#I Like Your Viciousness I Like Your Sins I Like Your Viciousness It Gets Under My Skin (Ozzy Closet) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

all-my-friends-were-glorious · 2 years

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OZIAS “OZZY” MAKOWSKI

The Gift

“Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility; for it thinks all things lawful for itself, and all things possible.” - Thomas A Kempis

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Ozias Makowski

Nicknames: Ozzy

Faceclaim: Ronnie Radke

Age: 15

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Pansexual Polygamous

Height: 6′1″

Weight: 244lbs

Birthday: December 31st

Sign: Capricorn

Occupation: Student; Student Council President

JERICHO

Jericho is Ozzy’s familiar, a Black-Headed Python. He can be very temperamental, and even lashes out at Ozzy for his rash decision-making. While he is not particularly old considering the lifespan of a vampire’s familiar, he feels like an old man having to corral an uppity teenager. He’ll bite Ozzy for any reason, mostly to get him to behave. If he is with Ozzy, he is usually draped around him like a dramatic feather boa, though he has a nice enclosure at home. He dislikes Dirge very much and wishes she would leave him alone. However, he is fond of Zen and thinks he does a good job tempering Ozzy, provided he doesn’t become an overeager follower into whatever shenanigans his partner gets into.

QUICK FACTS

Ozzy is the older son of Ryder and Ris. Warlord!Verse Mike, AJ, and Ike are his biological grandparents, and he has a rather large family through the half-siblings of his parents. Zeke is his little brother, who he cannot stand. He has one half-sibling through Ryder with Aster.

While he is a year older than him, Zen is his best friend, and the person that knows him the most intimately. Ris has referred to him on more than one occasion as Ozzy’s most ardent disciple.

Ozzy is the first naturally born hybrid of two of the Canadian-Vampire hybrids that Mike set into motion to create super soldiers for his war. Due to his parents being Ryder and Ris respectively, he is considered higher than the rest, as well. Ris has always been a thing of hubris, as has Ryder, and they passed this on to their rather self-indulgent son.

Ris considers Ozzy a miracle, even though he knows that his parents would not think so. Ozzy’s birth was half of the reason he opted not to look for a way home, because he knew that he and Ryder were not meant to have a family.

Ozzy will absolutely sass his dad, and enjoys their banter. However, he refuses to sass his mother, and if Ris tells him to do something, he does it immediately. Ris only puts up with being sassed by Ryder, though that usually ends in things Ozzy doesn’t like to think about.

He has a hard time telling himself ‘no,’ and typically will only begin to temper himself when Zen has spoken into existence the need for it. He trusts Zen to know when he’s begun crossing lines, even if he doesn’t always enjoy having to back off of things.

While Prim sees it as a simple dislike of one another, Ozzy takes his every breath as a deep offense to his own inerrant existence. He sees them as rivals at the very least, and always seeks to show up and outdo him in anything possible. This included sniping the Student Council elections by using his vampiric powers of suggestion to secure his win the day the ballots were passed around. Zen assured him that he shouldn’t need to, and typically Ozzy would have believe him, but there are few and far between times when he doesn’t trust Zen on Prim-related matters, as the two are half-brothers.

Despite being friends with Tiff, and by extension at least aware of their brother, he has a distaste for both of their parents. His mother has never let go of the rivalry and hatred he had for Leslie for a vast majority of his life, and it has transferred down to Ozzy. He tries to keep things to himself, and for the most part just talks a big game, but has divulged to Zen that if he had the chance, he’d deliver Leslie to his mother on a silver platter. Zen believes this stems from his drive to make his parents happy that quite commonly stresses him out a great deal.

Most, if not all, of the hangout sessions he has with his friends are held at their house, or Zen’s. Ozzy isn’t ashamed of his family, though he knows that both of his parents are more theatrical and likewise hateful than most people are prepared for. It doesn’t help that his closest friend is half human, and his next closest is Leslie’s child. As such, he’s more comfortable keeping his friends far away from his parents.

Ris often treats Ozzy as though he is some kind of Messiah, and Ozzy dislikes the idea of correcting him. While he lives for the praise and the ability to do whatever the fuck he wants, whenever the fuck he wants, to whoever the fuck he wants, the pressure of being something he doesn’t really think he is gets to him. It drives him to act out more than usual from time to time, and this usually ends in worse fights with Prim.

Ozzy does not often think his actions or words through very well, and often comes from a place of emotion rather than logic. He is very reactionary and easily offended, and quick to pick fights because of this. The best hope anyone has to keep him from leaping a table and attacking is that Zen will work his magic and keep him calm.

Ozzy met Zen during recess when he was in first grade and Zen was in Kindergarten. He inadvertently made Zen cry and, while he couldn’t figure out why, felt kind of bad about it. He walked the weird little kid home after school, talking the whole time while Zen listened and hung on his every word. They’ve been best friends ever since.

Ozzy is best friends with Zen, though he’s very close with Tiff, Harley, Torm, Titus, and Gatlin. He flirts with all of his friends, at least to some degree, except for Tiff. The first and last time he did, they broke his nose and dislocated his shoulder for it. Torm is also iffy, due to his preferences. Ozzy isn’t as awful to people he cares about, though he has a bad reputation.

Ris very ardently believes a stricter, more warped version of Catholicism, and that he is a prophet of sorts. He has a god complex, but does not necessarily see himself as God. While he is not entirely sure how Ozzy is important fully, he knows that he is important, and has imparted said god complex to his son. Ozzy believes himself to be a God, however, even if his mother isn’t quite sold on the idea.

Ris has actively tortured Ozzy, both mentally and physically, and usually only stops if Ozzy gives in to him completely, or Ryder stops him. Ozzy has quite a few triggers due to this, as well as CPTSD that he refuses to acknowledge because he is not allowed to be imperfect.

Ozzy is a polytheistic solipsist, and honestly believes that he and his friends are all Gods/Goddesses. Era comes and goes from the pantheon depending on if she’s hanging out with him or Prim.

Ozzy cannot stand his brother Zeke, though Zeke has been in love with him for a while. He will fight with him, verbally or physically, whenever his short fuse runs out. Once he falls in love with Zeke, he refuses to call his brother by his name.

Ozzy is simultaneously Theophobic and Theist, and dislikes most religious iconography while also having a lot to do with it. Other people discussing it really freaks him out and he will typically try and leave the conversation.

One way that he can control things is controlling his own self harm, and his way of choice is to consume dead blood. Not enough to really kill him, but enough to make him sick.

Ozzy can take the forms of a Horned Lark and a Bombay cat.

Headcanon Masterlist

TAGS LIST

This Reckless Decadence Is Taking Things A Little Too Far (Ozzy Makowski)

If Home Is Where My Heart Is Then My Heart Has Lost All Hope (Ozzy Musings)

Oh My Feels Just Like I Don't Try Look So Good I Might Die All I Know Is Everybody Loves Me (Ozzy Aesthetic)

I Like Your Viciousness I Like Your Sins I Like Your Viciousness It Gets Under My Skin (Ozzy Closet)

All My Friends Think You're Vicious And They Say You're Suspicious (Ozzy Headcanons)

I Will Never Tell A Tortured Soul They Are Burning By My Side That I Am A Sinner I Am A Savior I Am A Lie (Ozzy Journal Entries)

Is It OK If I Speak To You Today? You've Been Pissed Off For A Week Now (Jericho)

VERSES

TBD

MAINS AND SHIPS

MAINS

@bigbadwolfletthegamesbegin - Scott - And We'll Dance Inside The Song (Ozzy and Scott - Bigbadwolfletthegamesbegin)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Michael - I've Fallen Down My Nose Bleeding Badly I'm Where You Want Me I Know The Words (Ozzy and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Ryder - My Patience Is Waning Is This Entertaining? (Ozzy and Ryder - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Ric - Dear Hearts And Gentle People That Live And Love In My Hometown (Ozzy and Ric - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Asher - Night Falls In The Dream You Are Falling As Dark Lightens (Ozzy and Asher - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Ague - Tragedy! When You Lose Control And You Got No Soul (Ozzy and Ague - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Luca - I'm Marvelous Intelligent So Why Doesn't That Make Me Feel Better? (Ozzy and Luca - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Era - Her Lips Are Red And Her Hips Are Turning Heads (Ozzy and Era - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Gatlin - And You Know You Are A Paradox And You Contradict The Road You Walk (Ozzy and Gatlin - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@throughxthexmist - Tino - Hanging Out Where I Don't Belong Is Nothing New To Me (Ozzy and Tino - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist - Bastian - If I'm A Danger To Myself ust Think What I Would Do To You (Ozzy and Bastian - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist - Zeke - When We First Met You Were Fickle And Shallow But My Armour Was No Match For Your Poison Arrow (Ozzy and Zeke - ThroughxThexMist)

Here - Ris - I Play To Their Sympathies I Say The Sweetest Things To Command Their Empathy (Ozzy and Ris)

Here - Mags - That Was My Best Poker Face (Ozzy and Mags)

Here - Zen - I'm Fearless Now But It Cost My Soul (Zen and Ozzy)

Here - Tiff - Anything Can Be A Weapon If You’re Holding It Right (Ozzy and Tiff)

Here - Torm - Broke All The Rules Played All The Fools (Ozzy and Torm)

Here - Prim - Why Does Everybody Love You? They Don't Know Enough About You (Ozzy and Prim)

Here - How Could Something So Beautiful Turn Out So Fucking Deranged? (Zeke and Ozzy)

SHIPS

Here - Zen - So Tell The Gun To Sin Like An Angel With The Dirty Wings (Zen x Ozzy)

@throughxthexmist - Zeke - I've Got Another Confession To Make So Complicated Let Me Try To Explain (Zeke x Ozzy - ThroughxThexMist)

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arzuera · 1 year

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Once Danny was far enough he broke down crying, he knew he shouldn't, he was expecting this. But in the end it still hurts.

Was it so wrong for him to hope for a different outcome? To be fully loved by the parents that he loved all of his life. That loved HIM for all of his life. Only to be cast out and hunted for fate accidentally turning him into the thing that they despised the most? Was it truly such a sin? Did the universe hate him that much?

Lightning cracked the sky as a thunderous roar followed. Rain poured down in sheets, erasing any traces of his frantic flight away from his hometown. Away from the ones who sought to kill him a second time. Away from the people he loved.

Danny allowed himself to fall fully to the ground of this little field. His parents had long since given up trying to chase him down. He had been too fast for the GAV to keep up with through a densely packed forest. Even then, he had kept going. Minutes turned into yards, hours turned into miles. He had fled as far as his body would allow and it had been a lot farther than he thought it would be. Danny had no idea where he was at this point. Not that he cared.

Anguish gripped his core hard as he let out a cry that would have brought anyone nearby to their knees. It wasn’t quite a wail but it was close. He shoved all of his pain and sorrow for the fact that his entire life had been ripped out by the roots and thrown viciously aside. It wasn’t the Nasty Burger accident but this was just about as bad. They weren’t dead but, in the end, he still ended up alone. So he continued to scream. His cries turned into minor wails at times but since he was screaming to the sky nothing was destroyed.

He didn’t stop until his throat bled and the screams turned into nothing more than strangled sobs. White rings flashed around his midsection as the last of his powers gave out. Leaving Danny with nothing other than his human side. The one that still existed, despite what his parents claimed. With no strength left, he lay in the mud unable to move. Vulnerable. Anyone could walk up and just do what they wanted and he wouldn’t even care. What was the point? There wasn’t any reason to try anymore. If only that portal had finished the job-

“You’ll catch your death laying on the ground like that.” A long trenchcoat came into view with a middle-aged man looking down at him from under his umbrella. “What’s a kid like you hanging out in a park so late at night in Gotham?”

Danny didn’t respond. His eyes were unfocused with his vision blurring around the edges. So he was in Gotham. Wonderful. Somehow he had managed to fly several states away in just a few hours. If he could, he would have excitedly called Sam and Tucker about this new record but he couldn’t. Not anymore.

The man sighed heavily when he realized that he wasn’t going to get an answer. So he sidled up and crouched down closer to the teen’s eye level while holding his umbrella out so it protected them both. “Look, kid. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous Gotham is at night. Especially to a kid like yourself. Is there somewhere I can take you to… or-” He stopped when the lights in Danny’s eyes dimmed even further than they were. “Mkay, guess not.” The man looked around the immediate area before settling on Danny again. “All right, bud, can you stand? We’ll get you back to my place until we can figure something out.”

Danny laughed bitterly turning into a coughing fit. Blood leaked out from the corner of his mouth making the man look at him with even more concern. “Isn’t it dangerous to go with a stranger this late at night in Gotham?” he rasped out and it only made the coughing worse but Danny didn’t care.

Instead of taking offense like Danny thought he would, the man smirked at the teen as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Well, we can’t be strangers if you know my name right? Name’s James Gordon, friends call me Jim. Now let’s get you out of this cold and your throat looked at. I doubt you want that getting worse.” With great care, Gordon picked Danny up and held him close. Finagling the teen around so that the umbrella wouldn’t fall out of position. Danny was too surprised by the fact that he was suddenly picked up to notice the frown that briefly crossed the man’s face at how light the boy was.

“Wait… what? What are you doing-” Danny weakly struggled against Gordon and failed since his strength was entirely spent.

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything bad. As Commissioner of this lovely city, the only safer hands you would be in is Batman, himself.” Gordon started to head out of the park towards a vehicle parked nearby. Danny gave up trying to resist, opting to just let things happen. “We’re just going to stop by my place and get you looked at. My daughter might not be a doctor but she’s pretty good with a first aid kit.”

“Why do you even care?” Danny couldn’t help but blurt out. A small pang of guilt crept into his heart from how he said it. From what little he knew, Commissioner Gordon was one of the few upright people in Gotham. One of the few people that was trying to keep the city safe… Just like Danny had tried. Only Gordon didn’t have powers at his disposal. It would be weird if the man didn’t care.

“A lone, possible meta, child screaming until his throat bleeds in the dead of night with no one around? I think you are smart enough to figure that one out.” Gordon positioned the teen in the backseat of his car before getting behind the wheel.

Danny tensed at the implication. If he thought he was a meta then he probably saw him de-transform. “…how much did you see?”

“Enough and don’t you worry about it. Big bad Bat isn’t going to kick you out as you think. If you are worried about me judging then please let me remind you, I’m the Commissioner of Gotham. A kid with powers isn’t anything new.” Gordon started up the engine and they were off. A brief silence descended on the two while Danny struggled to stay awake.

“You aren’t… you won’t turn me in?”

“Did you do something wrong?”

“Well, no but-”

“Then even if there is a law saying you shouldn’t exist, I’m not going to turn you in. If that were the case, the only person I would turn you over to is Batman and that’s because he would have a better chance at protecting you from outside forces than I would.” Gordon stated with full confidence as he pulled into the parking spot next to his building. “Here we are. Now while Barbara is checking you over I’ve got a mean vegetable stew my friend gave me. Want me to warm some up to see if it helps your throat any?”

When the man turned around he was greeted to the watery eyes of his newest charge looking at him with the smallest glimmer of hope that he had seen the entire time. Danny kept his gaze on the Commissioner. “Yes, please.”

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom crossover #commissioner gordon #dp x dc

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v-love · 1 year

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Tissues and Blood (Last Part)

(Dandy x GN!Reader)

Request: “heyy! so, i was thinking about a short fic where the reader is concerned about dandy’s sudden sneezing and allergic reaction through the past few days and the both find out it’s actually dandy’s dust allergies seeing as dora hasn’t been cleaning anything for our infamous man child just to spite him? I THOUGHT OF THIS RANDOMLY AND I THINK IT COULD BE RLLY CUTE? though poor dora when she gets caught though 💀”

This is the last part! I hope you guys enjoyed this mini series!! I definitely think this is my best writing yet and I wish my other two were better but that’s alright!

Warnings: Fear, mentions of blood, torture (specifically being kept in the cold, needles (sewing), mentions of knives, mentions of murder, oblivious reader, major character death implied.

Images/GIFS are not mine.

As the rain falls and the animals hide in their homes, the cold air sweeps through the town. It leaks through windows and doors of any home. Even though it was raining, people were still out and about doing their daily errands it simply just spending time with the people they love. It was interesting to say the least when Dandy assured you that he’d be fine without you the next day. He had told you that Dora needed the next week off to recover from her “worsening cold” as he described it. You didn’t think much of it since Dora had taken time off to recover from previous sicknesses.

You smile and kiss Dandy’s cheek, gently holding his face in your warm hands. “Are you sure you’ll be alright alone? I can stay home today if you want me to.” You say, your eyes shining with affection as you look up at him. “Yes my love, I can handle myself. Please be careful outside though. It’s still raining…” he says as he leans into your touch. “And anyways, I can just watch television. I haven’t been able to since I’ve had the difficulties with the allergies.” His hands come up to hold yours, kissing your knuckles gently while looking at your flushed face.

You laugh a bit and nod. “That is true. You’re awfully affectionate today…it’s adorable.” You say as you take your raincoat off of the hanger. “I’ll see you for dinner alright? Maybe I’ll bring something, don’t rely on it though.” Heading out the door and into your car under the soft rain, Dandy watches you with a smile. As you drive away, you let out a happy sigh. Thinking about how Dandy looks and must be feeling better, made you quite giddy. You make your way to work happily and quite relaxed, being innocently unaware as to what was happening in your home.

Dandy’s sweet smile fades into a sinister one, closing and locking the door. He makes his way up the stairs, thinking of all the ways he would want Dora to pay for her “sins”. Meticulously, he does his hair and shaved his face, making sure to look dashing. His hands gently smooth out his favorite shirt, adjusting the way out looked on his shoulders. Smirking at himself, he then makes his way downstairs. Quickly making himself some food, he finally makes his way outside to the garden. Even though he feels the rain slowly drench him, he stops to smell his favorite flowers. He loved them so much because you loved them, smelled like them, looked like them. The rain starts to fall harder as he makes his way slowly to the shed, his mind slowly losing control over his calm demeanor.

Dora shakes viciously from how cold she was, her lips softly bruised from the cold seeping through the wood of the shed. She knew Dandy was out there and she knew he was going to kill her. She thought about her family, how much she would miss them, how much she loved them, how much she wanted to see them again, even if it was for the last time. Her thoughts were interrupted from the door being pushed open. Her eyes squint from the sudden brightness in the dark shed, looking up. Dandy’s soaking form stands in front of her, breathing heavily from how cold it felt. She starts to cry as he takes slow, agonizing steps towards her.

“Oh no, don’t cry now. It’s too late to try and make me feel guilty.” He says as he leans in, his hot breath slightly warming her cheeks. “You have to pay for your stupidity.” He yanks the gag off of her and watches her cry, pleading as her voice breaks over and over again. “I told you to not scream. I told you no one would hear you. You knew no one would hear you and yet…you still wanted to scream. You did scream.” She watches in horror as a sick smile twists on his face as he grabs hers. “Do you know what I do to people who don’t take my advice? Don’t listen?” Her hot tears spill from her eyes and makes Dandy’s hand glisten a bit more. “I kill them.” He whispers in her ear before pushing her tied down body back, making her fall and hit her head against the back wall of the shed. She lets out a broken groan as Dandy picks her up, carrying her into the house. She loses consciousness as he lays her on the kitchen counter.

