#but if im right I want the world to know i predicted it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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sykoangels · 2 months ago

Text

Oh professor?

pairing: mutant!reader x professor!logan

warnings: age gap (everyone is 18+) slight dubcon , unprotected sex, degrading and praise, rough sex

notes: im surprised y’all liked the first part!! So since im nice i’m putting out part two! This is part one go read that first!!

It’s been a couple of days since the incident in Professor Logan‘s classroom. Something that hadn’t left your mind for a couple of days now all you could think of was that intimate moment you shared with him, it felt wrong because he was your professor, but also right and away felt like he could take care of you and pleasure you nobody else could.

So you made the executive decision to avoid him at all costs not because you were afraid of him or anything but because you didn’t want to risk your reputation or his reputation to be tarnished over some sexual experience. Many of the girls in your class found him attractive. They always said very sexual jokes about him and within earshot of you trying to predict things about his body and what he would do to you in bed, but you can only laugh along, pretending like you didn’t try to make out with him while getting calculus help

Unfortunately, you had to come to class due to the fact you’re having a final today and not other than Logan‘s class. And the back of your head like he planned final this on purpose, but you know you were just being overdramatic because all of your finals were today due to the curriculum standards taking your final towards the end of the semester. Logan stood at the front of the classroom, his eyes scanning the rows of students. The room was filled with the usual chatter and rustling of papers, but his focus was on one person in particular. Y/N sat in the middle row, her head slightly bowed as she scribbled notes. He could see the tension in her posture and the way her fingers gripped the pen tightly. His heart ached with a mixture of guilt and longing.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and the room fell silent. Logan cleared his throat, his voice steady as he began passing out the test. But his mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the previous day. The near-kiss, the knock at the door, the aching need that still lingered like an unfulfilled promise. He couldn't let it go on like this. He had to confront her, especially since he noticed the effect on himself and her. As the class progressed, Logan found himself glancing at Y/N more often than he should. Each time their eyes met, she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. It was clear she was just as affected by their encounter as he was. By the time the lecture was halfway through, he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. "Could you come up here for a moment?" The room fell into an uneasy hush as all eyes turned to her. Y/N hesitated, her breath catching in her throat, before slowly standing and making her way to the front. Logan watched her approach, noting the way her skirt swayed with each step, the subtle curve of her hips drawing his gaze. When she reached him, he could feel the heat radiating from her body, the scent of her perfume intoxicating." Is something wrong, Professor?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Logan shook his head, his eyes locked on hers. " I need to talk to you. After class.”

He looked at her up and down noticing the cute pleated skirt she was wearing with a black t-shirt with a lace ribbon hem with you pulled into a slick black ponytail that was curled tightly. He had thoughts of just fucking you senselessly on his desk for the whole world to see but he keeps himself composed giving Y/N a cold and husky look as he motions for her to sit down. Y/N’s mind was bustling with several different thoughts. Logan was so vague about what he had to talk to her about, but she had a feeling it was about to kiss they almost shared a couple of days ago. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on the lecture, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that moment.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students began packing up their things, chatting amongst themselves as they left the room. Y/N stayed seated, her hands trembling slightly as she waited for Logan to dismiss her. When the last student had exited, Logan closed the door behind them and turned to face her. "Come here," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before standing up and walking towards him. As she approached, Logan's eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail. He could feel the heat rising within him, the desire building in his chest. He wanted her, and he wasn't going to waste any time. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the edge of his desk. Y/N obeyed, her legs brushing against the cool surface as she perched on the edge. Logan moved closer, his hands resting on either side of her hips. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, a mix of vanilla and something else that drove him wild. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. Y/N shook her head, her eyes wide with anticipation. "No, Professor," Logan smirked, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "I think you do doll.” Y/N looked up at Logan feeling her heart beat out of her chest. Logan held Y/N’s chin looking into their eyes before speaking. “I know you stare at me darling and that little stunt you pulled a few days ago. I was perplexed why my star student would need help with something as easy as my calculus homework. You just wanted private attention but couldn’t admit it.” Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushed with arousal and embarrassment. "Yes, Professor. I shouldn’t attempted to “

Before she could finish her statement, his lips were on hers, pressing hard against her mouth. Y/N gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that left her breathless. She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch. “Stop talking. Let me give you that private lesson you have been wanting” Logan said caressing her cheek. His hands moved to cup her breasts through her shirt. He squeezed gently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, causing them to harden instantly. Y/N arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, her breath coming in short gasps. Logan's hands moved lower, slipping under her skirt to find the lace of her panties. He traced the edge of the fabric with his fingers, teasing her sensitive skin. "I barely touched you and you are already soaked. I didn’t know you were such a whore." he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Y/N whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "Please, Professor..." Logan grinned, his fingers dipping beneath the lace to stroke her clit. “What do you want darling? Come on tell me what you want with that pretty mouth of yours”. She bit her lip, her eyes pleading with him. "I want you...inside me.”

Logan's cock twitched at her words, and he quickly unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing erection. He positioned himself between her thighs, his tip pressing against her entrance. Y/N gasped, her hands gripping his arms as he slowly pushed inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, her tightness gripping him like a vice. "Oh God," she whispered, her nails digging into his skin. Logan grunted, his hips thrusting forward as he buried himself deep inside her. He held still for a moment, savoring the feel of her around him, before pulling out and thrusting back in with more force. Y/N cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure as he pounded into her, his pace relentless.

"You like that, don't you doll ?" he growled, his voice rough with exertion. Y/N nodded, her eyes half-lidded with ecstasy. "Yes, Professor...so good..." Logan's hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly as he continued to fuck her with abandon. He could feel his own release building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust. He wanted to make this last, to draw out her pleasure as long as possible, but the sight of her writhing beneath him, her cries of passion filling the room, was too much to resist.

“Come on my cock doll! I know a good girl like you can" he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. Y/N cried out, her body tensing as she came hard around his cock. Logan followed immediately, his own orgasm ripping through him as he spilled deep inside her. He collapsed against her, his breathing heavy as he struggled to regain control. Y/N lay there, her body trembling with aftershocks, her mind reeling from the intensity of the experience. Logan pulled out slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He reached down, wiping away the evidence of their encounter with his thumb before licking it clean.

"That was just the beginning," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N shivered, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"

Logan smiled, a dark glint in his eyes. "I have plans for you, Y/N. My precious star student. Why don’t you run along now. You have combat training in an hour go get cleaned up and I will see you in tomorrow bright and early dollface.”

Y/N quickly readjusted her clothes and got her stuff before scurrying out of Logan’s class with a slight limp from taking him. Logan let out a faint chuckle before putting on his readers and adjusting them before grading some papers.

🏷️ @shoyofroyoyoyo @seasonofthenerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @g0ldenstarr

#sykoangels #sykoangelssmut #fanfics #need that #smutty fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #x men #logan howlett xmen #old man logan #logan smut #logan x reader #wolverine imagine #x men wolverine #wolverine smut #wolverine x you

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tinkerbelle05 · 1 year ago

Note

Hii! I saw your requests for opla are open and wanted to ask if you would maybe do something really sweet and wholesome and fluffy, like cuddles or hugs, for being in an established relationship with luffy, please ^^ If you do thank you so much! but you don't have to if it's a problem

His Love Language

Characters: Luffy x Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: (Requested) Thanks for the reqs 🏴‍☠️

Warning: none :)

Luffy was a really affectionate person. Anyone who’s had a conversation with him for more than 10 minutes can tell that he’s the physical type. It was how he showed his love to people. To you.

He wasn’t the best at declarations of love or stuff like that, so he showed it in ways that he knew best. After a long, hard day of work, he’ll give you a hug and rub your head to ease the headache.

He’d massage your shoulders and carried you places because your feet were screaming in pain.

Physical affection with acts of service.

Luffy was always touching you, no matter the time or place, he just always was. It was a constant, predictable as the sun coming up each morning.

You’d wake up yo him peppering your face with soft kisses, and throughout the day he’d be holding your hand. Depending on how crowded whatever area you two are in, his grip is loose or tight. But regardless it's always there.

Luffy, while being oblivious to most things, understood how you felt about PDA and did his absolute best not to be too touchy with you around other people. Knowing how uncomfortable it could be for you.

But he still insisted on touching the small of your back when you both are walking or running his hand through your hair when you two are laying down.

One day, you were sitting on the bed, going over some maps Nami asked you to look over. You heard the bedroom door opening and before you knew it Luffy was laying on top of you. His head fitted in the crock of your shoulder.

You weren’t even surprised at this.

“Can you shift a bit over so I can continue reading my maps?” You asked.

“Nope!” Luffy responded, popping the p. “I need to recharge and you need to break. I left in the morning and came back near evening and you are still reading those maps.”

He’s always doing this too. Deciding to just lay on you when you overworked too much. He flipped your bodies so he was laying on his back and you were on his chest. He’ll hold you close to him and just laid there for a while, in peaceful silence.

Eventually, you’d fall asleep and Luffy was always right behind you.

It’s the same for him too. Giving him compliments and doing stuff for him was fine, but you watched as he melted right into your hold when you opened your arms to him.

If you two weren’t doing anything, he’d take your hand and placed it on his head. The question, though silent, was clear. You began to absentmindedly rub his head. Dragging your fingers along his scalp.

He loved when you’d touch his face too. In the beginning you were fascinated with his stretching ability. You never stretched his cheeks that far even though he insisted that it doesn’t hurt. He loved it when you’ll trace your fingers over the palm of his hands.

His loving language was physical affection, and it was yours too.

Tags: @louissolovely, @randomhoex, @marceesworld, @dragonqueenfk, @puff-hugs, @childofhecate108, @nightingale2124, @foxflamewarrior, @abree234, @msmisasoup, @localcowboyd, @purplepirateadventures, @the-skys-musical-echo, @thatgothic-nerd, @lovebunnys-world, @0picels0, @charliepoopyfart, @saturnwitheclipwze, @rotin0, @nikolaevna-art, @multifandomgirl2018, @cielitoot7, @tayharrper, @simpingmyassoff, @villainsmygods, @cherrysandmatcha, @borkbarnes, @villainouspotential, @ramielll, @fujinnn, @fuck-you-im-gae, @poketrainer2270, @tayharrper, @dazaisfavgf, @smolracoon25, @hopester08, @don-tuna, @rotin0, @avatarkanemi, @dimplewonie, @fandomsunited, @synchronised-beat, @flowerslds-blog

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #opla x reader #op x you #op x reader #opla x you #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy x y/n #luffy fanfic #luffy fluff #op x y/n #opla x y/n #luffy fic #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

Text

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined.

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry.

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago.

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can?”

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully.

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…”

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene.

Oh. Okay.

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up.

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out.

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest.

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed.

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up.

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew.

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you.

“Y/n?”

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?”

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.”

Another pause. “Old Yeller.”

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too.

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.”

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words.

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward.

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.”

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you.

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal.

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so.

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation.

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.”

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago.

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges.

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side.

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”.

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said.

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.”

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away.

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.”

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral.

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?”

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically.

“I’m not lying.”

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu.

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.”

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.”

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.”

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.”

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly.

“Bye, N/n.”

“Bye, Channie.”

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.”

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café.

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously.

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.”

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan.

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?”

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.”

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.”

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--”

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.”

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006.

“Thank you anyway.” _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water.

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost.

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank.

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him.

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.”

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?”

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.”

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?”

“Uh-”

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-”

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.”

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?”

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.”

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.”

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward.

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse?

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him.

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater.

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared.

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.”

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out.

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible.

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.”

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?”

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.”

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?”

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!”

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-”

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.”

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.”

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-”

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp.

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again.

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle.

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop.

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!”

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat.

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.”

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast.

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.”

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.”

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in.

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes.

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.”

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.”

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.”

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!”

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach.

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed.

