr users were making about The Shape of Water (2017). One observation made clear that tumblr users were making a distinction between the cishet female gaze and the queer gaze: “Commentary often articulated that despite the primary relationship being between a woman and a “man,” del Toro’s film was exciting because it was about a woman and a monster and thus deviated from the typical heterosexual romance film.”

Another observation highlighted the queer audience’s* viewpoints of the monster as reparative to the stereotype of the monster as a black man stand-in: “One example (...) directly broached issues of race and racism in The Shape of Water, as previous movie “monsters” often functioned as alarmist stand-ins for the sexuality of Black men. Del Toro, however, as a Mexican immigrant, was also seen by Tumblr users as adopting the monster-as- man-of-color metaphor to achieve a strikingly different end.”

*let’s be real here, tumblr is the queer website, I’m not even going to bother digging up a source for this.

Hoch, Indira Neill. 2020. Reblogs, Monsters, and Erotic Amphibians: The Process of Critical Analysis on Tumblr,  69-74 (6 pages) a tumblr book: platform and cultures, University of Michigan Press

I’m not saying that cishet monsterfucking is all bad, and that queer monsterfucking is all good, but I have to admit that I have yet to read a cishet monsterfucking romance novel that doesn’t leave me with a bad aftertaste - no matter how solidly written and how good it was otherwise. I’ve liked the ones I’ve read, they’re not bad novels! But let me give you another example instead of continuing to harp on about minotaurs: The current trend of witch romance novels that read a bit ‘harry potter but for grown ups’, many of which are set in the USA but relying on European magic systems and lineages with no thought given to native Americans who were, well, already there. There’s something deeply disturbing to me about writing a fantasy escapist romance with white heterosexual heroines where the world-building supports diversity only through monsters (few black and no indigenous people present) and upholds what I can only describe as white supremacist values - even if unintentionally. Sarah Hawley’s Glimmer Falls books fall under both monsterfucking and witch romance umbrellas as in these the love interests are demons, and other creatures exist, and like Morning Glory Milking Farm there are even political subplots - book two has a democratic rebellion on the demon plane by marginalised demon hybrids against a tyrannical demon oligarchy! But uh, there are very few non-white characters in these books, and the eurocentric magic system gave me heebie jeebies. The only difference between C. M. Nascosta and Sarah Hawley is that Nascosta selfpublished and Hawley is published by Berkley in the US and Gollancz in the UK.

Where’s that tumblr post chain about HP Lovecraft and fears and bipoc writers when you need it. You know the one. Pretend I haven’t lost the link for a minute and make the connection yourself please.

ETA several hours later: found it: https://schafpudel.tumblr.com/post/702663840742195200/hi-would-you-ever-consider-doing-that-spirited

I’ll spell it out: HP Lovecraft stories represent fears (and racism) but yet can resonate and give meaning to experiences by the very same people Lovecraft feared and hated. The connection I want you to make is that these cishet white monsterfucking books can play into existing power structures and -isms, and yet can resonate and give meaning to experiences by marginalised people. Queer monsterfucking however? Bypasses the -isms. (can they still be racist? Absolutely - I’m writing this post with a queer focus. I can’t possibly cover all viewpoints.)

Actually, while we’re here, lets segue into queer monsterfucking with another tumblr source, which I will quote here in its entirety just in case it disappears tomorrow.

Tumblr user largishcat, March 3, 2020:

i genuinely don’t get cishet monsterfuckers. for context, in the wake of shape of water i participated in this loving-the-monstrous type discussion event slash publishing party wherein i debuted a short story about a woman who “befriends” a cave monster—but that isnt the point. the point is i had to hear straight women talk for hours about how the appeal of monsters is some kind of weird “taming the beast” fantasy—loving a monster until it loves you back, sounding like every bad beauty and the beast take ever.

And there’s my queer ass being like literally none of you get it. this isn’t about power, this is about love and alienation and acceptance. you dumbasses, I’m the monster. this isn’t a metaphor for your shitty boyfriend, this is a metaphor for my own alienation from a society that tells me a the way i am and the way I love are grotesque. this is a fantasy of love free of judgement, separate from societal standards that I’ll never live up to anyway. that ghoul doesn’t care if I’m fat, they think it’s hot that I eat well. that immortal fae creature doesn’t care if the gender on my birth certificate matches the one I use now, they barely have a concept of gender in the first place. that tentacle monster doesn’t care if I shave, they don’t have eyes

monsterfucking is queer culture, everyone else go home

#monsterfucking #queer stuff https://www.tumblr.com/largishcat/611599551785271296/i-genuinely-dont-get-cishet-monsterfuckers-for

With me so far? Have some pop posts about Venom (my beloved):

Venom is an LGBTQA Icon by Anthony Gramuglia

10 Reasons Venom Is Becoming An LGBTQA Cult Film by Anthony Gramuglia

Anthony mate, I hope you have discovered there is a multitude of Venom/Eddie fics on ao3 where they fuck nasty. I think you’d enjoy them.

Very disappointed that this article is now gone and wayback machine didn’t manage to save it, please shed a tear with me: https://www.syfy.com/syfy-wire/yes-venom-is-a-sex-symbol-and-heres-why

How about…..

The Inevitable "Why People Think King Shark Is Hot" Thinkpiece  by Kayleigh Donaldson (Aug. 3, 2021) ?

I don’t know why Kayleigh thinks sharks are difficult to sexualise. She’s clearly never met a single furry in her life. People fucking love drawing antropomorphised sharks with two penises (anatomically accurate to sharks) dicking down other people. (And that’s not even getting into Sidon/Link from Breath of the Wild. Guillermo del Toro himself, monsterfucker extraordinaire, retweeted sidlink fanart in the bygone days of twitter once upon a time.)

I feel I’ve been a bit unfair to bookriot, because they have also published this piece:

The Claws That Catch Feelings: 12 Queer Monster Romances Isabelle Popp, Jun 23, 2022

“Queer monster romances are often between a human and a monster, where by the end the human has embraced the so-called monstrosity within themselves. That monstrosity may in truth be individuality, or the ability to prioritize oneself, one’s own values, and one’s own desires over what the wider world is offering. That kind of character growth facilitates the human’s ability to love and be loved in return, and it gets me every single time.” (Popp, 2022)

Look, it’s getting late, and I’m starting to feel like I’m telling banalities - have we not as a website been participating in the Dracula Daily bookclub for two years running, and making all sorts of queer readings about it - we know this. We know the monster is queer. Water is wet. Here’s a bunch more academic articles and pop pieces on the topic of monsters and queerness and whatnot, maybe I’ll have something smart to say once I’ve finished compiling them.

Teratophilia: Transmedial Representations of Hybrid Sexualities (call for papers - the link leads to academia.edu collection related to the teratophilia conference + the initial call for papers)

"Hybrid, "abnormal", in short monstrous desires and relationships abound everywhere. How to interpret these various valorizations of monstrous sexual configurations, in all the semantic richness and ambiguity of this term, and which include non-human, inhuman, "almost human" entities (Hoquet, 2021)? What do they say about our relationship to the body, to sexuality, to the norm?"

I’m dropping this one purely because it’s a good example of the intersectionality of monster studies and because it provides an example of the positive forces of the monster:

Cosimi, Seth. 2017. ““I’m a Motherfuckin’ Monster!”: Play, Perversity, and Performance of Nicki Minaj”. Feminist Formations, Vol. 29,  2. 47-68 (22 pages)

Elliott, Jaquelin. 2016. “Becoming The Monster: Queer Monstrosity and the Reclamation of the Werewolf in Slash Fandom” Reventant Journal 2.

Ferati, Melissa. 2021. “History and Homoeroticism: Taking a Look at Queer Coding in Horror Media”. Cooper Point Journal (online)

Jones, Stacy Holman & Harris, Anne. 2016. “Monsters, desire and the creative queer body.” Continuum, 30:5, 518-530,

Martins, David Klein. “The Gothic Tradition and the Origins of Queer Monstrosity” Atmostfear Entertainment accessed 28 june 2024

McCormack, Donna. 2015. "Hopeful Monsters: A Queer Hope of Evolutionary Difference." Somatechnics 5 (2): 154-173.

Preciado, Paul B. 2020. Can the Monster Speak? Fitzcarraldo Editions. Translated from French by Frank Wynne.

This one is for the murrricans who can’t go five minutes without injecting themselves and their specific culture into the conversation. I didn’t forget you (how could I). An entire book about queer villains in American media: 

Schildcrout, Jordan. 2014. Murder Most Queer: The Homicidal Homosexual in the American Theater. University of Michigan Press

Sellberg, Karin. 2015.  “Queer (Mis)Representations of Early Modern Sexual Monsters” 11: 375-407.. Sex, Knowledge, and Receptions of the Past, Oxford University Press

That was a big maybe and I’m just going to go ahead and go to bed. Happy reading.

tumblr has a 10 links per post limits, so here is one link directly to the googledoc with this exact same text in it AND ALL THE SOURCE LINKS.

ETA: 8th july 2024 (also added to the gdoc link above):

Clark, Lucian. Monsters Of Our Own: Monster Symbolism in the Trans Community Genderterror, August 29, 2016

I saw this shared around on Threads (why do I go there, I hate it) and commented on as 'this article is so good' and 'must read' including by a few people whose opinion I normally respect, and seeing as monsterfucking and monster everything is like a special little interest for me, I of course instantly clicked through to read it

and I have to say

what the everloving heterosexual fuck is this

two fat paragraphs about omegaverse that don't even mention its origins - I mean - I just - gaze upon this phrase, and despair:

During estrous, Omegas’ vaginas ooze with “slick,” responding to the Alpha’s intoxicating pheromonal perfume.

IT'S CALLED "SLICK" BECAUSE IT'S FROM SELF-LUBRICATING ANUSES. THE REASON THE OMEGAS NEED SELF-LUBRICATING ANUSES TO BEGIN WITH IS BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE VAGINAS.

I. have been rendered figuratively speechless. the straights don't know what slick is. the. i. how. how did we end up like this

their dicks swell at the base, creating a “knot,” which lodges them inextricably in the Omega’s slick-soaked (I am so sorry) vagina.

"(I am so sorry)" girl you're writing an article about monster smut and then you have the gall to be embarrassed by the this tame ass (or should i say vagina?) heterosexual omegaverse?

okay, okay. deep breaths. we've only just got started. we started by covering Morning Glory Milking Farm, a minotaur/human erotic romance novel, which well - I've read it, and it's not a bad book by any means, it was actually very very good, a solid story with a great cast and perfectly paced and satisfying romance and loads of sex - is very straight. it's just a minotaur. it's a big guy with a big dick. it's your standard gentle giant/normal sized girl romance. it's not very freaky, but you know, I don't blame the average reader for coming into this thinking this is some out there stuff. gotta start somewhere, right? we didn't all come up through draco/the giant squid crackfic in 2005, you know? and now we've covered Sarah J Maas and we're entering omegaverse territory, this is getting knottier now, right, freakier? this article is going somewhere, right?

you can imagine the intrigue, enemies-to-lovers, and other story lines involved as each captured female eventually finds the member of the barbarian tribe who is destined to worship and fuck the living daylights out of her for the rest of their lives. Oh, and their dicks have a sensitive spur on top designed for clitoral stimulation. It’s just as blue and velvety as the rest of their big alien bodies.

okay so the minotaurs aliens are blue now, i guess.

It seems, also, like the romance genre as a whole is being pushed by monster romance to make things in human-human books as freaky as possible.

ohh?? are we finally getting a proper freak on now??

This genre, “why choose?” or “MMF” (or sometimes even MMMF or MMFM), and also known as “reverse harem,” always features a heroine who is showered with sexual attention by men who are also sexually involved with each other.

having a thousand yard stare moment over here

this author seriously thinks that all these heterofied monster romance tropes are paving the way for the real freaky stuff that is, checks notes, "two hockey players fucking each other while the heroine calls the shots"

this author is positing that human queer erotica/romance are freakier than monster erotica/romance. like. she said that. with her whole chest. black on white.

on one hand a monster, an inhuman being, and on the other, a queer person, a human being. and apparently the real freak is not the minotaur or the blue alien. it is the queer human.

is this satire? it has to be, right?

because if it's not satire, this article is an entire case study in itself on the monstering* of queer people. stunning.

*academic term

[talenlee]

Story Pile: Bound

Bound is a piece of queer cinema in the Criterion Collection, vitally important in film history, and a movie so significant that there are almost too many different ways to approach a discussion of it. It’s also, and I really, hahah, can’t stress this enough, horny enough that I actually blushed watching it and had to take a moment away from the movie, but also, when that passes, it goes into being a very typical thriller movie where mobsters shout threats at one another while waving guns. It’s great. I loved it. I also found myself kiiiiinda wondering about how I could talk about it without mentioning the hit list of stuff everyone else mentions.