Dandy watches as her body loses the little fight it had left. He wanted to start with something simple, shutting her mouth up. He quickly gets his spare sewing kit, making his way back to her while thinking. He hums as he chooses the color for the string he wanted to use. He settles on her favorite color and makes sure the string is strongly attached to the needle. His hands move her hair from her face and he wipes away any tears or blood from her chapped lips. Dandy’s face lightens with a smile as he begins to sew her mouth shut.

Dora suddenly wakes up alone and cold. Her head was pounding and her lips were in pain. When she tries to speak, her lips don’t move and a searing pain shoots through then, making her stop trying. She hears Dandy come in and watches as he smiles in delight. “You’re awake! How wonderful! I wanted to show you how good you look like this!” He moves towards her with a hand held mirror, letting her see herself. Her eyes were red and there were a few gashes on her cheek. As her eyes shift to look at her lips, her breathing stops in shock. Her lips were swollen and sewed shut. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks from the mirror to Dandy. “Isn’t it great? I used your favorite color, though it turned red because of your blood. Nonetheless, you look great!” He smiles brightly at her and pulls out his knife, chucking evilly. “Now it’s time for my favorite part! Where should I start?”

Arriving home, your eyes droop as you walk through the door. “Dandy?” You call out, peeling off your wet shoes and hearing soft footsteps from the stairs. “My love! I missed you!” He says as he dries his shake with a towel. You smile and see how warm her looks in his fluffy robe. “I missed you too, very tired though.” He kisses your forehead and holds you close, warming up your shivering form. “I made dinner and washed up. Why don’t you do the same? You’re so cold.” He suggests and watches you nod, taking your things with you as you walk up the stairs.

Dandy sighs happily as he sets the table, hearing you come back from washing up and dressing warmly. “Did you plant something in the garden? I saw the dirt looking a bit strange when I was looking out the window.” You ask him. “I did! Some new flowers, I think you’ll love them when they grow.” He says as he pulls out your chair before placing your plate of food in front of you. “It stopped raining for a few hours over here so I thought, why not?” He kisses your head before sitting with you. “I’m sure I will! This looks delicious! You made my favorite.” You say happily and begin to rest, listening to him lie about his day. You didn’t know of course and it was going to stay that way.

Until Dora’s family comes looking for her.

And that’s the end! I hope you enjoyed this mini series and if you did, a like a reblog would be most appreciated! If you have any requests, please send them in! Make them as detailed as you want so I can curate them how you want!! Thank you again!

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know in the asks!!

Taglist: @evanpetersfav @yes-divine-ruler @ghastlyfilters

#ahs fanfic #ahs freakshow #american horror story #dandy mott #dandy mott ahs #dandy mott fic #dandy mott series #dandy mott x gn reader #dandy mott x reader #dandy mott angst

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psapphic95 · 2 years

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I would loveeee to hear a little blurb about how Emma and Regina were fucking in the church I read that and I can’t stop thinking about it

Hey,

It is interesting that you brought this up! Something you guys don’t know is that Emma actually went to a private Catholic school from Kindergarten all the way until University. Emma’s family isn’t even Catholic, but Protestant by heritage, and they are very far removed from religion generally. Her parents just liked the school, which was well known for producing Ivy League candidates, so they enrolled Emma.

(And yes, upon hearing that Emma went to Catholic school Regina’s first response was; ‘Please tell me you kept the uniform???’)

Emma, being the little deviant she’d always been, always found something strangely erotic about the rigidity of Catholicism. She fell heavily into reading Catholic ecclesiastical literature from the Middle Ages, and specifically literature about the sin of sodomy and homosexuality. She’d constantly touch herself imagining one of her hot teachers berating her for being a whore, a girl of sodom, and caning her bottom until she repented. The idea that she was a sinner and a deviant for liking girls turned Emma on to absolutely no end. Being the little hornball that she is/was, you can just imagine the fun she was having with her own thoughts during Mass and Prayer Service at school.

And her biggest fantasy was, of course, to fuck in a church.

So, when she heard that her brother was performing in a nativity play in a church for the Catholic Kindergarten school he was attending, Regina didn’t initially understand why Emma begged her to come.

Emma’s insistence became more clear when Regina was immediately dragged off to the church bathroom and shoved into a stall. It wasn’t exactly how Emma had fantasised it. She’d prefer to be bent over the altar before the crucifix and a Madonna statue, her Mommy viciously pounding her ass from behind with her cock, but the bathroom would have to do.

After slamming her against the stall wall, Emma all but attacked her Mommy’s mouth with her own. Like a rabid little animal that could barely wait, she took Regina’s hands and led them under her skirt. Regina indulged in the kissing for a few moments before she caught herself and remembered where they were. She began pulling away, and Emma buried her face into her Mommy’s neck and whined.

“Please fuck me…”

“We’re in a church,” Regina hissed. “Stop it, now.”

The command was only half-hearted, since Regina’s hands were still travelling up Emma’s skirt to the waistband of her tights. Regina, whose paternal family are actually Catholic, felt like she was crossing a line, but she’d never been manhandled so desperately by Emma before.

“Deviant passion is close to madness, Mommy,” Emma breathed, encouraging her to pull her tights down over her bottom. “I can’t help myself.”

Though Regina didn’t know exactly what or whom Emma was quoting, it became clearer to Regina that this was a latent fantasy of her little girl. A religious kink, a Catholic one at that, seemed so unnaturally perverse to Regina, something she didn’t even peg Emma for having.

Still, it was so utterly arousing to see Emma so excited by such sacrilege.

“Show me what you want me to do to you, you little whore,” Regina growled, finally getting Emma’s tights and underwear down to her knees.

The girl couldn’t help but moan, her head swimming with all of the words of eternal damnation she had masturbated to over the years.

No sin has greater power over the soul than the one of cursed sodomy.

Emma said nothing, but turned around and bent over. With one hand, she spread one of her bottom cheeks, and used the other to rub over her tight little hole. Innocently peeking over her shoulder, she pouted and quietly begged.

“Please, Mommy…you can just use your spit.”

****

#look at me finally putting my second-year medieval history knowledge to good use

#ask response #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #once upon a time #ouat fanfiction #regina mills #emma swan #swan queen #mommy k!nk #religious kink #catholicism #damnation #sodomy #ao3fic

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thegodthief · 2 years

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I am just so fucking angry. From the moment of my conception I have been wandering in exile trying to find a home for my soul and every fucking time I think I have found a safe place where I can be accepted the shibboleth jumps up again and I am deemed

unworthy

unclean

unwanted

because I didn't grow up in the same community/culture/family unit as those judging me.

Because I had to root around for crumbs under the table and I managed to somehow survive that.

Because I had to steal bits of my heritages back from those who stole it from my forefathers but my understanding is shattered like the remnants behind museum glass.

Because I had to find out the hard way that the food on the table was tainted but that I survived the crumbs is a bigger sin than the one poisoning the intended guests.

I am just so viciously angry that for all I have come through, I'm still not black enough to learn what it means to be black in American from black people because I sure as hell know what it means from the White Fucking Gaze™. And I'm not borinqueña enough because of my parents' choices but suddenly everyone at work wants me to know they have my pity when their friends are around to witness.

"If you were meant to learn this, your ancestors would have made sure you were born and raised here." BITCH WHY ARE YOU JUSTIFYING THE SLAVE TRADE LIKE YOUR OVERSEEING ASS ISN'T GETTING SOMETHING FROM IT NOW!

How can you fucking say that and ignore all of fucking history.

MY ANCESTORS WANTED ME TO SURVIVE AND SOMETIMES I THINK THAT'S THE ONLY REASON I'M STILL HERE.

If your knowledge is so precious that the mere mention of it to anyone else diminishes it, then may it shatter your jaw and choke you so you will never be at risk again.

I have given so much of myself trying to prove something that I realize was never an option for me to take on in the first place that I am exhausted. You want to to watch the flesh jiggle for your amusement but you won't feed the bones.

You nail a sign to the door that announces "Pure Rites for Pure Blood" and won't give your whole-blood siblings a glance because they don't match you in skin. You go out of your way to make sure las sangre sucias like me are very well educated that the only part of us you will welcome is our money and resources so you will perform rites on our behalf but otherwise we need to go away because our presence is dirty and an affront to your aesthetic.

The roots of our trees drink from the same source. Take care where you are pouring that poison. I have survived your masters. I will survive you.

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divinolenta · 3 years

Text

comforting childe and diluc after a nightmare

character x gender neutral reader, fluff (angst?)/sfw

trigger warning: brief mention of blood and death

additional notes: this was requested by a lovely anon ♡ i had fun writing these (had the most fun picturing what nightmares they would have but you didn’t hear that from me)! i listened to “the moon song” by karen o while writing childe’s scenario and “butterfly’s repose” by zabawa for diluc’s, which is why i’ve included lyrics in their respective scenarios! feel free to imagine yourself singing another song to them, if you’d like :) there are potential spoilers for their backstories, so read at your own risk.

childe:

he is cold, frigid air nipping at his skin viciously as he flees, blinking away snowflakes that cling to his eyelashes. pursued by ravenous wolves and beasts, he loses his footing, falling into a seemingly innocent fissure in the earth. recognizing the dark realm that haunts his memories, he panics, searching for an escape. no, please, not this again.

too late, he lands, trapped in this hell once again. pain jolts through his bones and a gasp leaves his lips when he places weight on his sprained ankle. struggling to stand, childe grips the sword in his hand, hope dying when he finds that several monsters block his path. slaughtering them quickly, childe wipes off the blood that splattered on his face.

“b-brother?”

he turns around, shock evident on his face when he sees his younger siblings, cowering away from him. the snow surrounding them is stained with crimson, and his hands are slick, viscous blood slowly dripping on the floor. tonia wraps her arms around anthon and teucer, shielding them with her body. childe takes a step forward, and extends a trembling hand toward them, calling their names weakly.

“stay back! you....you monster!” a shriek rips from tonia’s throat, gripping her brothers’ closer to her, her terrified expression mirroring theirs. childe recoils at the lack of recognition in their gazes. no matter how heroic and righteous he believed himself to be, he is merely a tainted soul, a monster who could never redeem himself.

lurching awake, childe’s momentary relief is quickly replaced by bitter contempt. a nightmare? he almost laughs, running a hand through his mussed hair, but his hammering heart and shaking hands tell another story. childe needs a breather, and he eyes the door, longing to escape the past and lose himself in the beauty that nature offers. perhaps he will meander along the ocean and watch the waves kiss the shore and recede, and let it wash away his sins. sitting up, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but it creaks underneath his weight and childe cringes at the sound that resonates throughout the room.

“where are you going?” you ask groggily, squinting blearily at him.

“i just,” childe begins, but before he could continue, shudders ran through his body, interrupting him. you tug him back into the warmth of the duvet, hands cradling his face while you peer at him in concern.

“i’m sorry...” childe squeezes his eyes shut, hands clenching tightly. he tries to calm down his erratic breaths, apologizing meekly as his hands try to nudge you away.

what if he hurts you too?

but you hush him, pulling him closer so that his head rests against your collarbone, limbs tangled together.

you start to sing, the familiar melody striking a chord in his heart. your voice is hoarse and muddled with sleep, but you gradually fall into a soothing rhythm, like the euphonious and undulating cadences of a piano.

i'm lying on the moon

my dear, i'll be there soon

it's a quiet starry place

time's we're swallowed up in space

we're here a million miles away

childe sheds his brash and arrogant exterior and allows himself to get pulled under by the overwhelming tides of his emotions, just like the waves of the ocean that he adores so much. he feels like he’s fourteen again, but this time, you’re here with him. he grasps your shirt tightly, and anchors himself, tears leaking from his closed eyes, falling on to your skin, seeping into the fabric of your shirt.

there's things i wish i knew

there's no thing I'd keep from you

it's a dark and shiny place

but with you my dear, i'm safe

and we're a million miles away

he is consoled by the fact that you do not view him as a monster, and when he’s with you, he can be whoever he chooses to be. he does not need to be tartaglia, childe or even the ajax he used to be, rather, he is content with simply being your lover and spending every hour of the day with you.

diluc:

the moment diluc sees his surroundings, he knows. he knows what’s going to happen, and how everything will go down. the carriage rocks back and forth as it travels over the uneven path, and everything is calm. too calm. swallowing thickly, he turns to his father, heart twinging at the sight of his familiar figure, with hair of flame, so similar to his own.

horses whinny frantically in the distance, and diluc tries to warn his father, but is cut off by the carriage toppling over as they lose control of the reins. a roar shakes the very earth and diluc is thrown against the side of the carriage, hissing in pain when his hand gingerly presses against the bruise on his head.

“father! wait!” diluc scrambles to his feet when his father begins to rise to his feet to investigate and protect the transport fleet. his father looks at him inquiringly, and diluc advances, clutching the hem of his coat in an effort to make him stay.

“you mustn’t go, father, your life will be in peril.” he implores, and even though he tries his best to keep his voice steady, the anguish he truly feels does not fully dissipate.

“i can’t afford to lose you again” is what diluc wants to say, but can’t muster the courage to form the words.

“my son, is that not what a man like your father should do?” his father rests a heavy hand on diluc’s shoulder, and his heart sinks in response.

“but, father-” diluc presses, but his father simply shoots him a reprimanding look.

“i’ll be back soon, just wait for me here.” he lets out a booming laugh, and ruffles diluc’s hair with an affectionate gaze, before walking off, summoning his weapon.

horrified, diluc calls out, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. he desperately wills his body to move, but it’s like vines have erupted from the dirt and tangled around his legs, trapping him in a prison of thorns.

all he can do is stand there, watching from the sidelines. even as his father gulps his dying breaths, all diluc can do is clutch on to him, and pray to whatever god that still remains, while the very light of his soul eclipses.

and like an incompetent fool, all diluc does is weep and regret.

hands shake his shoulders, and diluc snaps out of his dream, released from the tormenting illusion. his gaze meets yours, and when he reaches up to touch his face, his fingers come away damp from the tears that streak his skin.

you’re seated on the bed, sheets pooling around your waist. your brow furrows, and diluc opens his mouth, about to let false reasurances tumble from his lips to alleviate the look of unease you don. how many times had he dreamed of the incident? how many times would he continue to blame himself?

diluc himself does not know the answer.

you lean forward, hands tenderly brushing away the tears that remain, and diluc loses himself in your eyes. eyes really are the window to the soul, he thinks, everything is so clear, like how he knows that the sun will rise, signalling a new beginning. your eyes betray every emotion that flicker through their depths.

“i’m okay.” he whispers, but both you and him know that he’s lying. diluc lies back down, and he gestures for you to do so as well, but you situate him so he lays with his head in your lap.

you card your fingers through his hair carefully, your delicate touches evoking a chill that runs down his spine. you begin to hum softly, voice lilting in an ethereal melody before words surface and accompany it. diluc feels like he’s simultaneously floating and sinking. he wants to weep, for barbatos was lenient enough to grant him such a caring and understanding lover to someone as undeserving as he is.

for a moment, he wonders if you are perhaps hestia incarnate. the warmth and love with which you behold him with is surreal, and god knows that diluc is not capable of replicating or returning such affection.

the shadows in your head

they've got you down again

got you feelin' low

your voice is an intimate whisper, and diluc welcomes the warmth that it entwines him in. he catches your hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a chaste kiss against it. moonlight slants against your features, and diluc can only stare in awe as you continue to sing, body slightly swaying along as your hand aimlessly caresses his hair.

but it's time to rest, now

let it all melt now

wipe your tears

“thank you.” he murmurs, eyes falling close as your voice lulls him into a sleep. one that he knows will not be plagued with nightmares. you don’t respond, but diluc can hear the hint of a smile in your voice.

it’s a sight to behold: diluc ragnvindr, a man with a renowned reptuation of having a heart of ice, melting in your embrace. out of everything, perhaps your love is what ignites him, and brings back the fervor that was once lost.

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saiqherrr · 3 years

Text

.pairing satoru gojo x fem!reader

.setting college au

.content warning smut, nsfw, angst???, degradation kink, overstimulation, slapping kink, unprotected sex, cumming inside, cheating

.synopsis you swear that you're different - that you can "change" satoru gojo.

.a/n this is unfinished but i wanted this out my drafts. i have had zero motivation to write lately. this also has not been proofread. bleh. enjoy

NOT TRUE. NOT TRUE. you rubbed your hand on the side of your neck, absentmindedly looking down at your notebook that was filled with poorly written scrabbles of notes, words you could just barely imbibe from today’s lecture. you masked your irritation while two girls shamelessly whispered gossip about your boyfriend. why should it bother you if you knew it wasn’t true? because you knew that a good portion of what they were blabbering about was true.

you weren’t necessarily a shy girl, you knew a lot of people on campus from high school. for the most part you were quiet and minded your business, however, that changed after you notoriously flashed your busty bosoms at a frat party while your system was buzzed with alcohol. that was the night satoru gojo took you home. it was by luck that you committed such a sinful act on a night where satoru really couldn’t be bothered with desperate girls flocking on him. on any other night, he’d meander around the party, letting girls approach him and kiss up to him. he’d pick a spunky, sober girl from the flock and take her up to a room that didn’t belong to them, and fuck her - just for him to forget her name the next morning.

this night was different. he had a long day and he was surprised he had the energy to come to the party in the first place. he felt embarrassed for you when you got up on that table, slurring your words and waving your shirt in the air before you unclasped your bra, the frat house erupting with screams, chants, yelling and shouting. he couldn’t bear to see you like that and it bothered him that he even cared. he had no particular reason to. but his body moved on it’s own when he walked over to that anything-but-sturdy table and grabbed you, ending the show that everyone was rooting for. he slung you over his shoulder, taking up your shirt and bra before he found the nearest bathroom.

he took you back to his own apartment he was renting nearby, letting you sleep on the couch with a small blanket that just barely covered your feet and one small throw pillow was placed underneath your head. he left a mop bucket by the couch, anticipating that you’d be facing a mean hangover the next morning. he was glad he trusted his gut with that one because after he woke up the next morning to use the bathroom, he could hear you gagging and then regurgitating everything you ingested the day before.

after he took care of you that day, you thanked him endlessly. you were eternally grateful that he took time out his day to even do such a generous thing. it was out of character for him to do something like that, too, but you didn’t know at the time.

you don’t know how you ended up where the two of you were now, but all you know is that you fully smitten by him during those first two weeks you guys had first met. the two of you went out on a couple of dates, spent the night at his place a couple of times and eventually...you guys were having sex. so much fucking sex. he whispered appraisal in your ear every time he got the chance to bury himself balls deep in your tight pussy. he was rough, yet his words came out as soft as ever to you, stirring up all kinds of mushy feelings and affection from him.

it only took one post on satoru’s instagram - that one picture of you in his apartment, smiling at yourself in the bathroom mirror as he stood behind you, kissing your cheek while he snapped the photo. it was posted in the early morning with the a simple, but meaningful caption: ain’t she special? one post confirmed something for, not only everyone else, but for you as well; he was in love with you.

it, of course, came as a shock to your peers on campus. satoru was infamous for being a player and a sex addict. even you, at one point, had make an ancient joke about how satoru couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. being held down by anyone wasn’t a common thing for him at all. the confirmation of your relationship with him only caused people to question if all of it was a facade.

you questioned it yourself sometimes. but then you’d oddly be ashamed in yourself for doing so. he told you he loved you out the blue, took you out for fancy dinners, wasn’t ashamed to mention you to his friends and almost annoyingly professed his love to you in public spaces and online. he loved you. you knew he loved you.

keeping his words in your mind was enough to protect your mind from getting hurt by reality. you were blind to the small love marks that weren’t given to him by you. you were deaf to the sound of satoru sweet-talking a girl on the phone, assuming you were asleep, when you were really wide-awake. you suddenly had anosmia whenever he’d come back to the apartment smelling like cheap perfume. you ignored it all subconsciously and it was starting to catch up to you.

you were clearly aware of satoru’s behavior before becoming official with him, but since he had treated you with so much tlc, you figured you would be the turning point in his life. you believed that he’d change now that he had such a smart, respectable, sexy, and compliant girl by his side. he didn’t need anyone else, right? wrong. you were not his turning point. you were simply another climax in his life, a feeling you gave him every time your pussy clamped down on his cock, except, he got to feel that from you more often than others. that’s how other people looked at it.

in two weeks it’d make a year since the two of you started dating. a full year of this? maybe he was in love in with you, but just because he was, it didn’t mean it got rid of his urges. so that’s why you were trying to ignore the chattering behind you right now. you know you couldn’t be mad. you knew satoru was a fucking sleeze.