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

#lee chan x reader #chan x reader #lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #svt chan x reader #svt dino x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #dino angst #chan angst #lee chan angst

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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VIOLET | RAZOR. (GENSHIN)

✾ tags ; afab + gn!reader, aged-up characters, virginity loss/first times, established relationship, mutual virginity loss, nipple play, fingering, oral (f!recieving), creampies (reader is using a contraceptive), reader is mentioned to be an orphan / run away , 18+

✾ wc ; 6.1k (went to edit and went 700 words over the wc. pain)

✾ a/n ; i'm losing my mind btw. razor my only triple crowned character my most greatly beloved my angel my sweet. also i added the aged up tag mostly bc its the genshin fandom but. if u dont like that dont read. ez peazy.

also trust and believe the voice im picturing in this is his jpn dub. this is important

✾ synopsis ; you resolve yourself after many long years of abstinence, you're going to ask razor about sex the minute he comes home.

Razor is human.

On a technical level, this information isn’t news to you. He looks human. His physical makeup is human. He needs to eat and sleep like humans do. Focusing on the technicals alone, Razor is very, very human.

It doesn’t change that he was raised by wolves, though. And you don’t want it too. You think it’d be a shame if he started to assimilate too much into human society just because he felt like he had too. You know how he feels about it. And that Boreas is the closest he’s ever had to a father figure, thus making his claim about Razor's humanity a rather devastating blow. He feels inhuman all while knowing he is. You think once upon a time, he really did wish to be a wolf.

You’ve known Razor since you were a teenager. You’d ended up in Wolvendom after your exploration of Teyvat led you to its outskirts. You’d bonded over your similarities. Two orphans with no real place where they fit in completely and complete odd-ball personalities - Razor was an easy friend for you to make. Even when you eventually decided to settle into Mondstat - you’d made a point to visit Razor regularly and spend time with him in the forest.

You made an odd pair of course, but you didn’t mind. If no one else understood you in the world - you know Razor always would. He’d listen patiently about all of your adventures and sit quietly as you decided to pester him by braiding his hair or teaching him new words. Loyal, obedient, sweet.

You never formally had the boyfriend conversation in the time you’d spent together. One day, however, Razor took you to meet Boreas out of the blue as well as the leader of his pack. You figured maybe it was something he did with his close friends. It only occurred to you that maybe this was a more serious meeting when Razor promptly gestured towards you and introduced you as his mate.

Razor, predictably, was very confused about your minor freak out. You tried not to let it show during your little chit-chat, but afterwards you’d shaken him by the shoulders and interrogated him about his word choice. This of course didn’t register in his mind at all. According to Razor, you’d been his mate since long ago. He’d been courting you since the moment you met in the way wolves are known too. You’re an adventurer, well-versed in certain animal behaviors for the sake of survival, including wolves.

And looking back on your interactions he was right, Razor had been courting you from the start. The news made you flush, and you went back into Razors camp and thoroughly educated him on human courting rituals.

(“Why matter?” Razor asks, head laid in your lap while he looks up at you from inside the tent “Not important.”

“Why would it not be important?”

He turns towards you, head facing your stomach as one arm lazily wraps around your waist. He yawns sleepily, seemingly not worried about a thing.

“You are mate. Mate last until death.” He explains, casually - like he’d always believed he’d spend every minute of his life with you. Like that was the only natural outcome for you both and that he’d never consider anything else. You want to explain, it’s different for humans. Humans don’t usually mate that way, you should say. But the words die out in your mouth as he clings closer to you “Sorry for..not asking.. properly. What are we…as humans?”

You look down at where he lays, thumb brushing over his cheek.

“Lovers or life partners. They’re closest to the word mate, in definition.”

“Lovers easier,” He grumbles, eyebrows tightening at the complex words in your sentence “You want to be lovers with Razor?”

You laugh. Light and bubbly and warm as you lean forward and try to mask the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Yes. We’re lovers from now on. And mates. And lupical, right?”

Razor sighs contentedly into your midriff.

“And lupical.”)

According to Razor, you had been mates from the minute you met. According to your human timeline, you have been dating since you were both around 17. It’s been a long time since then and nothing in your relationship has changed.

You’re an adult now and you work with the city of Mondstat studying wildlife populations. You live in the city in a cottage, and Razor lives with you - though he spends most of his day outside. He does the domestic labor while you whittle away at papers and projects. Because of your job, you still spend a fair bit of time together in the wild. He has plenty of insight about the wildlife in Wolvendom and is keen enough on changes to give significant contribution to your study. His work as your partner is unofficial, but everyone acknowledges that you come together in a set. Where you go, Razor follows.

You’re happy with your life. With your relationship to your wolf-boy boyfriend, with the career you’ve carved out of scratch and the life you’ve built. You left your orphanage young and spent a long time on the run. You’re incredibly thankful for all of what you have and you could never think of what more to ask for.

This is especially true for you and Razor. You’ve never had any real major obstacles in your relationship. Part of this comes from the wolven habit of mating for life. Concepts like pride are foreign to Razor. He says sorry even when he doesn’t completely understand and he has no concept of betraying your loyalty. Most things you can teach, he learns very quickly. But there are also some things no one ever teaches you to navigate. Some boundaries you can’t be sure you’re allowed to cross.

You’re a blossoming, healthy person in their twenties and so is Razor. He’s scarred and athletic in the outdoorsy way and he’s a little more rugged now that you’ve both grown. He’s hit a growth spurt and he’s taller than you and every time you see his arm flex carrying in an entire boar to butcher in your yard - you start getting so hot under the collar you feel like you’re going to explode.

The problem is: you want to have sex and you want to have it badly. You want it so bad it’s starting to make you feel like you’re a deviant. Like you’re some kind of harlot masquerading as an archon-fearing civilian.

But it’s so hard to bring up and you don’t know how you’re ever going too.

You’re very good at asking for what you want usually. It comes with the territory. And thanks to your boyfriend's cluelessness about human social convention, asking for things isn’t embarrassing. Concepts like shame are learned through a lifetime of socialization that he lacks and while you could sit and try to teach him - you don’t think he would care either way. He listens if you tell him he shouldn’t do something, but that’s because you’re his mate and his lupical.

What other people think is none of his concern. He cares about his Lupical. So if Lisa or Bennet or Klee tell him something, he might take it into consideration. But they, like you, love the parts of Razor that make him how he is and his complete innocence in some ways is part of that.

You know you could very well ask Razor for sex. You’ve spent a lot of time together and you’ve learned many things about him. It’s not like there’s nothing there at all. Like his every other trait, Razor normally relies on instinct to guide him. You’ve learned through kisses and dry-humping that he can get hard at least. You’ll probably never know the details of his arousal, and the only you’ll ever find out is by having sex with him.

You don’t know what else he knows. What Lisa has told him of the birds and the bees.

You have tried to ask Lisa inadvertently, but she enjoys making fun of you too much to give you any straightforward answers. And in her own maternal way, she thinks it’d be better for your relationship if you go ahead and ask yourself.

She’s right about that, but it’s also not very easy. You know Razor would never judge you. He doesn’t even have the capacity to do so. But while Razor knows nothing of shame, you certainly do.

It’s your problem to get over. You know that. You rationalize that your fantasies are healthy and normal for someone your age. But there is something terribly humiliating about trying to express the extent of your desire apart from just having it. Is it fair to teach Razor about desire? Does he know of it already and the both of you just suffer in silence?

Razor is a man. A grown man, and tougher than most men you know. He’s seen more than almost anyone else as part of living in the woods. You know he’s not some innocent fairy. But you can’t get over the feeling like you’re corrupting his sweet preciousness somehow.

(This has its own charm, but that’s not relevant. Or maybe it is. Maybe there’s guilt for that too but it’s not something you can unpack)

You’re reaching your upper limit on patience. Your hand can only do the job so long (though the import of sex toys from Fontaine do help) nothing can truly replace what you want. And what you want is Razor.

So, you’ve made your choice. When Razor comes home from…what he’s doing today - you’re going to ask him to have sex.

You’ve finished all of your work, did as many chores as you can, and now you’re waiting in your bedroom trying to read a book.

You haven’t even read past the first page, actually. But you’re trying. It’s hard to do anything meaningful when your brain keeps pivoting back to what's going to happen when your boyfriend returns home.

You’re nervous and fidgeting, rubbing your socked feet together and running over the laundry list of talking points you’ve concocted trying to make this happen. You shaved but not bare because you know he definitely wouldn’t like it, but you’re clean. You aren’t sure if he’s going to like that either and he’s expressed that he likes when you smell natural. But it soothed your anxiety to shower so he’ll have to leave with it.

You have no idea how this could go. You don’t even know how to prepare for the worst, because you don’t know what the worst is. But you reassure yourself with the fact Razor loves you and leave it at that.

You hear the door open and take a deep breath.

There’s heavy footsteps that get louder and louder. Razor cracks the door open politely, peeking his head into your shared room. He makes a face, the softest little smile you’ve ever seen - before letting himself in and shutting the door behind him. He’s quick to undress himself - jacket and scarf abandoned along with his boots. Leaving him in green pants and a bandage around his chest and arsm.

“Hi,” He says simply, coming down over to where you’re laid. He chooses to sit on the floor, folding his arms on the bed as he looks at you patiently “Missed you,”

“Hey there,” Your heart is pounding just looking at him. He’s unreasonably handsome. Had he grown up in normal conditions, you think he would’ve been a very popular loner type. “How was your family?”

“Good,” He says shortly, eyes warm and light “New pup. First time seeing since I was little. Very small and cute.”

“I’m glad. Bet it’s nice not to be the youngest anymore.”

“Come next time,” He says genuinely “They miss you.”

Your heart is so full you think it might burst. It temporarily soothes your anxiety.

“Of course I will.”

Razors eyes examine you for a minute. Your heart is still racing. Of course he notices it. He knows much more about you than you’ll ever know about yourself. His brow creases in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

You look at him apologetically, immediately warmed by how worried he is. You give him a small smile.

“I’m okay. Just a little nervous. Wanted to ask you about something.”

“Okay. I listen. No need to..be nervous.”

Right. He’s right about that. You sit up and Razor remains where he is. He’s seated comfortably on the floor, on his knees - between your thighs. He’s a sight for sore eyes, terribly rugged and scarred with nothing but honesty settled in his gaze. Carmine and beautiful. You fold your hands in your lap and before you can worry too much, Razor grabs one in his hand.

He kisses your knuckles so gently, leaning his face into your palm.

“It’s okay.”

You figure it’s best to be straight to the point.

“Uhm. Razor. Do you…know what sex is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s—wait what? Did you just say yes?”

He nods again. “Miss Lisa taught me.”

That witch. You take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“And uhm, what did she tell you about it?” You ask tentatively.

“Like mating but for humans. Best to do with mate. Good to be careful or else pups will come too soon.”

You stare at him, jaw slack.

“Right. And what else?”

He racks his brain right in front of you.

“Uhm. Can be for…feel good. Should go slow. Lots of things different from wolf.”

“...Do you know how it happens? The specifics?”

Razor goes a soft pink. Razor blushes.

“Yes.”

You have no idea what to feel. Not the faintest clue in the world. This is the first time in your entire relationship either of you have been in an awkward situation. You’re partially relieved it’s not completely foreign, partially feeling hot between the legs because you’re not corrupting anything. You make a face of uncertainty.

“Oh. Uhm. Do you—have you ever.. I mean—have you ever wanted to have sex with me then? I-is that something you’d…want to do?”

Razor almost looks perplexed by this question. He nods, then follows up.

“Yes. A lot.”

You nearly choke on your spit.

“A lot?”

“Yes. But.. Miss Lisa said to wait. Until mate asks.”

You’re going to have a serious discussion with that damned woman later. You take a shaky breath, looking at him carefully. This is going to break you in a way you don’t know if you’ll recover from. But you’re fine, you’ve made it this far. And you don’t want to back down when you haven’t gotten to the finish line. The final blow.

You’re not completely sure where you go from here honestly. Your brain was fully expecting to go on a long rant about sexual intercourse. Now that that’s out of the window, you’re at a loss. You decide, internally, that going straight forward is the best thing you could do for now.

“Then… would you want to have sex with me?”

His eyes widen then he pauses, looking worried.

“Well…yes. But, worried. Not sure…how.”