I am going to talk, a little bit about the events in this movie and how they’re told. It’s a thriller set in a small number of places, on a very modest budget, and made by people who did something I think of as really interesting. To this end, I am going to describe some things that constitute Spoilers and that’s a thing worth considering when you talk about a criteron-collection thriller movie. You may want uncertainty when you watch it and may just be curious as to if I like the movie. I do! You should check it out if it sounds like fun to you.

Bound is a neo-noir period piece of a movie set in the 1990s. It’s a grimy New York, it’s dive bars and wall phones. It’s a story of the Mafia that exists before The Sopranos remade the way we treat those stories. It takes place in basically two and a half rooms, there’s no intensely complicated setpiece moments, and everything it does is done in a very cheap — like, ‘doesn’t cost much money’ — tight way.

Cinematically it’s a fantastic movie. There’s use of close up camera, use of wet objects and properties, paint and blood and bullets and all sorts of other things deforming a set in ways that requires a lot of deliberate thoughtfulness from someone who’s just very good at their job and not something you can run through numerous emulated computer programs to test out alternate shots. I’m trying to not be all Kids These Days about movies, but so much of what’s going on in Bound that fascinates me is built on the work of people who, basically, have to be good at making movies, not people who are good at making money.

Here’s the thing I find interesting about a perspective trick this movie does. Of the three main characters, we are most often given the emotional reactions and perspective of our villain, of Caesar. These reactions are important because of what they include and what they don’t include. Like, we don’t get to see Caesar’s intimate moments. The dude has sex, he defends what he sees as his sexual boundaries, and he defintely has opinions about sex and sexuality, based on the slurs we hear him throw around. When we see him naked he’s framed as a little ridiculous, holding a towel in front of his junk while he shuffles around in the midst of the diabolical plot, holding his breath, vulnerable, not safe, and not comfortable.

On the other hand, Caesar commits to acts of violence in the course of the story, and three times we see him do something that reads to me entirely and obviously as a dissociative episode, and a fourth time the story has him describe his experience of a dissociative episode. There’s a helplessness to him, in his most dangerous moments; when he shoots a man in the chest, we don’t see him being cool, we don’t see him demonstrating some power or prowess – instead he’s a helpless baby man, struggling to assert the power he normally claims to have. We see his eyes as the sound drops out, as the gun in his hands is claimed by someone else, and we watch the slow motion, floating collapse of that man, falling backwards, backwards…

Whump.

There’s action in the movie, there’s frantic followup to that, but it’s these moments from Caesar that fascinate me. It fascinates me that a movie about two intensely emotional people grappling with trust, it’s their inner lives that we never see nearly so intensely focal. That makes sense: Part of the movie is about how those characters trust one another whereas we really need to know what Caesar’s truth is. We see him in his weakest expressions.

The way that Caesar collapses in these moments, these are not shown with filmic language that I assume is created here. I don’t think Bound is the source of how we show violent disassociation in film. I think it’s building on familiar visual and audio storytelling tools. What I think is interesting is the choice made to centre his inner life and treat us so closely to the emotional and mental state of the villain, because that’s the safest place to put us as an audience, with something we can rely on and leaving the question of what we don’t know happening in the minds of other characters. He is our perspective character, for the bulk of the film: sure, we’re not cheering for him, but we are seeing his reactions and his responses and the things that reinforce what you kinda already knew the second he showed up: Caesar is a weak, impotent, flailing man, and he is dizzyingly dangerous, because he sucks. Everything about what he’s doing is an impersonation of someone else, and every comparison he invites is an embarrassing one.

And this is where we sit, in this neo-noir story, to watch the things that don’t include him working around and against him, and hope that this guy who sucks doesn’t make things worse.

Oh and I suppose I should mention, at some point, that this whole movie is a sapphic neonoir crime story that focuses on Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon as just incredibly attractive, and incredibly attractively shot crime lesbians as they orchestrate a theft of two million dollars from the Mafia, and fourteen minutes into the movie there’s an extensive lesbian sex scene that is shot like, ‘hey, you should like this,’ front and centre, clear and obvious, no ambiguities, no maybes or heybies and characters are represented in ways that are extremely exciting and appealing if you’re already familiar with them from inside the queer perspective while also grappling with something about, y’know, disassociation. It’s like this movie was made by a bunch of intensely closeted queer women or something.

Good movie, pretty cool, I liked it a lot.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[sanghyukstattoos]

SF9's reaction: cockwarming

Genre: fluff-fluff-fluff; smut-smut-smut

Characters: SF9!

A/N: None of the images in the collage are mine, refer to here for more; For more SF9, read here, for iKON, read here and for optional bias writings, read here!

Youngbin:

Plays in pairs

When you first present the idea to him, given that the circumstances are of a light atmosphere, you'll fluster him, impeccably. His cheeks will turn pink and he'll maybe giggle a little and cover his mouth out of shyness but he won't be averted to the idea. He loves it but you just caught him off guard ahaha. When it's under a serious circumstance, like you are describing what you would like to try out, he would seriously contemplate your idea. He won't seal the deal if he doesn't like it the first time around. He'll try for a second to give it a chance. During your first time trying this out, it'll be spontaneous. Like you are watching a movie or a documentary and you or him decide that you want to give it a try. He'll firmly hold your waist as you settle onto him. If you are horny, you wait for a few minutes before you think, 'Enough of this' and rock him out of this world. What could he say? If you aren't, it'll be peaceful. But there's a dilemma. If you are sitting on the sofa, you can't see the screen. But you want to watch (sad). He'll say, ''It's okay'' and switch off the tv and it will resume in the bedroom. Just a beautiful atmosphere where you have deep conversations. He'll listen to your insight and internally marvel at how your perspective and compliment them with some of his own. It's like turn-taking, an essential part of a relationship where you go back and forth, speaking about one topic to the end of it where you have nothing to say anymore and then you'll move onto the next. It'll go on for ages, till the two of you are hungry. When the two of you go the kitchen to make something, he'll do what he couldn't do when the two of you were cock warming. The same thing may happen when the two of you are about to fall asleep, the lack of lights appeal to his other side, love-making.

Inseong:

This one is a funny bunny

It's a routine for you to cock warm after sex just like when he's on the laptop, surfing the net at the dinner table and you are sat on his cock, back to his chest, keeping him warm. After sex, it's a gateway to another round, on the bed or in the shower or to sleep in that position but not cock warm. He would love cock warming in the morning if it's cold then, probably in your balcony or in the kitchen, hugging you from behind and trailing his hands to your tummy and chest every now and then. He would love when you capture when you capture his lips in a sweet embrace, beginning a long make-out session when he's in you. If he's horny, you can bet that he's going to tell you about it. ''Babe'', he places a delicate kiss on your neck, ''tell me'' you moan out. His hands have already found your tummy and trailed downward, rubbing your clit but not to just merely stimulate you, to see if you are wet as he imagines you to be. He loves you. He's going to make love to you, to see those expressions on your face and feel you around him, holding you in his arms till the two of you have exhausted yourselves out which could one round or more than one. I can imagine you and him in the kitchen, he's got you pressed against the counter and that's how the cock warming while horny scene may play out. Another one is when abroad, maybe in a hotel or airbnb, he'll have you in his arms but that's not how it starts. He'll be playful about it, surprising you with a hug from behind, kissing the spot near to your ear, whispering some *interesting* innuendo into your ear, it makes you laugh anyway. A couple of seconds later, he's turning you around, kissing your tummy and inner thighs all the way till he's on his knees, he'll make sure to nuzzle his nose against your panties and lick a stripe at the material, slowly pulling them down. Arousal buzzes through you because he's telling you, ''fuck, baby you taste so good, stay still for me'' or something like that, it's a little muffled because he is preoccupied in drawing you to pleasure and pleasure and then release. He'll eat you out multiple times or till your knees buckle, depending on whether you had sex previously and then just maybe, in a moment driven by passion, he'll carry you to the sofa and that's where you'll cock warm, giggling to one another of what just happened, what you want to do afterwards. Wrap your legs around his waist, press him against the sofa and lift your hips again, he'll start the process again, all while laughing. It's just light-hearted.

Jaeyoon:

Absolute sweetheart/ dream husband

In this scenario, let's say that he is your husband. When you suggest cock warming, he's a little uncertain (by his little frown) but also inquisitive (by his questions), *Frowning* ''What is it about?'' would be the situation, he would look very cute when he asks. Presumably the two of you would be cuddling and you happened to stumble onto this conversation, he would not be shy, just like, 'You have an idea, let's hear it then!', also like an explorer, he's willing to try new things even if it means pushing his boundaries a little bit. But, this does not fall into that category of pushing boundaries. Maybe pushing his patience if he's horny. The latter scenario is guaranteed to occur at multiple points of time. You'll be lying on your side with his cock in your ass, it's a little jerk that alerts you or his hands that begin to wander everywhere like kissing your neck, then your lips and his hands have already begin to stimulate your clitoris. You moan into the kiss and then he knows and he smiles into the kiss while rocking his hips against yours. Everything is forgotten in the background. Unless it's life-threatening. Like food can burn or you could watch three episodes on netflix that you aren't truly watching, he's not stopping till the both of you are tired to the bone and have released multiple times. Quite the sweetheart though, he'll get up and shake himself if he's about to fall asleep the next minute and he'll grab a cloth for you like you protest but he says as he's already getting up, ''no, stay there, I've got it!''. You smile and slump and he cleans you, tosses it away and then climbs on top of you, pulling you into his arms. If he can, he'll try the idea of cock warming and spoon you throughout the night but if he can not, he'll definitely do it the next day. He's committed to the plans he makes or what's going on at that moment. Let's say you have an argument, you are trying to smooth things out, ruffle out misunderstandings and you won't talk it out with sex but communicate to him about it. The night will end in cock warming, to bring you closer and then it's all jokes from there, especially about the argument, it's either you teasing him or the other way around and that's how you fall asleep: content.

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

He has his days.

On a day when he's tired, to the bone maybe, he's come back from work and you want to cuddle, using the idea of cock warming to propose the intimacy you want to feel during the night that you couldn't during the day, I'm sure that he'll do it for you. If he does not fall asleep immediately, he'll caress your backside, admiring the way the flesh conforms to his grasp. He loves all of you. He will pepper kisses along your neck, down your collarbone and to your breasts, sucking your erect buds but he won't touch your centre. He likes to go slow, never stopping these moments with you or he'll take you in the morning. At times like these, he loves when you touch him, just your touch on his skin, turning heated. When you are making out, it would be your tug on his hair, like urgency for more or roaming your hands all over him or tracing his hair from his navel to the band of his underwear would be his favourite save for the best of all, when you direct how everything goes. If he does fall asleep immediately, it'll be after he kisses you. During this time, regardless of whether you were cock warming or not, he would love for you to tangle your fingers in his hair, it lulls him to sleep and even to sleep in your chest, being the small spoon, he would absolutely love it. He has trouble sleeping alone but when he's with you, it's not the case. When he stretches you out after days of not having sex, he tries to hold himself back from releasing, the wait and foreplay was enough to spiral his mind, gasping in your ear. But if you are too tired, he'll take it into consideration, seriously and hold back from lifting his hips off yours and filling you up. When he cock warms just to end the day comfortably, it will turn it into sex if the two of you contain some semblance of energy and are away from that playful and teasing mood, with hours on end before you sleep. It will be just the feeling of his cock filling you up, holding you to the bed with your legs wrapped around his waist, whispering how much he loves and that you are doing well, growling and stilling, your release triggering his, holding you when you are tired or in between rounds decorates the night. He holds your hand when you have sex, always, if your hands aren't roaming his body, feeling it. Otherwise, he'll hold you, preferably with all of your clothes off, no material between the two of you, you two speak about your day, the present and the future. It could even be a tickle session that ensues. The atmosphere will be lively, especially with his jokes and teasing and all the loves he has to offer.

Rowoon I Kim Seokwoo:

Prince of visuals, no?