“throw it back on me baby, you know i don’t like doing all the work.” satoru's vainglorious words sent blazes of warmth to run everywhere on your body. your hands held the sheets underneath you as you shook your body to and fro, shivering each time your skin connected with his. his throbbing cock kissed your cervix and massaged your pulsating walls. you were recovering from an orgasm that you had moments before, juice running down your legs, but satoru fucked you through, bringing you close to overstimulation.

you wanted to tell him it was too much, but he had your own, soaked panties in your mouth, causing you to be quite inaudible. so many reasons to be uncomfortable yet you adored and wanted the entire. the fully body mirror that was across from you reflected the pornographic scene and felt yourself getting aroused all over again from the sight. drool dribbled from your mouth, tears rolling down your cheeks, satoru’s strained face. it only motivated you to go faster, milking his cock with your cunt eagerly.

satoru reached beside him, getting his cell phone and lazily opened up the camera app. he happily recorded the way you ricocheted your full ass on him, holding it and smacking it multiple times. once he was happy with the footage he had, he threw it phone to the side and he reaches around and takes the lacy material from your mouth, causing you to hack uncontrollably and lick your dry lips. he proceeded to grab your hips, digging crescent shaped dents into your skin. he pulled you to him, fucking you like he had gone batshit crazy.

he had you blabbering nonsense now that your mouth wasn’t restrained, but he managed to hear you say “’s too much!” and you stammered while moaning his name.

“too fucking bad. hold out just a bit longer, you weak slut,” he growled. “fuck...” you were reaching your high again, legs shaking viciously before they gave out and you imploded on your stomach on the bed. it didn’t stop him from ramming into you over and over again. you were so compliant to him. the way he fucked you was intoxicating. he made you crave sex more than you ever did in your life. “cum again for me baby, i’ll come with you.”

with both of your eyes screwed shut, you clenched around his slobbered cock, stomach convulsing violently and came hard. you practically screamed his name like you had no fucking sense. it’s because you didn’t. your psyche had gone clear and your body was numb. you couldn’t even process that satoru had came as well, rubbing excess semen in between your ass cheeks, watching strings of your release and his own drip from your gaping hole. he turned you around so that you were on your back and brought his hand, slapping you hard against your cheek, bringing you back to your senses.

“don’t scream like that again. y’lost your fucking mind,” he threatens you in a low, aggressive tone before snickering. he grabbed your delicate bosoms tenderly, scouring your stiff, aching areolas. you gasped intensely while sweat moved down your face, eyes half-lidded. he sucked your nipples graciously, running wet circles around them with his tongue. his ivory locks of hair tickled your skin, you bring your hand to run your fingers through it. he brought his lips to the space in between your breasts, sucking feverishly on your soft flesh until he could see visible marks form, leaving his mark on you.

“did i...did i do good...?” you breathed out, closing your eyes.

you felt his warm lips leave your skin and he chuckled softly before kissing you tenderly. “yes, yes you did. you did so well.” he was proud of himself for taming you, making you so docile to him. you were strong-willed and independent outside of the bed so seeing you lie here so pathetic under his gaze, losing yourself because of his touch was a sight to see. he felt lucky to have you...

you were truly such a beautiful girl. as embarrassed as he was for you when he first saw you flashing to all those people at that frat party, he silently admitted to himself that you looked fucking hot. if you weren’t so drunk that night he probably would’ve fucked you. he got his wish...eventually.

if anyone ever asked satoru why he has stayed with you for so long, he wouldn't have the option to offer an unmistakable response. whenever he was asked, he gave them a straightforward, “i love her.” he couldn’t quite understand how or what you did, but you allure him in a way no other person can. you unknowingly had him wrapped around your finger. he didn’t mind being tied down by you. well, that’s because he wasn’t entirely “tied down.” it was no secret that he sneaked around with other girls on campus, but what other option did he have? he was an addict. he couldn’t go a fucking day without burying himself in someone’s cunt - or someone’s ass, or getting his dick sucked by some whore after class. he couldn’t fuck you everyday. he didn’t want to use you for that purpose. you surprisingly meant something to him. he hoped all the warm gestures he gave you was enough to prove he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

#gojo satoru #SatoruGojo #gojo smut #gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo simp #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic

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undermattsun-archive · 3 years

Text

tell me

(skate rat) miyas x fem!reader | w.c 1.6k

a/n: ok look i’m no brother fucker on main, but the lewding potential post-show me was too delicious, and if i’m not an opportunistic whore... so here it is the pt 2 y’all keep screaming about that i actually started writing no more than two hrs after posting show me bc i have no self control

another big thankies to @sugardaddykenma for giving this a read over big fat wet besitos for u

18+ university | please read ALL warnings

warnings: INCEST full on (i’m sorry god), dubcon/noncon elements, fingering, overstimulation, dumbification (lowkey), degradation, manipulation, a dash of gaslighting, a bit of humiliation, virginity loss (mentioned), crybaby!reader, little bit of mind break, reader is tired + slurs words a bit

just...them taking advantage of dumb reader

read show me first! (not necessary but appreciated + it would make more sense to do so) NOW with the third part make me !!

One hour, twenty-six minutes and who knows how many seconds have gone by since your brothers have decided to go into an entire good cop, bad cop tirade.

Their words barely making a dent in your mind as a soreness settles in your bones, the added discomfort of a mixture of sweat, saliva and cum drying on your skin with the debauched feeling of Kita’s cum dripping from your sore cunt keeping your mind thoroughly distracted.

“You’re never gonna see him again.” Atsumu-nii barks out.

“It’s better that way.” Osamu-nii adds gently.

“In fact he’s dead next time we see him.”

“Yeah, very much dead.”

“We told him to stay away from you, fuck.” Atsumu flops down beside you, Osamu follows sitting on your other side.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” You mumble, regretting your words the second you see the look in your brothers’ eyes.

“Not that big a deal?” Atsumu’s voice is no more than a low growl as he rises, eyes narrowing at the statement. “Kita’s a fucking bastard and you just let him between your legs like it was nothing. Are you stupid?”

Your eyes widen at the accusation as you scoot away from him, drawing your knees to your chest, letting your eyes fall to the rumpled blankets surrounding you.

“You let him cum inside you?” A gasp falls from your lips, embarrassment scorches through you as you realize the way your bare cunt is exposed by the way you’re sitting. You immediately shoot back, slamming into Osamu as you squeeze your legs shut, dread filling your lungs as Atsumu crawls forward.

“Our little sister really is dumb. Is that what you’ve been up to while you’re away?” He’s always been faster than you, proven by how his fingers are already around your wrist, yanking you towards him. You know that struggling is a moot point, he’s bigger and faster and so much stronger. But you can’t help but wiggle around, barely able to make him budge even a centimeter.

“No! That was my first...” you bite your tongue as Atsumu crosses his legs and seats you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he snakes an arm around your waist. He rests his chin atop your head, a thoughtful hum vibrating in his chest against you.

“Hear that Samu?” Atsumu squeezes you tightly as your eyes frantically dart around Osamu’s features, silently begging for him to free you from this situation.

“Yeah Tsumu, she really gave up her virginity to Kita.”

“Like an idiot.” They muse in unison.

“I- but-”

“But nothing. Now your nii-chan’s need to clean you up. Stupid little girl.” He mutters against your hair, smoothing his hands over your thighs, spreading them apart more and more. Stretching them until they’re caught by his knees, rendering you helplessly exposed.

“Umm.” Your legs twitch, the position all too embarrassing, the powerlessness of it parallel to when you were being held by Kita. Taboo, the position screams.

“It’s okay, dumb girls like you make mistakes all the time,” Osamu smiles gently, shifting over to lift the hem of your shirt, handing it to Atsumu keeping it pinned just above your belly button, “that’s why you have us.”

Confusion swirls as you watch your older brother's fingers disappear into his mouth, eyes watching as his tongue flicks over the digits, retracting them slowly.

“Ah! Wait!” You yelp out as he pushes his index and middle fingers past your puffy hole, a stinging pleasure making the taut muscles of your thighs twitch. Atsumu lets out another low laugh, steadying your legs, forcing you to keep still as Osamu continues to prod further. The blunt ends of his fingers pressing and dragging against the sore gummy walls.

“Too much, too much.” You gasp as Osamu’s fingers dig further into your cunt, shaking as you feel the tips of fingers brush against your cervix. Fat tears begin to roll down your face as you press harder back into Atsumu, as if you could find escape in the rigid planes of his body.

His fingers continue to twist and scour, the sensation is all too overwhelming, making your throat tighten as you make futile attempts at clamping your legs shut, only making Atsumu snicker above you. You watch with panting breaths as Osamu finally draws out his fingers, covered in the milky white slick, evidence of the sins you committed just a few hours before.

“What a sloppy cunt, you really let him make a whore of you huh?” Atsumu bites, the words cut into you, the betrayal in his voice making your throat tighten further. You can only manage to choke out a broken sob of a denial as Osamu brings his fingers against your lips.

“Say ‘ah’.” You shake your head frantically, face quickly being caught in Osamu’s other hand.

“Don’t be difficult, we’re helping you.” Disappointment, the disappointment crumbles what little fighting spirit you had in the first place, you can’t stop the tears from falling as you let Osamu slip slicked fingers into your mouth. Lazily you swirl your tongue around them, exhaustion starting to sweep over you.

“All good?” Atsumu asks as Osamu pulls his digits from your mouth, smiling proudly at you.

“Let me make sure.” He lowers himself more onto the bed, bringing him face to face to your dripping cunny, he plants a hand against the taut muscle of your thigh, staring so intently at your twitching hole. “So fuckin messy.” It’s the closest to warning you get as he pushes his fingers back in, the yelp you let out sounding pitiful even to you.

“We shouldn’t, d-do this.” You grip at Osamu’s arm, but it’s as if each tug you make has no effect. There isn’t a purpose to his motions, his fingers pumping in and out of you with reckless abandon, the wet, lewd sounds filling the room.

“‘M just helping you.” Osamu breathes out, hot breath fanning over your sensitive cunt. With each push of his fingers you feel as though your whole body has been thrown under an unwavering waterfall, every stroke of his fingers feeling like the ruthless waters beating down on you.

“Yeah, you’re the idiot who went and fucked Kita Shinsuke of all people.” Atsumu chides, running a hand across your belly, lips tickling the shell of your ear. He pulls one of your hands off of Osamu, intertwining your fingers, securing your hand against your heaving chest.

“M’Not an idiot.” Your panting whines swirling with the soft wet clicking made by his digits in your cunt punctuating your shame, your words weakly slurred together. “Samu-nii n-n’more.”

“Hm? What was that?” He teases his ring finger against your entrance, viciously scissoring his index and middle, making your body stiffen, the pain of overstimulation surging violently chased with flecks of pleasure.

“Pretty sure she said more Samu.” Atsumu goads, slipping his other hand underneath your shirt to massage your tender breasts, the endless waves of exhaustion leaving you unable to deny yourself melting in his hold.

“More it is.” Without the slightest of stutters in his motions he stuffs in his ring finger, forcing your back to arch at the sting, the throbbing of your cunny is gut wrenching but the delicious curl of Osamu’s fingers is undeniable.

“Shlow down.” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, head lolling back, knocking into Atsumu’s chin as you stare down with blurry vision at Osamu’s fingers disappearing into your wet heat.

“Think our little dummy means speed up, right sis? You wouldn’t want Samu to miss any leftover cum from your little slut stunt.”

“I-I don’t?” You mumble, trying to crane your head to meet Atsumu’s gaze, the disconnect of his words is disorienting as you continue to slip into worn out haze.

“Of course not, that’s what we’ve been telling you.” He releases your hand in favor of sliding his hand up to grip at your jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Hey Samu I think you can fit a fourth.”

“Yeah, me too.” Atsumu presses your head against his, leaving the two of you cheek to cheek as your eyes widen at the sight of your brother’s pinky swiping besides your entrance.

“Won’t fit.”

“It will.” Osamu looks up at you, the familiar lazy half smile almost comforting as he begins to work his fourth finger into your thoroughly abused cunt. A jolt of biting pain mottled with bliss erupts through you. The feeling of being utterly stuffed, pushed past whatever limits you had, leaving you unable to even focus your eyes or make sense of whatever Atsumu whispers against you.

The entirety of your body feels like an exposed nerve, as if you’ve been left out in the sun too long, simultaneously hyper aware and numb of all the little touches and strokes across your flesh. You can feel Osamu steadily pick up the pace with each thrust of his fingers, each stroke as if he’s trying to dig deeper, as if he’s trying to make your cunny memorize the shape of each finger.

“Tsu-tsumu-niii, I thiiink…” Whatever comment you had is lost in your throat, the tiniest caress of Osamu’s thumb against your clit has your mind going blank, the entirety of your body coiling tightly, a mangled whine preempting the feeling of yourself gushing around Osamu’s fingers. Your body spasms, held tightly in Atsumu’s arms as you squeal out at Osamu unwilling to relent his movements, continuing to piston his fingers with reckless abandon.

“Enough, Ssamu enough.” Your vision goes spotty, watching with jagged breaths as he gradually withdraws. You spiral into unconsciousness one last shiver wracking through you as you watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, licking a stripe up his coated fingers. A dastardly grin the last thing you see as you black out.

#this work contains INCEST + NONCON elements #DO NOT READ IF U R NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS #save us both the time and effort and block me if you hate this content #if u want it to a mutual block lemme know #now that i have posted this i'm actually gonna go pray the rosary #here's ur part 2 whores #miki writes #tw noncon #tw incest #tw dubcon #tw virginity #tw degradation #tw humiliation #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation #tw dumbification #tw mindbreak #tw overstimulation

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Good girl

This is nothing, but filth, written to de-stress, no thoughts head empty horndog mode on

tw: nsfw, obsessive behavior, non - con, dub - con, slight degradation?, dirty talk, sliight orgasm denial, reader gets kind of called out lol

“Why are you struggling so much, sweetheart?“ The man asked smuggly, tugging on your ponytail, laughing at the streaming hot eyes falling down your scarlet cheeks. You were suffocating, unable to move an inch of your body without making the situation even worse. His hips were rocking hard against your core, his cock buried deep in your pussy. “I thought that you would enjoy this.“ He continued taunting you, now lowering his head to suck and bite at the soft skin of your exposed neck untill an ugly red mark of ownership formed.

Aiden suddenly dug his nails into your shoulders, rewarding you with a harsh thrust, hitting your cervix. You let a tiny moan escape your lips as the shame made you grow even wetter between the legs. This terrible assault wasn’t supposed to feel as good as it did and yet his finger was back on your swelled sensitive clit, rubbing in small circles, driving you crazy.

“I saw what you were reading in class, babe.“ The stalker spoke out huskily, his left hand groping your breast roughly, pinching the nipple until it blossomed under the touch. “You want this.“ He whispered into your ear, pulling on the erect bud. You could feel your walls clamp down onto his massive length. “You want to be taken like a dirty little whore, don’t you? Wanna be owned?“ His harsh words were followed by a quick stinging slap on your ass, making you squirm in discomfort. Your silence was met with a few more playful smacks, reddening the vulnerable skin. “Answer me, slut.“

“I d-don’t know wha-aat you are talking about!” You answered in a hushed voice, finding it hard to keep yourself together while Aiden was hitting your sweet spot again and again. The predator was eyeing you hungrily, taking in the beautiful sight of your mumbling, broken self. He grabbed you by the throat, smashing his lips against yours, pushing his wet, invading tongue into your mouth, licking and shoving it down until you felt like gagging.

“You are close, aren’t you? I can feel your cunt clenching down on my cock, you are so disgustingly wet right now.” The man growled, now pressing his member into your heat painfully slow, your clit throbbing in anticipation. Finally he took it out completely, smirking at the way your expression changed, becoming needy, desperate for some relief. You felt awfully empty and utterly debauched for wanting him to keep fucking you into oblivion even after all of this. “I will make you come, baby.” Aiden ran his tongue through your collarbone, making you shiver and arch your back like a cat. “But you must promise to be my little slut forever. All mine.” The stalker stated, looking at you with cold cruel eyes, making you feel small and insignificant. You knew how humaliating and bizzare his demand was, but your whole being was screaming for release, for his touch, no matter how sinful it was.

“Please, let me come.” You begged, crying in despair. The man had started fingering you gently without even touching your over-sensitive pulsating love button directly and the pleasant wave was so overwhelming, yet just not enough to push you over the edge. “Please, I will be yours, just help me, fill me.” You added quickly, pressing your cunt into Aiden’s fingers, hoping for a stronger sensation.

“What do you want, baby?” Your tormenter teased, smiling innocently as he withdrew his hand from your shaking body, the hot pleasure disappearing into the abyss. “Be more specific so I can understand you.” He chuckled viciously, attacking your nipple, sucking on it, licking and biting down gently until you just couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Please, I want your big throbbing dick deep in me, filling my insides. I have never felt anything like that before.” You pleaded, doe-eyed and drained. By the wild look in the madman’s pupils it became clear you had found to right words to melt his frozen heart - at least for a moment. Soon he was thursting into you furiously, balls deep in your tight wet hole, manhandling your tits and watching them bounce every time he hit your cervix just the right way. You were so very close.

“Cum for me.“ The man muttered, rocking his hips back and forth, feeling you up all over. “Show me what a good obedient little girl you are for your lover.“ You closed your eyes, focusing on how nice everything felt, it was heaven and hell. In the next secong you were drowned in a wave of intense euphoria as the orgasm hit and washed over you. Adien trapped you in his arms, the sweat sticking up to his white shirt, soaking onto your bare back as you relaxed on his toned chest. You could hear the filthy praise coming within his lips, mixed with so many empty promises, but you were too tired to run or even think now.

“You are mine.” He said finally, stroking your hair with twisted, poisonous tendereness. His heart was beating fast in his ribcage like it was trying to break free from the prison of bones. "I have claimed you, doll.” The man grinned, showing all his sharp, pointed teeth. “And I don’t like to share.”