“Well, uhm. Normally it starts with kissing and t-touching and things like that. You can just do what feels right. Uhm.. and I’ll tell you… what I like. A-and what feels good.” You offer, trying not to show just how nervous you are even suggesting “But uhm… I also… think about it. A lot. With you.”

His eyes light up, and you can practically see the change in him. You’ve never let yourself get close enough to look but when you see him now that you know, it’s obvious. He’s looked at you like this before.

Like he wants you.

“Razor,” You say, bracing yourself for impact “Come up here.”

He’s quick to his feet. You lay back down and Razor lays himself ontop of you, hovering gently. He smells like forest, the rich warm scent of dirt and sunlight mixed with sweat that you’ve grown fond of. Looking down at you, he presses his forehead against yours with his eyes fluttered closed.

“Mate,” His breath is warm like he’s been chewing mint leaves and sweet flowers. He does it sometimes before coming home “Love you,”

“I love you too, Razor. You don’t,” You swallow thickly, suddenly aware of your proximity “Don’t hold back okay? You won’t break me.”

“Want to..” He thinks slowly, brain clearly struggling to come up with the right word “Cherish. Want to cherish mate. Cherish you.”

You give him a breathy laugh as he leans in close to you.

“Did Miss Lisa teach you that?”

“Yes,” He replies, pressing his cheek to yours and rubbing himself against you innocently “Cherish you a lot.”

“I cherish you a lot too,” You offer and he smiles. You feel your heart thump as you look up at him less innocently “Let’s kiss first, okay”

He doesn’t reply. This much is familiar. Though this was something you had to teach him at first, you would go as far as saying Razor kisses better than you. He’s better than you in these ways most of the time. He knows how to read your body language down to the most irrelevant details, attuned to your physicality in a way that could only be inhuman. The first time he noticed a change in your cycle after starting some herbal contraceptives, you were turned on as much as you were afraid.

His mouth is hot and overwhelming, plush as he kisses you passionately. He’s quick to open your mouth up with his tongue. Razor likes to taste. It’s natural for him to slip his tongue past your lips and lick at yours. You think if anyone else did it you’d be turned off. But with him hovering you over you, desperate as he pulls and nips at your lower lip - it’s stimulating. It makes you wet before you can think about it too hard. Your hands curl themselves around his neck, tangling at the thick roots of his gray hair.

He moans when you tug, and your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets. You do it again, a little harder and the same broken sound leaves his lips in the middle of kiss. You swallow the noise before pulling away, looking at his face. His face is perfectly rosy, lips swollen from where you’ve been kissing them.

“Did you,” You look at him erratically, eyes going over every part of his face “Did that feel good?”

He nods, dumbfounded.

“Felt good but,” He shakes his head in disbelief “Don’t know why.”

You giggle, delighted with the outcome.

“No it’s good, that’s normal.” You say trying not to babble “It’s like your body’s weak point.”

“Not weak.”

“It’s not a bad thing. I have some too. Like my neck.”

You can see the gears turning in his head. He tucks his chin against your shoulder and before you can speak to ask him about it, he’s pressing his lips against the skin of your neck. He doesn’t stop at a kiss, though. He proceeds to lick the small patch of tender flesh, before sinking his teeth into it.

You moan. You moan sharp, almost like a gasp of pain. He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but when he sees you he stops. He blinks, then gives you a look you’ve never seen.

His voice is almost chipped - richer and more hoarse as his fingers go over what can only be bite marks.

“Feels good?” He says, then adds more urgently “Where else?”

You’ve made him discover something. You’re sure of that. He looks awfully determined about it, too.

You sigh shakily, grabbing his hands. Even though you’re trembling mercilessly, you want this. You want him. You let his hand squeeze around the swell of your tits - your nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your shirt. With your eyes locked on his, you brush your nipples.

“H-here,” You admit watching his eyes go dark. Animalistic. “Uhm. W-with your mouth, you c-can suck on them.”

He’s quiet.

“Like pup?”

You laugh.

“A little bit like that, I guess. But it’s different.”

He makes a small, approving noise with his mouth, once again thinking hard about something before he continues down his path. He leaves open kisses all over your skin, hands reaching to undress you. You help him, peeling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. His eyes are shut closed, in bliss as he licks and bites down your neck with no real grace. His tongue is wet and rough all over you.

You can tell you’re being primed for something animal. Like being tenderized, worked apart in a way that makes you melt into something soft. Something that can be broken without teeth, that can be swallowed in one go. It’s not a romantic kiss as much as it’s a hungry graze, a gnawing lust. He’s not being so reserved anymore, and that means sinking his teeth as far into you as he can go, not enough to break the skin. Razor would never break you. But he might ruin you, might melt you down from your very center until he can tear you apart.

You thought it’d hurt, and it does - but in a good way. There’s some sick sense of relief in how achy your whole body is. You’re burning up because Razor wants you like he’s starving. An emptiness claws at you, makes the back of your gums ache. Makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand nearly straight as you sink deeper in. You want to be full of him and you want him to get so full off of you.

Razor doesn’t stop his tirade even when he gets down to your chest. Instead his mouth closes around your tit, hard incisors sinking into the supple skin but only slightly gentler than before. His canines feel sharper than yours. They must be.

“O-oh,” You can feel your voice shake as you hold onto the back of his head. He touches the other one with his free hand, squeezing and massaging the skin. He rubs your nipples experimentally in the same way you did a moment ago. “Razor, hngh,”

A noise is pulled from the back of his throat, a growl - so hard and heavy that it reverberates into your skin. You can feel it spread through your whole body, your core tightening up. Your skin is prickly. A solar flare shooting through your spine.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so aroused. You can hardly breathe around the weight of it sitting in your chest.

“Your scent..change.” Razor says through a breath, a thick layer of saliva where his mouth once was “Hot. So hot.”

You nearly whimper.

“ It’s because I’m wet…Aroused.”

“Wet?”

“It means I want to be touched. I want you to touch me down there.”

A beat of silence.

“Want me..to mate with you.” He sits up onto his knees, staring at you. Your legs are around his waist loosely. He presses a hand to your clothed sex. You jolt at the contact. “Want me to fill you, here?”

He puts his hand on your hip, on your stomach - before tucking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

“Want to see. What’s wet, I want to see.”

You lift your legs slightly, pulling your shorts off as you're bent at the knee. It’s embarrassing being bare naked in front of Razor, though you’ve seen him in the same state plenty. He’s quick to grab your knee and force your legs apart wide. He’s got that same focused stare, tongue poked out as he brushes the coarse hairs on your mound with his knuckle. You squirm under the feeling.

“Pretty,” He says first, then follows with “It’s…very warm. Hot but doesn’t hurt”

Razor explores with his hands. He runs his finger along your slit, before using his thumbs to spread you apart. He nudges your clit. At first you wonder if it's an accident, but when he does it again - rubs a pointed circle on the aching bundle of nerves you realize he’s being intentional.

“Here, right?” Razor says slowly and gauges your reaction “Feels good for you…here. Helps.”

You want to ask who taught him such a thing but you already know the answer. You nod helpless, feeling the way his thumb goes back and forth. He tries it in different ways, watches whatever way makes your breath hitch the most.

“Here makes you… jump. Like bunny rabbit. Like prey”

The word prey almost takes you out. You can’t make your words out very eloquently anymore. “It’s uhm sensitive.”

He knows the word. You’ve taught him it. He looks at your bare cunt all awestruck, gloved hand resting on your sex as he continues to toy with your clit. You squirm and shake, even trying to pull away. Razor manages to grab you, keeps you pinned with your legs spread, using his own body to keep you like that.

“Razor,” You moan, grabbing at his wrist “Razor.”

“Mm. It’s soft. So soft.”

“I want to see yours.”

It takes him a second to register your words, but he’s not ashamed in the slightest when he does. He takes off his gloves right before. You’ve felt it, briefly, the weight and heft of his cock through clothes but you’ve never actually seen it. You gasp as he pulls it out, tucking his pants down under his balls. He’s hairy - thick dark gray hairs nested at the base. His cock has a pretty curve up, tip ruddy and bright. It’s drooling, dribbling pre-cum and heavy. He wraps his free hand around the base and strokes it instinctively. It’s a good length, but it’s thick. Thicker than you could’ve ever conjured up in your own mind.

You reach for it between your bodies, your hands trembling as you touch it. Razor lets out another throaty growl. Your hand doesn’t fit around it completely. The back of your throat tightens up.

“You’re—it’s big. I can’t—not at once. I h-have to open myself up a little bit.”

Razor tilts his head to one side and you shake yours in reply.

“I need to uhm,” You gesture vaguely “Make it more..wet and stretch myself out. So you fit i-inside.”

“Want to help. Teach me.”

“...Teach you?”

“Easier if I..learn now. When we do it again later. Teach me..how to touch you.”

The words sound sweet coming out of his mouth, honeyed and loving. An obedient and eager pupil, Razor has always been that hasn’t he? And he always listens the best he can, tries his hardest. You suppose that this instance is no different. You suck in a breath and spread your legs a little more.

“Watch,”

Razor watches. He watches as you dip your fingers into your mouth and coat them with saliva. Watches as you snake a hand in between your legs and dip your middle finger down low into your cunt - with a trembling sigh at the sudden intrusion. He watches intimately as you pump them in and out, rhythmic and noisy. The sound of your own wet heat rings in your ears as you spread yourself in earnest.

Half-way through, Razor puts a hand on your thigh. He pushes your own hand away, and waits for you to open your eyes. He stares at you, long and hard.

“I want to eat you. Want to lick,” His hand cups your bare pussy “Here. Make you wet. Open you by myself. Want to eat.”

You’re speechless. Profoundly turned on by the sentiment, so much so you can’t make out your own voice.

“Uhm,” You close your hands into a fist, tucking your chin. “You can do whatever you like, Razor.”

He assesses the statement and you watch him take it in. He ends up on his stomach, lying between your thighs. You’re fascinated by his assurance in himself. He takes the right position between your legs. You spread out to give him easier access and he gives you a silent look of thanks. His breath is warm as it fans your cunt.

Before you get a chance to breathe, Razor sticks his tongue and licks. It’s animalistic with no real finesse at all. He makes up for it with enthusiasm and some conclusions he’s drawn with your assistance. He sucks on your clit nearly feverish, takes it into his mouth like he did your tits minutes prior. It’s drooly and sticky and nasty in a way that makes you ashamed. You’re more ashamed because you like it, you love it really. Spit is running down, dripping down to your ass. It’s a loud slurp - a shameless, nasty hunger in how he licks up your arousal with his mouth and drenches your pussy with spit.

His groans reverberate into you. He likes what he’s doing. The sound and touch and taste - Razor overwhelms you with all of it. There’s a tangible intensity wrapping up around you, keeping you trapped in the wolf's den.

You don’t teach him to use his fingers. He seems to have figured it out. The pad of his middle finger draws the spit pooling along your seam before pushing itself into your tight hole. You gasp at how invasive it is at first. Razors fingers are thick and scarred and you can feel the ridges of your raised skin from healed injured when he fucks you open with them.

It feels good. Being wanted. Being consumed voraciously and openly without any care for shame. Razor is the embodiment of raw desire and all of it- every ounce of it is being used to devour you. The descendant of wolves, the son of the forest - laid between your thighs and eating like something delicious left at an abandoned altar.

Even clumsy, you’re turned on beyond reason. Arousal leaves you shakily pawing at him to slow down. Your voice is reduced to nothing but small whines and mewls - pleas to slow down that fall on deaf ears.

“Razor,” Your voice is clipped “Razor, please - it’s enough. Just.”

When he snaps out of his haze, his chin is soaked with arousal and spit. He wipes it with the back of his hand, looking at you.

“Tastes good. You taste nice.” He praises, heaving and out of breath.

Your stomach flares up with new found lust, hands covering your face.

“Archons, just. Come here.”

Razor climbs up on top of you again. You cup his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself on him.

“You’re so unfair. But I can’t get angry because you’re not even doing it on purpose.”

“Sorry,”

You shake your head, kissing the corner of his mouth. Trembling with need.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I want you inside. Want you to fill me in here, so bad, Razor.”