Since he has such visuals, let's imagine that he takes you on a yacht (ya-ch-ht; hard time spelling that folks 🥵 + why do people go on a yacht? I'm struggling to think of a reason?). Seokwoo's marvelling over your amazement at the beauty of the ocean, the clear blue waters and occasional shade of the fish passing by. He even jokes that he hopes ''no shark gets the two of you'' and then laughs at your expression. Please, he's trying, don't throw him overboard :/. You enjoy the heat some more before he's by your side again, the yacht is paused, it gives you ideas. As soon as he's sat by your side, you take to straddle him, therefore effectively cutting him off. The surprise is evident on his face but his hands are resting on your backside, getting comfortable there. He groans out when your lips touch his neck, nipping the flesh to give him love bites which earns those husky groans of his. They send vibrations down your spine, tingling your core with wetness. With such a beautiful scenery surrounding the two of you, it's easy to fix your eyes on two places and think about how beautiful either are. He intimately hugs you, sucking an area on your breast, removing it from your top and placing the perk bud into his mouth, the act itself is hot and you grind down on him, not holding back your moans because of the silence of the ocean, save for the splashing of waves. You ride him, letting out sweet fucking moans, whimpering in his ears for him that it's so good, you can't get enough. When you are all sweaty, you cock warm in the shade, making out. It's a very soft moment, like sealing the deal? He wants to make you happy and he'll do stuff for you to achieve it. Cock warming is bonding for the two of you, to spoon and gossip about the other rich couples that you saw or speak about your day or just lay there, in each other's arms, enjoying the moment. When it's cooler, he would be okay to cock warming in a public space such as underneath a tree on a beach. You may be a bit far from the sea but you can smell it which makes you happy. It's a very calming day when you are tucked in his arm, leaning on his chest with his cock buried deep inside of you, feeling a little chilly but you are covered by a blanket. All in all, it's private for the two of you.

Zuho I Baek Juho

Cat man 🦸‍♂️

He would love to cock warm indoors, when his cats are sleeping, safely tucked in their beds as you are in each other's arms. It'll be quiet, you can only hear what's outside, maybe the train passing by or vehicles or pure silence which is hard to come but not impossible. If something's disturbing you like traffic, heavy honking, he's not for it and he'll move you two to somewhere else like the bed or on his studio chair. If you are tired and want to cock warm while he is producing, he'll hold you close to him and ignore the cramp in his legs. When he sees you sleep, he'll go soft and admire your prettiness, not forgetting to wrap a blanket around you. When it's silent, a relaxing atmosphere in which you can fall asleep easily, it's where cock warming will occur the most. An example could be in a space by the windows in a high-rise building or if the place was in a non-busy area like the countryside. There are occasional noises, some make you perk up while other's make you laugh, all while intimately spooning with him. You tell him: it's an indescribable feeling but you will try explaining. Don't be scared, he'll love your words. Relating cock warming to something and being subtle instead of explaining outright would prompt his chest to blossom with love from you, it's the feeling you've brought out from him and to in expressing his feelings, he may cry a little and kiss you like 'Can you feel this love I feel for you? I love you'- is what he is trying to say through the kiss. It's a very wholesome moment, your confessions to each other, spoken beautifully. He would also love to cock warm bare, without any clothes so that the two of you can be purely intimate and he loves your body. If you don't or lack appreciation for your fine self, he'll initiate cock warming if you aren't already and kiss your body and squeeze the parts he can't reach like his appreciation for your butt/ breasts/ stomach or whichever one it is that you are conscious of/ don't love as much as possible. And the opposite too! If he's not feeling okay or feels conscious of himself (pressure from people telling him how artists should look?), cock warming would be a way for you two speak about it whilst loving one another at the same time.

Yoo Taeyang:

What a precious guy

May be confused about the concept at first, even awkward the first time you attempt this, it takes him a little while to get used to this scenario: laying on the bed in each other's arms after carefully navigating your limbs around, his cock in you, completely. But he warms up, he'll make sure that you are comfortable and will also love to take this concept elsewhere, like the living room when you watch tv. When he's tired, he may not be able to carry it out simply because he has no energy or he may be horny (head) but not (body), it happens~ When that happens, he wakes you up with kisses, all over your body and he'd do this, regardless of what happened the previous night, it's automatic for him. Another scenario would be when he is bored, laying around doing nothing and fumbling for something to do, he'd initiate cock warming, that little sigh when he slips into you, relief. From there, he may definitely not hold himself back, the two of you would end up having sex. If it's you and he's doing something and you want to sit on his cock, he'll set down what he is doing and let you. As you hold onto him, he'll notice your whimpers, softly decorating his ear, letting him know how much you want him. He'll tease you till you are hiding away in the crook of his neck or playfully hitting him but he'll satisfy your desires all night. It's for you. However, when he does want to cock warm, he'll snuggle into you, nestling his head over yours. Little touches, lingering over your waist will be presented to you, as well as his admiration for your body. He'll cock warm in your sex or ass. When it's in your ass, he'll take his time admiring your ass, your breasts, any place he can place a kiss on really but he's not really kissing, he's looking and telling you how much he loves you.

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Resident cutie

He's got you in the palm of his hand especially because of that cute face, cute expressions, cute mannerisms, overall a very lovable guy. Can be awkward sometimes but it's okay because his loving personality makes up for it. Is also a shy little bean at first which makes you want to shower him with lots of love and praise. Glady accepts your kisses and hugs, gets shy when you first do them but eventually reciprocates them. To the point where it's comfort, safety and that you can be vulnerable with each other. *This is quickly turning into a boyfriend! Hwiyoung*. It's something that he suggests, the idea of cock warming. Really your jaw should drop when you hear it from your boyfriend. After a sex session, when the both of you are all sweaty and won't go for another round, he wouldn't mind if you were on your knees, keeping his cock warm with your mouth. He could be leaning back on the seat, going through his favourite sites while you sit in between his legs, ignoring the ache in your thighs. He would have you cock warming naked, bare for him and only him to see while he himself is fully clothed. That session could have potentially included bdsm, in a separate room that you have specially for it and this time, you could have been flogged, denied your release or being used, whatever your fantasies may be. It could also be the opposite way where you are the dom. In that case, it would be a command or a form of bonding where he will be punished if he moves when he is in your sex or you cuddle and speak to one another about the session, respectively. If bdsm is not included, then he would love to cock warm! To him, he gets to be with you and speak to you- whatever it may be about. For example, it could be deep, philosophical conversations or you both cuddle and sleep. Either way, he likes spending time with you especially in such a quality manner.

Chani:

*insert a gulp and a surprised face*

Remember that SF9 was discussing about mature concepts as a part of planning for their Kingdom stages and the editors used a fish filter to emphasise Chani's round eyes or rather, his innocence. ''HUh!??!'' is his brain, whirring away like an air conditioner at an office, rolling round and round when you propose this concept. He goes blank and you just sit back, waiting patiently. It has come to this moment. But his smile grows and it keeps on growing till he's unexpectedly pulling you onto his lap and connecting your lips. He knows that you should discuss it first but first, he wants to have you as close as possible when you discuss this. At first, he's peppering kisses on your face with you giggling, telling him that you want to continue and then he says, ''one moment baby'' before he swoops in for your lips. You reciprocate the passion, the moment is neither heated nor too soft, just in between and you have a make-out session for a couple of minutes. He doesn't know why, it's random but the both of you are loving it, like an initiation ceremony into a new stage of your relationship. And here were all along, navigating blind (👀🚫). It's planned with enough space for creativity. You are on the bed and you squeeze his shoulders when he presses at your entrance and fills you up. You wait to adjust to him. At first he's like, ''This it?'' and you have to laugh at that, quite true that you also though the same thing. Soon he's kissing you all over, sucking your nipple and the area around it, turning it a shade darker: he's teasing you, taking his time till he's done cock warming. He tells you that he would love to try out cock warming in your ass sometime and then it's all giggles from there. You ask, ''did you search-'', cut off by his fingers that circle your clit and press, drawing a gasp or a hitch of the breath from you. Then he starts to rock his hips and you know that cock warming is over, at least for now. He's hovering on top of you and losing control over his thrusts and spilling into you later on. A common scenario would be when he's playing games and you are sitting on his cock, maybe sleeping or doing something else, unbeknownst to his friends that he's speaking with on his headset.

[despairing-disaster]

16, 20, 23,28 for whit n david?

Gonna combine these for convenience and since it’s a lot of the same characters. Also sorry this took a while, it was a lot of numbers and I'm a chronic procrastinator - -;

David

3. A song that reminds me of them

Save Yourself by Stabbing Westward. I definitely think it fits a different character slightly better, but it works with the idea of him being a motivational speaker who hates his job.

12. Sexuality hc!

Gay

Not really much else to say on that.

16. A childhood headcanon

He was really quiet as a kid. Like, insanely so, to the point that him becoming a public speaker was something nobody really expected from him. 

20. A weird headcanon

David absolutely cannot handle spicy food for the life of him. It’s like a nuclear warhead for his entire GI tract. Given what the creator has said on food preferences, it kinda makes me wonder how he’d react to Xander’s cooking.

23. Future headcanon

I don’t think I can see David surviving the killing game. I see him as a character who isn’t really intended to “grow” so much as reveal more about themselves, and it’s really difficult to keep these characters interesting enough to justify leaving them in the story for 6 chapters (unless you’re linuj). I could realistically see him dying any time between chapter 2 and chapter 4, but I’m leaning more towards chapter 3. I don’t think he’s secretly evil or something, but it’d be the point where, if anyone is gonna just snap (again), it’s gonna be then, and it really seems like David in particular holds a lot back. 

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

It’s not even the fact that he accused Teruko of killing Xander, it’s the fact that he pressed it so hard for so long when everybody else already moved on. I understand that every trial needs its skeptics in the face of new evidence, and I will say that the writer did a pretty good job at not making him hair-pullingly irritating with it, but like... it was pretty unnecessary from a watsonian perspective. 

Whit

So glad you asked me about him bc I love him so much.

2. When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

I think the moment he had with Teruko in the laundry room where he said he just wanted to see her smile. I didn't really think much of him beforehand beyond him being a fun-loving jokester who didn't really take things seriously, but I think that scene really added a much-needed degree of depth to his character. Gonna absolutely shit my pants if he starts getting even more character development at the beginning of chapter 2 tho.

5. My favorite ship of them

Hate to be literally every other person in the fandom, but lets be real here, it's him with Charles. They've had really good chemistry thus far and Whit's interactions with him are where he really seems to shine as a character. Despite being a hardass, Charles really seems to bring out the best in him. Although I'll also throw in whitruko, charwhitruko and whitrei in as honorable mentions.

7. A quote of them that you remember

"Charles, you *do* know what sex is, right?"

Idk. It just kinda came outta left field, even by Whit standards.

16. A childhood headcanon

Whit was one of those kids who asked a million questions. “How do planes fly? Is water wet? Why do male seahorses give birth?” or merely the simple “why” over and over again until whoever he’s talking to realized he’s fucking with them.

20. A weird headcanon

Ik I’ve joked about it before, but he wears those heart-print boxers you always see in cartoons. Not always, but he has quite a few pairs of them.

23. Future headcanon

If Charles doesn’t kick the bucket next chapter, it’s gonna be him. Otherwise, I could easily see him making it to chapter 4, but not likely further than that. I said this with Charles, but I think these two are going to get more development and interaction with each other going forward (and I mostly say this based on speculation around the ch2 previews) though I’m curious to see where it goes from there. I mark chapter 4 as his maximum longevity since it seems that’s the chapter where the characters who get put in the role of being uplifting seem to go to die and that seems to be his role to at least someone in the cast.

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

I don't know how much Whit really did that was unnecessary beyond his typical in-character teasing. It could be argued that he pushed his limits with Charles a few times, but I personally feel like he made up for it later. A lot of his jokes in the first class trial were also a bit questionable given the circumstances. Not that I hate humor in a class trial and all, but having that super serious moment with Charles followed immediately by Whit implicating himself (and Charles) and then not just joking about it, but running that joke into the ground was peak "can you just take things seriously???" for me.

30. The funniest scene they had?

Hard to say since being the funny guy is kinda his schtick. I think his intro was pretty amusing and did a really good job at setting him up as a character, what with all the jabs he was making towards Xander. He had a lot of other good moments, but many of them were followed immediately by more serious ones or involved someone not reacting super well to him in some capacity.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Impatient

PAIRING: Atsumu x Fem!Reader, Osamu x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: noncon. somno, manipulative behavior, possessive/obsessive tendencies,

WORD COUNT: 800

A/n: thanks to the anon who put me in the mood to write Miya (this isn't quite the bully!miya twins they wanted but that'll be out soon). this is my first step into writing for Haikyu!! fandom, fingers crossed.

Atsumu has a more abrasive personality than his twin. He's able to hide his vitriolic persona behind the jovial mask. So people see the goofy and fun-loving side of him while you're exposed to his darkest traits.

They promised to be a team because they're unstoppable when they're together. But some things are easier said than done because Osamu isn't a fool. He knows his brother would lie and break his promises to have you to himself.

The dark blond has an advantage because he leeches onto you like a parasite, constantly touching you at every given opportunity. He's overwhelming you with his saccharine kindness, repeatedly asking if you'd like to hang out at the theme park or go to that new cafe with the delicious parfaits.

But you, ever so polite, simply bow your head and decline every invitation with a soft "I have to do study."

The kilowatt smile doesn't leave his handsome face, "Study with me then."

You look up at him with big eyes, demurely brushing the strands out of your face before softly uttering "I study the best alone."