#male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere smut #yandere oc #tw non con #yancore #yandere male x reader

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Note

Hi :) If it's not too much trouble, could you please share your take on why they'd continue the Adventure brand after tri. was such a flop? (and a tangent: what does "dark history" even mean?). We got Kizuna, the reboot, and a 02 movie. Logically, it doesn't really make sense they'd keep investing in it.

This is a thorny topic, and I'd like to reiterate that although I've ended up making more posts related to this series and the discourse surrounding it recently (probably because it's even more on the mind now that another movie is on the horizon and a lot of people are apprehensive for various reasons), I do not want this blog to be making a brand out of being critical of this series. I’m writing this here and in public because I figured that there is a certain degree I need to clarify what I mean about audience reception/climate and how it might impact current or future works, and I’m admittedly also more than a little upset that I occasionally see Western fanbase criticisms of the series getting dismissed by people claiming that the only people mad about it are dramamongering or ignorant Westerners (which could not be further from the truth). However, this is mainly to address this and to answer your question, and is not intended to try and change anyone's existing opinion or impression of the series as much as it's me trying to explain (from my own personal reading of the situation) what practically went down with critical reception in real life; no more, no less.

The short summary of the matter is:

The series was a moderate financial success (albeit with some caveats; see the long version for details) and definitely outstripped a lot of prior attempts to revive the franchise;

However, the overall Japanese fanbase-side critical backlash from tri. was extremely and viciously negative to the point where even acknowledging the series too much could easily result in controversy;

Kizuna’s production and the PR surrounding it very obviously have this in mind with a lot of apparent “damage control” elements.

The long version is below.

Note that while I try to be diligent about citing my sources so people understand that I’m not just making things up wholesale, I’m deliberately refraining from linking certain things here this time, both because some of the things mentioned have some pretty crude things written there -- it’s not something I feel comfortable directing people to regardless of what language it’s in -- and because I don’t want to recklessly link things on social media and cause anyone to go after or harass the people involved. For the links that have been provided, please still be warned that some of them don’t really link to particularly pleasant things.

I am not writing the following information to suggest that anyone should agree or disagree with the sentiments being described. I know people tend to take "a lot of people like/hate this" as a signal of implication "it is correct to like/hate this" when it's not (and I especially dislike the idea of implying that Japanese fanbase opinions are the only correct ones). There's a reason I focus on "critical reception being this way" (because it influences marketing decisions and future direction) rather than how much this should impact one's personal feelings; this is coming from myself as someone who is shamelessly proud of liking many things that had bad critical reception, were financial failures, or are disliked by many. As I point out near the end, the situation also does seem to be changing for the better in more recent years as well.

Also, to be clear, I'm a single person who's observing everything best I can from my end, I have no affiliations with staff nor do I claim to, and as much as I'm capable of reading Japanese and thus reading a lot of people's impressions, I'm ultimately still another “outsider” looking in. These are my impressions from my observation of fan communal spaces, following artists and reading comments on social media and art posting websites, and results from social media searches. In the end, I know as much as anyone else about what happened, so this is just my two cents based on all of my personal observations.

A fanbase is a fanbase regardless of what part of the world you're from. There are people who love it and are shameless about saying so. There are people who have mixed feelings or at least aren't on extreme ends of the spectrum (as always, the loudest ones are always the most visible, but it's not always easy to claim they're the predominant percentage of the fanbase). That happens everywhere, and I still find that on every end I've seen. However, if I'm talking about my impressions and everything I’ve encountered, I will say that the overall Japanese reaction to tri. comes off as significantly more violently negative on average than the Western one, which is unusual because often it's the other way around. (I personally feel less so because the opinions are that fundamentally different and more so because we're honestly kind of loud and in-your-face people; otherwise, humans are mostly the same everywhere, and more often than not people feel roughly the same about everything if they’re given the same information to work with.)

This is not something I can say lightly, and thus would not say if I didn’t really get this impression, but...we're talking "casually looking up movie reviews for Kizuna have an overwhelming amount of people casually citing any acknowledgment of tri. elements as a negative element", or the fact that even communal wikis for "general" fandoms like Pixiv and Aniwota don't tend to hold back in being vicious about it (as of this writing, Pixiv's wiki refuses to consider it in the same timeline as Adventure, accusing it of being "a series that claims to be a sequel set three years after 02 but is in fact something different"). Again, there are people who openly enjoy it and actively advocate for it (and Pixiv even warns people to not lord over others about it condescendingly because of the fact that such people do exist), and this is also more of a reflection of “the hardcore fanbase on the Internet” and not necessarily the mainstream (after all, there are quite a few other Digimon works where the critical reception varies very heavily between the two). Nevertheless, the take-home is that the reputation is overall negative among the Internet fanbase to the point that this is the kind of sentiment you run into without trying all that hard.

I think, generally speaking, if we're just talking about why a lot of people resent the series, the reasons aren't that different from those on the Western side. However, that issue of "dark history" (黒歴史): there's a certain degree of demand from the more violently negative side of the fanbase that's, in a sense, asking official to treat it as a disgrace and never acknowledge it ever again, hence why Kizuna doing so much as borrowing things from it rather than rejecting it outright is still sometimes treated like it’s committing a sin. So it's somewhat close in spirit to a retcon movement, which is unusual because no other Digimon series gets this (not even 02; that was definitely a thing on the Western end, but while I'm sure there are people who hate it that much on their end too, I've never really seen it gain enough momentum for anyone to take it seriously). If anyone ever tells you that Japanese fanbases are nice to everything, either they don't know Japanese, are being willfully ignorant, or are lying to you, because there is such thing as drama in those areas, and in my experience, I've seen things get really nasty when things are sufficiently pushed over the edge, and if a fanbase wants to have drama, it will have drama. This happens to be one of those times.

(If you think this is extreme, please know that I also think so too, so I hope you really understand that me describing this sentiment does not mean I am personally endorsing it. Also, let me reiterate that the loudest section of the fanbase is not necessarily the predominant one; after all, as someone who’s been watching reactions to 02 over the years, I myself can attest that its hatedom has historically made it sound more despised than it actually is in practice.)

My impression is that the primary core sentiment behind why the series so much as existing and being validated is considered such an offense (rather than, say, just saying "wow, that writing was bad" and moving on) is heavily tied to the release circumstances the series came out in during 2015-2018, and the idea that "this series disrespected Adventure, and also disrespected the fanbase.” (I mean, really, regardless of what part of the world you’re from, sequels and adaptations tend to be held to a higher bar of expectation than standalone works, because they’re expected to do them justice.) A list of complaints I’ve come across a lot while reading through the above:

The Japanese fanbase is pretty good at recordkeeping when it comes to Adventure universe lore, partially because they got a lot of extra materials that weren’t localized, but also partially because adherence to it seems to generally be more Serious Business to them than it is elsewhere. For instance, “according to Adventure episode 45, ‘the one who wishes for stability’ (Homeostasis) only started choosing children in 1995, and therefore there can be no Chosen Children before 1995” is taken with such gravity that this, not anything to do with evolutions or timeline issues, is the main reason Hurricane Touchdown’s canonicity was disputed in that arena (because Wallace implies that he met his partners before 1995). It’s a huge reason the question of Kizuna also potentially not complying to lore came to the forefront, because tri. so flagrantly contradicts it so much that this issue became very high on the evaluation checklist. In practice, Kizuna actually goes against Adventure/02 very little, so the reason tri. in particular comes under fire for this is that it does it so blatantly there were theories as early as Part 1 that this series must take place in a parallel universe or something, and as soon as it became clear it didn’t, the resulting sentiment was “wow, you seriously thought nobody would notice?” (thus “disrespecting the audience”).

A lot of the characterization incongruity is extremely obvious when you’re following only the Japanese version, partially because it didn’t have certain localization-induced characterization changes (you are significantly less likely to notice a disparity with Mimi if you’re working off the American English dub where they actually did make her likely to step on others’ toes and be condescending, whereas in Japanese the disparity is jarring and hard to miss) and partially due to some things lost in translation (Mimi improperly using rough language on elders is much easier to spot as incongruity if you’re familiar with the language). Because it’s so difficult to miss, and honestly feels like a lot of strange writing decisions you’d make only if you really had no concept of what on earth happened in the original series, it only contributes to the idea that they were handling Adventure carelessly and disrespectfully without paying attention to what the series was even about (that, or worse, they didn’t care).

02 is generally well-liked there! It’s controversial no matter where you go, but as I said earlier, there was no way a retcon movement would have ever been taken seriously, and the predominant sentiment is that, even if you’re not a huge fan of it, its place in canon (even the epilogue) should be respected. So not only flagrantly going against 02-introduced lore but also doing that to a certain quartet is seen as malicious, and you don’t have as much of the converse discourse celebrating murdering the 02 quartet (yeah, that’s a thing that happened here) or accusing people with complaints of “just being salty because they like 02″ as nearly as much of a factor; I did see it happen, or at least dismissals akin to “well it’s Adventure targeted anyway,” but they were much less frequent. The issue with the 02 quartet is usually the first major one brought up, and there’s a lot of complaints even among those who don’t care for 02 as much that the way they went about it was inhumane and hypocritical, especially when killing Imperialdramon is fine but killing Meicoomon is a sin. Also, again, “you seriously think nobody will see a problem with how this doesn’t make sense?”

I think even those who are fans of the series generally agree with this, but part of the reason the actual real-life time this series went on is an important factor is that the PR campaign for this series was godawful. Nine months of clicking on an egg on a website pretending like audience participation meant something when in actuality it was blatantly obvious it was just a smokescreen to reveal info whenever they were ready? This resulted in a chain effect where even more innocuous/defensible things were viewed in a suspicious or negative light (for instance, "the scam of selling the fake Kaiser's goggles knowing Ken fans would buy it only to reveal that it's not him anyway"), and a bunch of progressively out-of-touch-with-the-fanbase statements and poor choices led to more sentiment “yeah, you’re just insulting the fanbase at this point,” and a general erosion of trust in official overall.

On top of that, the choice of release format to have it spread out as six movies over three years seems to have exacerbated the backlash to get much worse than it would have been otherwise, especially since one of the major grievances with the series is that how it basically strung people along, building up more and more unanswered questions before it became apparent it was never going to answer them anyway. So when you’re getting that frustrated feeling over three whole years, it feels like three years of prolonged torture, and it becomes much harder to forgive for the fallout than if you’d just marathoned the entire thing at once.

For those who are really into the Digimon (i.e. species) lore and null canon, while I’m not particularly well-versed in that side of the fanbase, it seems tri. fell afoul of them too for having inaccurately portrayed (at one point, mislabeled) special attacks and poorly done battle choreography, along with the treatment of Digimon in general (infantilized Digimon characterization, general lack of Digimon characters in general, very flippant treatment of the Digital World in Parts 3-5). If you say you’re going to “reboot” the Digital World and not address the entire can of worms that comes with basically damaging an entire civilization of Digimon, as you can imagine, a lot of people who actually really care about that are going to be pissed, and the emerging sentiment is “you’re billing this as a Digimon work, but you don’t even care about the monsters that make up this franchise.”

The director does not have a very positive reputation among those who know his work (beyond just Digimon), and in general there was a lot of suspicion around the fact they decided to get a guy whose career has primarily been built on harem and fanservice anime to direct a sequel to a children’s series. Add to that a ton of increasingly unnerving statements about how he intended to make the series “mature” in comparison to its predecessor (basically, an implication that Adventure and 02 were happy happy joy series where nothing bad ever happened) and descriptions of Adventure that implied a very, very poor grasp of anything that happened in it: inaccurate descriptions of their characters, poor awareness of 02′s place in the narrative, outright saying in Febri that he saw the Digimon as like perpetual kindergartners even after evolving, and generally such a flippant attitude that it drove home the idea that the director of an Adventure sequel had no respect for Adventure, made this series just to maliciously dunk on it for supposedly being immature, and has such a poor grasp of what it even was that it’s possible he may not have seen it in the first place (or if he did, clearly skimmed it to the extent he understood it poorly to pretty disturbing levels). As of this writing, Aniwota Wiki directly cites him as a major reason for the backlash.

In general, consensus seems to be that the most positively received aspect of the series (story-wise) was Part 3 (mostly its ending, but some are more amenable to the Takeru and Patamon drama), and the worst vitriol goes towards Parts 2 (for the blatantly contradictory portrayal of Mimi and Jou and the hypocritical killing of Imperialdramon) and 4 (basically the “point of no return” where even more optimistic people started getting really turned off). This is also what I suspect is behind the numbers on the infamous DigiPoll (although the percentage difference is admittedly low enough to fall within margin of error). However, there was suspicion about the series even from Part 1, with one prominent fanartist openly stating that it felt more like meeting a ton of new people than it did reuniting with anyone they knew.

So with all of that on the table: how did this affect official? The thing is that when I say “violently negative”, I mean that also entailed spamming official with said violently negative social media comments. While this is speculation, I am fairly certain that official must have realized how bad this was getting as early as between Parts 4 and 5, because that’s where a lot of really suspicious things started happening behind the scenes; while I imagine the anime series itself was now too far in to really do anything about it, one of the most visible producers suddenly vanished from the producer lineup and was replaced by Kinoshita Yousuke, who ended up being the only member of tri. staff shared with Kizuna (and, in general, the fact that not a single member of staff otherwise was retained kind of says a lot). Once the series ended in 2018 and the franchise slowly moved into Kizuna-related things, you might notice that tri.-branded merch production almost entirely screeched to a halt and official has been very touchy about acknowledging it too deeply; it’s not that they don’t, but it’s kind of an awfully low amount for what you’d think would be warranted for a series that’s supposed to be a full entry in the big-name Adventure brand.

The reason is, simply, that if they do acknowledge it too much, people will get pissed at them. That’s presumably why the tri. stage play (made during that interim period between Parts 4 and 5 and even branded with the title itself) and Kizuna are really hesitant to be too aggressive about tri. references; it’s not necessarily that official wants to blot it out of history like the most extreme opinions would like them to, but even being too enthusiastic about affirming it will also get them backlash, especially if the things they affirm are contradictory to Adventure or 02. And considering even the small references they did put in still got them criticism for “affirming” tri. too much, you can easily see that the backlash would have been much harder if they’d attempted more than that; staying as close as possible to Adventure and 02 and trying to deal with tri. elements only when they’re comparatively inoffensive was pretty much the “safe” thing to do in this scenario (especially since fully denying tri. would most certainly upset the people who did like the series, and if you have to ask me, I personally think this would have been a pretty crude thing to have done right after the series had just finished). Even interviews taken after the fact often involve quickly disclaiming involvement with the series, or, if they have to bring up something about it, discussing the less controversial aspects like the art (while the character designs were still controversial, it’s at least at the point where some fanartists will still be willing to make use of them even if they dislike the series, albeit often with prominent disclaimers) or the more well-received parts of Part 3; Kizuna was very conspicuously marketed as a standalone movie, even if it shared the point of “the Adventure kids, but older” that tri. had.

(Incidentally, the tri. stage play has generally been met with a good reputation and was received well even among people who were upset with the anime, so it was well-understood that they had no relation. In fact, said stage play is probably even better received than Kizuna, although that’s not too surprising given the controversial territory Kizuna goes into, making the stage play feel very play-it-safe in comparison.)

So, if we’re going to talk about Kizuna in particular: tri. was, to some degree, a moderate financial success, in the sense that it made quite a bit of money and did a lot to raise awareness of the Digimon brand still continuing...however, if you actually look at the sales figures for tri., they go down every movie; part of it was probably because of the progressively higher “hurdle” to get into a series midway, but consider that Gundam Unicorn (a movie series which tri.’s format was often compared to) had its sales go up per movie thanks to word of mouth and hype. So while tri. does seem to have gotten enough money to help sustain the franchise at first, the trade-off was an extremely livid fanbase that had shattered faith in the brand and in official, and so while continuing the Adventure brand might still be profitable, there was no way they were going to get away with continuing to do this lest everything eventually crash and burn.

Hence, if you look at the way Kizuna was produced and advertised, you can see a lot of it is blatantly geared at addressing a lot of the woes aimed at tri.: instead of the staff that had virtually no affiliation with Toei, the main members of staff announced were either from the original series (Seki and Yamatoya) or openly childhood fans, the 02 quartet was made into a huge advertising point as a dramatic DigiFes reveal (and character profies that tie into the 02 epilogue careers prominently part of the advertising from day one), and they even seemed to acknowledge the burnout on the original Adventure group by advertising it so heavily as “the last adventure of Taichi and his friends”, so you can see that there’s a huge sentiment of “damage control” with it. How successful that was...is debatable, since opinions have been all over the board; quite a few people were naturally so livid at what happened with tri. that Kizuna was just opening more of the wound, but there were also people who liked it much better and were willing to acknowledge it (with varying levels of enthusiasm, some simply saying “it was thankfully okay,” and some outright loving it), and there was a general sentiment even among those who disliked both that they at least understood what Kizuna was going for and that it didn’t feel as inherently disrespectful. (Of course, there are people who loved tri. and hated Kizuna, and there are people who loved both, too.)

Moreover, Kizuna actually has a slightly different target audience from tri.; there’s a pretty big difference between an OVA and a theatrical movie, and, quite simply, Kizuna was made under the assumption that a lot of people watching it may not have even seen tri. in the first place. An average of 11% of the country watched Adventure and 02, but the number of people who watched tri. is much smaller, in part due to the fact that its “theater” screenings were only very limited screenings compared to Kizuna being shown in theaters in Japan and worldwide, and in part due to the fact that watching six parts over three years is a pretty huge commitment for someone who may barely remember Digimon as anything beyond a show they watched as a kid, and may be liable to just fall off partway through because they simply just forgot. (Which also probably wasn’t helped by the infamously negative reputation, something that definitely wouldn’t encourage someone already on the fence.) And that’s yet another reason Kizuna couldn’t make too many concrete tri. references; being a theatrical movie, it needs to have as wide appeal as possible, and couldn’t risk locking out an audience that had a very high likelihood of not having seen it, much less to the end -- it may have somewhat been informed by tri.’s moderate financial success and precedent, but it ultimately was made for the original Adventure and 02 audience more than anything else.

I would say that, generally, while Kizuna is “controversial” for sure, reception towards the movie seems to be more positive than negative, it won over a large chunk of people who were burned out by tri., and it clearly seems to have been received well enough that it’s still being cashed in on a year after its release. The sheer existence of the upcoming 02-based movie is also probably a sign of Kizuna’s financial and critical success; Kinoshita confirmed at DigiFes 2020 that nothing was in production at the time, and stated shortly after the movie’s announcement that work on it had just started. So the decision to make it seems to have been made after eyeing Kizuna’s reception, and, moreover, the movie was initially advertised from the get-go with Kizuna’s director and writer (Taguchi and Yamatoya), meaning those two have curried enough goodwill from the fanbase that this can be used to promote the movie. (If not, you would think that having and advertising Seki would be the bigger priority.) While this is my own sentiment, I am personally doubtful official would have even considered 02 something remotely profitable enough on its own to cash in on if it weren’t for this entire sequence of events of 02′s snubbing in tri. revealing how much of a fanbase it had (especially with the sheer degree of “suspicious overcompensation” Kizuna had with its copious use of the 02 quartet and it tagging a remix of the first 02 ED on the Hanareteitemo single, followed by the drama CD and character songs), followed by Kizuna having success in advertising with them so heavily. Given all of the events between 2015 and now, it’s a bit ironic to see that 02 has now become basically the last resort to be able to continue anything in the original Adventure universe without getting too many people upset at them about it.