His eyes widen. Your desperation must reach him this time, because he nods. innocently. You’re thankful beyond words you’re on contraceptives. At this point, you think trying to use a condom would break you down.

“You just have to put it inside. But please go slowly, okay?”

“Go slowly…won’t hurt you.”

Razor sits up on his knees again, drawing your waist down towards him. Before he pushes into you, he lays his cock against your sex - pushing it between messy folds. His expression morphs, his jaw tensing as the head of his cock swells and throbs against your aching clit. It slides and slips so messily, pussy clinging to his hard length. You guide his cock towards your entrance while he leans forward over you. His palms are rough as they grab your hips, hands settling up under your knees.

You can feel his cock as he rolls his hips slowly. Your nails dig into his back, indenting the skin as you cry out. It’s thick, intrusive as he pushes into your tight little hole. Even after opening you up, there’s an ache inside as the head stretches your pussy open. The raw drag of skin on skin as Razor pushes inside of you. You can feel him with every movement, your legs wrapped around his waist tight.

Razor has always had a limited vocabulary. He likes to speak in short sentences since it’s what he does best. His speech now is a lot more developed, but he still finds it troublesome.

It stuns you when Razor's grip tightens and he swears under his breath - a single word, long and drawn out as his cock pushes into you deeply.

“Fuck,”

“R-razor?”

“Feels good…feels so good. Want…move. Please.”

“You can move, just let me hold onto you okay?”

Razor tucks his head against your neck before he fucks you. In one smooth motion, he pulls himself out completely before shoving himself back in. It’s as gentle as he can go, but you can practically feel him shaking above you. How his whole being urged him to fuck you llike an animal. The desperation rolls off of him in waves, his own hands gripping tighter as he slowly finds a rhythm to fuck you in. Clumsy thrust that turns into careful calculated ones as you urge him to go deeper.

“Deep,” Razor pants against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. His voice is a low growl as his hips snap up to meet the back of your thighs with each thrust. Your bed creaks each time he moves, the frame knocking against the wood “I’m deep inside you,”

“Razor,” You sneak a hand between your bodies, clumsily toying with your clit - pleasure ruining your every thought “Harder. Give it to me harder.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Razor gives up on trying to hold himself back. He fucks you with nearly reckless abandon, an impressive amount of strength and weight behind each thrust. His dick pushes in and out of you hard and fast in the most unromantic way. You can feel it all the way up to your throat. It makes the back of legs and and your lower half feel tingly. Your head is blank, nothing but spotted white in your vision. You blink them open to look at Razors face.

He’s biting at his lower lip hard, focusing all of himself on his thrusts. He’s enduring it well. Your insides clench, a fluttery sensation starting to build up between your legs. You can feel it in your belly, the knot starting to untie.

Razor is starting to feel it too him.

“Inside so, ngh - hot. S-something coming, going to—”

“A little more. Gonna cum soon, Razor. Feels so good, you make me feel so good.”

Your mindless praise makes him whimper. A soft noise that echoes through you. You repeat it over and over, in a high voice like you’d praise a puppy. Razor takes it in beautifully, trying so hard not to succumb to his own desires. He restrains despite how hard and how fast and how deep he’s fucking you. You know it’s not easy.

“I’m gonna c-cum, Razor,” You say, at the very edge “Cum with me. It’s okay, you can let it out.”

You cum hard. Harder than you think you ever have in your life, then you’ve ever been able to manage by yourself. The sensation hits all at once, like falling through the sky, you can feel the clouds pushed away by the weight of you coming down through. Your insides tighten and tense one last time before everything releases at once, and waves of the aftershock leave your pussy fluttering. You’re washed with pure euphoria, crying out Razor’s name as you cum.

Razor is quick to follow you. Your own orgasm seems to drive him over the edge, and he cums deep inside. He muffles his cry by biting into your shoulder, groaning as hot seed spills into your cunt with a harsh stutter of hips. He fucks into your pussy, soft and messy before bottoming out and nearly collapsing on top of you.

It takes you a long minute to catch your breath well enough to speak.

You rub Razors back soothingly before you do. He lifts his head, eyes heavy as he looks at you.

“Wow,” He says, eyes wide and blown out. You can’t help but break out into a fight of laughter “Love you…”

“I love you too, Razor.”

“Wanna do it again,” Razor says, looking at you seriously “Can I?”

You feel a pulse of warmth through your whole body before nodding.

“Uhm. Yes. Just give me a break first, okay?”

#razor x reader #gensnhin impact x reader #razor smut #genshin impact smut #writing tag #posts this then disappears forever

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imaginesig · 6 months ago

Text

"Ditch the clowns, get the crown / Baby, I'm the one to beat"

Pt. 2 of “Can someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived”

Lewis Hamilton x ex!reader (barely)

Joe Burrow x singer!reader

SMAU

What happened between the breakup and Y/n's release of "The Tortured Poets Department: Eros." Once again I stole this entire story line from Taylor Swift. The timeline doesn't line up perfectly with the original but I do what I want

Yn_updates

Liked by user4, user83, user92, and 920,092 others

Yn_updates: after the drop of TTPD Y/n was seen at the Cincinnati’s Bengals game today!!

tagged: yn_ln

user1: she rlly said, bye futbol and went back to her roots

user2 it’ll always be Y/n and her little drink against the world

user3 chat what is going on

user4 I need Twitter to get working on a timeline bc the breakup album just dropped, but we think her and Lewis might have been broken up for a while before she went on break, but now she’s writing for a new man who is possible on either the Bengals??

yn_updates

liked by user98, user3, user1, and 928,282 others

yn_updates: Y/n at the last regular season Bengals game!

tagged: yn_ln

user1 ugh why does her break have to end before playoffs!! I don't want her to miss any games!!

user3 same! I've enjoyed seeing her and her fits

user2 even if it didnt the Bengals aren't predicted to go far this year

user4 I NEED to know what's happening bc there is no way she just up and decided to attend football games this religously

user5 and they're not just any football games, Bengals games. she didnt even grow up a Bengals fan, she was raised a Titan's fan

yn_ln

liked by user43, gracieabrams, sabrinacarpender, and 928,923 others

Yn_ln: Ugh South America!! Y’all are as beautiful as sparkling lights at midnight!! Big kisses to you all!! 🫶🫶

tagged: no one

user1 ahh best night of my life!!!

user2 she was so giddy and happy tonight

user3 im glad someone else noticed

user4 guys the surprise songs tonight where the first ones since the breakup about Lewis that she wasn't mad or sad

user5 was Lewis in attendance? Are my parents back together??

user6 nope, while Y/n was giggling her way through Delicate Lewis was attempting to overtake Lando in Italy

user7 we all see her smile right??

user8 I NEED to know who was behind it

user9 I've been searching but as of right now no one other than family and close friends were in the VIP tents

user10 when she sang it seemed like she directed it in one area of the crowd not the tents, so maybe this mystery person was on the floor

user11 normally I would call this theory crazy but people who were there said it was clear the second surprise song was clearly aimed at someone in the audience, but no ones been identified yet...

joeyb_9

liked by user93, lahhay10_, teehigins, and 823,929 others

joeyb_9: "You look like bad news, I gotta have you" or sum

tagged: lahjay10_

User12 HE DID NOT

user1 WHAT

user2 guys is this who I think it was

user3 my worlds just collided

lahya10_ great night- one for the books!

joeyb_9 you got that right

user4 OMG JOEY B AND J'MARR AT A Y/N CONCERT??

user5 im assuming we're all thinking the same thing...

user6 they were on the floor too, not in tents

user7 J'marr only posted a story about the night and didnt dress up, so it has to be Joe

user8 THE CAPTION HELLO

user9 brother thinks putting "or sum" makes it less obvious

user10 what if he's just a girl like us with hyper specific captions

user11 the fact that he dressed up on theme for the concert made him 10x hotter

bengals

liked by yn_ln, joeyb_9, user5, and 678, 982 others

bengals: "It's been a long time coming..." 🏆

tagged: no one

user1 admin you aint slick 🤨

user2 AND THE BENGALS ARE SUPER BOWL CHAMPS WHOOO

user3 AHHH DID ANYONE ELSE SEE Y/N'S FACE AT THE END

user4 her face?? Babe I saw her whole body go flying up when they won!

user5 ugh she's a good luck charm across all sports

User6 but this time the man backed her up with his own skill…

User7 damn Y/n fans switch up quick

joeyb_9

liked by yn_ln, teehiggins, bengals, and 918,289 others

joeyb_9: WE'RE CHAMPS BABY

tagged: bengals, yn_ln

yn_ln so proud!!

joeyb_9 ♥️

lahjay10_ HELL YEAH BROTHER

joeyb_9 💪💪

teehiggins that’s how we do!!

joeyb_9 that's how we do 👏👏

User1 OMG HIM AND Y/N???

User2 their celebrations were adorable!!

user3 I’m glad after all the speculation they’ve made it official \

user4 He is not afraid of showing her off🥹

user5 it makes me so happy for her

yn_ln

liked by joeyb_9, user93, user3, and 928,928 others

yn_ln: I'm with the winning team

tagged: joeyb_9

joeyb_9 so much better than a good luck charm ♥️

yn_ln ♥️♥️

user1 Lewis punching the air rn

user2 fr, she really called him a loser with the caption

user3 lmao I love shady Y/n

user4 HER AND JOE?? THATS THE CUTEST PIC EVER

user5 IKR

user6 THEY'VE BEEN PUBLIC FOR LIKE TWO SECONDS AND THEY ALREADY MAKE ME FEEL SO LONELY

user7 is she with the winning team or are they the winning team??

user8 y/n and Joe >>>

Yn_ln

liked by user79, user91, user91, and 918,901 others

Yn_ln: surprise!! "The Tortured Poets Department: Eros" out now!! This edition includes two new songs, "So High School" and "The Alchemy"

tagged: no one

comments have been disabled

Twitter post songs release:

Twitter first Paris show:

yn_ln

liked by joeyb_9, user82, landonorris, and 829,927 others

yn_ln: Fuck me up *Paris*!!!

tagged: no one

user1 AHHH TTPD SET WAS INCREDIBLE

user2 ugh buying more tickets now bc I HAVE to see the new set

User3 all the symbols I CANT

User4 she looked so stunning

User5 I cannot y’all Joe was there!!!!

user6 I lost my mind at all their moments!! Hes so shameless unlike Lewis

User7 Paris was so lucky!!

user8 it was adorable to see Joe smiling and SINGING all throughout the show, including his songs/TTPD set

user9 ahhh the singing got me!!! her exes would never

user10 all the friendship bracelets her received and wore-- he was so cute

user11 I love that he has arms full and refused to relive himself of any!!

joeyb_9

liked by yn_ln, user9, yn_updates, and 918,928 others

joeyb_9: Baby, you're the one to beat ♥️

tagged: yn_ln

comments have been limited

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@swifth0lic

@erbri3r

#cincinnati bengals #bengals x reader #joe burrow imagines #Joe burrow #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #Joe burrow smau #football x reader #football smau #nfl #nfl draft #nfl imagine

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orcarnage · 10 months ago

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I don't know if I'm just deranged but.... I think this is it, this is the point where things went irreparably south between Guts and Griffith.

Let me try to explain it; in this scene, had guts spoken his mind, it would likely have prevented him from leaving the hawks altogether. Griffith asked this not because he thought he might be cruel, he knows he is. He asked because he wanted to know what Guts, thought; he wanted reassurance. He asked this to Guts knowing he'd reply with something akin to this, because it is something familiar. He knew Guts would downplay it, give some sort of 'and you ask ME?' kind of response.

This was the wrong choice. Griffith predicted it would be this way, and he proved himself right, because he always does that, doesn't he? What he did here was essentially just shouting into a void. Griffith is not content with this arrangement, having Guts just follow him as a soldier, and had he known Guts also wanted to stand equal to him, this scene would have gone a completely different route. This scene separated them, it put them each back into their roles, a leader, and one who is below him.

The face that Griffith makes when he asks that question, his expressions are very delicate but it is a deliberately big panel. His eyes are determined, but he's tense. His eyebrows are about to furrow, his posture is really stiff, and he hesitates. The sorrow in his words is insane, I'm going insane. HE NEEDS YOU TO HOLD HIM!!! GUTS YOU DUMB FUCK!!!