Atsumu is convinced he's never hated anyone more.

The gray-haired twin has better luck. He's more perspective than his brother who had a habit of jumping the gun.

He's playing the long con so he'll respect your space. He doesn't latch onto you the way Atsumu does, keeping his interactions with you at a bare minimum of friendly conversations.

Still, he couldn't deny that he's feeling a little impatient too. You're so fidgety and even though he and his brother marveled at the concept of corrupting someone as pure as you...you could not be this much of a prude, right?

But he's definitely made more progress with you than his twin. You openly smile and tease him, and when you throw your head back in laughter, you always touch his arm.

When he finally asks you out, quite respectfully may he add, you looked surprised for a still second before breaking into a grin. "Maybe," you said, "After exams are over."

He winces, there's still a month left. But he'll take what he can get. But in the back of his mind, sometimes he just wants to tell you to shut up and just get on your knees.

Because while you're a nice girl, he doesn't want you for your manners or ability to make conversation. Still, Osamu reminds himself of the old fable: slow and steady wins the race.

On the other hand, Atsumu has been ice-cold towards you. Osamu isn't complaining, it's more time and attention you can give him instead of his idiotic brother. Still, the gray-haired boy isn't perspective for nothing.

Right now is the calm before the storm.

He's later proven right when he stumbles into their shared apartment to be greeted by the sight of Atsumu stroking your hair as your unconscious body laid over his lap.

"Atsumu..." Osamu starts, a tone of warning embedded in his deep voice. He's trying to be stern, but his eyes fall over to your breasts rising and falling. You look so pretty when you're quiet and complacent.

"'Samu" The blond greets cheerfully, his friendly expression not matching the lust burning in his hazel eyes, "Was wondering when you'd get here."

He's speechless, standing in place as he watches his twins unbutton your blouse, flip your skirt up and slide his hands against your core.

"She's a pretty little thing isn't she." He remarks casually like he's talking about the weather and not the state of your body as he's fondling you.

All Osamu can do is nod, too transfixed by your baby-pink bra-clad soft breasts jostling. Atsumu's hand slides the underwear and starts rubbing your clit with an unmatched vigor, too antsy to do the sweeping long strokes. Even from here, the younger twin can see your folds glistening.

Holy shit, you're wet.

Robotically, the hitter moves towards the couch, desperate to see more of your beautiful and fragile body exposed.

The older twin is fingering you now, slender digits entering your heat and curling over the spongy spot. The softest whine escapes your lips and both Miya brothers are taken back in surprise.

Atsumu grins, "Do you know how long it would have taken to get her like this if you were going to do it your way?" There's an uncontained smugness in his eyes, a steady smirk on his face as he can feel you shudder.

The younger twin is at a loss for words, "How'd...how'd you even get her like this?" He knows his first reaction should be to reprimand, to lecture Atsumu on how fucking stupid he's being. He's the rational brother, the one who can get situations in control, the one who manages risks better.

But staring at you like this with your pretty lips parted, breasts jiggling, and creamy thighs displayed...all rational thought has gone straight to his cock.

He reaches out to hold you, any part of you, but his brother roughly smacks his hand away.

"No."

He speaks with finality and Osaume can feel an uncharacteristic rage burn in his bone but before he can talk, Atsumu shoves his lips to yours, his tongue easily invading your mouth.

It's a sloppy, messy kiss that leaves drool forming at the corner of your mouth. When the blond finally pulls apart, Osamu can see the look of victory adorning his face. The kind of victory when they won their games.

"That's fair right? You wanted to wait...so you can wait for your turn."

[jackrrabbit]

cuffing season /// Ushijima x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Shiratorizawa fanweek day 5—Firsts] You convince your boyfriend to try something new in the bedroom, but as it turns out, old habits die hard.

A/N: Heard it was Shiratorizawa week 👀 technically I did originally post this on day 5, but I had to repost bc of tag issues, whoops :P Let’s pray it works this time!! edit: apparently it’s still not listed in the tags :<

The song that I mention is Bruno Major’s Old Fashioned (although it doesn’t fit the tone of this fic in the least).

Tags/warnings: mild bondage, size kink, rough sex!!!, marking (bruises/hickeys/etc.), power play/power exchange, reader tries & fails to dom Mr. Ushijima 😳, all characters are adults

Look, Ushijima’s a great boyfriend. Perfect, almost. Sure, he may not be the most expressive guy, but you’ve been dating him long enough that you’re able to pick up on the little gestures that tell you that he cares about you—the way he presses his face into your hair when you hug him after you’ve been apart for a while; his hands stroking circles into your skin when you fall asleep in bed next to him; all of it. He’s everything you could possibly look for in a man, except for one not-so-little issue:

The sex.

Because Ushijima, your sweet, wonderful boyfriend, who kisses you so gently it’s like he thinks you’ll fall apart if he’s not infinitely careful with you, is for some reason incapable of exercising the same degree of restraint (or any restraint at all) when you’re in bed together. When it comes to sex, your boyfriend is a fucking animal. And you’re not really sure how much more you can handle.

Maybe your concerns would seem petty from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not like Ushijima doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s not like you don’t want to have sex. You’re attracted to him, of course you are! Almost 76 inches and 190 pounds of pure muscle, a body that looks like Michelangelo could have carved it from marble, and that beautifully solemn expression that had you salivating over him from the stands before you even knew his name? You want to have sex with him, you’re just fairly certain you can’t, not when it always ends up with you completely and utterly wrecked, so spent you don’t even have the strength to lift your hips off the mattress so he can wipe his cum off your thighs.

Look, anyone in your position would feel the same way. It’s awful and you’ll never admit it to him, but you almost broke up with him after the first time you two fucked. You knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy—the man radiates big dick energy and boy did he deliver—but it was just too much.

That first time had started off so innocuously, with you inviting him to your place for a nightcap after your sixth date. You’d set candles and put on your romantic sex playlist for a nice backdrop to let him hold you in his lap and make out—how the hell had you gone from that to having him rut you into the mattress, your belly pressed into the sheets and ass arched up so he could pound into you so forcefully that your rickety bed smacked into the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture with every movement, and you couldn’t even hear it over the sound of your own moaning? You hadn’t changed the playlist, and it felt downright obscene to listen to Bruno Major croon about love and courtship while Ushijima fucked into you like he was trying to carve the shape of his cock into your pussy.

You’d had to call in sick the next day because you could barely walk. The bruises from where he held your hips had taken weeks to fade, and by that time he’d already given you new ones. To his credit, Ushijima felt bad when he saw the evidence of how rough he’d been and he promised to take it easy on you next time…but after a few more rounds of mind-numbingly savage sex you learned that the man apparently doesn’t know what ‘take it easy’ means.

To be fair, at least some of it is your fault. You really shouldn’t have offered to go on the pill as a three-month anniversary present to him. At least before, he had to give you a break while he changed condoms after he came; now he has no reason to hesitate, instead going for round two (and sometimes round three) without pulling out. You never thought you’d see superhuman stamina as a bad thing, but…

“You don’t get it! It’s like getting fucked by a stallion. I need to plan to have three days to recover whenever I take him home with me,” you whined to your friends over cocktails when they told you you shouldn’t complain about a good thing—after all, Ushijima is just as committed to your pleasure as he is to his own, and there’s never been an occasion where he didn’t get you off before fucking you himself (probably at least a little because there’s no way in hell you’d be relaxed enough to take him otherwise).

“Can’t you just tell him to go slower?” one of your friends asked. “If he doesn’t listen to you, then that’s fucked up and you need to dump him.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen. If I tell him to stop, he stops,” you sighed, stirring your drink with the straw and watching the decorative sprig of mint fall under the surface to be overtaken by a chip of ice. “It’s like he can’t go slower. He’s not adjustable—it’s either crazy brutal or nothing, and then neither of us get what we want. Like a vibrator you can’t turn off the highest level. I don’t even think he realizes in the moment how intense it is for me.”

“Aren’t you ever on top? You can set the pace.”

“I’ve tried, but Ushi just—“ you made a gripping motion with your hands and mimicked raising something up and setting it down vigorously— “like, bounces me.”

One of them raised an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. She turned to your other friend and the two of them whispered to each other for a bit, then shifted back to you. “Tie him up,” she said with the air of an elder imparting sage knowledge, and your other friend nodded.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. Guys usually love it when girls are in control, you just need to take the initiative. Get him tied down and then you can show him exactly how you like it. Let him feel like he’s at your mercy for once.”

The idea had seemed unthinkable at the time, but you hadn’t been able to forget it—which is why after weeks of contemplation, hours of research, and a single extremely awkward trip to a sex shop, you’re now crouching over Ushijima’s naked chest, wrapping a leather cuff around one of his wrists.

“Are you sure that this is something you want to do?” Ushijima asks in that weighty baritone that makes you shiver with need. He doesn’t pull away, but he eyes your actions warily as you thread the chain of the cuffs around a rung in the center of your headboard and reach over to do the other side.

“…Yes,” you tell him, a little less firmly than you would have liked, and you lick your lips to try to make up for how suddenly dry your mouth is. “Anyway, isn’t that my line? We don’t have to do the cuffs if you don’t want to. I won’t force you.”

“It’s alright. You and I both know you couldn’t force me, (Y/N).” Dark eyes pin you down and it’s incredibly unfair how much power he has over you even when he’s the one chained to the bed.

Ushijima’s right, obviously—if he didn’t want to be exactly where he is right now, he wouldn’t be. You’re sure as hell not strong enough to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Okay then…good,” you reply, adjusting the straps of the cuffs to accommodate for how stupidly thick his wrists are. When you’re satisfied that they won’t chafe but he can’t get out of them without your help, you sit back next to his chest and admire your handiwork. Ushijima lays on his back, naked, relaxed, even with his arms stretched up to your headboard and cuffed there. He looks good, mouthwateringly good, and you’re ready to get your hands on him when you remember there’s something you need to get straight first. “Wait, before we—before I do anything, remember— what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“…Vanilla,” Ushijima says, reciting the safeword you decided on when you were hammering out details, although the look in his half-lidded eyes is telling you very clearly that he has no intention of needing to use it.

Privately you agree, but everything you’ve read on the kink blogs you’ve been trolling for research tells you that a responsible adult doesn’t put cuffs on their partner without deciding on a safeword first, and you’re determined to do this by the book. “Good boy,” you say, and the diminutive feels awkward in your mouth until you see Ushijima’s reaction—the flash in his eyes, a minuscule hitch in his breathing next to you, and the scrape of metal against wood as he gives a light pull at the cuffs.

With everything safe and accounted for, you give a final tug to the chain to ensure it’s secure, then inch back and swing one leg over the broad expanse of his chest so you’re straddling his abdomen (and he’s so damn big that there’s a twinge of soreness in your thighs just from sitting on top of him). Fuck, he looks good like this, all spread out and pinned underneath you, so masculine and bulky that you’re feeling your pussy get wet just from watching him watching you.

It’s not often you get to appreciate him like this—usually you’re too focused on not losing your mind from how deeply he’s fucking you—so you savor it, massaging his shoulders and sliding your fingers down his sides, tracing the smooth skin with a feather-light touch and then dipping to kiss under his jaw. Feeling more than a little devious, you let your teeth graze over the thin skin at the base of his neck and with your chest pressed into his, it’s not hard to feel his sharp intake of breath.

“The marks...my teammates will notice.”

“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against his skin, lifting up just enough to brush over his nipples. He stiffens, and once again you hear him tugging at the cuffs.

“…Don’t. I want them to see,” Ushijima says, and once you have his permission you don’t waste any time in latching your mouth to his skin and sucking. It’s been ages since you’ve given anyone a hickey. Usually you’re the one marked up like a teenager after Ushijima has his way with you, so this is a nice change of pace, especially when you can feel him flexing underneath you.

Well, kissing is nice…but you’re getting impatient and you know he is too. Once you’re satisfied that your hickeys are going to show up nice and bright red around his neck like a collar, you sit back, walking your hands back on his chest, stroking over his abdomen and giving a little roll of your ass on top of him. Ushijima’s hips twitch—unconsciously, you wonder?—and he glares at you in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms to hurry up and let him fuck you.

And damn it, something about that look has you feeling weak. Needy. Obedient. But this time you’re supposed to be in charge, so you smirk and lift your hips, pulling your body back so his cock is nestled between your legs, not quite touching your pussy. He’s already hard—no surprises there, considering how intently he’s watching you as you mess with him—but you only take a second to stroke his cock up and down before shifting up so he can see you slick your fingers up in your own pussy.

“(Y/N)…” Ushijima’s voice is low, annoyed, and he looks hungry. But you’re so amazed at how wet you are under your own fingers that you don’t bother to pay attention to him shifting his position under you to try to get stimulation. Your juices are literally slicking up your own thighs, just from chaining up your boyfriend and teasing him a little? You should have done this a long time ago.