The bright side coming out of all of this is that, while it’s still a bit early to tell, now that we’re three years out from tri. finishing up and with Kizuna in the game, it seems there’s a possibility for things improving around tri.’s reception as well. Since a lot of the worst heated points of backlash against it have a very “you had to have been there” element (related to the PR, release schedule, and staff comments), those coming in “late” don’t have as much reason to be as pissed at it; I’ve seen at least one case of a fanartist getting back into the franchise because of Kizuna hype, watching tri. to catch up, casually criticizing it on Twitter, and moving on with their life, presumably because marathoning the whole thing being generally aware of what’ll happen in it and knowing Kizuna is coming after anyway gives you a lot less reason to be angry to the point of holding an outright grudge. Basically, even if you don’t like it, it’s much easier to actually go “yeah, didn’t like that,” not worry too much about it, and move on. Likewise, I personally get the impression that official has been starting to get a little more confident about digging up elements related to it. Unfortunately, a fairly recent tweet promoting the series getting put on streaming services still got quite a few angry comments implying that they should be deleting the scourge from the Internet instead, so there’s still a long way to go, but hopefully the following years will see things improve further...

In regards to the reboot, I -- and I think a lot of people will agree with me -- have a bit of a hard time reading what exact audience it’s trying to appeal to; we have a few hints from official that they want parents to watch it with their children, and that it may have been a necessary ploy in order to secure their original timeslot. So basically, the Adventure branding gets parents who grew up with the original series to be interested in it and to show it to their kids, and convinces Fuji TV that it might be profitable. But as most people have figured by now, the series has a completely different philosophy and writing style -- I mean, the interview itself functionally admits it’s here to be more action-oriented and to have its own identity -- and the target audience is more the kids than anything else. As for the Internet fanbase of veterans, most people have been critical of its character writing and pacing, but other than a few stragglers who are still really pissed, it hasn’t attracted all that much vitriol, probably because in the end it’s an alternate universe, it doesn’t have any obligation to adhere to anything from the original even if it uses the branding, and it’s clearly still doing its job of being a kids’ show for kids who never saw the original series nor 02, so an attempt to call it “disrespectful” to the original doesn’t have much to stand on. A good number of people who are bored of it decided it wasn’t interesting to them and dropped it without incident, while other people are generally just enjoying it for being fun, and the huge amount of Digimon franchise fanservice with underrepresented Digimon and high fidelity to null canon lore is really pleasing the side of the fanbase that’s into that (I mean, Digimon World Golemon is really deep in), so at the very least, there’s not a lot to be super-upset about.

#tri negativity #shiha's ask box #springcrafter

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mermaidenisaacs · 4 years

Text

isaac has a fwb

it’s all fun and games until isaac catches feelings for his sneaky link. he’s certain she doesn’t feel the same and it’s killing him not to tell her. but he’s fine with pretending he’s fine. he’ll take what he can get, and anything is better than nothing at all.

friends with benefits, secret pining, workplace au, isaac’s a lawyer and he hates theo

warnings: graphic sexual language

“I just don’t understand why you have to wear tight skirts all the time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love me in tight skirts.”

“I like the view, yes. But they’re hard to take off. And the stupid zippers always get stuck.”

“Fair enough. But you’re cute when you’re frustrated, Lahey.”

She swiveled around, thwarting Isaac’s efforts to slide her respectably tight skirt down her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his curly hair, she mushed their lips together, effectively cutting off the beginning of his next verbal jab, triumphing in his muffled “mmph.”

“So, that’s it then?” Isaac mumbled, pulling away and redoubling his efforts on her neck, sucking on the tender flesh there. “You like torturing me? Walking around the office all day, teasing me in your absurdly tight clothes, just to get me riled up?”

“They’re not that tight,” she muttered. “And I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Isaac snorted. “Such a lawyer response.”

She scratched her nails across the breadth of Isaac’s broad shoulders before sliding her hands down his subtly defined chest. She began slowly undoing his Oxford blue button-down.

“Besides,” she continued, ignoring his quip, “you do the same thing. It’s really endearing how you strut around in fake glasses just to look smarter.”

Isaac didn’t even bother acting embarrassed; he knew he looked good in those glasses. He had decided to try on non-prescription glasses one day just as an accessory to switch up his look, but the positive reception from everyone was incentive to keep wearing them. He was in his late 20s but he still had a bit of a baby face, so the glasses also helped him come off older and more competent to potential clients.

Those were the only reasons he wore fake glasses. It had absolutely nothing to do with the time y/n came over to his apartment and drank three glasses of wine and drunkenly confessed to finding his glasses sexy.

“So what if I strut around in fake glasses?” he said. “Do they do something for you?”

She paused. “I plead the fifth.”

Isaac chuckled in amusement. He watched her undo his shirt and huffed in annoyance at her leisurely pace. He adored the woman in front of him, but few things frustrated Isaac as much as she did, from her parading around the law firm in her form-fitting pencil skirts and sweaters to her pulling him into storage closets and viciously attacking his lips minutes before really important staff meetings.

“If you keep going at this pace, we’re gonna miss Derek’s meeting,” Isaac complained. His squirming did not go unnoticed by her, who seized any chance to get under his skin.

“What’s the matter? Worried you won’t have enough time to kiss the boss’s ass?” she said, smirking at Isaac’s eye-roll. “Just so you know, it would be useless. Derek likes me better.”

And just like that, she had literally pushed Isaac’s last button. His hands found her hips and he spun her around. They were sandwiched between two tall shelves with Isaac pressed into her back. He aligned her with his cock, his arousal prominent against her ass.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” she teased.

Isaac swept away her hair from her neck and bit the supple flesh of her shoulder, eliciting a soft gasp that rang like music to his ears. He bunched up her skirt around her waist and was pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing any underwear, her bare ass exposed and already leaning into his touch.

“Fuck, really?” he said in disbelief. His mind went blank and he swiftly slapped her ass, evoking a surprised yelp from her. It was then that realized he had never done that before. He should’ve made sure it was okay first. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I liked it, actually,” she said, breathless, reaching behind her to tug on his hand. “But you should probably hurry up and get inside me before we miss the entire meeting, yeah?”

Isaac was taken aback for a moment. He had lost count of how many times he’d succumbed to her, fell unapologetically victim to her allure. Despite this, it floored him every time that she could be so assertive, so unabashedly direct about her desires. She used to be so shy and unsure when they first started hooking up.

It should be noted that the first time they fucked, it was by mistake (or so they told themselves).

It happened last year at Derek’s Christmas party. It involved mistletoe, Erica’s spiked eggnog, incoherently babbling her address to a cab driver, making out in the backseat, giggling between sloppy kisses, undressing each other, falling into her bed, sleeping in a tangle of bare limbs, blinding morning sunlight, throbbing hangovers, the crushing weight of reality.

And regret, or, “Let’s just forget this ever happened?” “Deal.”

That first time, they could blame it on the alcohol. Every other time after that--when Isaac texted her to come over and play girlfriend to get rid of a clingy one-night stand, when she let his fingers wander up her thigh during late nights at the office, and all the other times--they had nothing to blame but their own desires.

“Turn around,” Isaac murmured. “I need to see your eyes.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Every once in a while, Isaac would catch her off guard and say something unexpectedly sweet and romantic. It unnerved her. The last person who said sweet things to her was her ex boyfriend Theo. She believed all his sweet words, but in the end, he abandoned her and left her with nothing but trust issues and a broken heart.

Isaac got impatient and turned her around by her elbow, looking into her eyes and affectionately tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She tried her best not to squirm under his warm gaze. He looked like he was torn between wanting to worship her and devour her.

He cupped her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He used his other hand to palm her ass. He firmly squeezed the soft flesh and pulled her body flush against him. She wound her arms around his neck and squealed in surprise when Isaac swooped down to scoop her thighs and lock them around his waist.

“That’s better,” he murmured affectionately against her bruised lips. “You ready?”

She was having trouble finding her voice and managed to give him a meek nod.

“I need you to say it out loud, baby,” Isaac gently reminded her. He always asked her permission and it always surprised her. Her past involved a lot of men taking rather than asking.

“Yeah, I’m ready, please,” she whined.

Isaac kissed her once more and moistened the tip of his cock with her wetness, making her clench her thighs tighter around his hips. He buried his face into her neck and sponged kisses into her skin as he pushed in slowly, allowing her to acclimate to his size.

He pushed in deep, all the way to the hilt, trying to savor the feeling of being inside her. To Isaac, she felt like heaven. She was warm and wet and velvet and exquisite and he had to measure his movements for fear of accidentally hurting her.

She dug her nails into Isaac’s shoulder as he stretched her out, helplessly whimpering for him to start moving faster.

Isaac complied, retracting his hips just to slide back in again, cock freshly slick with her juices. As much as he wanted to take his time with her and make this moment last, he knew they were on the clock at work. He set up a faster rhythm, snapping his hips repeatedly into her warmth.

At one point, he had to clamp his hand over her mouth to contain her satisfied noises. Isaac loved hearing her moan knowing he was the reason, but they couldn’t afford to be loud lest a nosy co-worker should discover them in their compromising position.

“God, you feel incredible,” Isaac grunted into her ear. “You’re so fucking hot. I couldn’t even tell you all the filthy things I’ve imagined doing to you all day.”

“Really?” she panted breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah.” Isaac tightly gripped her ass as he pounded into her from below. “Please don’t stop wearing tight skirts. You look so sexy in them. You look so fucking sexy all the time,” he muttered.

She clung to the curls at the nape of his neck, clawed at his back, all but bit down on his shoulder to keep from moaning loudly as he whispered sinful things into her ear.

“Fuck, Isaac,” she whimpered. “I can’t--I’m gonna--”

“Me too.”

After she came, she untangled herself from Isaac and kneeled in front of him. She swiveled her comparably small fist around his cock and kitten-licked the bright red head.

“Fuck,” Isaac breathed.

“I don’t want to make a mess,” she said matter-of-factly, grinning at his incredulous expression. “So come in my mouth, okay?”

Isaac groaned reflexively as her words sent him into euphoria. He released down her throat, coating her esophagus and her tongue with thick, gooey residue. He had to white-knuckle the shelf in front of him to avoid violently bucking his hips into her mouth. When he pulled out, he helped her back to her feet.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Isaac leaned against the shelf behind her. He observed her as she busied herself with pulling down her skirt and smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. Her gaze darted back and forth to anything that wasn’t Isaac as she combed through her disheveled hair and adjusted her clothing. Isaac grew concerned at her distracted behavior.

“Hey,” he said quietly. When she didn’t respond, he took hold of her elbow and stilled her. He gently brushed the sweat-damp hair away from her face. “You okay?”

It took her a second to process his concern. The truth was, she wasn’t really okay, and she was surprised that he could sense that. It had been a long, stressful morning, and coming down from the high of her pleasure brought on a fresh wave of dread: the end of her time with Isaac would mean having to return to work.

She was trying to hide it, but Isaac had picked up on her change in mood. She often forgot how incredibly sensitive he could be. They worked in a realm of cutthroat professionals who cared only about their own well-being, but he was different.

Isaac had once mentioned that he wished he was less sensitive. Being caring wasn’t the best quality for a lawyer to have. He viewed it as a weakness, but she disagreed. She knew that his being sensitive and observant and caring made him a better lawyer. His ability to connect with clients and the jury was the reason he was so successful.

Unfortunately, these same qualities helped him sift through her carefully curated exterior and know what she was really feeling. It was unnerving. She wasn’t used to being seen.

“Of course I’m alright,” she responded casually. She chuckled and shooed his hand away. “I’m just not looking forward to going back to work. Okay, how do I look?”

“Freshly fucked.” He laughed at the scandalized expression on her face.

“Isaac!” She playfully swatted his arm. “God, we’re gonna be so late.”

Isaac shrugged. “Probably.” He buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his pants while she reapplied her nude lipstick.

“Okay, I’m gonna head to the conference room,” she announced. “Wait a couple of minutes before you follow. I’ll cya in there--”

She was cut off by Isaac, who had reeled her in by her waist to give her a searing kiss, one that fogged her newly found bearings. He slipped in his tongue and curiously grazed her teeth, and just as she began to reciprocate, he abruptly pulled away.

“I’ll cya in there,” Isaac said, grinning at her dazed expression. She let out an offended scoff before she turned on her heel and exited the storage closet.

Isaac smiled to himself as he heard the clicking of her heels fade away. He tried to remember his life before she entered it. He found nothing in his memory except a lukewarm existence filled with meaningless affairs with women who only cared about his looks or his money, the endless monotony of work that didn’t interest him anymore, and a sinking loneliness.

Isaac remembered the first time he saw her. It was on her first day of work. He remembered hearing her laugh, soft and melodious, drifting through the cubicles. He saw her surrounded by the other associates, who stared at her with glitter in their eyes and hung onto her every word. Even Derek found her charming.

Her voice, her eloquence, her warm honey eyes, her aura. He found it all captivating. She was beautiful.

More than all of that, he loved her mind. She had joked that Derek liked her better, but he knew she was right. She was better in every sense of the word: smarter, funnier, wittier, and more ambitious. In point of fact, Isaac started caring more about his job after she showed up. It was her drive that sparked his, her passion that geared them into an unspoken competition of who could win more cases.

She changed his life without even knowing it, and somewhere along the way, Isaac started to fall for her.

But Theo got to her first. He approached her with his smarmy smile and slithered his way into her affections. Isaac watched their relationship unfold over the course of eight months. He watched her fawn over him like all the other women in the office, watched her eyes light up when he entered the room. He even walked in on them making out in the break room and lost his appetite for the rest of that dreadful day.

He watched Theo dump her in a heartbeat when he was offered higher pay and cushier benefits at a competing law firm in the city. He watched her fall apart.

By that point, Isaac had convinced himself that he could never have her and his feelings went stale. But as soon as he saw her heartbroken, he didn’t even hesitate to race to her side and give her his shoulder to cry on.

Isaac was there for her. He absorbed her pain and her sadness. He helped her find her drive again and worked on cases with her. The late nights and deep conversations turned into friendship. His feelings returned. He considered confessing, but everything changed the night of their drunken hook up.

She was the one who suggested they should forget that it happened, and then when things continued, she seemed satisfied with being just friends with benefits. It seemed like that was all she could want from him.

So, Isaac kept his feelings to himself and let her use him. It’s not like he didn’t do the same.

He knew she deserved better than casual hook-ups, but he couldn’t confess his feelings or set her free. He couldn’t get enough of her. He selfishly wanted her, in any capacity she would allow.

She had no idea how much power she held over him. He was completely in love with her and slowly being crushed by the weight of his own feelings, but for her, he could endure it.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Isaac adjusted his tie one final time and took a deep breath. He made sure to smooth down his hair as he walked into the conference room; she always had a thing for tugging on his curls and messing them up. Not that he minded.

“Lahey,” Derek announced as Isaac walked in. “Good of you to grace us with your presence.”

Isaac inwardly cursed. The meeting had already started. He took the empty seat besides Boyd and coughed out an apology to Derek. Isaac saw y/n smirking from across the room.

“As I was saying, this meeting concerns tonight’s Christmas party at my house,” Derek said. “Normally I wouldn’t call a meeting for this since I host one every year. But this time, I’ve decided to do things differently. Instead of Christmas sweaters and eggnog, I’ve decided that this year, it will be a formal, black tie event. I’ve also decided to invite the other firms from around the city as a show of goodwill.”

A round of groans ensued.

“But they’re all assholes!” Erica complained, then shrank back at Derek’s miffed expression. “I’m sorry, but they are. The Christmas party is supposed to be for us. It’s supposed to be fun. And they’ll ruin it.”

“I disagree,” Derek said. “I’m sure that if we try to make peace, so will they. I’m hoping to have a good year, one where competing firms won’t try to steal my associates out from under my nose.” Isaac scowled at Derek’s implication: he was talking about Theo. “Anyway, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. As I said, it’s a black tie event, so everyone should dress formally, and--”

Stiles hand shot up in the air.

Derek sighed. “Yes, Stiles?”

“Uh, sorry,” Stiles said, smiling guiltily. “By dress formally, just how fancy are we talking here?”

“It’s a black tie event,” Derek repeated, enunciating every syllable in annoyance. “Do I have to teach you how to dress now?”

“I mean, not now, but if you wanna come over later and help me get dressed...” Stiles grinned as Derek turned red and coughed away Stiles’s flirting. A chorus of faint giggles ensued. It was well known that Stiles had a crush on Derek and made it his mission to mess with their boss.

“Okay, that’s it everyone,” Derek said stiffly. “I’ll see everyone at my house at eight. Don’t be late.”

~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, y/n stared at herself in the mirror.

She had decided on the red, curve-hugging dress that Isaac had once pointed out in her closet. He’d asked her why she’d never worn it before and suggested she should. She had merely shrugged in response.

The truth was, she bought the dress thinking she could be brave enough to wear it one day, but every time she came close, she got scared and put it back. She thought it was too bold. She was scared of the attention the dress would draw in.

That was then. These days, she had no reservations about wearing form-fitting clothing. She didn’t fear attention. Isaac had played a large part in boosting her confidence: he always told her how much he loved her body. It wasn’t like he was the first man to ever call her sexy; Theo had done that plenty of times.

The difference was that Isaac didn’t make her feel like an object when he said it. He made her feel like she was something holy, a deity to be worshipped. The way he touched her sometimes, so careful and so tender, made her feel like she was the answer to his prayers.

But that was just wishful thinking on her part. They were just friends, after all.

Isaac was there for her when she was completely alone after her breakup and he never even let her thank him for it. He swooped in like the knight in shining armor she was taught not to believe in and rescued her from her own grief.

It was embarrassing really, how deeply entrenched he had become in her life. She thought about him all the time. She thought about him when she got dressed in the morning, about what outfits would make his head spin at work. She thought about him when she accepted pro-bono cases, especially those that concerned abusive parents and broken childhoods.

Before Theo approached her, it was Isaac who had filled her thoughts. His smile, his eyes, his laugh when she was lucky enough to hear it. It was Isaac she thought about in the shower while she touched herself, pretending it was him.

Even after she got together with Theo, every once in a while when they were intimate, she’d catch her thoughts drifting to Isaac’s sharp jawline and his pretty blue eyes and imagine that it was his large hands all over her body instead of her boyfriend.

She thought about Isaac tonight while getting ready for Derek’s party, spent a little extra time styling her hair into loose waves and obsessed over the precision of her makeup and wore something she knew he would like. Underneath her dress, she had on the lacy lingerie he brought her back from his trip to Paris, just in case.

She wanted to show Isaac that it was all for him. That she was finally over Theo. Isaac was the only one she wanted.

~*~*~*~*~

Isaac arrived at the party promptly at 8 o’clock. He didn’t want to be late for Derek twice in one day.