And then this HORRIBLE {affectionate} CONTINUATION.

God this was awful. You said exactly what he expected you to, you ruined the opportunity to speak your mind, im losing my marbles. GUTS IM PUSHING YOU INTO THE SEWER.

That fucking smile. Its so forced. This is the point where Guts puts Griffith on a level he sees himself as being below. This is the point where Griffith realizes his dream will come at a cost.; forever elevated above his peers, unable to stand shoulder to shoulder with Guts, something Guts accidentally made clear with his comment. And Griffith can do nothing but accept it. This will cause him to cling to his dream harder than ever, and Guts will seek to elevate himself to stand beside Griffith. They're so physically close, but they're worlds apart. THIS COULD HAVE BEEN FIXED!!! OH THE TRAGEDY!!!! THE TRAGEDY!!!!! MIURA SENSEI, WHY?????

Anyways I'm very passionate thanks for coming to my ted talk feel free to add on or argue or discuss i just wanted to analyze this scene a bit specifically due to the face Griffith makes.

#berserk #griffith #guts berserk #griffith berserk #character analysis #i hate them (affectionate)#griffguts

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hvly · 1 year ago

Note

VIRGIN OIKAWA OH MY GOD THATS SO FUCKING HOT 😍😍😍😍😍😍

you think so? well, i got another little headcanon about Virgin Oikawa and imma be honest; this one makes me giggle a little bit 🤭

ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴍ 🗣️! : i’m on a fucking ROLL today 👹 anyways, im the biggest guy virgin enthusiast. fuck a girl being a virgin, that shit is so predictable. give me a boy who don’t know how to use his dick and i’m all up on that (metaphorically and literally)

ᴄᴡ: solo play/masturbation. Not gender specific and not proofread. be nice to me, aight?

Virgin! Oikawa is a pillow humper.

He doesn't use those silicone molds because, behind that flirtatious persona, he's a lover boy at heart. If he's going to stick his dick in a hole of any kind, he wants it to be with someone he's romantically involved with at the very least. Plus, he's not that desperate. Even if not a soul in the world would have him pegged as a virgin, he still has a reputation to uphold. He'll occasionally use his own hand to offer him some late-night release, but it's really only an option if he's trying to make it quick.

But when he had time to dedicate to self-pleasure, a plush pillow that still held a bit of shape when moved around and a satin pillowcase is all he needed.

He'd adjust his pillow under his hips, his hard-on just barely grazing the silky fabric below him. A soft exhale escapes his lips as he lowers himself, pressing his navel down into the mattress. Oikawa lays still for a moment, letting himself relish in the feeling of cool, soft satin gently encasing his cock.

Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, dragging his length up and down to find a good starting rhythm. Once he finds it, he commits to it, balancing himself on his elbows for better stability.

Oikawa imagines this is what your insides must feel like. The pre soaked material emulating the wetness and velvety feel that he'd read about. It was warm and comforting with just the right amount of friction and tightness that his dick doesn't feel like it's suffocating. He pictures you below him, your face flushed and screwed up in pleasure. How pretty you sound when you moan his name. How your hands feel when they wander his body. How you'd praise him.

The brunette whimpers softly, completely lost in his fantasy. His hands grip the edge of his pillow as he unconsciously thrusts harder and faster into it, his bed-frame quietly squeaking. It's not long before he feels that familiar warmth building in his stomach, suddenly very aware of how heavy his balls feel as he continues rutting into his pillow.

He moans loudly, looking down at the precum-smeared case. It sheens in the soft light of his room and he can't help but imagine it's your privates glistening in your shared juices. That's all he needs to trigger his release, his arms giving out under him as he shoots his load into the pillow. He moans loudly into the mattress, his hips stuttering as he rides through the rest of his orgasm.

Oikawa rolls over onto his back, throwing the cum covered pillow on the floor to be washed later. He stares at the ceiling as he catches his breath, the occasional aftershock making his cock twitch. He snorted softly, crossing his arms over his eyes.

For the time being, pillows worked just fine.

#𓆩𖥔𓆪 — verses #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa headcanons #tw virginity loss

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venus-is-thinking · 2 months ago

Text

A Narrative Defense of Levi Accomplice Theory

Hello everyone! I’m finally back with this post to celebrate the fact that DRDT is back tomorrow! aaaaAAAAAAAA–

For any of you who have no idea what the title means, consider it the second part to my year-old Narrative Defense of Eden Culprit Theory. In this, I’ll go over the narrative reasons why I think Levi being the accomplice (to Eden as the blackened) would make sense and open up interesting opportunities for DRDTdev to explore, if they do choose to go in this direction. I’m not at all trying to prove, evidence-wise, why Levi is the accomplice in this post.

My thoughts on the functionality of the Chapter 2 murder method are basically exactly what @1moreff-creator (nickname FF) outlines in their A Summary of the Levi Accomplice Theory + How We Got Here post. I STRONGLY recommend reading it, both because I think it’s a great read and because as far as I know, the concept of Levi as an accomplice isn’t really talked about outside of it, so it’ll provide some useful context as to why I believe this is a possibility.

That being said, I do want to disclaim this by saying that this post will be a lot more open-ended and speculative than the Eden version. Levi accomplice theory, at least in the context of being paired with Eden culprit, is objectively less likely to be true than Eden culprit theory by itself, and I could definitely see a world in which Levi is either innocent or involved in the crime in some other way.

There’s also the fact that, because I don’t believe Levi will be executed this chapter, there’s a lot more question of where his character is headed. I predicted the trajectory of Eden’s arc to end in a handful of episodes; Levi will hypothetically be facing entirely new motives and twists that I have no way to meaningfully predict, so take all of this with a grain of salt.

Still, I’ve been meaning to make this post for literally an entire year, and I’m not gonna let the “Chapter 2 resumes” deadline pass! So, without further ado, here it is: the long awaited Narrative Defense of Levi Accomplice Theory!

SPOILER WARNING THROUGH CHAPTER 2 PART ONE!

T/W: Murder, blackmail, traumatic pasts

I’m going to follow roughly the same structure as the Eden Narrative Defense, which means that I’m going to be looking at the following topics:

Motive (Why Levi would choose to help Eden commit the crime)

Story Arc (How Levi being the accomplice fits into the overall narrative)

Relationships (How Levi’s relationships impact this writing decision)

Character Arc (How this plays into Levi’s individual character arc)

Wildcard (A specific topic that I think is relevant to discuss for this theory)

These are listed in the order they appeared in Eden’s narrative defense, with Eden’s Wildcard slot being taken up by her emotional breakdown in the Trial and justifying how that wouldn’t be entirely fake/how it would be possible with her still being the culprit. Hopefully that all makes sense!

For Levi, I actually think the best starting point is:

TOPIC 1: Relationships

Because this theory is dependent on Levi helping Eden commit literal murder, I want to start off by examining Levi’s relationship with Eden.

Interestingly, they don’t really interact much of all in Chapter 1; to my memory, the clearest example of them being highlighted in the same scene is when Arei throws a fit over Eden not inviting her to bake with her, where in the same scene, Arei manipulates Levi after he tries to defuse the situation.

However, we open Chapter 2 on the two of them having a rather important conversation. Notably, Levi gets “good person” name dropped in this conversation. For those who don’t know, beneath the “All That Glitters” chapter title, there’s a faint hidden text of “A Good Person.” Pretty much everyone who is called a good person is incredibly important to this chapter (Teruko, Eden, Arei, David, and Levi), so Levi getting hit with the “good person” right at the beginning definitely flags him for importance down the line.

Interestingly, what is said here is:

Levi is called a good person due to his reliability, which clues us into the fact that Eden might be open to relying on Levi, even if it’s for something important. Notably, here, Levi still wants to help others and try to be the best person he can be, despite his slip-up yelling at Ace in the Chapter 1 Trial.

The existence of this scene at all, and especially given the fact that it delves further into Eden and Levi’s mental states as the killing game progresses, seems to indicate that this is a pair to watch moving forwards.

Levi also notably has another relationship that heavily plays into the idea of Levi being an accomplice: Ace.

Ace has spent the chapter telling Levi to fuck off and leave him alone, holding the fact that Levi said he would strange Ace over his head. To me, Levi’s strong reactions to Ace play very heavily into his secret quote:

I always believed that a person is defined by their actions alone. But maybe that’s just a poor excuse for my heartlessness.

(If you don’t know what the secret quotes are, basically, on everyone’s profile page on the tumblr website, there’s a secret quote hidden that you can find by inspecting elements. This is the one on Levi’s page.)

I’ll get more into this later on, but this is a rather interesting quote when paired with Levi taking the action of threatening Ace, but doing it through words alone. You could argue that he didn’t actually do anything, but that’s not completely true. Ace certainly seems to think he did something.

Levi is caught at the crossroads of his words of intent to harm Ace being treated as the true him, but any attempts he makes to reconcile are being treated as “just words.”

However, any actions that Levi tries to take are rebuffed. He can’t repair things with his words, and he can’t take action without violating Ace’s wishes, so he’s stuck. This, of course, frustrates Levi.

This was clearly a big character moment from Levi. It seems like his will to repair things with Ace, at least, is fully gone in this moment. Notably, we haven’t really seen any demeanor change from Levi that I can think of as a result for this conclusion he’s apparently drawn, which raises my suspicions that he’s hiding crucial information from us this Trial.

But, most people who think Levi is set up to be suspicious and giving up on everyone think that he’s going to be the killer. Why do I think he’s going to be the accomplice instead?

Well, a lot of it has to do with the evidence itself, notably the grippy tape and the contraption used in Arei’s killing (see FF’s theory post). But, there’s also the fact that it’s not unreasonable to think that Eden and Levi could’ve gotten scheming here.

While Levi walks off before Teruko, we don’t know exactly what happens afterwards. It seems like Ace got bandaged up at some point (possibly because Eden helped him?), but either way, I could see Eden and Levi talking afterwards about their opinions on everything that happened. And, of course, about their secrets.

TOPIC 2: Motive

For the sake of this theory, I am strongly assuming that Levi’s secret is “You’re a murderer, and you hold no remorse.” If it isn’t, toss this entire thing out the window, because it doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

I think there are two conceivable paths to Levi’s motive for helping out Eden here. I know that in FF’s post, they outline one of them: the possibility that Levi would prefer that Eden escape and everyone else die over the continuation of the killing game as-is. This would be based on Levi’s belief that Eden is a good person, and his increased belief over time that everyone else (including himself) is a bad person, unworthy of living.

I certainly think this is possible, but it leaves Levi’s character off in a bit of a weird spot. Like, okay, he decided to gamble it all on Eden and he loses. Then what? It’s only Chapter 2. There are certainly ways for his character to go, but I feel like at that point, he’s either dragging his feet before dying or dragging his feet before he gets to do his survivor arc. I’m not sure if it would leave enough room to explore his character over the course of who-knows-how-many-more chapters. I have to imagine that, if Levi is the accomplice under this plan, he’d make it through Chapter 3, because otherwise, it seems like the message of Levi is that he gave up and that means he died. But, what would he be doing throughout those chapters?

So, I think that’s a possible read, but it’s not the one I favor. The second read is a little more complicated, but I think it makes sense. Give me a bit to explain it.

This theory really focuses in on my interpretation of Levi’s secret quote, which is again:

I always believed that a person is defined by their actions alone. But maybe that’s just a poor excuse for my heartlessness.

What this says to me, in combination with Levi’s secret, is, “I am only a murderer if I am actively murdering someone.” Sure, Levi was a murderer– but that was in the past!

(Levi makes many cryptic mentionings of his dark past. I don’t know what exactly it is, but I believe that Levi has killed someone, and might not feel remorse for at least one specific killing. It’s also possible that he feels no remorse because that’s just how he grieves– by feeling nothing– which he alludes to in the opening conversation with Eden.)

However, Ace is challenging that belief that Levi has. Can he really change so much just because he’s acting on his best behavior? Besides, it doesn’t really matter; if people think he’s a murderer, what difference is there in how they treat him?