You push two fingers into your pussy and pump them a few times, making sure to angle your hips so Ushijima can see them go in and out. The stretch is almost uncomfortable for a second and you wince a little before schooling your expression, knowing you’re about to have something a lot bigger than two fingers stretching you open. Ushijima catches it though, and he frowns, trying to sit up before remembering the cuffs that are holding him back. “Let me—let me do it for you—“

“No, stay down,” you say quickly, using your other hand to push him back into the mattress while you continue to touch yourself. Ushijima lets you (and there’s no doubt in your mind that he is letting you), but his eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the way your fingers are glistening with your own pussy juices.

God, you’re—you’re supposed to be in control, aren’t you? So then you shouldn’t be feeling like this, eyes drifting closed as you fuck yourself on your fingers, letting your lower knuckles rub against your clit while you try to curl them to rub against your g-spot. Ushijima’s been spoiling you…you can’t remember the last time you’ve had to do this yourself, and as you feel the tension building up slowly you catch yourself wishing it were him fingering you instead.

His fingers are just so thick. And long, and so rough. You bite your lip thinking about the way he does it when he preps you to take his cock, mashing his palm into your clit, petting along inside you and scissoring his fingers and… “Mmh,” you hum, holding back a real moan for Ushijima’s sake.

There’s another click of the chain sliding over the headboard wood and it reminds you that he’s right there, you could just uncuff him and he could touch you and fill you up with those thick fingers, make you cum, make you cry. But the urge to seek your own pleasure is outweighed by the image he’s making as he looks at you, his expression almost angry in its intensity now that he’s watching you do this to yourself and he has no way to get his hands on you.

“Ahh—“ you whine, letting a real whimper out at the thought of what you’re doing to him. “Ushi, Ushi, do you wanna touch? Wanna touch me?”

His head ducks into a hasty nod and his jaw clenches at the strain of having to ask for what he wants instead of just taking it like usual.

The longer you touch yourself, the closer you’re getting…but you don’t want to cum, not just yet. You draw your fingers out of your dripping cunt and open them up in a V, showing off the juices that connect them, the evidence of how wet you are for him. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else I want in me instead.”

And then you’re reaching to the side for the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop into your palm and then wrapping your hand around Ushiijma’s cock. And—fuck, he’s big. Sure, you’ve had sex with him plenty, but no matter how often you take him, you never stop feeling absolutely torn up after. A tingle of trepidation races up your spine at the thought of riding him like this—can you even put it in by yourself?

Even just looking at it is intimidating. He’s painfully hard, cock flushed red and bobbing up against his lower stomach every time you let it go, and, Jesus, how is it even possible that this thing would fit inside you? When you wrap your hand around him your fingers don’t touch; he must be thicker around than your own wrist.

Halfway. That’ll going to be your goal tonight, to take him halfway. And even that…is going to be a stretch.

The anxiety must show on your face because once again you’ve got Ushijima straining at the cuffs. “(Y/N)—“ he spits as you stroke him up, nudging your palm against the tip. “(Y/N), you need to finish first. Let me make you cum.”

“No, this time I want to—I’m gonna cum on your cock,” you say, adjusting your position so you’re kneeling above him, the head of his cock sliding between your lips. “Gonna cum on your big cock, Ushi, okay?”

His cock jumps in your hand at the provocation. He’s glaring at you, but he’s also leaking precum, the sticky fluid mixing with the lubricant. You give Ushijima a moment to say the safeword if he really doesn’t want you to, and when he stays quiet you raise yourself up a little more and line the head of his cock up with your weeping slit. You hold your pussy lips open with your fingers, easing your thighs down and pressing the head into you and—

“Oh—oh—oh, fuck, oh fuck, Ushi—“ you stutter out helplessly.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last fucked you. One week, six days and about three hours, and at the moment this measure of time seems unreasonably important because it’s been almost two weeks since you last let Ushijima split you in half with his ridiculously huge cock.

You’re not ready, should’ve prepped more, should’ve let him make you cum like he said—fuck, it feels like you’re losing your virginity—and the mixture of dismay and relief that spills over you when the thick swell of his head pushes past that tight ring of muscle is almost nauseating.

The tip? Seriously, just the fucking tip, and you’re already delirious, shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his. It’s taking all of your strength to keep from going slack—but you know if you do, his whole cock is going to slide up into you and even thinking about that has your cunt clenching and unclenching around what you’re able to fit inside.

“Do you need help?” Despite the strain in Ushijima’s voice at being teased like this, there’s an undercurrent of amusement. He clearly doesn’t have faith in your ability to take him deeper by yourself.

It’s this—this quiet arrogance, this belief that he knows what’s best for you and he’s the only one who can give it to you—that gives you the guts to convince yourself to lower yourself down onto his his cock until you’re literally gasping for air. It fucking hurts, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it; instead, you brace your hands against the stiff muscle of his chest and try to focus on the way his cockhead is pressing into your g-spot.

Halfway…he’s gotta be at least halfway in, right? You sneak a glance up at him and bite back a curse at the look on his face, serious as ever, so focused on the place where your pussy is reluctantly eating up his cock that you feel your insides tense up around him again.

You don’t even know how it’s possible for you to get tighter around him but somehow you must be able to, because you hear Ushijima grunt underneath you, and his muscles contract under your palms as he tries again to sit up. When he can’t, he hisses in frustration. “Move…now. Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Funny, aren’t you supposed to be the one controlling him? But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way when you’re barely able to stay upright just from trying to ride his cock. You nod desperately, chin jutting up and down like a bobblehead, and lift your hips up off his cock until just the tip is left inside. When you push yourself back down you can’t help whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding up into you, that stiff, wet cockhead dragging over your g-spot.

By now the pain has faded into an uncomfortable stretch, like leaning too heavily into a foreign pose in yoga, enough that you’re able to feel the arousal building in the pit of your belly and hold onto it as you rock your hips up and down him. The pace is slow—almost too slow; you marvel at yourself for wanting it faster—and there’s a fair amount of Ushijima’s cock that you’re not able to take, but this is really all you can handle.

“Mmm, Ushi, fuck, you’re so big, so big and hard inside me, feels so good on your cock—“ you moan, knowing you sound less like the dominant partner in this position and more like you’re teasing him, pushing his limits.

Ushijima’s breathing is heavy. Labored. He’s trying to hold himself back. “(Y/N), deeper—take me deeper, now.”

Part of your brain vaguely recognizes that he isn’t supposed to be giving the orders here, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of fucking yourself on his cock to complain, so you lower your hips and try, but it feels like you’re just too weak to do it yourself. “Ushi please, it’s too much, too big, I can’t, please—“

And your pleading must sound like an invitation, because his eyes flash and you feel him shifting the position of his legs behind you—and then he bucks his hips up and his cock sinks into your cunt, pushing up into your gooey insides until the head is pressing into the tight opening of your cervix.

“Ahn—?” you squeal, startled. What? He—what? Fuck, it’s deep, it’s so deep, you can’t hold yourself up so you flop downward, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “ohhh Ushi pleasepleaseplease” and you barely hear yourself over the lubed-up slap of his pelvis against your skin.

Fuck, it feels like he’s knocking the breath out of you. Feels like you can’t fucking breathe like his cock isn’t just pushing against your stomach but your lungs too, can’t breathe so you bear down on his shoulders try to hold yourself up try to let yourself adjust but—

Ushijima’s in control now.

Not that he ever wasn’t, you’d think if you were capable of thinking except you’re not because as you try to situate yourself make yourself relax around that monster cock filling you up, he’s not giving you a moment to catch your breath, instead thrusting up into you at his usual breakneck pace. Apparently he doesn’t need to use his hands to make you bounce—you’re not even moving yourself now, just trying to hold still as his hips slam his cock inside you again and again and again, and again, rubbing up against that sweet spot in your pussy so quickly that you think you might go crazy from it.

“Nngh, so tight,” he growls, and you can tell from the way the words are choked out that he’s gritting his teeth. You almost want to roll your eyes—of course you’re tight, anyone would feel tight around him—but it feels like if you do your eyes might roll back in your head so you don’t.

Jesus fuck, you can’t even understand how long it’s been but you do know that it’s absurd for you to want to cum already, only the thick mass of his cock pushing into you is somehow hitting all the right buttons, just like it always does. Even if it’s rough you want more. By now you’re trying to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips in time with him fucking you open, doing your best to participate but really it’s all you can do to even stay still with how roughly he’s fucking you. “Ushi, fuck, so deep, wanna cum I wanna cum please let me cum—“

“Touch yourself,” he commands breathlessly because he’s still tied to the headboard and he can’t do it, and you barely have the strength to pick one of your hands up off of where you’re scratching into his shoulder and pull it down to rub at your clit.

It’s not enough and you whimper desperately, you don’t want your own fingers, you want Ushijima’s, you want him to touch you. You’re probably saying it out loud by now, begging him to put his hands on you—his eyes widen and then the sound of the metal cuff chain grating over wood reaches you—you can see the skin of his wrists get lighter from lack of blood flow, he’s pulling at the cuffs, pulling too hard, he’s going to hurt himself, you have to stop him—and then you hear a snap.

Aw, shit. The bed.

The thought comes in a singular moment of clarity as you watch the rung Ushijima’s chained to separate itself from the rest of the headboard, splintering, the nail that held it in place looking pathetically flimsy next to the veins bulging in his arms as he slides the chain away from it. He flexes his hands, forming fists and then unclenching them to restore the interrupted blood flow, and then you’ve only got a second to prepare yourself before he’s upright, dragging your hips up to meet his.

“Ushi, Ushi, Ushi, I want, please, I want you,” you beg, but you didn’t really have to because you’re pretty sure there’s no force on Earth that could stop him from holding you up so he can fuck down into you with a ferocity that could be mistaken for anger if you weren’t certain it was really lust.

The entire bed is creaking and rocking against the force of his movement, but you don’t really have the headspace to worry about more property damage considering he’s got you supporting yourself on the mattress on your back and shoulders, your spine curled up so he can kneel and still have your hips aligned with his, your legs dangling bonelessly on either side of him.

Fuck. Holy fuck. You open your mouth but words don’t come out, only a choked whimper, but if you could speak you’d be saying yesyesyesyesyes, touch me.

Despite your inability to speak, Ushijima picks up on what you need and then along with his cock carving its way in and out of you you’re getting the feeling of his fingers padding over your clit. Rough and callused, not gentle, nothing like the way you touched yourself earlier, but you’re starting to realize you don’t mind the aggression. In fact, it’s good, it’s so good, so good you’re gonna cum.

You’re gonna cum.

A long, drawn-out whine is spilling out of your lips before you can stop it; you wrap your hand over your own mouth out of shame or maybe courtesy to your neighbors (although by now they’ve probably invested in earplugs after listening to you squeal like a pig on Ushijima’s cock dozens of times in the past). Still, as your climax rocks through you shove your thumb between your teeth to bite down on it, but the sharp pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

“Ushiiiii—“ you sob around your own fingers. Your spine arches—or rather, you try to arch your back but you can’t, not with Ushijima’s full body weight pressing into you and keeping you pinned to the mattress.

It hurts, it feels good, you’re seeing stars, you’re hearing Ushijima snarl as your pussy tightens up and convulses on his cock. His one-handed grip on your ass gets painfully tight as he abandons whatever pretense of restraint he had left and pumps his cock into you so hard and fast you’re pretty sure the headboard isn’t going to be the only thing broken, but you don’t fucking care because you’re cumming, you’re cumming, you’re cumming so hard you think you black out for a second, holy fuck.

It’s only when you hear Ushijima’s panting breath and feel him pulling your hand away from your mouth that you regain your grip on reality. “You’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hand up and inspecting the shallow indentations your teeth made on your thumb.

“…You broke my bed,” you reply tiredly once you’ve gotten in a lungful of air, what feels like the first full breath you’ve been able to take since he put his cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima tells you, although he doesn’t look particularly sorry.

You roll your eyes. “Did you cum?”

“Yes. When you did.” Without him holding you up there’s nothing to prevent you from sliding down off his softening (but still unfairly impressive) cock. You’re certainly not strong enough to keep yourself in position.

Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, you’d still be able to feel the familiar heat of his semen plastering your insides, and once your still-sensitive pussy is exposed to the cool air your inner muscles squeeze involuntarily but hard enough to force some of his cum out—you sense it, hot and thick, dripping out of your pussy to smear against your thighs. “Can we take a bath?” you ask, knowing you’ll barely be able to walk over to the bathroom, much less stand under the shower unassisted.

Ushijima nods and moves off the bed. “I can carry you,” he adds when you try to stand up and your knees almost give out before you flop back onto the mattress.