He entered Derek’s sizable estate and immediately made a beeline for the open bar. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and exchanged pleasantries with the pretty bartender, passing time until y/n showed up.

Isaac adjusted his collar and scanned the room. Most of his co-workers were already present, but she was nowhere to be seen. Knowing her, she’d probably be a little late.

Isaac remained at the bar, not feeling compelled to interact with his coworkers. He didn’t have issues with them, and he wasn’t typically the anti-social loner who avoided the chattering crowd, but tonight was different. He felt restless.

It was at this time last year that everything changed between y/n and Isaac. The last time they had attended one of Derek’s Christmas parties, it was the first time they were ever intimate.

Even though a year had passed, the memory was still fresh in his mind. He even remembered what she had worn: a black skirt and a red sweater that had a reindeer on it, and a Santa hat. She looked downright adorable. He remembered that she smelled like vanilla and tasted like cinnamon and sugar when he kissed her.

Isaac winced after taking a particularly large sip of his drink. He was feeling sentimental tonight. It was nice to think about the past. Back then, things weren’t so complicated. He didn’t have to worry about whether having casual sex with someone he was in love with did more harm than good.

It was then that a man with a familiar style of perfectly coiffed hair had made his way over to the bar and was sitting about five feet away from Isaac.

“One whiskey sour, please,” he said.

Isaac could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Theo,” Isaac said flatly.

Theo smirked at the sight of his former associate.

“Lahey! It’s good to see you.” Theo extended his hand, a gesture Isaac pointedly ignored. His blood boiled at the sight of Theo standing there so casually, like he could just waltz into Derek’s house after turning his back on everyone there.

“What are you doing here?” Isaac said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Derek invited me. Well, he invited my firm. I figured since it’s the holidays, I should probably come, maybe clear the air.”

“Clear the air?” Isaac repeated. “Oh, you mean after you left with no warning and took all your clients’ accounts with you? Yeah, you could probably make a few apologies.”

Theo raised his brow at Isaac’s defensive response.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t glad I left,” Theo said. “I basically did you a favor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My ex girlfriend. I know you always had a thing for her.” Isaac’s stomach lurched at Theo mentioning her. As far as he was concerned, Theo lost all right to talk about her when he left her crushed and devastated.

“You know,” Theo continued, “I’m actually amazed she never figured out you had feelings for her. She was pretty naive though. And in her defense, I kept her occupied with other things.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Isaac seethed.

“Why, what’s wrong? After I left, you had her all to yourself. Don’t tell me you didn’t man up and make a move, especially since she was so broken after I dumped her. You had the perfect chance to swoop in.”

“I don’t really do the whole, preying on vulnerable women thing. That’s more your style.”

Theo scoffed. “Please. You make it sound like I tricked her into dating me. Everyone knows she was all over me. I actually kinda miss her being all over me. Who knows, maybe if I see her tonight, I might try to get back into her good graces, you feel me?”

Rage swelled in Isaac’s chest at the idea of her and Theo together again. All the pain of the past came rushing back in one all-consuming wave and he was pretty sure he heard his glass crack a little bit when he slammed it down on the counter.

“I swear,” Isaac muttered, “if you even look at her--”

“Theo?”

It was her. Too caught up in their verbal stand-off, Isaac and Theo didn’t notice she was standing behind them.

Theo didn’t miss a beat, flashing her his signature dazzling smile.

“It’s so good to see you,” Theo said. “Wow, you look amazing.” He approached her with open arms. To Isaac’s relief, she ignored his attempt at a hug. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here. But… you’re here,” she stated in disbelief. “Why are you here?”

Isaac tried to meet her eye, but she seemed transfixed by Theo. He silently watched them interact, ready to jump into action if Theo made a wrong move.

“I’d like to say I came for the party, but,” Theo paused, then plastered on the phoniest somber expression Isaac had ever seen. “I was actually hoping to run into you.”

Theo’s eyes flitted back to Isaac for a brief moment, catching his gaze and sending a silent message of victory.

“You were hoping to run into me?” she asked, flustered. “Why?”

“Because I miss you, baby,” Theo drawled. “Can we go somewhere to talk in private? There are some things I need to tell you.” Theo reached forward and caressed her arm, and Isaac had finally had enough.

“Don’t listen to him,” Isaac said, catching flickers of indecision in her eyes. “Come on,” he pleaded with nervous laughter.

“I...” she began hesitantly. Isaac’s heart sank when she answered, “I’ll go with you, Theo.”

Isaac was taken aback. Her words felt like a betrayal. “He’s not worth it. You don’t need to do this,” Isaac said, his self-assuredness tapering off.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry! I’ll be right back. Come on, Theo.”

Isaac watched Theo lead her into a nearby empty room. He downed the rest of his drink in one throat-scorching swig.

~*~*~*~*~

Isaac checked his watch for the eighteenth time that night. Or maybe nineteenth. He’d lost count. He had been sitting at the bar for the past twenty minutes, waiting for her to return. Isaac hung his head at his own naivety, mentally berating himself for holding out hope for the impossible fantasy that she would reject Theo.

He was stupid to think she could ever want him the way he wanted her. She would always choose Theo over him.

A light tap on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. He ignored it. He wasn’t much in the mood for dinner party chatter. The tapping on his shoulder persisted and Isaac turned around to confront the agitator. It was her.

“Hey,” she said.

He faltered in surprise, scanning her face for signs of distress, but she looked more relaxed than when she had left. Theo had worked his magic after all.

Isaac snorted. “Hey back.”

She frowned quizzically. “What’s up?” she prodded.

“Nothing. I’d ask how things went with Theo, but judging by the look on your face, I take it everything went well. But I get it. He’s pretty fucking dreamy, isn’t he? Makes you forget all about the past.”

Isaac’s words were an assault, denting her pleasant mood with accusations. He’d never spoken to her like this before, so scathing and condescending. Her eyes drifted to the glass of scotch in his hand.

She gently placed her hand over his and pried the drink away.

“I think you’ve had enough,” she said softly.

“Of you.”

She visibly flinched. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Isaac threw back the rest of his scotch, ignoring its stinging path down his throat.

She took a steadying breath and her lawyer instincts to kick in. She reminded herself to be calm and rational when dealing with distraught and combative clients. Or in Isaac’s case, indignant crybabies.

She dismissed the bartender when Isaac called her over for another drink. She tightly clasped his forearm, pulling him out of his seat.

“Let go,” he grunted. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going to embarrass the both of us if you don’t stop struggling. We’re going upstairs.”

After a couple more attempts to shake her off, Isaac stopped resisting and let her lead him up Derek’s staircase, which was no easy task. He was a large man who was half-intoxicated, but he was sobering up with every step he took.

She led him into a random room and slammed the door behind them. He took in the lavish surroundings and photographs capturing Derek and what looked like his family. They were in their boss’s bedroom.

“You’re mad at me,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Tell me why.”

Isaac scoffed, shuffling over to sit at the edge of Derek’s bed. He leaned on his elbows and rubbed his face. He was so tired of it all.

“It’s always gonna be Theo, isn’t it?” he said.

She faltered at the mention of her ex-boyfriend’s name and the undercurrent of defeat in Isaac’s voice. “What’s always gonna be Theo?” she asked.

“You’re always gonna go back to him. It’s you and Theo forever, the way it’s always been. The way it’ll always be.”

She scrunched her brows in confusion and crossed her arms defensively.

“Okay, seriously. What are you talking about? Nothing happened with me and Theo. We just talked.”

“For twenty minutes? I don’t think so. Don’t lie to me. I’m a lawyer.” Isaac chuckled emotionlessly.

“I’m not lying to you. I’ve never lied to you. Why are you acting like this? Do you seriously think I ditched you to go hook up with Theo in the middle of Derek’s Christmas party?”

“You did ditch me. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Meant nothing to me? God, Isaac,” she groaned frustratedly. “Do you really believe that?”

Isaac shrugged noncommittally.

“Isaac.”

Nothing.

She sighed. “Look at what I’m wearing, you idiot.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He scanned the length of her body. He realized that the color of her dress looked familiar, as well as the cut and length. He finally recognized it as the same dress he had asked her to wear a few months back. She had refused to put it on that day. She didn’t say it, but he knew she felt too insecure to wear it, which he thought was ridiculous. She could look beautiful wearing a trash bag.

He blatantly ogled her, taking in the way the delicate fabric draped over her body. She grinned at his reaction. The dress had achieved its intended effect.

“You’re staring, Lahey,” she pointed out.

“You’re wearing the dress,” he said dumbly.

“Good observation. I wore it for you, you know. I wanted to look good for you.”

“For me,” he repeated, awestruck. “But... what about Theo?”

“What about him? He just went on and on about how much he missed me and how letting me go was the biggest mistake in his life, blah blah blah. His little soliloquy was pretty entertaining, but he’s so full of shit. I can’t believe I ever let him touch me. He’s repulsive.” She grimaced.

Isaac felt the suffocating weight lift off his chest. He was finally able to breathe.

“What did you say to him?” he asked.

“I basically told him to go fuck himself a million different ways. It was great.”

“So, does that mean you’re over him?” Isaac asked timidly, still afraid to believe that Theo was a relic of her past.

“Yep. I’m into someone else now. You might know him. He’s tall, got curly hair, gets crazy jealous around my exes, likes to wear fake glasses...”

Isaac covered his face and laughed. She watched him fondly, relieved that he was back to his usual self.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just care about you so much, and the way Theo was talking about you, like he owned you. I just got so angry.”

“It’s fine, I get it. But it’s over between me and him, and that’s because of you. I wanted to tell you that tonight. You made everything better. I wouldn’t have been able to face Theo without your voice in my head, telling me that I was strong,” she confessed shyly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Isaac silently nodded, letting her words wash over him. “I’m glad you stood up for yourself. You deserve so much better than him.”

“Thanks,” she said, blushing at his praise.

Isaac nodded. “So… did you really drag me up to Derek’s bedroom?”

She laughed. “I didn’t realize it until we were already inside. My bad.”

Isaac smiled and extended his hand, which she gladly accepted. He tugged and pulled her down to the bed. She sat beside him, their fingers still interlocked.

“I have to confess something,” she said quietly, piquing Isaac’s curiosity.

“What is it?”

She ducked her head, letting her hair curtain her face and shield her from Isaac’s questioning, attentive gaze. “Before Theo came into the picture, it was gonna be you. I think I knew even back then that it was always you.”

Isaac froze. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to contain the nervousness in his voice.

She looked up at him. “I think I always knew that the person I wanted to be with was you. I should’ve broken up with Theo a long time ago.”

“You... you wanted to be with me?”

She nodded. “Before Theo, I used to like you. Even when I was with him, you were still in the back of my mind. And I thought I would be okay with just hooking up and being your friend, but I want more. I was just scared to tell you because I was so traumatized from my past relationships. But I don’t feel scared when I’m with you. You make me feel so safe. I... I love you, Isaac.”

Isaac was floored. Here she was, telling him everything he ever wanted to hear, and he couldn’t believe it. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to express how much he wanted her. He didn’t know how to tell her she could do anything she wanted to him and he would let her. She could carve up his heart into a million jagged pieces and he would just thank her in return.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Isaac said, voice shaky with feeling. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, savoring the feeling of her soft lips. Her pretty mouth, her honey skin. He laid her backwards onto Derek’s bed. He undressed her to find that she was wearing the lingerie he brought her back from France.

They made love. Afterwards, Isaac zipped up her dress and she helped him with his tie. In the silence, they knew they didn’t need to speak. They couldn’t if they tried. There were no words that could contribute anything else to the moment. It was perfect.

They went back downstairs and rejoined the party, walking in holding hands. The stares of their coworkers were hard to ignore; subtlety wasn’t their thing. Derek gave his annual end of the year speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and wishing everyone health and happiness. Derek’s gaze drifted over to them mid-speech. He glanced at their joined hands and rolled his eyes fondly.

Across the room, Isaac caught Theo looking at them. He pulled y/n closer into his side and kissed her forehead, grinning in Theo’s direction.

One whole year of secret pining later, Isaac finally got what he wanted.

fin.

author’s note: this fic was initially posted on my old blog that got terminated. i wrote it for a mutual named addison. i modified it to take out her name and sadly had to leave it in 3rd person. otherwise i would’ve had to edit way too much. as a result, sadly there are a couple of y/n mentions in there lol.

this original fic also had a very different ending that was extremely graphic and sexual, and it made me v uncomfy, so i edited it out completely.

if this fic or any of my other writing makes it seem like i hate theo, it’s because i do. i feel like if isaac had ever met theo, they would’ve loathed each other. it’s fun imagining their dynamic.

anyway pls let me know what you think and interact with me bc i am sad ahaa <3

#isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey smut #daniel sharman imagine #daniel sharman smut #daniel sharman #isaac lahey #sneaky link is my new fav expression lmfao #mermaidenisaacs

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sevi007 · 3 years

Note

Baltheir must've seen Fran go ballistic like that once, knows that Mist can have a pretty strong effect on Veira, so this is probably isn't much of a surprise for him now. But consider, first time he saw her like that, wide eyed and feral, he's trying to calm her down cause she looks like she's scared or in pain, hugging her close until she calms down not caring about the wounds she's causing. When she comes to Fran tries to apologize but Baltheir wouldn't have any of it. 1/2

once he's done dressing his wounds, and hers, they have a long conversation about how Mist can effect a Veira so they can be better prepared next time. And Fran apologizes once more for that "ugly display" and Baltheir scoffs, "Fran, dear, you're a lot of things, but ugly? Never." She stares at him in shock for a moment before she smiles. and then, "if anything, you were even more beautiful, now that I have a chance to look back on it, you're very pretty when you're mad" she pinches him. 2/2

@rex101111 is absolutely my greatest enabler, and nobody should be surprised anymore when I take one of the prompts he gives me and just write an entire One-Shot out of it. Like I did here. In a rush.

(It is not quite what you had in mind, Rex, but I really had only so much influence over where this story went. I think the FFXII characters just possessed me halfway through and wrote this themselves. I hope you still like it as much as I liked writing it!)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fran knows it was a mistake, following Balthier’s lead. It does not matter what treasures awaited them, or how sure of their success he was; the moment he had told her their next trip would take them to the fallen city of Nabudis, she should have turned heel and walked out on him.

And yet, here she is; breathing in mist rather than air, feeling it claw at her throat and her mind, while she follows the hume man through this laid-bare bones of what was once a glorious city. Because it is Balthier who asked, and Balthier who lead the way. And Fran always, always followed his lead, ever since they had met each other. This, she knows, is a weakness.

She should have known better, than to let herself be weak. The forest taught her that. Life taught her that. Weakness means death.

The thought thrums through her, clear like a bell. It is the last clear thought she has before the burning of the mist ignites inside her, explodes in an inferno, and her head feels like it is being split in two. She thinks she screams, but she cannot be sure; the next thing she knows she is on her knees, doubling over onto all fours, and she is burning alive as the mist rages through her, her world tinging red.

With blurry eyes she watches her fingers curl together and her nails elongate, and tries to choke out a warning, but it never comes. Her head tips back and she catches a glimpse of Balthier, whirling around towards her with his eyes wide, before she opens her mouth and screams.

It is every nightmare she ever had, combined. She has feared such a moment for several reasons, and only one of them being what will he think of me, seeing me so unhinged?

The other, much more potent fear, was for his fragile hume life.

She is Viera; hers is the strength of nature, of the very forest which gave birth to her. With the mist clouding her mind, there is nothing to reign in that strength. She is a storm, an earthquake, a beast let loose. Her nails are claws slashing, her limbs like whips clashing, and her power enough to shatter stone and steel, so, so easily crush bones into dust.

And Balthier, the brave fool, takes one look at her twisted features, at her trembling body ready to pounce and rip him to shreds, and does exactly what she feared he would do: He runs towards her instead of away from her.

Fran wants to scream at him stop, you foolish boy, stop, but all which comes forth is another heart stopping howl and then Balthier is already crushing into her at full speed.

Instinct moves her; her body bucks and rears and tries to throw him off while she snarls and hisses at him. His arms come around her and he holds on with all his might. To her, it might as well be paper stripes trying to hold her back.

Not that he is trying to hold her down. It is from far away that the tiny part of Fran which is still her, which can still think, notices this. He is not holding onto her arms, trying to contain her. He simply cradles her protectively wit no care for his own wellbeing. As if her claws are not at present tearing into his shoulders, cutting through cloth and skin alike. And he is talking; a low, gentle murmur which should have gotten lost in her own thunderous roars but somehow rings louder still in her ears.

“… this why you did not want to come here? Forgive me, Fran. I should have listened to you.”

Perhaps it is the proximity to him. Perhaps the surprise of him being the one apologizing filters through. Whatever it is, her mind clears, if only a little, even while her body is still wildly out of her control. The rush of blood in her ears takes second place to the horrible sound of cloth tearing, skin ripping, and her own monstrous roars.

And over it all, Balthier’s voice, right there. “I will listen better from now on, I promise on the Strahl I will. You won’t have to endure this ever again.”

The hand which finds her cheek, thumb stroking infinitely gentle and too close to her sharp teeth, is a glaring contrast to her own vicious movements. Even in her rage, her body stiffens in surprise at the perplexing kindness of the gesture.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Fran. But right now, I need you to come back, you hear me?” The arms around her tighten as if trying to hold her together. “I know you are still in there, Fran. I know you can come back. Come back, please.”

Please.

It is that little word, the tremor of it, which stills her completely then. Fran is still breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, a mutinous growl rumbling in her chest. Yet she is no longer lashing out against the hume in her arms, her claws lying uselessly against his torn shoulders.

There is two equally strong urges fighting inside her - to destroy, and to protect.

Hurts. Pain. Lash out, her body burning under the mist thrums. The warm body pressed against hers is a nuisance. A danger, in her state. An enemy. Rip. Tear. Crush.

No. No. This is not an enemy. Fran clings to the blurry thought, as viciously as her inner beast, refuses to let it go again. This is no stranger. This is not any hume. This is the boy turned man who had taken one look at her and decided to reach out and give her a place to stay. This is her friend and partner who always has her back, no questions asked. This is Balthier.

Her Balthier. Who would hold onto the beast she had become to comfort it rather than cut it down in self-defense.

He has seen me, and he has not ran from me.

I will nothurt him.

She howls once more, but this time there is another sound wrenched in between; a sob. A mixture of fear and relief. It is like a rain drop onto a wildfire, but it is a start. It repeats itself, again and again. Her hands loosen, relax into something more natural once more. She drops in Balthier’s arms, slumps over like a puppet with its strings cut loose. She does not even notice when the world tilts around her and her back meets the ground.

The last thing she sees is Balthier’s face above her, pale and horribly young, mouth moving silently; or can she simply not hear him? His eyes look red, she thinks and moves to reach out and do something about it – but her body feels far, far away. Her arm simply will not do as she wants.

She cannot even worry about it before darkness takes over her senses and she knows nothing anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am quite sure a potion would have done the trick just as well-…”

“Be quiet, Balthier.”

He tries, for her sake. Even from behind, Fran can see him try valiantly to bite back the words, jaw working, before he does finish just like she expected, “You should save your energy.”

They have been going back and forth on this for a while now, so Fran decides it is best to let it be and simply do her work. In the silence, she focuses on drawing the tiniest bit of mist from the air and spin it into the most potent Cure she is capable of at present.