To me, that’s what Levi’s “Why do I even bother?” means. He’s realizing that, with Ace, at least, but also maybe in general, if someone believes he’s a murderer, that’s as good as him being a murderer. In combination with his secret, that means that anyone who learns his secret will treat him as a murderer, immediately burning any relationship they have with him.

It kind of makes me think of the concept of Thought-Action Fusion, which is the psychological term for the belief that thinking about doing something wrong is just as bad as doing that wrong thing. It’s not quite the same, but it’s that kind of idea. Who cares if Levi kills someone or not? If people think he has, he might as well have.

That, obviously, is a bad thing. It’s an even worse thing when you consider that DRDT seems to be a TV show, and MonoTV is threatening to reveal everyone’s motive secrets to everyone in the whole world if no one kills!

This then creates a bit of a paradox for Levi. The only way to prevent everyone from finding out that he’s a murderer is to murder someone on national (?) television.

However, there is one out for him in this situation. If someone else kills before the motive timer is up, Levi gets out of this situation clean. And that’s where Eden comes in.

(For clarity’s sake, I largely think this scene is a joke. I do not think Eden is actually doing anything sinister by “blackmailing” Teruko here, nor do I think either Teruko or Eden would actually think anything malevolent of Eden because of it. However, I’ve noticed that DRDT is very good at slipping relevant ideas or information into jokes, which is why I want to look at this.)

Eden doesn’t need to blackmail Levi, per se. At least, she doesn’t have to actually put the threat out there directly.

What I’m envisioning is basically that, after helping bandage Ace up, Eden goes and checks in with Levi and sees how he’s doing. Levi explains his frustrations with the fact that Ace is treating him like a murderer even though he hasn’t done anything, and it seems like Ace’s belief that he’s a murderer is good enough to condemn him. In response, Eden lets Levi know that she knows what his secret is.

Arei is the one who received Levi’s secret, but I’d be, like, 0% surprised if Eden knew it. Arei said she’d do anything to prove her loyalty to Eden, and especially considering how Arei overheard the secret Eden received, it would make enough sense if she told Eden about the one she received to “even it out.”

So, let’s say Eden says, “but aren’t you a murderer? Your secret says so.” Or something like that. Levi is now obviously in a tricky position, because the answer is, yes, that is his secret, but people aren’t supposed to know that. Eden would then loop Levi into her plan to kill Arei, and they would come to a mutual understanding.

Levi has to cooperate with Eden and do whatever she says when it comes to the crime, because if he doesn’t, Eden could easily reveal his secret. To Levi, that’s a fate worse than death, because it means that he will never be able to escape his past. Conversely, Eden can’t throw Levi under the bus and spill his secret, because then Levi would easily throw Eden under the bus and reveal she’s the blackened in turn. By giving Levi a severe secret of Eden’s own– that she’ll be the blackened– the playing field levels out into one of mutually assured destruction, where both of them respect each other enough to take the other’s secret to the grave if they’re the one who fails.

Eden, I think, would be willing to take this risk in the first place, because Levi is reliable. If she understands how his internal logic operates, she can trust that he’ll see it through to the end. Having an accomplice could make it much harder for people to find out she's the blackened, which is a huge advantage.

For Levi, if you follow my read of his character, this makes sense. His best bet is to help Eden out from a neutral perspective, helping her commit the crime but not dying on the hill to help her win. If Eden loses, she can respect the fact that he didn’t out her and tried to help her. Then, Eden dies, taking everyone’s secrets and the motive to her grave with her. Obviously, the secrets ended up being more or less revealed anyways, considering Arei’s body wasn’t discovered until after the motive announcement, but David is proof enough that the students didn’t know that was how it would be ruled.

Hopefully this makes enough sense! To summarize, I think Levi’s motivation to help Eden is to protect his own secret and survive the motive. The only way to avoid being known as a murderer is to help facilitate a murder without the fact that he was an accomplice ever being exposed. To have his secret revealed is basically death anyways, so risking death if Eden is the killer isn’t the biggest deal in the world.

INTERLUDE 2.5: Arei’s Glove

So, this isn’t part of the narrative defense, this is me repairing part of FF’s theory. Because, Arei’s glove is missing from her body, and FF’s reasoning ended up being “Levi can drop the glove to frame himself as the culprit mid-Trial if needed.” However, because in my world, Levi is still hoping Eden loses (even if he can’t contribute), that seems a bit far fetched. So, I tried to come up with an alternate explanation of why Arei’s glove might be missing.

One of them kinda sucks, which is that Arei was wearing her glove when the water jugs broke, drenching it. Because the turf is weird, you can count on the turf not being wet by the Body Discovery Announcement, but the glove could still be too wet, giving away part of how the crime was completed. Thus, someone hides or pockets the glove so that it doesn’t give something away. This seemed halfway viable to me before I rewatched the investigation, but between the fish being entirely dried out (non-turf that was definitely very wet at one point) and the positioning of the tape marks on Arei’s wrists (which I think would mean the glove would have to be off her wrists when you taped them), I don’t think it’s especially viable.

There’s FF’s original reasoning from a while ago as to why it could’ve been missing, which is that to get a better grip on the spinny thing (carousel), Levi may have put on Arei’s glove. It could’ve gotten scratched up or stretched out as a result, making it key evidence. This is a bit presumptive, but it works enough.

The weirdest thing to me is that it does seem like Arei’s glove was taken off before her wrists were taped. I’d think taping Arei’s wrists would happen fairly early, considering it makes it harder for her to struggle. But, getting her glove off while she’s struggling seems pretty hard.

The third explanation I have is just that Eden asked Arei to take her glove off at some point before Levi showed up, because it would be annoying to tape her wrists with the glove on. Then, Arei’s glove went missing in the shuffle, or they didn’t have a good place to put it because it would be difficult to put it back on once Arei is hung up. They couldn’t throw it in the trash, because Eden planned on the class reconstructing the note they left in the trash. So, instead, Arei’s glove gets stashed somewhere and they hope no one notices it, because if people stop to think about how Arei’s glove was taken off before her wrists were taped, it could point to Eden.

I don’t love any of these reasons, but combined, I think they’re good enough that it’s not a dealbreaker for this theory, at least. Pick whichever one is your favorite and we can go forward from there.

TOPIC 3: Character Arc

If Levi’s relationships have set him up for this, and he has a viable enough motive, what does it mean for Levi that he’s the accomplice? What is his individual story telling us?

I think Levi’s character is meant to center around the concept of what makes a person good, and what allows a person to properly repent. It really seems like Levi has a not-so-good past, something that’s only heightened if he does have the murderer without remorse secret.

There’s also the secret quote, which talks about “excuses” for “heartlessness.” Levi is trying to put his dark past behind him, but it’s incredibly difficult. He wants to move forwards from it, but he doesn’t know how.

If Levi is the accomplice, it provides a really interesting opportunity for his character arc: Levi will then be exposed as an accomplice and be publicly known as someone dangerous and possibly, to some, unforgivable, but he won’t die for it. He’ll have to figure out how to navigate the fact that he does carry the burden of his past actions with him, and he’ll have to learn to cope.

If a character is meant to ask how possible it is to repent, doesn’t it make sense to give an extremely concrete in-universe thing that they need to repent for, and that everyone knows they need to repent for?

I’m not sure exactly where Levi would end up from there. A lot of it depends on the other characters, the motives, and the kill order. I still think it’s definitely possible for Levi to take on the classic Chapter 4 buff curse/sacrifice killer mantle with this, if he decides that the only way to repent properly is to put everyone else above him. However, I do think it’d be interesting to see him fill any slot.

He could be a victim, if his time runs out. He could be a killer, if he decides that he can’t repent, and his only option is to once again try to outrun his past. He could be a survivor if he figures out that the only thing he can do is try to move forwards, accept his past, and try to do better in the future. I’m actually quite partial to the survivor interpretation, but it’s hard to make survivor cast predictions this early.

Either way, I think this totally makes sense as a direction to take Levi’s character in.

TOPIC 4: The “Murderer” Rule

This is my Wildcard slot for this narrative defense. I don’t know exactly what it’ll amount to, but I think it’s worth discussing.

Rule 14: All murderers must be held accountable for their crimes.

If Levi is the murderer without remorse, I wonder if this rule will apply to him. I also wonder exactly what it means. “Held accountable” doesn’t necessarily mean that whoever is a murderer will get executed.

I honestly think a really interesting way for this to go is if Eden gets found out as the culprit on her own, but they don’t realize that Levi is the accomplice. Then, in accordance with Rule 14, MonoTV reveals that Levi was also involved in the crime, and is also functionally a murderer. This forces Levi to be held socially responsible by those around him.

Another option would be that, whenever his secret comes to light, he’s at risk of some kind of execution. I doubt Levi would actually get executed there, considering a lot of the reason I like Levi accomplice theory is because of how interesting it’d be to further pursue Levi’s character post-murder, but it’s certainly possible.

It could also be something that comes up in Chapter 6. This rule feels like it’s a direct result of the mastermind’s worldview or something. If Levi is a survivor, it’s possible that, at the end, the mastermind will try to execute him or something because he’s a murderer. Hell, maybe every survivor will have a claim to be a murderer in some way or another. That’s when the characters will rise up and say that people deserve a second chance, no matter their past. Or something like that, I don’t know. Again, it’s really hard to theorize about the whole game when we only have, like, 1.75 chapters so far.

Anyways, onto the last point:

TOPIC 5: Story Arc

Oh boy, time to theorize about the whole game!

Because figuring out the moral messaging and final result of the last Class Trial at this stage is nigh impossible, I’ve been reading the Story Arc category through Teruko. How would it impact the way we see the story through her eyes if Levi is the accomplice?

Well, an obvious point is that it emphasizes how much you can’t trust anyone. You can’t even trust that there’s only one person with killing intent per murder! I’m sure Levi would be somewhat outcasted if this does all play out, and that would likely tie into a greater feeling of distrust. Between David’s heel turn, the sweet and helpful Eden tearfully being the blackened and facing an execution, and the stoic but previously reliable Levi being both a murderer (secret) and an accomplice (crime) out of nowhere, trust throughout the group would be at an all-time low. I think that’s a good thing; as I’ve said before, at this point in the story, I think we’re still validating Teruko’s worldview. It’s too early for a major shake-up, and to Teruko, these patterns are repetitive. They have to repeat at least a little bit for the audience to truly understand why Teruko acts the way she does.

But, even more than that, I think that DRDT has the makings of a central message surrounding fate.

Everyone’s fate is already sealed, according to Teruko. The Lucky Student cannot die, no matter what. All murderers must be held accountable. There are a lot of big picture makings of the idea that people’s fates are already set in stone, no matter what they do.

Levi is, in many ways, “fated” to be a bad person. He’s fated to be a murderer. Whatever his past was, it seems like he was set up for moral failure no matter what. Seeing Levi fall into that trap of his destiny, being a murderer yet again after being deemed a murderer, also validates Teruko’s worldview that everyone is doomed because they’re already locked into their slots. Even if Levi didn’t die today, he will eventually.

Except, if he doesn’t die immediately, he also has a possibility to invalidate that worldview later. Levi’s survival to a point and (presumed) attempt to repent again, even after everything, could be something that shakes Teruko’s beliefs in future chapters. I’m not saying Levi would be the catalyst for Teruko’s entire character arc, but I think it’s going to take a lot of instances of Teruko being “wrong” to actually change Teruko’s mind. This is one way that we could set up Teruko being wrong, dating back to Chapter 2, so that when we get the payoff, the seeds have been planted all along the way.

CONCLUSION

Hopefully this made sense! It’s been a long time since I’ve fully watched the series, and I only had time to partially rewatch Chapter 2 before writing and posting this. But, I remember a lot of the thoughts I had back when I was in peak DRDT brainrot, and I still believe Levi being the accomplice would make a lot of sense and open up a lot of doors narratively.

Obviously, this is what I currently believe, but even if you disagree, I hope you still found it interesting. I think it’s important to remember, going into these next few episodes, a core principle that pushed me to write the Eden Narrative Defense in the first place: we shouldn’t call something bad writing until we see it executed. Please remember to respect DRDTdev’s writing decisions and creative autonomy, no matter how you feel about the result. I’ll do my best to do the same as well.