At this angle, with you sitting and him standing in front, it’s difficult not to see that despite cumming literally less than two minutes ago, he’s already getting stiff again. Jesus, is he even human? After how hard you just came, the thought of letting him fuck you again is giving you something stronger than butterflies, but you look up at him and offer anyway. “Wait, do you…um, want to go for another round?”

Ushijima’s gaze meets yours and then travels over your body underneath him. You must look like a mess—sweaty, hair all fucked up and tangled, body still shaking with the aftershocks of your climax and barely able to sit comfortably on your aching pussy—and you guess he sees how jittery (nervous?) you feel because for the first time since your relationship started, he shakes his head to turn down an offer of sex. “No, I’ll take care of it. Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and raising your arms to let him pick you up.

“(Y/N).”

When Ushijima doesn’t move to carry you, you frown. “Hm?”

“The cuffs.”

Oh, right. The black leather is wrapped around both of his wrists, chain still intact. Apparently these cuffs are stronger than your headboard. Good quality. Too bad they’re going in the trash. You make quick work of the release and then undo the straps carefully, massaging over the light pink marks on your boyfriend’s wrists once they’re free.

“Sorry, did it hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just wanted…” You trail off, feeling infinitely embarrassed that despite all your claims of dominating him, he still ended up with the upper hand, cuffs or no cuffs. And you liked submitting to him. There’s no denying that.

“It didn’t. And…I enjoyed having you on top,” Ushijima tells you, lifting you effortlessly into a princess-carry now that his arms are free.

“Yeah right. We’re never using those again,” you scoff, tucking your head into his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. “My boss is going to get mad that I keep taking sick days every time I have sex with you. I’m just going to throw the cuffs out.”

From your position, so close to him, you can barely see the upward quirk of his mouth that would be as good as laughter for anyone else. “Don’t get rid of them. I think…next time, I would like to have you wearing them, (Y/N).”

Well, fuck.

[wickedsniffles]

Trouble that I Always Find

Masterlist

Anonymous requested Ahsoka falling ill either on one of her missions or shortly after the Clone Wars, and a concerned Rex taking care of her! I got a ton of ideas for this prompt -- hope you enjoy! 😊 AND I’M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG 

Title is from this song, which has always given me the biggest Ahsoka vibes. 

Summary: They both know that Ahsoka’s been pushing herself too hard. Does that mean that Ahsoka will actually take the time she needs to rest? Nope. Does that mean that Rex is going to let her keep working through whatever illness she’s managed to pick up? Of course not. 

Set not long after the end of the Clone Wars -- Ahsoka is 19. In an AU where Rex and Ahsoka *don’t* immediately split up to go their separate ways across the galaxy. 

Pairing: Maybe a hint of Rexsoka, if you’re looking. Third Person Ahsoka Perspective. 

Rating: Teen

Tags: PTSD mention, post-Clone Wars, light whump, sickfic, Togruta biology, hunting for food, headache/migraine, working through illness, sneezing, buildups, congestion, caretaking, self-neglect, light angst, fluff, hint of feelings

Word Count: 5.3K

If Ahsoka never sees this miserable, soggy forest planet again, it'll be too soon.

Her growing sources across the Outer Rim have informed her of soldiers in white armor gathering at the edge of the mountains, far beyond the local villages. According to the hearsay, they’re stamped with the insignia of the new Empire, and Ahsoka’s intuition tells her that that can’t be anything but bad news.

She can’t do much on her own, but she has to see if there’s a way to help these clones. She’s still haunted by the day the 501st turned on her, on their own brother. If there’s any chance they can reverse it for more of them, they have to try.

The nightmares she wakes to are filled with Rex pointing his blaster to her head, repeating the same hollowed-out phrase. Good soldiers follow orders. He knows by now when she's had one. Ahsoka is sure he can hear her gasp awake, her arms thrown out to deflect a blast that never comes.

It's almost impossible to fall back asleep after that happens, even after he insists that she's safe. Sometimes the two of them sit through the night til morning together, simply taking comfort in the fact that they're still around to remember. Other nights see them begin to talk about the past, in broken bits and pieces -- any longer and the pain of it would be too much.

Rex has insisted on coming for this recon, too, but there’s no way he can go anywhere near this. They both know it’s risky for him to be seen, no matter how good of a disguise they can manage to scrounge up. That had sparked an argument -- him insisting he wouldn’t be seen at all, so it wouldn’t matter, and Ahsoka pushing back that they couldn’t take the risk. Period.

Ahsoka’s status as a former Padawan might mark her as valuable if she’s caught using the Force. But as far as a good portion of the galaxy knows, she’s just any other disgruntled young Togruta woman. Though if Rex is seen at all, it's game over. She won't let that happen. She knows it frustrates him -- staying with the ship or the camp, and only coming out under the cover of night.

She would rather do things the hard way than not have him around to worry about at all.

Wonder what Skyguy would say right now, she thinks, squinting down at her datapad. It’s an instinctual thought, though that doesn’t stop her stomachs from sinking with sadness. Anakin loved the rain. Scruffy little desert dork. He never seemed to mind getting wet. He’d shake his head like a shaggy bantha and laugh when the water landed all over them -- her and Master Obi-Wan.

Kriff, Master Obi-Wan always looked so mad! It would take everything she had to keep from dissolving into laughter at the look on his face, no matter what kind of situation they were stuck in. And then he'd try and insist that he wasn't angry, only irritated or disappointed. Right.

But it’s just her now. And that’s something she can’t think about, no matter how the feeling of it always lingers there, in the back of her mind.

He’d tell me to quit moping and get on with my mission, she relents, rubbing at a sore montral.

The edges of her cloak are soaked through with rain, as hard as she's tried to keep out of the downpour. The plainclothes she wears in exchange for her long-retired Jedi garb do little to dull the chill of the air, though they cover her from neck to ankle in an effort to disguise her as much as possible.

From her perch in this ancient tree, Ahsoka fights not to shiver, to call on the Force to keep her warm and centered. She has to concentrate on the task at hand. She’s here for a reason, she can’t afford to let her thoughts go fuzzy the way they want to. If only her head didn't ache. It’s cutting into her usual clear concentration, annoying more than anything.

She’s not even sure that the Empire is out here. Gangs have sprung up since the death of the Republic, doubling and even tripling in number with no reasonable law to keep the peace. Maybe that’s all it is, stirred to the point of hysteria with rumors and gossip. At the very least, Ahsoka knows that she’s been sitting stock-still in this tree for hours, watching the supposed meeting place for this group. Not even a stray animal has passed by in that direction.

Kriff it.

It’s getting late, and the suns will set if she stays up here another hour. If they’re operating at night, Ahsoka’s going to come back and watch for it tomorrow, when she has some energy. Right now her stomachs feel like they’re beginning to eat themselves. Her body is sore from sitting so long in one place, and she’s eager to inch down, to stretch and move and hunt.

Casting one last listen around the perimeter, Ahsoka makes sure that she’s alone before opening her comm. It’s a good thing that the tech is waterproof.

“Hey,” she says softly. No name greeting, no code word. This channel connects to Rex and only Rex. If anyone but him were to answer, they’d have to destroy the encryption, starting all over to create a new form of secret comm link.

He picks up almost immediately, the crackling feedback of the comm making her flinch. “Hey. Any luck?”

Ahsoka sighs, watching a little flit-wren sail past her. “Not at all. If they’re here, they’re either working by night, or not in the location the villagers said they would be.”

Rex hmms his own disappointment, hesitating before speaking again. “You coming back, then?”

“Give me a minute. I’m starving.”

And not for crumbly kriffing ration bars. Even the ones that are supposed to be meat-flavored aren’t. The artificial taste coats the roof of her mouth for hours after she eats one, waxy and unappealing. Every time she peels the wrapper, she’s taken back to the mess hall of Anakin’s Star Destroyer, faced with an apologetic serving droid. Rations are low, it would beep out. Rations were often low. She doesn’t give a damn if the things are packed with a day’s worth of essential nutrients. Right now, she’s in a forest, and she’s going to get food.

It’d felt so peculiar that first time, to give into the hunting instincts always bubbling so close to the surface. Slinking low into a prowl, cornering an ash-rabbit on Andelm IV, she’d felt like an idiot. Though every breath it took echoed loud in the hollows of her lekku, its every slamming heartbeat multiplied by the thousands with her ultra-sensitive hearing. The longer she concentrated, the calmer she felt -- like she was meant to do this.

She’d locked her eyes onto the quivering black creature, her bare feet moving in the grass, soundless. This was the way of the Togruta -- to be close to the land. To feel the very pulse of it in the soles of your foot. The ash-rabbit was unaware of her until she was practically on top of it, her body tense before the pounce. Its one startled squeak before going limp between the sharp curve of her canines was its only tell.

And she had felt sorry for them in the beginning, despite it all. Despite all the war and death already sitting on her young shoulders, the first fade of life from their eyes -- from the Force -- still punched her in the gut. As she’d carefully skinned the animal, the words of old Master Eeth Koth came back to her. We cannot control the way we are born, he’d told her once. Only how we choose to carry ourselves. Be proud of who you are, Padawan, both Togruta and Jedi.

She feels much better about what she’s doing after that. For every successful hunt Ahsoka makes afterward, for herself and for Rex, she takes a small moment to thank the animal for giving them the nourishment they need to push forward in their journey through the galaxy. Her confidence soon grows, as well.

Now, though, she’s not sure she’ll be able to make the flawless kill she’s used to.

Ahsoka works her way down from her perch in the tree, wincing as every motion jostles her full-feeling head and montrals. She wants to go faster, to avoid the potential of being seen in a vulnerable position, but there’s no way she can move at normal speed without stumbling over with dizziness. Even if she can’t sense anyone around her, her survival instincts tell her not to waste any time. So the compromise is a nauseating but manageable pace, until there’s ground beneath her feet at last.

Even when she’s level, it takes a second for Ahsoka to stop seeing doubles of the trees and bushes. It’s been hours now since she’s moved more than to ease the ache of sitting in one spot, and the adjustment isn’t kind. She has to close her eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring bacta to at least numb the headache. Nothing to do about it now. At least when she’s done with this, she tells herself, she can get back to the camp with Rex and settle down for the day.

Concentrate. Listen.

If she wants to get to camp, then she’d better hurry and find something to sink her fangs into. Straightening her back, Ahsoka slowly tilts her head, letting the sounds of the forest reach her lekku. There are tiny mice scurrying under the leaves, hurrying to reach their burrows to get out of the damp. Overhead, the rustle of wings as birds cut through the rain, going back to nests or doing their own hunting. Not much of a meal, even between just the two of them.

But wait -- there. The tentative step of hooves over damp soil is a giveaway. As Ahsoka zeroes in on the sound, she can see the outline of a squat, dull green body making its way through the trees. As she holds her breath, three more emerge, moving in a pack. They’re several yards away, with their short snouts pressed to the ground as they graze.

Bingo.

Ahsoka drops her supplies at the base of the tree, moving in a low crouch toward the family of creatures. In this instance, she’s glad for the ongoing drizzle; it’ll mute her scent, and the lack of breeze is a bonus, too. She moves from tree to tree, her feet never making a sound. Ahsoka keeps her eyes on the creatures the whole time, excited at the prospect of bringing one back. They’re about as tall as her knee, stocky with short knobbly legs. Her mouth is watering at the idea of living off of real meat for a whole week, maybe even two --

A twig snaps beneath her foot, and the entire group looks up in alarm. Ahsoka freezes, becoming a statue. She can feel her pulse pounding in her head, a dull blow every time, as she tries to keep still. Blend in. Blend in. In her plain garments, she shouldn’t stand out to them. No doubt they have less-than-ideal eyesight, only alerted to motion and scent. Sound. So if she’s stock-still and quiet –

Her nose itches. Ahsoka ignores it, keeping her gaze focused on the herd. One by one, they lower their heads, turning their attention back to the ground. Good. She’ll take the smaller one then, the adolescent still sticking close to its parents. It’ll have a false sense of confidence once she closes in for the kill, something that will quickly fade one her fangs sink into its throat. Ahsoka will be sure to make it painless.

Sinking into a crouch, she eases forward, squinting a little. The hunger tearing at her stomach is impossible to ignore now, she needs to make this kill. But the itch in her nose is growing, too, frustrating beyond belief, making her eyes water. To Ahsoka’s immense annoyance, she’s going to sneeze, forced to stifle the harsh sound into the back of her palm. The gasping buildup is followed by an abrupt squeak, no louder than a mouse. Her cheeks flame with embarrassment, though only the grazing creatures are around to hear.

Her attempt at silence still isn’t quiet enough. They’ve heard her, spooked again, still anxious from her first slip-up and not content to stay in one place any longer.