Fran understands his worries, she does. After all, she had needed to be carried back all the way to the Strahl after her breakdown and even then it had taken several hours before she had come back to consciousness once more. She knows he caresand that that is why they had nearly started wrestling with each other when she had tried to get up at first, and once more when she had started to tear at his shirt to try and assess the damage shehad done to him while he protested and tried to wave it off as nothing.

Fran knows all that. But as is usual with them, Balthieralso understand that she needs to do this without needing to hear it, and so he lets her, despite his grumbled protests and all his eye-rolls. It is for her peace of mind that she spins the magic and pours it into his body. Each bit of skin which knots back together and smooths out is a tiny piece of her own heart healed, a weight lifted of her shoulders as she watches her sins be wiped away slowly.

Once she is done, her hand hover uselessly over Balthier’s back for a moment, torn between reaching out and touching the skin there. As if to make sure it really is healed and hides no further injuries.

Injuries I caused.

“All done?” Balthier’s voice startles her. Humming in answer, she watches when he pushes to his feet and stretches his arms over his head with a relieved sigh. “Ah yes, so much better. Remind me to ask you for white magick lessons again. We save a fortune on potions that way.”

“I will.” Her gaze follows him while he moves about, checking the range of his motions, shooting her a distracted smile as he does. She means it; it will do him good to know healing magic himself, should she not be around… or lose herself once more.

“Thank you. Now. How does it look?”

At the prompt, Fran instinctively finds her gaze rack one more time over his bare skin, counting blemishes which are not there anymore. A few shadows remain; places where a Curaga would have done more than a mere Cure. But those were mere bruises, and a lot less than pains Balthier was more than used to.

Still the knowledge of the source of these shades sits as a knot in her belly, and she clenches her traitorous fists tightly.

A throat being cleared snaps her out of it. When her gaze meets Balthier’s, his eyes are dancing with laughter. “My dear, you are welcome to look all you want of course, but I was talking about my shirt.”

Despite herself, Fran feels her eyes crinkle with her own smile. Somehow he had always had the ability to make her smile once more, no matter what. With only a little derisive snort at his peacocking – he never grew out of that one, did he – she holds up the stripes held together by mere thread, lets the remains of the shirt dangle from her fingers. “Beyond all rescue.”

Balthier pulls a disgruntled face as if, somehow, this is the worst thing that has happened to him all day, and sighs deeply and dramatically. “A shame. That was my best one.”

The knot in her belly tightens once more, but before it can get too much, Balthier already keeps talking with a flourish of his hand. “Well. Once we’re both well-rested again, it seems to be time for another shopping trip. What would you say if you charter the course after getting a good night’s sleep? I will follow your lead.”

Fran blinks, and feels her ears swivel forward, as if she has somehow misheard him. “… me?”

“Why, yes,” Balthier is already up to his shoulders in the closet he has pilfered as his wardrobe and his voice is muffled, but she can hear his amusement clear as day anyway. “Who else should I ask? Bless his heart, but I would not trust Nono to steer us right. He understands the Strahlwell enough, but reading a map, well…”

“Why not pick a course yourself?” Fran interrupts him without thinking, still baffled. This is unpreceded; it has always been Balthier who led, and she who followed. A role-reversal feels much more significant than Balthier is trying to make this seem. After all… “Are you not the leading man in your story?”

“Our story, Fran. Ours.”

Balthier is busy pulling on a new shirt – of much lesser quality than its predecessor– over his head once he resurfaces and thus Fran has an unobserved moment to school her features and make sense of this grand declaration, handed to her so casually.

She barely manages to get a grip before Balthier smooths down the cloth and runs both hands through his unruly hair to tame it. He is still not looking at her when he continues, voice suspiciously light and casual.

“I had time to think.” While you were unconscioushe does not say but it rings loudly between them. “I might be a master thief and an even better pilot, that much is true, but I do not seem to have a knack for picking the our next destination. So I will leave that honor to you, and no one else.”

He turns, then, and whatever astonishment she has not gotten under control must show plain as day, for his smile spreads easily over his entire face, chasing away first hints of apprehension there. He has the gal to wink, this man, eyes bright. “Every good sky pirate needs a good navigator, after all.”

Something settles in Fran’s chest then, and suddenly, she understands. Understands that this is not only him apologizing again, but also a sign of trust. A reassurance that whatever happened today has not shaken his faith in her.

Fran is not prone to great outbursts of emotions. No Viera is. And yet. Once the real meaning of this gift Balthier is handing her with a boyish smile truly sinks in, she finds herself looking down at the torn shirt in her hands, blinking rapidly and struggling to keep her breath even.

The decision is a laughably easy one. Once she feels more in control again, she does not hesitate to push the shreds of cloth aside as far as possible and looks up at her friend. “No need to charter a course. Let us head for Nalbina next.”

Surprise flickers in Balthier’s features before he is already smirking again, head tilting. “To restock, I assume?”

Fran smirks right back, gestures at him; at the shirt with the too short cuffs and yellowing from age. “To get you something proper to wear.”

His crooked smile blooms into real delight and he throws his head back in a startled, happy full belly laugh, just like she had hoped he would. The sound fills the room and unravels the knot inside her completely, and she finds herself smiling at him much less smug, much gentler than she had wanted to.

“Why, Fran, don’t tell me you don’t like what you see!”

“Not particularly. Once you look into a mirror you will agree with me.”

“Ouch. You do know how to pick your words,” Balthier presses a hand to his chest, his eyes still laughing even while he has quieted down to mere chuckles. “But fine, as the lady wishes. Nalbina it is. Now?”

“Nothing is holding us here,” Fran points out. Knows that he will hear what really means. Let us not stay here any longer.

Sure enough, his expression turns serious ever so briefly before he smooths over it once more and dips low in a bow, hand outstretched. “Shall we, then?”

“We shall.”

Reaching out for him is easy. It always is. This time, Fran takes a tiny moment longer to admire her long-fingered hand in his shorter one. Hers is so very different from his. So very dangerous. Now, he knows that all too well.

And still, he does not hesitate to take it, hold it gently, and draw her to her feet so they are eye to eye once more.

He really is a marvel, this Balthier.

She is smiling with her entire face when she teases, “Choosing our course… Will that not make me the leading woman, then?”

“Please, Fran.” There is too much fond warmth there to make it sound like a reprimand, and they both know it.

She laughs, and says nothing about it anymore. It is simply not necessary. They both know that between them, there is no leader, and no follower.

There is only them, together, moving in tandem wherever they went.

And Fran would not want it any other way.

#balthier #fran #ffxii #fanfic #my writing #final fantasy xii #ff12

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sanflowerseeds · 3 years

Text

They Do It With Mirrors

Genre: PWP, Smut

Pairing: Choi San x Fem!reader, surprise appearance by Jung Wooyoung

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mirror sex, fingering, unprotected sex, slight anal play

Synopsis: Whenever you visit San at the company building you both end up going at it in a variety of innapropriate places. Today is no different. Bent at the waist, face pressed against the practice room mirror, you watch your warm breath fogging up the reflecting surface as San brings you apart piece by piece.

Here’s the thing. You rarely visit San at the company building, but the few times you do, more often than not, it ends with you both getting frisky somewhere inappropriate.

Like that one time he sat you on the long table in one of the meeting rooms and fucked you silly. You had your legs wrapped around his waist, two of his fingers in your mouth keeping your tongue busy and your moans restricted to quiet whimpers.

Or when you had him silently begging you to let him come, fingers tangled in your hair while you took your sweet time sucking him off in the gym room.

Likewise, today you find yourself bent down, face and chest up against the practice room mirror as you watch your hot, ragged breaths fog the reflecting surface. Your skirt is bunched up around your waist and your soaked panties are down, twisted and forgotten around your ankles. San is glued to your back while his skillful fingers play with your clit in tight circular motions, deliberately building up your pleasure.

He's been teasing you for what feels like hours, even though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. At this point you are soaked, deliciously aching, you can feel the rush of blood in your veins. You are just so needy it is like you are about to burn up from inside out.

It stopped surprising you long ago how effortlessly San can get you wet for him. Maybe it's the heated look in his eyes, blown-out pupils holding the promise of driving you wild, or the way his soft lips mold into yours, coaxing your tongue to follow his lead. Most of all, his husky voice, heavy with want and dripping desire as he spills sugar-coated obscenities in your ear.

"Good things come to those who wait," San teases before he licks the sweat off the side of your neck. "Lucky for you, I'm not feeling very patient today, either."

Thank God! If being honest, you don't know for how much longer you can take this sweet torture. When San grabs onto your hair, pulling your face up so you can stare at your own reflection, you need to use your hands to brace yourself against the mirror in order to find any sort of balance.

"Look at yourself, baby. So desperate and eager," his voice was viciously teasing. "I want you to see what you look like when I'm working you up, making you feel so good," he says.

With no further warning his fingers trace away from your clit, his middle finger gently finding its way into you from behind. It causes your eyes to close shut and a restrained moan to form on your lips. At the same time, you feel a harsh tug to your scalp followed by a hissed demand by your ear.

"I told you to watch." San’s voice was stoic, grave, in a manner you rarely heard from him. It was not a request. There is no way you can stop the shudder running down your body, dissipating in a pleasant, expectant warmth all the way to the tip of your fingers and toes.

So you watch with half-lidded eyes the blush on your cheeks and the redness of your parted lips. The burning need you have for him stamped on your face as San fingers you at a slow and steady pace, his darkened eyes transfixed by your image and the smallest changes he can see on your features as he does his best to make you come apart. He doesn’t have to try too hard to get you to succumb to him, really.

San’s ring finger joins the first one, his strokes precise as his thumb circles your other entrance in a light caress. You gasp, surprised, your legs turning weak at the silent promise of something more. He pushes in a little, not even enough to breach the tight muscle, chuckling at your frustrated whine.

"We can play like that some other time, beautiful." San breathes out, full lips brushing against your sweaty temple in a messy kiss. There is a sudden emptiness, your walls clenching around nothing when he pulls back and brings his fingers up to wrap his lips around them. Count on him to make a spectacle of licking them clean as if lapping at the sweetest of nectars while humming in delight.

He licks into your mouth, your neck twisted at an awkward angle guided by his hand still wrapped in your hair, but all that matters is tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss is feverish, frantic. If not for you being on the brink of insanity, you’d be perfectly content to just stay like this.

Kissing San is on the top of your “favorite things to do” list. He kisses with hunger and intent, his kisses talk of devotion and adoration. They make you lightheaded, euphoric. You are pretty sure you will never have any need for drugs because San is enough to keep you addicted.

"You're delicious," he says. The sudden weight in San's voice doesn't go unnoticed and your body's reaction is immediate, tightening the coil in your lower stomach, electricity running like pinpricks under your skin.

There is warmth where San is rutting against your asscheek, a thin trail of precum the evidence of his arousal. You feel the loosening pull on your scalp, your head falling forward as San’s hand runs down your neck, in between your shoulders, fingers trailing your spine until he can grip at your hips.

He uses his other hand to guide himself, running the tip of his cock along your slit, spreading your wetness and making goosebumps rise on your skin in anticipation. He is probing, provoking, but still not giving you what you desperately want from him.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he growls lowly. You can tell by his labored breathing just how worked up he also is.

A slight smirk graces your lips at the thought you are the one causing his sweet demise.

"I want it all. I want everything you have to give me." With your eyes focused on his through the mirror, you lick your lips in a clear invitation, your voice not faltering a bit. “Ruin me, San.”

Giving San the power to do whatever he wants to you made you feel powerful too. Yes, you were under him, at his mercy and will, but you gave him that, you allowed it. He can be the one calling the shots right now, but inevitably you are the one that’s got him wrapped around your fingers. The rush of adrenaline at the thought goes straight into your core, making you pulse, waiting for his next move.

The groan that leaves San’s throat while he slowly but steadily enters you is enough proof of the effect you have on him.

San doesn’t give you much time to adjust. Once completely sheathed inside he pulls almost all the way back, thrusting in again at a lazy, appreciative pace. He knows very well how much you enjoy the feeling of his cock dragging against your clenching walls. He knows how to build you up just to bring you crashing down in the most exhilarating way. There is not a doubt you will crash and burn for him, over and over, if it means he never stops making you feel like this.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up his rhythm, making it hard for you to contain a breathy moan when you stare at the mirror, getting lost in his reflection once again. There are beads of sweat gathering on his hairline, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The tip of his tongue is peeking between his parted lips, giving him a boyish yet sinful appearance.

He catches your gaze and brings a hand up to run it through his hair, pushing back the sweaty locks while winking at you playfully. You are about to roll your eyes at his silly - but effective - teasing, but instead, you roll them in pleasure when there is a shift in angle as San leans in to lick and leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck. The faint scrape of his teeth on your skin makes you arch your back. When he bites down on your heated flesh, you cry out in a shameless whine.

“I'm so close baby,” San’s breath is warm and damp when his husky voice reaches your ear. “Cum with me.”

His left hand is on your hips, nails digging half-crescent marks where they grip, guiding and pushing you back on his cock. With his right arm wrapped around your waist, his hand comes down between your legs to play with your clit as his thrusts become increasingly more eager.

Everything is hot,sweaty and sticky, San’s broad frame pushing your upper-body flat against the mirror. You can feel the pull in your stomach getting tighter, tighter, until it finally breaks and you are coming with a high pitched moan that sounds too loud when it echoes on the walls of the empty room. San’s fingers still move in slow circles on your, by now, extra sensitive clit, waiting for you to ride out the intense waves of pleasure and the only lingering feeling to be pure bliss.

Not a second later, you feel his body tense up and the sudden emptiness leaves you breathless when San pulls out, stroking his cock in quick movements until he’s also coming, staining the back of your thighs in a decadent painting he can’t stop staring at.

The weight of San’s forehead touching between your shoulder blades is comforting and welcomed while he rests for a few seconds until his breathing is back to a more steady pace. Silently, he strips out of his damp t-shirt, using the soft fabric to diligently help you clean up.

“I have a spare one in my bag,” he smiles sheepishly, dimples and all, quickly intervening when you’re about to complain and stop his actions.

Defeated by the beautiful upturn of his lips, you let him dote on you for a couple of minutes before pulling your underwear up, adjusting your clothes and turning in his arms to fully lodge yourself into his embrace. You kiss him again, tongue licking into his mouth unhurriedly, simply enjoying the proximity of your bodies, one hand tangled in his dark locks and the other running softly over his bare chest. San is handsome like this, disheveled and pliant under your touch.

There’s a knock on the door and before you can pull away from each other, a mop of dark hair peeks in, a pair of lively brown eyes taking in the room before finally landing on you and San.

Caught out of guard, but definitely amused by the situation, Wooyoung stares at both of you for a minute, a knowing smile on his face when he finally speaks. “Will you two ever stop fucking on company’s premises?”

Staring right back at his best friend, San doesn’t miss one beat. “No,” he says matter of factly, laying a soft kiss to the top of your head. His hands are warm where they rest idly on your waist, holding you close.

You let out a muffled laugh at your boyfriend’s bluntness from where you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck. In all honesty, the fact that Wooyoung has been aware of your escapades all along is incredibly hot.

Against your best judgment, you lean back a little and throw a quick glance at San that has him nodding as a sly smirk takes over his lips. You are glad he was quick in getting the hint and ready to play along.

“Why, Wooyoung? Interested in joining next time?” you say, turning around to face him and sending a small, sultry wink his way as San takes the opportunity to kiss the side of your neck, eyes never leaving Wooyoung.

Wooyung worries at his bottom lip, a small crease appearing in the space between his eyebrows as if pondering about the offer for a while. By now, he’s leaning against the door frame and you spare a moment to take in his form: arms crossed in front of his chest, muscles bulging just the right way under his t-shirt, a slim waist, black skinny jeans doing nothing at all to hide the curve of his hips or the thickness of his thighs. Wooyoung was enticing in completely different ways from San and there’s no denying the attraction and heavy sexual tension permeating the air around the three of you right now.

The change in Wooyoung’s features is clear, and San notices the mischievous glint in his eyes and daunting tongue wetting his lips at the same time you do. The rush of excitement and anticipation in your veins is almost instant, making you unconsciously grind back against San, earning yourself a low moan in your ear and fingers in a tighter grip over your hips.

Wooyoung smiles, cocky, he knows the effect he has on others and knows perfectly well how to use it to his advantage. When he speaks, it is full of confidence, with no room for second thoughts or any doubts.

“Gladly.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi~ It’s been a while! How are you all doing?

Hope you enjoyed your steamy, sexy reading ;D Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read it. This one was a wip for so long I’m glad I finally got the motivation to finish it. As usual, any comments or feedback is greatly appreciated, or if you just want to talk and ramble about other things don’t feel shy. My ask is always open!

#ateez smut #san smut #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #ateez fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut

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captainkurosolaire · 3 years

Text

Prompt #27 ~ Warfare

♫Till I Die♫

The fall of Garlemald's effects ran-through out the realm suddenly the shift of power had been flipped over. As many of the countrymen deserted, or those scattered, were pursued. Now they understood what it was like to be the spoils to war. Hunter's turned to prey. A privateer ship supporting under the banner of the Crimson. Chased pursued in the open seas of an attempted escape, a remnant squadron. Their division shattered as their Empire was crumbling to dust. The divisional commander of her ship was taking huge mortar's although the sea-vessel was sturdy and advanced, was taking blows, her men were taking hefty causalities, hearing in screams. They couldn't flee from this. In the fang's of revenge, under the skies of war, monsters were born. The people who once felt were fighting for righteousness, become no-better. These Privateer's were rejoicing. "Commander. Two more alliance accompanying vessels of the opposition have ascended over waves, we've nowhere to go!" The morale of her people were descending. "We've deserved this outcome. It was an honor." Her sentimental tone, spoke they'd rather imperial salute each-other, and commit suicide before becoming prisoners. Right in their contemplated end. The shift was about to turn again.