With that being said, OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE DRDT IS BACK WE’RE GONNA GET ANSWERS AAAAAAAA–

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #levi fontana #drdt spoilers #despair time #this is literally 13 months late #but hopefully it's worth? the wait

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amarayys · 1 month ago

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DRDT CHP 2 EPISODE 15 REACTIONS - SO OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS

disclaimer - this post is quite long. like 12 doc pages long. so yeah

in this post, i predicted that the culprit would be ace. and, well....yeah! IT WAS!!! AND I FEEL REALLY GOOD ABOUT THAT!!!! AND IM REALLY HOPING THAT THE FACT THAT AREI'S MISSING GLOVE AND THE MISSING SCRUM DEBATE DONT MEAN ANYTHING!!!

....i got it right.

I ACTUALLY GOT IT RIGHT??? NO FUCKING WAY???

Anyway, I'm gonna make a short post (post editing amari here - this post is in no way short. why did i think it would be???) of my reactions to the episode. And trust me, there were reactions.

Ace: You're going to call me the murderer just because Eden said so?! That's so inane I don't even know where to start!

...I feel ashamed to admit I had to google what "inane" means. Basically, it means "Lacking sense or meaning," which, true, actually! I can't deny suspecting Ace JUST because of Eden's crying is a little weird. Not to say that Eden is malicious or something, though.

J: I'm not saying Eden did it, but are you sure the killer is Ace?

This line isn't insanely relevant or something, I just wanted to point out that I was pretty confused here. Why is J defending Ace??? Uh???

Eden: It was him! (Ace) He was the one stalking me!

Aha, I thought so! I've seen a few people theorise that the person "stalking" Eden was the culprit, and I agree. It just makes the most sense - so I'm glad we were right!

Teruko: Could it be that Ace switched targets from Eden to Arei? (paraphrased)

Oh, I didn't even consider that! We see later in the trial this isn't true, but I'm surprised that nobody (to my knowledge) brought this theory up. Though I don't really see why he would switch targets.

Ace: S-so?! Nico could have taken it or lied about the fish disappearing. (paraphrased)

100% True! But Ace seems to be using this argument solely to accuse Nico...which he sure does a lot. While screaming. A lot.

*discussion about ace making a murder plan after nearly being murdered*

Teruko makes a good point here - He could have made the plan the day following his near-murder.

Teruko: Most people wouldn't like going back to the scene of their almost-murder. (paraphrased)

...Teruko, you're projecting. Hard. Like, really hard.

Ace: ...

Ace: Y-yeah! Exactly! There's no reason for me to take the tape unless I made a plan to kill her in a few seconds. (paraphrased)

Hesitation spotted! And a stutter! I freaked out over this on call for no reason, but that is VERY suspicious, dude.

Arturo: Who uses non-medical tape for first aid? That's sickening.

Teruko: It's not that weird, I do it all the time.

...AUWVGGHHHHH. Teruko you make me ILL. This is probably referencing how she didn't have money for medical supplies in the regular world so she had to use regular tape for wounds, since her luck hurts her often, which cannot be good/safe for injuries. I nearly cried here, because I'm very dramatic when it comes to Teruko. YOU DESERVE BETTER.

Ace: What is this, some sort of Devil's Pubes?

...What the fuck?? What??? I am not kidding when I tell you I was drinking water during this line and fucking choked. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??? HELLO?? CAN SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT HE MEANT??

Ace: Everyone is always attacking me for stupid reasons. (paraphrased)

He's not wrong, actually. Everyone is always attacking him - Though not always for stupid reasons.

Ace: Do you even hear yourself right now? I'm a murderer because of my "personality"?!

I've got to agree with him here - that's a pretty stupid argument to make. As much as I don't want to slander Min, did her personality seem like the type to murder?

Teruko: Show me your neck scars.

...That's a little invasive, no?

*discussion about scratched neck*

I also believe some people pointed out Ace's bloody fingers, but I haven't seen anyone mention scratches on his neck! To be fair, that is a VERY small detail that's quite easy to miss.

Teruko: But you probably never forgot. After all, you have to live with your scars every day. Even if you've been pretending it's fine, it still hurts, right? (paraphrased)

...Ohmygod she's projecting again. Is she insecure about her scars?? Or do they just remind her of bad situations? Teruko, I love you so so much you make me SOB.

Ace: I thought I was supposed to be the stupidest one here! What the fuck is this?!

...He just called himself stupid. He is NOT beating the idiot allegations.

the whole veronika spiel**

Well, yeah, I'd imagine being almost murdered is somewhat traumatising.

turpentine, jockey and strangling arguements:

This post is going to get VERY long soon, so sorry for the massive skip lmao.

Turpentine: Correct - How would have Ace kept Arei unharmed apart from her neck wounds without her being unconscious due to turpentine? I really don't have any clue.

Strangling: Strangling her?? I didn't see THAT coming. But yeah, I suppose it works. I really don't have much to say here, tbh.

Jockey: Basically, Ace is stronger than Eden and can therefore knock her out. True, I suppose, but it's a shaky argument based off assumptions.

Charles: Ace was trying to imitate Nico's murder.

I can see this being the case - Ace using that to frame Nico. Ace HAS been blaming Nico quite a bit, huh?

Ace's injury argument*

Good points made by both Eden (for some reason??) and Teruko. Yes, Ace was bleeding out and in a lot of pain, but the wound was not severe enough to limit either his speech or his movement. The murder might have hurt, but he'd be able to do it.

J: Isn't Ace...too stupid?

I burst out laughing...that's quite direct, J! But also mean. Ace is literally right there. Also, that is not a proper argument!

Ace's whole dignity thing*

Jeez, I used to despise Ace, but I'm liking him more and more. He has some really funny lines, and his development is REALLY good.

I think it's super interesting that ACE, who everyone believes is dumb and rude and unable to take criticism, is letting himself be called stupid for the sake of being declared innocent. It really shows how his character is more than just "I'm rude and I hate you all!" DRDTDev, your writing is so good.

Charles' explanation*

Now, I'm split on this part.

For one, I agree that his IQ would not have much to do with how Ace carried out the murder and is irrelevant. However, the whole argument of "Ace rides horses, he is strong!" thing isn't really accurate - in chapter 1, he describes how he never actually practices jockeying.

**also, the acevi fans are in pain. i see you looking at how levi said ace wasnt dumb. I SEE YOU

Non-stop debate with ball of clothes as bullet*

I was WONDERING WHEN THE CLOTHES WOULD COME IN!! Again, I'm not original, so I've seen theories regarding the ball being thrown over the railing. But...the railings pretty high. I don't think you could just throw it.

Bullet is used*

Oh, so Teruko is using the "ball of clothes was thrown" argument? It still seems very high up..

Ace: How could I have thrown it up that high?

Aha, so they are addressing that issue! I'm glad.

Ace tangent*

Again, I'm sorry for having to reduce this AMAZING character development down to a "tangent", but this post is already WAYYY too long.

He definitely has a point, though. Just because he's a jockey doesn't automatically make him the murderer. Just because he's somewhat athletic doesn't mean he could've thrown the ball of clothes.

And, as much as I REALLY don't want to admit this...Teruko's reasoning for siding with Eden was a little shaky. At first, Teruko believed Eden because Eden believed her in the first trial. Adorable, yes, but you could argue that was unfair towards Ace. However, there is definitely concrete evidence against Ace at this point and Teruko is valid for siding with Eden at this point in the trial.

Not to say I don't understand why Teruko sided with her - I totally understand. And she did say she'd keep an open mind. I still love how this was all done - Teruko siding with Eden was a nice touch.

Argument Armament or however the fuck its spelt.*

Wait what?? I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING\??? that AA came out of absolutely nowhere but i am here for it! The art is fantastic as always - i especially love the horse!

Final blow; using a sling shot*

...I'm sorry? What??

OH! THE FITNESS BAND!

I knew it must've come in somewhere! This trial has been so satisfying so far...God I love this fangan.

So, Ace tied the fitness band around the...bar things in the playgroud and flung the ball of clothes up. ...I still don't really get it, but it's definitely better than just yanking it up there!

Teruko, interrupting Ace: SHUT UP, ACE!

...eh? EH??? TERUKO??

Teruko: Do you even understand what this class trial is? Tell me, how do we decide who's the murderer? We determine who lives and dies by a majority vote. YTTD REF?? In other words, the opinion of everyone who *isn't* you.

I...woah. I didn't see that coming. Like, at all. Let's see what else she has to say.

Teruko: Who cares where you stored the water jugs? That doesn't matter. (paraphrased)

Um...I'm pretty sure it matters, Teruko. Though I can see where she's coming from - she wants this trial over with and she thinks discussing minor details is a waste of time.

This line makes you seem like the culprit, but she has protag privileges, so yeah. Just Teruko going off again.

Teruko: The point of the trial is to determine who the killer is, not to determine every single little detail of what happened.

Aha, so I'm correct. She doesn't want to discuss "minor details".

Teruko: It doesn't matter that you're not convinced. It's not going to help you, nor change your fate. No matter how you feel or what you think, nothing will change.

You think that your whining and screaming is going to change our minds? That if you call us all stupid and wrong, we're going to magically decide to not vote for you out of the goodwill of our hearts?

...Okay, so. I think she's projecting here. Again. She knows that screaming wont do anything for him - It never did anything for her. She knows that people vote stop deciding the culprit's you out of the goodwill of her heart - They didn't do that for her.

Maybe I'm reaching, who knows.

Teruko: Come on Ace! Don't you want to live?! Defend yourself!

Oh, she's desperate. She really wants to be wrong here, huh? She doesn't really want him to be a culprit.

Ace: I'm such a piece of shit.

...is that a confession?? IS IT??

Ace: Yeah, you're right. There's no way I'm making it out this trial alive.

Okay this could still be interpreted as him just giving up on trying to find the actual culprit but-

Ace: I killed Arei. That's exactly right.

....OH. I...WHAT??

That...wow. I don't even know what to say! Before this point in the trial, I was kind of suspicious he was an accomplice, but hey...that's a confession for sure!

Ace: I was scared of dying. That's all.

Yeah, I've definitely seen a theory on that somewhere. And it fits his character - But jeez. I'm gonna be sad to see him go.

Ace: I'm fucking terrified of dying! I can't sleep at night because I keep thinking about how I'm going to die young in this goddamn killing game! I didn't want to die!

Ace: Live, and escape this killing game, and go back to my shitty life where I can't do anything on my own because I can't control myself.

Ace: Back to that life where I can't do anything but a sport that I hate because I suck shit at everything else.

Wow, it sounds like he really didn't think he had any way of enjoying life, whether in the killing game or not. I feel so bad...We knew from Chp. 1 that he was quite the scaredy-cat, but to make that a motive into killing? Like...I'm not sure what to say. /pos The character development is SO good though I am HERE FOR THIS!!

J: So what? Get over yourself.

...J?

J: Murder is unacceptable, no matter what.

Oh! I see what's happening! This is a super interesting way for a character to think. This makes me think that sometime later on, a murder will be done on accident in some way, (maybe by herself - THAT would be a twist for sure) but she still refuses to forgive the culprit. I really love J getting character development!

Ace: Arei…she was a piece of shit too. Just like me. Eden if she said all that nice bs to Eden, there was no guarantee she was actually going to change. (paraphrased)

…Ow. “Piece of shit” really is becoming the new “Good person”, huh? /hj

And, I suppose Ace is right in that there wasn’t any way to tell if Arei *was* going to change for certain - But I think she was genuine!

Ace: But at least she (arei) was trying. And I can’t change even one thing about myself. Not my shitty job, nor my shitty personality, nor my shitty life.

OH OKAY OUCH AUGH. This…is painful. Here’s my (not very good) interpretation of this:

Ace doesn’t trust that people will be able to change. Sure, there’s a chance - but no guarantee. However, he applauds Arei because at least she was trying to be better. He thinks it’s pointless for him to try to be better - everything bad in his life, he cannot change. And that scared him, and that is what led him to murder.