Beyond angry at herself, Ahsoka decides to lunge in at the herd. Kriff this. She’s desperate, she feels like shit, she wants something to show for all the effort she’s gone through today. They scatter in all directions, lowing out their aggravated calls. Quicker than lightning, even off-balance and miserable, Ahsoka snares the smallest by its back leg. It shrieks in protest, writhing, knocking her to the ground.

The unexpected blow sends pain up her shoulder and side like a flash of light. With a strangled curse, Ahsoka grapples for its thick throat, tearing through flesh until she can feel – and sense – its life Force ebbing away. Breathing heavily, she gets to her feet, aware that she’s made a complete mess of herself. Sloppy, Anakin might’ve chastised. C’mon, Snips. You know better.

“Be quiet,” she mutters to no one, lifting the creature to carry back to camp. Now isn’t the time to be talking to ghosts.

—------

Rex blinks at her when she returns, doing a double take to hide his surprise at the state she’s in. Ahsoka knows she’s dirty, and must look as exhausted as she feels. Half of her outfit is covered in mud. Her lekku are still swollen and aching, hanging full and thick at the sides of her head, aggravating her migraine. It’s all she can do to trudge into their little camp and deposit her conquest at the fire, thankful that at least it’s stopped raining.

“Well,” he says finally. “That was more than a minute.” Then Rex is on his feet, still looking so strange in his ordinary clothes, inspecting what she’s brought back. “Impressive kill. Feed us for quite a while, I expect. How about I start on this while you get changed?”

This is what she values about Rex. He’s about as practical as they come, and not about to tease her when she’s already down. Since her day has already been long and disappointing, there’s nothing she wants more than to struggle out of her wet clothes and into something dry and clean. The fire looks welcoming, stoked with care at Rex’s hand. She knows that by the time she’s done changing it won’t be long before he’ll have enough of the creature ready for them to share.

“Sounds great,” she says through a thick sniffle, trying to pass it off with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

His response is casual enough, but Ahsoka can feel his eyes on her as she ducks into their little passenger ship. Suspicious. After knowing one another for so long, it’s hard to keep secrets. Surely he knows that she feels awful.

Closing the ship’s hatch behind her, Ahsoka sighs in the privacy of the ship, shedding her soaked garments. She redresses into some of Rex’s old blacks, comforted by the familiar material on her skin. There’s enough water left in the reservoir to splash her face clean and to rinse her arms, and she looks at her face in the small fresher mirror with a grimace. There are circles like bruises under her eyes. She looks like she’s taken a punch – and lost about three days of sleep. No wonder Rex is worried.

“Ugh…” she groans, leaning down to the med cabinet.

With any luck, some bacta smeared on her forehead and montrals will help to numb this god-awful headache. But to her disappointment, there’s only one tube left. A small, paranoid part of her doesn’t want to waste bacta on something like a headache when she doesn’t know when they’re picking up supplies again. Images of Rex injured flash in her mind, his blood slipping beneath her fingers – all because she’d wasted the bacta.

Biting her lip, she slides the drawer shut again. She can manage.

As she'd predicted, Rex is spearing portions of the animal over the fire to roast by the time she returns, and the smell is mouth-watering. He hands her the first one finished, and she sinks her teeth into it gratefully, groaning as another sharp hunger pain lances her through. Ahsoka doesn’t even care that she’s burning her mouth; it’s so good she was so hungry oh my goooooood.

Rex is watching her with an expression stuck somewhere between amusement and concern as she finishes in messy bites and gulps, tearing strips of meat from the skewer and licking her fingers clean.

“Was that…good?” he asks, suppressing a smile.

“Mmfyeah,” says Ahsoka, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. A little voice in the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Obi-Wan admonishes her for eating in such an uncivilized way, but she tries to ignore it. "Starving."

"Pushing yourself too hard," Rex comments. He keeps his tone light.

Ahsoka does her best not to pout. Because according to everyone she's ever spent an extended amount of time with, she does pout. It's not as if she has a choice, does she? Neither of them do. All there's left to do is push, and push, struggling through day after day. Even when she was a Padawan, during the war. At least then, she knew there was a whole legion of Jedi out there that would protect her. The clones, too, taking her under their arms. Her ori’vode.

Now all they have is each other. They can't afford to relax.

"You look awful," he continues, digging in with flat honesty. "Don't tell me you don't feel awful, Commander."

At least he'd delivered the truth with her old title, now only a nickname. Ahsoka frowns, still refusing to answer. Stubborn. Caught somewhere between confessing just how right he is – she wants to lie down and cry – and holding her ground, to prove him wrong. Because some part of her always has to be the brave one. The Padawan who endures everything. Anakin's protege, soaring past all the others. To excel you need to have ambition along with talent and luck. And some part of her doesn't know when to give up.

"Fine," she says at last, the word hardly distinguishable through her stuffy nose. It seems to echo through her lekku, her whole head feeling stuffed. She drops her face to her hands, deflating. "I feel awful, okay? Is that what you wanted?"

Rex's face changes at once, his brows furrowing in soft concern.

"What –? No, of course I – 'course I don't want that."

He gets up from his seat on the fire, careful not to overturn the empty storage crate he'd been perched upon. Rex crouches beside her, narrowing his eyes, placing his outstretched hand to her montrals. Ahsoka winces at the touch, shutting her eyes even though he's being very, very gentle. His fingers feel nice on her skin after a moment, cool.

"Hey," Rex prompts quietly. "You feel so bad, why didn't you use some of the bacta?"

She heaves a sigh, chewing at her lip now. "S'the last tube and I didn't want – you know."

He nods. "I get it."

Relief blooms in her chest. That irrational fear refuses to leave, the sight of him hurt with no way for her to help. Ahsoka curses herself for never learning how to Force heal much more than a scraped knee, knowing she'd be no help if his life was in danger anyway. Too panicked. Too afraid. She really would've been a lousy Jedi.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna let you be miserable, though."

"What?" She sniffs.

"Sit tight," Rex says, getting to his feet. "Don't eat all our rations while I'm gone," he adds with a teasing grin. "Gonna find you something to help."

"You can't!"

Ahsoka shoots to her feet in protest, immediately seeing double and then triple of their camp around her. Rex lurches forward to steady her, his hands supporting her shoulder and side, always there when she needs. She curses this weakness, this temporary need for his extra support. Why can't she just go back to being healthy? Why did her body decide to slow her down? She's so frustrated.

"You can't," she repeats, gingerly settling back on her own crate. "If someone recognizes you, Rex, you know we're done."

"Then no one will," he says simply.

As if it’s that easy. Knowing she can’t change his mind, all Ahsoka can do is sit there and watch him go. She couldn’t stop him if she tried, couldn’t win if it turned into a fight. Not in the shape she’s in. Long after Rex disappears from sight, she reaches for him in the Force, clinging to that familiar mind, until that too is out of reach.

For a long while, she sits and watches the fire burning itself out. She, too, feels as if she’s purposefully exhausting herself by sitting upright, waiting for Rex to return. It would be better for her to lock herself inside the ship, safer. Still she can’t seem to peel herself away until the fire is nothing but embers, her headache pounding dully in every part of her skull.

Trembling and exhausted, Ahsoka trudges to her feet. It takes her no time at all to fall asleep once she hits her cot, surrendering to a dreamless and heavy slumber.

—---------

When she comes to, Ahsoka instantly knows that something is wrong. The tiny window above her area in the ship is filled with sunlight, instead of shaded with the colors of early dawn.

Oh my god. Rex never came back.

Ahsoka stumbles to her feet, still weighed down by her sinuses. If Rex had come back, she would’ve heard him open the hatch of the ship, felt his footsteps echoing across the durasteel. Instead she’s spent hours here undisturbed, and that can’t be a good sign. She’s truly alone without him now. Cold dread starts in her chest, filling her heart like drowning waves, until –

Until she senses Rex outside, very much alive and well. Lowering the ship’s hatch with a curse, Ahsoka hurries to join him – and finds an odd sight. From the rucksack he carries with them on occasions where they have to travel afoot, Rex is pulling out handful after handful of long, dark green leaves, setting them in a pot of water over the rekindled fire.

“What the kriff are you doing?” Ahsoka says, testy.

Of course, she doesn’t manage to sound intimidating at all. Her voice doesn’t even sound like her own at this point. Rex straightens, setting his bag on the ground, and gives her what she knows is a pitying smile. Ahsoka loathes pity. Even standing here sicker than she even wants to acknowledge, she detests it.

“No bacta in the village,” Rex says by way of answer, poking the leaves further down into the water with a fork. “Least not that we could afford. Found these instead.”

Defeated, Ahsoka sinks onto a crate to watch him poke at…whatever it is he’s brought back. Her relief that Rex is even here to argue with outweighs her need to give him the third degree. Besides, she doesn’t think she has the energy to. All that matters is that he’d come back, like he’d promised, safe.

“And what are they?” she croaks.

Rex settles to sit across from her. “Natives called it pommwomm,” he says with a shrug. “Apparently the Togruta and Twi’lek travelers that pass through use it for a lot of ailments, and taught them how to use it, too.”

“Oh.”

She feels so tired and achy. It’s hard to concentrate on watching him stir the leaves in their little boiling pot; Ahsoka’s eyes keep slipping closed. She lets them, resting her chin in her palm, instead using the Force to pay attention to their surroundings. Stars, when was the last time she was this sick? She can’t remember. There wasn’t time for this in the midst of a war. Maybe, she thinks, this is her body’s way of catching up. Repaying her for all those years of never resting.

“‘Soka?”

Rex’s inquiry makes her blink back into awareness. It had been strange, at first, for him to call her anything but Commander. Now, though, she enjoys hearing her name in his voice.

“Got ‘em ready for you.”

There’s a faint menthol scent coming from the water between them. Later when Ahsoka tells Rex she can barely smell the stuff, he barks out a laugh – she must really be sick, he muses, because even he knows the smell is strong.

Fishing out a clump of boiled leaves, Rex offers it to her with an apologetic expression. “Here.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What do you want me to do?”

The faintest smile crosses his face. Amusement flickers in his life Force, as if he’s expecting her to have a negative – and entertaining – reaction. “Well, you’ve gotta – you chew ‘em. Then you spread the stuff on your lekku. Helps with colds?”

Oh. My. Stars. That’s disgusting.

“Reeeeex,” she whines. “That’s kriffing nastyyyyy.”

He clamps a hand to his mouth, but she can see his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I know,” he answers after a few moments trying to get a grip on himself. “Yeah s’not – ideal. But the people I talked to said it works great, and you – well. Ahsoka, you don’t look good. You really don’t.”

Ahsoka scowls, staring at the bowl of clumpy leaves as it cools down beside her. She knows she’s being a youngling about all this, but chewing weird plants and smearing the paste all over her head-tails is the last thing she wants to do. But if it’s the only choice she has, then so be it. Fishing one leaf out between two trembling fingers, she opens her mouth and begins to chew.

The consistency is terrible. Soft and soggy, making her hurry to shove down her gag reflex. But…the taste isn’t so bad. Sweet and minty on her tongue, spreading quickly up to her sinuses and into the hollows of her lekku. With only slight reluctance, Ahsoka fishes another leaf out, not looking forward to spitting it into a paste in front of Rex.

Conveniently, though, he seems to find himself distracted by a loose panel on the exterior of their ship. She smiles, watching him crouch down to get to work on it.

The leaf-paste is thick and sticky as she spreads it over her swollen lekku, though the sensation isn’t as unpleasant as she’d imagined. Mostly there’s relief as the cooling effects of the plant get to work on her fragile skin, and Ahsoka finds herself sighing at the welcome change. She can feel her airways clearing, the headache beginning to ebb. She’s so grateful to not be completely alone in the galaxy. To have Rex watching her back in times like this. (Or not watching her at all, in this case, giving her a little privacy for this less-than-normal course of treatment.)

Of course, that means that all the congestion is only going to drain out of her, making her sniffly again. Even by the time she’s chewed and pasted her way through the leaves, feeling ridiculous, her sinuses are unstuffing themselves.

Ahsoka squints down to catch a glimpse of her reflection in her wrist comm – yep. She looks as awful as Rex had implied. The leaf paste has stained the white stripes of her lekku a dark purple, and the shadows under her eyes refuse to budge. With her headdress left inside the ship in her hurry to see where Rex had gone, she feels strangely naked, atop it all. Usually no one sees her without it, and yet she hasn’t even thought about Rex seeing her this way until this moment.

He’s still tinkering away at the panel, leaning it against the side of the ship and inspecting a small bend in the durasteel. The last thing they need is another one flying off during a hyperspace jump. Normally Ahsoka would do it herself, but even with the pommwomm paste soothing her head, she doesn’t trust herself to work without seeing double.

But she has to get up. There’s still surveillance to be done on the suspicious area of this planet. Ahsoka knows neither of them will be content until there’s not a shadow of a doubt that there’s no Empire activity going on. A few more days of watching ought to rule out the possibility. There’s no way she can sit around moping here. Whatever’s wrong with her will pass.

“How’s it goin’ over – heyyy where d’you think you’re going?” Rex stops mid-question, almost dropping his magnaspanner in surprise. Ahsoka only gives him an innocent look, righting the wobble in her step. “Don’t even think about going back to the surveillance point today. Nope. Sorry, you’re staying put.”

Damn. He knows her too well, doesn’t he?

“Rex, you know we can’t just sit here.”

She swipes at her nose, irritated even further with the growing itch. In answer to her stubbornness, Rex stops what he’s doing and crosses his arms, prepared to be a barrier if he has to. Ahsoka narrows her eyes, rooting herself in place. She doesn’t want this to become a physical spat, but –

Her scattered thoughts of ways to disarm him vanish as she sneezes quickly into one elbow. Another embarrassingly squeaky sound, a tight breath of air, leaving her flushed dark with a blush.

“Jate jahaal,” Rex mutters, one eyebrow raised. As if he’s proving a point.

“I’m fine.”

“You won’t be if you keep pushing.” Rex sighs, his life Force filled with concern. “Think of it this way, then. Would you let me do it, if it were me? Would you want me out there?”

Ahsoka bites her lip. “Well…no.”

In fact, she’d be livid at the thought of him risking his health like that, on top of all the other risks they already have to take. She’d be worried and restless waiting for him here alone, and – oh.

Guilt lances at her heart. Has she really strayed so far from the Code? Has she forgotten that in order to care for others, she has to first care for herself? Ashamed, Ahsoka stares at her boots, wishing she’d realized what a mess she was making of things sooner.

“Come and sit back down,” Rex says softly, voice light with persuasion. “Rest. Let me fix you something.”

She hesitates for a long moment. Would it be so bad to spend the day here with him, doing nothing but napping in the planet’s sun? Something in her melts; that sounds divine. That simple joy would be a pleasure she hasn’t allowed herself in so, so long, maybe ever. Just…rest. Here with a friend, enjoying each other’s company. Maybe they could spend time talking about the good old days, when there was time between the fighting. The jokes and the laughter spread between the sorrow and pain.

“Okay,” whispers Ahsoka, and it makes him smile.

Something tugs on her heart to see it, and in that instance, she has another realization. But for now, it’s something that she’ll keep to herself, a little thing to ponder in the quiet of her mind for weeks and even months to come. For now, it’s enough to be together, to have the soft morning light. For Ahsoka to complain about looking so silly with the stupid pommwomm paste, and Rex agreeing with a light chuckle. For him to get the softest blanket out from the confines of their ship, and for her to fall asleep propped up against his shoulder.

They have one another. Through this. Through everything.

[amethystpath-writes]

A Lesson Learned

(NOT A PROMPT)

Hello :) Could you write a piece where the extremely flirtatious villain notices that the hero isn’t taking care of themselves and tries to get them to and promises not to do anything (capture them, etc), but (surprise!) then they do? Haha sorry if it’s a bit specific, adore your writing!

******

“Why, doll,” Villain cooed from behind the bench which Hero sat upon. The bench was old, wood in the process of rotting. Speaking of rot- Villain rounded the park bench, coming face to face with that once-handsome, now-perished face. “Don’t you just look like you sprang from Hell? Yeesh.”

Hero shrugged, not even caring that Villain was here to taunt him yet again- to pick at him with compliments. Usually, anyways. Now, she was insulting him. Did he really look that out of it? Hero felt like it, so it shouldn’t have been so surprising to him. “Don’t feel great- get out of here.”

“And do what? I’d miss the grumble in your voice too much. Come now, my dear, tell me what has that pretty hair of yours so tangled.” Villain’s hand grazed the locks atop Hero’s head, fingers skimming his scalp. She hummed her delight. “How pretty,” Villain whispered into Hero’s ear. “Even if it is greasy.”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

Good God, what is that stench? Villain could gag- not could; Villain did gag on the smell. “When was the last time you showered, sugar?” Hero certainly didn’t smell like sugar, but it was in Villain’s nature to shoot a flirt at him anyways.

“Don’t know. Would you get your hand out of my hair?”

“You don’t know?” Villain sighed, dropping her hand and rounding the bench until she came to the front, facing Hero and his abnormally large eye sacks. “Oh, darling…” you have jellyfish beneath your eyes. “You should take better care of yourself. I could help you, you know?”

Hero’s eyes grew as wide as they could with eyelids made of lead. “Help me do what? Bathe?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind helping you do that- think of how close we would be, my sweet doll.” She sat beside the broken-beyond-repair hero, dragging a fingertip along his dirtied pants. Villain sighed, slightly bored of this game of chess. Her flirtations were slipping away like a wet bar of soap. What an ironic comparison.

Villain said, “What I meant is this; I’ll give your handsomeness a break- or your ugliness, rather. You need to regain your looks, hence the break.”

Ignoring the insult, Hero said, dead-panned, “And I’m supposed to believe you.” A soft tut.

“Have I given you any reason not to? On this pretty night?”

“Beyond the not-so-subtle insults,” Hero thought aloud, and finished with, “I guess not.”

With a scoff, Villain said, “I wouldn’t call those insults. I could have said much worse- and anyways, you know I’m a tease. I feel even more concerned that you’ve forgotten such a vital detail about me. More reason to leave you alone. Right, my love?”

“I still don’t know if I believe you.”

“Why would it matter what I did or didn’t do when you don’t even care to look after yourself?”

She makes a good point. Still… “What would you do then?” Hero didn’t particularly care to have this conversation right now, but- well, he was a hero. Even if he were too exhausted to take care of himself, it was still his responsibility to protect the people. Just because Villain was saying she’d leave Hero alone didn’t mean she’d leave the citizens alone.

“What would I do? Sulk, mostly. I’d miss your pretty little face while I sat alone on my couch.”

“Right. Because I always sit on a couch with you.”

“There’s a taste of that precious fire. You’re beautiful when you’re sarcastic- and healthy.”

Hero sighed. It didn’t matter what he said, did it? He could tell Villain she looked like a horse’s rear-end mixed with a jackal’s paw and she’d continue sticking around. “You said you’d give me a break.” Of course, Hero still didn’t believe Villain’s words. It was her one and only nature to torment him with pointless compliments- and harmful insults apparently.

As if I didn’t already know I look like crap. I’m tired; that’s all. No motivation to do anything but sit on the park bench. He didn’t even feel like getting up to stretch his legs, despite knowing it needed to be done. Hero would rather deal with the aches of standing than to be forced into using so much energy while sitting. How draining it was- standing up from his position now. That’s why he stayed put, even with Villain’s hand circling in his hair once again.

This time, the hand in Hero’s hair was actually soothing. The tender scrape of Villain’s nails against his scalp. The gentle pull through the hair as her fingers caught on tangles, though the larger knots were a tad painful. Hero hummed his delight at the two former feelings, finding himself leaning into the arm which offered such relief.

On a regular day, one not so adorned with absent motivation and sourness, Hero would have slapped Villain’s hand away- would have told her to go find a dog in the park to pet. Naturally, he would have regretted saying it, thinking that Villain might claw its eyes out instead of petting it. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t do something that serious, but she might have stepped on a puppy’s tail, making it screech- if only to horrify the owner.

“Isn’t this a nice break, sugar?” Villain asked, but, of course, there was more to it than this scalp massage. When Hero fell asleep, with his head on Villain’s shoulder, she would give herself a break- not him.

******

Eyes still closed from having just woken up, Hero pulled his shoulder back against the hard- hard? I thought I was in- His eyes cracked open.

White ceiling. Or, mostly white, at least. There was some water damage that Hero could see even through his blurry and freshly woken eyes. The yellow and orange stains did not belong on his ceiling.

He shifted slightly, body still stiff, but he wasn’t willing to stretch yet- just in case there was…a certain someone…paying attention. Damn Villain, Hero thought, because who else’s home could he be in if it weren’t his own?

It was with this thought in mind that Hero sat up. No use in lounging around. Better off to find a way out before Villain-

“Nice to see those starlit eyes of yours.”

Great. Turning his head, he saw Villain casually sprawled across a couch.

Well, one thing was for certain; Hero had the motivation to get up and run again. At least he could thank Villain for something, even if it were simply the desire to escape.

Sitting up, slowly and stiffly, Hero said, “A break. You were supposed to give me a break. It’s what you said, what you told me you’d do. You would give me a break to take care of myself and you would sulk.”

He could almost imagine Villain’s voice answering with an easy lull, ‘I didn’t say what the break would entail, love.’ Love. Darling. Doll. My dear. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.

“I gave you a break. Two of them, if we’re being technical. The massage and the shelter. Actually,” Villain smiled at him from her couch cushion, eyes closing just slightly as her cheeks gathered higher and higher. “I might call it liberation- instead of a break. Infinite freedom versus periods of mass depression and showerless nights.”

Hero felt his jaw tick. “What are you talking about?” he asked, voice low- just the way Villain liked.

He wasn’t helping his case any, now, was he? Being all cutesy. It only allowed Villain to enjoy this whole situation more.

“You wake up in your stalker’s home and don’t even think to check your body for modifications? What a pity you are sometimes,” Villain giggled. She meant it as a compliment; it was her way of calling the hero cute and favourable.

Stalker. Well, Villain might as well have been considered as such. She showed up just about everywhere Hero was, only to hold hostages for no other reason than to have control over someone, to hear the fear in their high whines- and to see the fear glistening low in their eyes. Villain was wicked, and she was wicked always in Hero’s presence. Stalker- maybe that’s what the news would start calling her if they, or Hero, ever managed to stop Villain.

Villain grew impatient with Hero’s procrastination of observation. “Explore yourself, won’t you?”

And Hero did now. He looked down his arms, torso, legs, anything that was in his perspective, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, except- “Do not tell me you actually washed me.” His arms were speck and dead-skin cleaned.

“A wet rag against your arms and legs, nothing else.”

Hero simply took her word for it, trying not to imagine how he’d feel if she were lying. How horrendous.

Then what is it? Nothing- absolutely nothing- was irregular, so why was Villain going on about…Hero’s fingers skimmed something along his neck- one of the few things he couldn’t see with his own eyes.

No…no. Not just along his neck. There was something inside of Hero’s neck. “What did you do to me?” His voice came out as a horrifyingly quiet whisper, one that squeaked in the back of his throat.

“You wouldn’t take care of yourself, Hero. I had to step in.”

“I don’t- no. No. Whatever you’re doing, you- you need to- I need to go home. I need you to stay away from me and I need- I need-” Oh no. Was he hyperventilating? He couldn’t- God, he couldn’t breathe. Hero was panicking, scratching at his neck, at the irregular shaped lumps. Get out. Get. Out. Getout. Getout. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.

A gasp sounded in the room as Hero’s head hit the ground, trying to dodge the zap that occurred at the front of his throat, right where he was scratching so madly.

“Well, I guess that’s a lesson learned rather quickly. Darling, you didn’t even know what those were, and yet you were trying to rip them out. It might have killed you.”

“Uhah.”

Villain quirked her head to the side. “Didn’t get that, sorry. Must have fried your vocal cords- better that than you build up a bunch of infectious bacteria.” Truth be told, the zap wasn’t so bad that it would permanently damage Hero- only give him little tics and make him fret.

“You’ll be so very happy that I took that rag over your skin- otherwise you’d have woken up to your own stench while I was injecting the little stun rods. That would have been difficult,” Villain laughed, legs extending until they laid on the arm of the couch.

“Now,” Villain piped, “there is an outfit laid out in the bathroom- down this hall here”- she pointed- “and second door to the right. Get a shower, bath, whatever you want, and get dressed. I have plans and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Swerving her legs over the arm- despite having just put them there- Villain planted her feet on the ground and placed her elbows near her knees, leaning forward, all amount of humour aside. “I’m the only one who gets to torment you, you hear me? Not even you have my permission to do harm to yourself or otherwise slack in personal healthcare. If you are in any kind of bad condition, it will be because I allowed it. M’kay?”

She stood, walked several paces to where Hero still sat on the floor and patted his cheek. “I’m making myself food before we leave and while you take a shower. Don’t disappoint me by trying to escape, my dove. You’re in my cage now.” Villain gave Hero a tap on the head as she pulled a remote control out of her pocket with her other hand. For extra measure, she held one of the buttons for three seconds, sending Hero onto his back once again, writhing on the floor- though avoiding scratching his neck.

A lesson learned indeed.

“Believe it or not, I do intend to be kind to you. I just wanted to show you what happens if you decide you’re not worth taking care of again.”

One last click of the button and she was gone, leaving a panting hero behind in the dust.