“...” said by Levi and Nico*

Wow, going to the two people who have the most to do with his character right after he says that is crazy. /lh

But yeah, I can’t even imagine what was going through their heads… The person who reprimanded them for killing others (and in Nico’s case - trying to kill him) actually ended up being the killer of Arei - and intended to kill everyone in order to escape the killing game. It sure must be a lot to process, huh?

Ace: Just vote me already! Put me out of my damn misery!

…Damn. This really hurts…

He’s obviously terrified of dying. He probably wants it over with. He doesn’t want to wait in anticipation for his death. He just wants it over with…I feel SO bad.

Teruko: Before we do that, allow me to go over the case one more time, to confirm we all understand this murder.

Ace: Why? Why do you have to remind me of the fucked-up shit I did? I already feel like crap. I don't... I don't want to think about what I've done. Not now, nor ever.

Ah, so there’s also guilt involved. I mean, of course he’d feel guilt - but he probably felt killing Arei and escaping the killing game was his only option, excluding death.

Teruko: …

Teruko: Sorry, but it has to be done.

AGH. Teruko feels bad for having to make him relive his murder…dangit this cast makes me ILL /pos

Teruko: Confront the mistakes you've made. Then accept death. That's the fate of everyone who chooses to participate in this killing game.

I meannn…she isn’t wrong. But I still feel horrible for Ace.

**Closing argument**

Oh cool!!! Here we go - I can’t wait!

GIRLKISSERS!!! oh, and ace ig. /j

This is probably my favourite cg from the closing argument. It’s just….Idk. Arei’s expression is sort of funny to me.

The way Arei’s hanging body appeared in the middle and lifted up slowly…that was disturbing. But in a really, really good way. DRDTdev is super creative with these closing arguments!

Cut her free…with what, exactly??

Also, Teruko calling the carousel a spinner is hilarious to me. Not even a spinny thing anymore - just a spinner.

I burst out laughing at this cg…because I DIDN’T EXPECT HIM TO BE UPSIDE DOWN??? I giggled a lot at this, it’s really not that funny - but I didn’t expect him to go full monkey style in order to tie the rope.

And…there it is. Sorry folks, but I really doubt Ace isn’t killer after getting the “trial close” screen and the…end of closing argument cg??? Thing??? I have no clue what it’s called.

Wow, this episode was a rollercoaster ride. I love love love love LOVED it. I can’t wait for the next one!

Before this episode, I really didn’t like Ace. At all. I just found him annoying. But DRDTdev did his character arc SO well - he’s really grown on me! Now time to see him get executed…oh.

Also, I realise I forgot to comment on the new cgs,,, whoops. They’re all super good though - I LOVED Teruko’s.

Anyway, I think that’s all….this took SO incredibly long lol. I don't really know what to say in order to end this post. So. Yeah.

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #despair time #teruko tawaki #fanganronpa #drdt theory #drdt spoilers #ace markey #eden tobisa #levi fontana #nico hakobyan #charles cuevas #arei nageishi #j moreno #teruko tawaki the things id do for you #<333

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quixtrix · 8 months ago

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let's talk BL manga lore; on grooming, identity, and racism

spoilers for the official captain laserhawk bl manga ofc, plus brief discussion of grooming I've refrained from speaking about it because of spoilers, but it's been well over a month and I believe that it's time to openly discuss it. if you would still like to read the manga before reading this discussion, here's the link to buy a physical copy and you can search up 'Captain Laserhawk: Crushing Love' in your digital book store for it. okay time to talk about two, basically three subjects; racism, identity, and grooming. i'm starting with the grooming first, because that's the main focus of this manga. i would have to preface this by saying i've already discussed this topic in an earlier post (albeit it is a prediction, but it is a spot on prediction.) i'll briefly elaborate on it right now with what we know.

dolph's very first day with alex was carefully calculated to where dolph would be exposed to the world, but heavily rely on alex. he is shown around to alex's friends and is able to buy his own clothes, but it is under the heavy scrutiny of alex. alex ultimately decides what dolph wears, alex decides how the day goes, alex leads dolph. even when they have a beach day, take note of how alex holds dolph, dragging him around.

even the romance and the events leading up to when alex takes dolph's virginity are calculated. note how alex grasps dolph's hand, grabbing on tight enough to almost press down on his knuckles, loosening his hand, making dolph relinquish control. the context for the fight page is that after their sweet lil beach day, alex takes dolph down an alley where alex knows that he'll come across people who aren't the fondest of him. this event was calculated, alex knew it was going to happen, and he used it to test out his new lil boytoy.

also, alex taking dolph out to fight isn't just so he can get in the pants of a barely 18 year old. while holloway notes during this flashback that adrenaline is the greatest aphrodisiac, this is a test to see how good the new weapon he picked up is. how the new boy works, to see how eden's boy robot can benefit his group, not just him. its literally in the morning panels we get where alex talks with that woman, anna. they're talking about how loaded he is with tech, and while alex does consider that, he still actively thirsts over dolph.

also im jus saying if i personally was talking with one of my greatest confidants and they refer to someone i'm thirsting over as KID, i would personally be icked out. i would have a conscious and not do some weird shit, like literally refer to dolph in passing as kid in the next page. dolph aint even the first one who alex has done this shit to, as evident by this line by one of his friends, grace.

alex is a groomer and groomed dolph, case closed.

anyways! time to get on with what i really wanted to talk about, how racism and loss of idenity ties into dolph's character!

in this manga, during pillow talk between dolph and alex, we get dolph's backstory. dolph literally has only known this man for a day and he's giving him lore because alex treats him more normal than eden did. god. ANYWAYS ENOUGH DWELLING ON DOLPH BEING A VICTIM IN ALL WAYS INCLUDING BEING ONE OF THE OXFORD STUDY, we get to know about his brief life before eden took him in.

now let me turn for a moment to the show, and how we were told about dolph's backstory. this is VASTLY different than what we got in the show, with it being implied that dolph's parents were a white prostitute and a darkskinned immigrant man. this adds onto the idea that this supposedly impoverished, crack addicted boy came into this world not as an act of love, but as a mistake. not just a mistake though, his parents are supposedly the epitome of immoral, a prostitute and a criminal. not to mention that this also ties into the idea of the uncultured brown man and pure white woman, basically a racist idea that the scary immigrants who aren't like us good white christian americans (and honestly jus any homogenous group in general, though in america its ofc more applicable to white people), are corrupting our mother marys, our women. eden takes on this perspective in order to subconsciously frame in the minds of post american viewers the idea of this man as an other that they are helping and didn't at all snatch up from his mother for child experimentation. the concept of other is something that finds it's origins in fascism, and in order to mask the presence of said fascism, someone who is seen as apart of the other is given a seat at the table with the collective us, (as in the majority, or the ones that are supposedly superior), and will ultimately serve as an example of why the other are labelled as such. i go into this more with my rayman analysis. I brought up the specific portrayal of dolph's backstory from eden's documentary to showcase how eden has manipulated the view people have of this man. eden has not only manipulated the view of the in universe audience, but eden has manipulated our view.

in the propaganda documentary, we are shown photos of this man being a captain, someone of relatively high rank in the military. you can't even normally earn that through having an education, you'd have to have years of experience. he's portrayed as older than he is.

another thing, dolph fans, let's be honest with ourselves; before the manga, it was not uncommon to headcanon that man as a FREAK. with both the supposed images of dolph at a nightclub and the flashback of alex and dolph meeting outside a club, it wasn't too hard to think that the hottest man alive in that show who was fully born human was a freak. a sexual deviant. someone that a christian mother would be horrified enough by that she faints. the manga however, shows us that dolph really isn't any of that. hell, he didn't even get to go to a club before he met alex. in reality, he's around 18 years and his only sexual experience is his groomer.

say that again with me, he's around 18. he's just around 18, he's a young adult, and the environment he's grown up in has stunted him by treating him as a subject, a thing, cutting him off from anything that would humanise this child by not allowing him to see his mother. hell, even his childhood best friend serves eden by being the one in his ear, having him at her beck and call all in the name of eden.

we get none of dolph's true backstory in the show for any number of reasons. maybe it's on purpose, maybe it's a result of having to possibly cut down episodes, who knows? what matters though is that this adds a layer to the core problem defining dolph's life; the perspective others have on him warping who he is.

back to the pages with dolph's memories of his mother, we see dolph as he was when he was just a boy. he's his mama's boy, her son, a child. even when eden takes him in, he stubbornly clings to that bit of him that's pure, untainted by the idea of him being an experiment, a tool. this bit of him, this hint towards who he is supposed to be as a person, is something he clings to desperately. it leads him to follow eden's orders again because they promise that they've found his mother.

and yknow what happened with who dolph was told was supposedly his mother?

she was just a random ass indian woman.

wasn't even the right woman. they just used his identity issues because he's indian, and she was indian and in a cult that eden needed to take care of.

this, while admittedly is kind of funny, (like the confusion is funny in the moment look at ts) is actually fucked up crazy racism. they literally said that this random ass woman who happened to be indian was his mother like HELL!?!??!?!?

this insane fr. lucy didn't even double check LIKE GIRL THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR FRIEND'S MOTHER WHO HE HASNT SEEN SINCE HE WAS LIKE 6 AND YOU DIDNT EVEN DOUBLE CHECK IF SHE'S THE RIGHT PERSON?!?!?!?

moving on from that, this actually brings up a deeper layer of dolph's identity issues; the lack of cultural identity.

i want to preface this by saying that i am not entirely sure if this is the right term for this identity issue nor am i claiming to be an expert on the type of identity crisis that i am about to discuss. that being said, this specific disconnect of cultural identity that dolph has is actually reminiscent of those adopted from other countries, or transnational adoptees. there seems to be a need within these adoptees to find out more about their own heritage or their own mothers and families that they now struggle to find. while dolph does not actively go out to reconnect with his heritage, he does exhibit desires to find his birth mother. this type of identity issue seems to ask the question of 'what could I have been if...?,' and it tends to mess with the idea of the self. adoptees that struggle with this question hold a desire to go back, to almost reclaim what would have been. yes, dolph is not adopted into a family, but he is still a child under the care of eden, which became like his family, which is why i believe that this kind of identity issue could reasonably be applied to dolph. it explains why he does what he does in the manga, and how it's ultimately wrapped up by him losing this desire and moving forward. albeit he moves forward by alex instead becoming his main purpose, but this serves as the first chain of the past that he leaves behind. with this, he severs a tie that would have made him continue to be stuck under eden's control, and possibly find himself. he answers the question of what could have been with 'it doesn't matter anymore.'

but actually, he doesn't answer that question. he leaves it be.

i am reading way too into this tho lol. i would say that he doesn't explicitly say it, and that we do see a lack of dolph's past being used against him in that way because dolph has freed himself from that part, but in reality, it's because eden can't pull the same trick twice. im aware that the manga focuses HARD on dolph's grooming, but i feel like they really could have properly wrapped up dolph's identity arc with his mother if it was acknowledged at the end, but i fear we are left unsatisfied. that's one of my gripes with the manga. it gives us things that tie up loose ends, but some of these ties have entirely missed the holes they were supposed to secure. but what is done is what's done, and here we are.

tl;dr, dolph was groomed by alex. dolph's identity has also been warped by eden heavily, by how they dehumanised him as a child to be a weapon internally, to how he's shown to the public to be a case that they've saved, and yet he still becomes something that is "disgraceful." textbook example of this poor boy that we have saved that is actually jus like all the others that we know. dolph also suffers under similar identity issues as adopted children do, and this specific issue of his is let go in order to allow him to begin moving on and finding himself.

as always, im open to discussion and critique! my askbox is open as well if you want me to yap abt smth else in the show :P

#cw: grooming #captain laserhawk #dolph laserhawk #character analysis #analysis #admittedly rushed through the grooming analysis but its like.#read the manga #literally jus read the manga #its spelt out for us #i might honestly do something with the sexualisation of dolph next #its been bugging me lol #like that man could be in ym ap classes with me #hes literally my age #anyways this is a long analysis lol #long ass yap session #i have a lot of thoughts abt this manga can you tell #also sorry this isn't as clean as my other analyses are #its a ramblely one

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