"A third vessel had wedged between the middle of their reinforcements!" Was shortly called out, giving them further, resolve of hopelessness, before... "Wait. The middle-vessel is bombarding the others!" Suddenly a massive ship rising over tides, removing the fake red Maelstrom banner had been withdrawn into an iconic pirate flag hoisted. Upon the bow-spirit was a tricorne-man. Treading past the destruction of two smaller privateers vessels. The ambush assault left them fodder out-maneuvered. Gathered man, etched in warpaint, they were banned ready for a fight. To intervene between this naval battle. The Seeker leapt back to his decks to bolster. "I would ask ye my Crew, within my helm. T' PRAY for yer enemies. Give them an early moment of silence. For these poor unfortunate soul's will b' educated, they'll earn their red-coats upon this Sun!" He roared and screamed with a warrior shout That followed behind others. "Give Boy-Lad his sea-legs. Let him earn his stripes t' walk over bones!" A crippled and amputated legless fighter crawled on the floor in disbelief, as Sol made augmented prosthetic legs. Unified chaos positioned, to invade the vessel of the privateer from behind. "Aid th' carrier of Garlean's, give all others no-quarter!" Viciously a stampede of leaps was drawn, it was anarchy. Projectiles flung back and forth, sniper shots from the crow's nest of the Worldly Finder started picking off them. Each Crewmate nearly about to be butchered by an opposition was protected by another, they fought as sword and shield, and reversed the roles. Rallied by a leader who was believed-long-flung dead. The brute Seeker skirmishes an assortment of parries to one of the swashbucklers before pulling out a sheathed revolver in the other hand and angling it under his chin and pulling the trigger in a massacre. Completely butchery. Blood of not his own making savagely drew over his face. As he bellowed another victoriously battle-cry that kept even his own injuries gaining on Crew to fight-on. The Garlean's left their hunker, to unity in bewilderment anyone would fight under their behalf. The Captain was almost executed by an aimed shot musketeer but was shot back by an assault rifle of the imperialist. The buccaneer brought terrifying laughter. "THEIR NUMBERS ONLY GIVE US MORE HEADS T' ROLL!" Not only bolstering morality to his own fighters, but also was making hesitation and fear start wearying the grip's of his oppositions, a tactician of dirty behavior. How long have they gotten to do anything they wanted? Or used the excuse of the Garlemald for them to justify or blame their heinous antics? These seas held no discrimination. Yet being constantly corrupted. Putrid borders, barriers for entries, they started skewering Beast Tribes because they strictly took advantage of the Calamity. They put a price-tag on the seas, owning it. Law and restricting and it's no different than what Captain's seen before, they're vindictive and greed-coated. Yet unlike Garlemald who were openly wanting to conqueror, the Maelstrom and Grand Companies alike played fantasy pretend. They're unbeatable, the good! Couldn't do any wrongs, existed of no poison. Bullshit, in war there was no such thing. It's a contest of ego. How many times had the Captain seen a Maelstrom get promoted after they violated his kinsmen, while preaching they were pirates... How many times did he watch them do nothing as people plead in the dirty-alleys before a gal went abducted and missing. These seas would find freedom from vile. Disarray and unorganized, suddenly being attacked by two-sides, the privateer's were being annihilated. Counter measured every-time they brought their marine scholars out, their magic was cancelled by the Historian of the Goldbrand, the purest faith in the Twelve, who brought them no harm, other than silencing their spells. The God's weren't on their side, they belonged to this pirate. That fiendish outcast hound of an Xaela, who ghoulishly shrieked, was feasting on arm's while slewing them in beheaded messes. A Quartermaster

followed by impaling them and hurling the smaller runt's of the enemies. Captain leapt up off that mountain of a Hellsguard on his Crew and bounced off his shoulders dexterously onto the stern. Exchanging in runaways some jumping overboard. "Draw them from th' seas back up here! Their corpses is unworthy t' share with the benthos!" Angry swarming came to their noisy vocalized leader. If they could just behead that blasted vermin then all of them would crumble to despair. He played defensively and evaded one of them about to slayed, was sniped from afar. The handicapped soldier got a puncturing stab on one of the men to protect his Captain before collapsing as his new leg's were already damaged and punctured. The Seeker picked up the adrenaline as blood cut's were protruding from his cheek. He threw his coat onto one of them and jabbed a series of quick deft dirks. A swishing blade came again as he relied on his above-feline scents. The thing he was mocked for by these giants. Doing a handstand leg, disarm from twisting the wrist of the deathly aggressor. The Seeker rolled away and jumped off the stern and swung a leap into the cabin, where he saw the frantic Head-Captain of this enemy helm, run-into, gathering up belongings to attempt plotting retreat. Unexpectedly a flintlock shot at his leg making him fall over all his glistening golds and gil he was trying to rummage into a burlap sack like a coward trying to recollect himself. He brought his own gun out but was disarmed by the wrist from another firearm shot, "Cap'n Daniwyrn... Ye have lost your sense. Recall me." These two knew each-other full and well, this was more than just a one-sided squabble, now. It held harboring emotion. "...Yer supposed t' b' blimey dead!" The callus blood-thirsty Seeker lowered his arm. "Dead is what ye did t' someone I loved. Well, I got yer message. Ye saw t' remove her head cause she moved t' me. If you couldn't have her, neither ov' us could." He lectured in all this chaos-warfare and took a menacing seat. "See, I am not here for revenge on you. This goes beyond that. Now, ye made a crime, sin I find very offensive..." The sea-wolf tried regaining himself while trying to also slowly scoot his bottom and get back his disarmed gun. Knowing was about to be sentenced to a horrific death, or believed. "You have tainted these seas, Daniwyrn. The punishment fer losing your sense. Is crueler than death by my hand. It's t' live as such." He shot the ear's respectively of the privateer. Then the Seeker stood up. Fiendishly brought out his coeurl toothed carved dagger and carved out eye to eye from his enemy. While he was screaming in anguish and incomprehensible pain never able to reel back. He cut that tongue like a fleeting ribbon.

Taking the senses of someone who lacked senses firstly. A fitting treatment, barbarically exercised. He bathed in all the blood over his inferior feline frame. "I know you can't hear me, see, nor speak, though I'm also a nice-guy, I'll leave ye with yer gun... if get the opportunity you should kill yourself." He'd savagely trail, beating his enemy who barely was functioning, stuck in a haze, discombobulated, suffering severe blood-loss. Loading and priming the revolver with one bullet, he'd force it into the arm's of his blind foe and make him squeeze it. Captain walked out as if this was just a regular circumstance. The duty of returning. Closing the cabin door. Hearing a procedure gun-shot ring-throughout. A signal was overhead horned, "They've got more crimson reinforcements!" The battle sizzled and the sparks were over. "Let us gather up, plunder post-haste. Burn this shite down." They took the Garlemald survivors and retreated, licking wounds but won victorious.

#Prompt - Benthos #FFXivWrite2021 #ffxivwrite2021 #FFxivwrite #tw: war mention #Tw:gore #tw: violence #ffxiv writers #Tales of the Goldbrand #long one'#Naval Battles #darker themes #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Creative Writing #Pirate

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capriccio-con-espressione · 4 years

Text

Hotspot | Pt.2 (Sheepish)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2739

Warning: Sub!Yangyang, (Hard)Dom!Reader, Femdom, Degradation, Profanity, Edging, Overstimulation, Humiliation (Slight exhibitionism), Hair pulling, Light face slapping (where reader is being attentive), Spanking, Gagging (Pet muzzle), Vibrating butt plug, Pet play, Leaving marks, Bondage (Pet anchor), Neglect play, Pegging, Fake cum (YY chokes on it askghkdjs), YY cries lol

A/N: Happy sort of belated birthday to our bratty Yangyang! I hope this feeds the painstaking lack of sub!Yangyang smut on this app! Fellow doms (esp if you are a hard one) enjoy!

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“Now what?” Yangyang grins upon locking the door to your usual playroom, yet despite his cheeky attitude, you can see how his expressions begin to falter as he sees the full-fledged equipment on display on the bed.

"What? Use your smart ass brain to think yourself, brat." You hiss. "You know what's coming, strip."

"Why should I?" Yangyang pouts.

"Don't make me force you. You're smart enough to know that you shouldn't test my patience, hmm?" You coldly demand as you hand him the garments he’s going to wear during the play. “Remember the spankings you owe me?” You tease his chin with the paddle that you know which intimidates him so much as he gulps with somehow anticipation and fear while busy sliding clothes off.

“O-o-of course.” Yangyang stutters, “But why this?” He motions at the white mesh undershirt you’re handing him, which is decorated with a few white fabric flowers that slightly resemble splotches of wool on it.

“Aren’t you Mistress’ Slutty Little Lamb?” You smirk knowingly, while helping him slide the mesh over his head. “You need to be well-prepped for the play later that is going to make you hot and bothered like the hotspot you already are…”

“Ugghhh.” Yangyang facepalms at the thought of the embarrassing SSID you just made him change and all the humiliation he had just endured. “No way you’re making me feel like that when you’re being this heartlessly cruel on me-”

“Oh really?” You cock your eyebrow as you’re palming his crotch, making the smart-mouthed boy gasp in response. “Already visibly hard just putting this fabric on, I find it hard to believe that you don’t like what’s coming next.”

You then insert the white furry tail plug inside him after some profuse lubing, before commanding him to get on his knees, securing the white choker and chain on him and giving it a firm tug.

“Now you’d better sit and behave like a sheepish little lamb you should be or otherwise there’d be more consequences-”

“Consequences of what? More spankings? Is that the only type of punishment you can only think of?” Yangyang’s eyes gleams with defiance while he sneers. “Why would you think I would let you boss me around just because now you have me dressed in this stupid attire?”

You shake your head in disappointment, “I thought I could go easier on you this time, brat. “ You hiss while giving a firm tug from the roots of the boy’s hair. “Guess the humiliation play on the SSID wasn’t enough, huh?”

“So what exactly is the consequence, huh, O Mistress?” Yangyang still retorts with a smirk despite his wincing from your pull. “Bet you could never come up with a better one other than a spanking- hngghh!”

Yangyang’s riposte is cut short by a slap across his face, with your other hand cradling the other side of his cheek as a secure, exactly like you two had agreed on. “Now you’ve wasted your chance of winning my gentleness.” You purr menancingly into the boy’s ear while still pulling on the chain. “You want to be a sharp-tongued brat? Go ahead and be one then even with this on.”

You reach for the pet muzzle and white leather handcuffs hidden under the sheets on the bed, after taking a mental note to thank yourself for hiding it beforehand to win over that bratty boy, you immediately secure them around his snout and wrists, rendering him into a whiny struggling mess, glaring up at you.

“Well?” You grin as you pull hard on the chain, forcing the boy to crawl forward in a pathetically restrained manner. “Are you satisfied with this little punishment now? My cocky little brat?”

You then command him to follow your lead, to the silver wall anchor designated for this session and make a quick effort securing the chain to it, before dishing out another pair of handcuffs, cuffing both Yangyang’s hands to his ankles, and looking back to his indignant stare.

“Aww no use glaring at me like that, you untamed little brat.” You smirk knowingly. Just then a notification popped up on your phone, it’s from your staff team groupchat, and your supervisor has tagged you in it, in order to ask you about the details of upcoming projects of new shootings.

“What a pleasant surprise,” You simper while waving your phone at Yangyang. “Somehow I need to answer something important, and you’d better wait up-” A jolt goes through Yangyang’s body as he lets out a weak whimper and crumbles back on his knees. “Because I conveniently forgot to remind you, that this fucking plug fucking vibrates.” You smirk while turning the vibrations to the lowest settings via your phone app to tease the boy, before hopping on the bed far enough that the boy can never reach, and going back to your phone to make discussions with your supervisor.

In just a few minutes, Yangyang is soon trapped in a haze of unfulfilled lust, the vibrator doing vicious tricks to his sweetest spot, yet he can’t fuss with his voice and words as usual to win your attention and make you do something about it. All he can do now is to fuck his dick against the soft mattress-covered side of the bed, his head hanging on the edge of it to stare at your focused form, eyes filled with frustration.

But you soon noticed his misbehavior with the continuous rocking of the bed. “Stop it, you perverted little brat.” You come down from the bed to make a few more ties of the chain on the anchor to make him unable to reach the bed, obviously annoyed. “You are making me unable to focus on my job.” You icily state as you switch up the vibrator to the medium settings, making the boy arch his back and lower his head, with his cock twitching vulnerably, in response. “Dare to get yourself off without my permission earns more fucked-out rounds for you, understand, you fucking little bratty lamb?”

You try hard to focus on responding to your supervisor’s demanding questions in time and with ease without the little snorts and pathetic noises Yangyang makes beside you to have any effect on your functioning rationality. Just when waiting for the response from the groupchat, you see the sinful sight of Yangyang fidgeting and pacing on the floor, giving you the most pleading and vulnerable look he’s ever gave you, the look so meek and cute which would’ve granted him sooner release if he’d always been this obedient. Internally giving yourself a gleeful smile of triumph, you originally decide to have your way with the suffering boy underneath. But then another message from your fellow colleague, who is also one of your best friends in the work field, happens to leap onto your screen. most likely complaining about the disparity of distribution of workload, and somehow this gives you another devilish idea to torture the smart-mouthed boy now pitifully leaking and moaning beside you.

“Want some release, huh naughty boy?” You smirk down at him, as Yangyang fervently yet shakily nods. “If you want to cum, you’d better keep your voice down so you don’t embarrass yourself, brat.” You hiss before turning to voice call your colleague via the messaging app, making Yangyang’s body jump with warning.

Streams of complaints soon begin to flow from the other side of your phone as you pretend to be fully attentive, yet your hand is drawing circles on the tip of Yangyang’s dripping length viciously slow, as the boy can do nothing but furrow his brows, indulging in the feeling but also refraining hard to not make any form of noise.

Just when you and your colleague are too centered on picking out the wrongdoings of your supervisor, you can tell from the expressions of your boy that he’s close to his release, so you suddenly slip your hand away from Yangyang’s throbbing cock, making the boy whimper out loud of loss in response. Mortified by the sound he makes, he intends to back away, yet you just scoot even closer to him, simpering at his mishap.

And of course, that sound didn’t go unnoticed by your friend, as she inquires about the whatabouts of it, while you just leisurely replies it’s just a loud grunt someone makes whist chit-chattering outside your window as if your other hand isn’t stained with your boyfriend’s pre-cum right now.

The adding humiliation is making Yangyang blushing, sweating and radiating with heat of arousal, yet his inability to speak, move or even whine out is a plus-one to the exhilaration of the whole thing. Just when he thinks he’s going to combust due to the opprobrium, thankfully your friend decides to hang up and leave the playtime for the two of you.

“Isn’t that fun?” You knowingly grin as you’re pumping his length teasingly slow. "You finally get to pay for trying to fluster me in public so many times?" You mockingly inquire as you lean closer to him. “Say, do you truly want to cum?”

The boy pitifully nods again but is soon held back by you grasping on his shoulder and a motion of shush. “Okay okay I get it, but you would’ve looked much more beautiful cumming whilst getting fucked like an animal and punished like a bad little boy…now bend over” You devilishly grin as you reach for the paddle and take out the plug, making the boy whine out at the sense of loss, as you press down on his back, rendering him into an ass-up position.

“Since you can’t count with your snout secured like that…how about you count out every spank with the movements of your butt? Hmm? Isn’t that a unique kind of punishment, you bratty little lamb?” You sneer as you’re tapping the paddle on his ass, hand still pressing hard down on his back. “Looks like I am able to conjure up with other forms of punishment aside from spanking judging from what you just endured huh? Now count until 40.”

You then land a loud snap on his rear, as Yangyang, now desperate to end the ordeal, can do nothing but swivel his ass in a vertical movement, as if writing the number 1. “What a good little lamb...” You compliment as you land another smack on him, as your boyfriend soon writes the number 2 with his rear in response, while your hand comes down to soothe his rear that starts to reddishly glow, and plays with his cock from time to time.

Spank after spank is Yangyang getting tearier and more humiliated, the sense of sting and restraints overwhelming him as you can’t help but kiss away the trickles of salty liquid. Finally reaching the fortieth spank, without much protest from your boyfriend, surprisingly, you decide to give him some physical pleasure he deserves.

“Finally remorseful for talking back and being a nuisance, huh?” You inquire coquettishly while combing your fingers through his hair to comfort him down, at least a little. “Now, shall I fuck and pleasure your every possible orifice like an insatiable little lamb you are now hmm?”

You quickly equip yourself with your squirting strap-on before releasing the muzzle off Yangyang’s face, just to immediately slam the dildo into his mouth. “Slick my cock that I am going to fuck you with with that filthy mouth of yours.” You gleefully command. “I’m gonna cleanse that brattiness out of my precious little lamb until he’s sorry and there’s no trace of it…” You smirk in delight as you resume fucking his face.

Tears threaten to stream down Yangyang’s face again as you are roughing his mouth up while grabbing his head close to you, whilst attentively looking for any signs of distress or the safety gesture Yangyang would use if it’s going too much. After making sure there’s no warning signs from the boy, you decide to press onto the balls on the dildo to release some of the fake cum you had loaded in it beforehand, making the boy messily cough out in response as his mouth is filled with the lewd edible white liquid.

“Such a filthy yet beautiful sight to see…” You praise the boy as you give him gentle headpats as he’s recovering from the choke. “Now, should I get to fuck the horny ass of my cute little lamb, hmm?”

Not waiting for your boy to respond, you immediately grab your dark red lipstick with you, putting a generous shade of it on, holding it for later purposes as you begin thrusting into him after some necessary lubing again. Soon slick skin slapping sounds and Yangyang’s moans echo in the room, as you start bending down and kissing him on his sweetest sensitive spots, leaving red marks behind, as if claiming your precious boy yours.

“Look at you, moaning and melting beneath my thrusts like this, you are truly a slutty little lamb aren’t you?”

“No-ahh!” Yangyang’s retort is cut short by a harsh slap on his ass again.

“No? Then I’m afraid this hard thing wouldn’t be granted any release too soon…” You mock disappointment in your voice.

“Hannhh no… please I’m your little slut okay...your...hahhh,,,your little slutty lamb...mmmphh…”

“That’s my precious little lamb…” You compliment again as you toy with the hem of the mesh a couple of times, just to pool it at his shoulders to reveal his bare torso, and then you uncap your dark red lipstick, writing “Mistress’ Slutty Little Lamb” on his body, before leaning down to plant a kiss on his shoulder again and stroking his cock, while resuming pounding into him hard.

You notice Yangyang is nearing his climax when his breathing accelerates into a ragged pattern. “Beg, my pretty little lamb, beg. Why is my smart-mouthed brat lost of words now?”

“Please, Mistress, make me cum...pleeaasseee…”

“Good boy…” You coo as you fervently give him a few generous pumps, allowing hot spurts of white shoots ejaculating out of his cock. But while Yangyang thinks he’s escaped the ordeal, he doesn’t realize what you still have in store of him until he finds that your hand is still vehemently pumping his cock.

Pain soon invades his body as his attempts to struggle away from your firm grip are proved futile. “I thought you said you want me to make you cum, isn’t it, my cute little lamb?” You chortle out ruthlessly.

“Nonononono not like this…” Yangyang stammers out.

“So you promise you would never talk back to me anymore?”

“Y-yes for God’s sake!” “You promise you would never ever try to make lame sexual jokes and attempt to fluster me in public?”

“Yes p-please stop…” Yangyang practically wails out as he feels his next orgasm mixed with pain is nearing him.

“You sure you would be my good little slutty pet lamb and only for me to use and play with?”

“Y-yesss anything! P-pleeasseee!” Yangyang sobs as his whole body quivers at the overwhelming pleasure and affliction, as you finally grant him the second release that shudders through his whole body.

“Finally, our sharp-tongued brat has learned his lesson, hasn’t he? Hmm? My sweetie boy…” You coo as you give gentle rubs on his head as Yangyang gradually comes down from his high, his breathing dropping back to normal again.

“Why is my Mistress this cruel…” Yangyang meekly sobs while he leans into your chest, basking into the warmth of it.

“Yet you love it,” You retort. “and plus you’re being the defiant one first here I’m-”

“Shhh we’ve already spent most of our time having heated arguments, why should we ruin this perfect afterglow moment with those stupid fights?” Yangyang grins while still nuzzling your chest, making you feel absolutely fulfilled. “Save the bickering for later lol.”

“Instant recovery, huh?” You can’t help but remark as you savor the moments of bliss where Yangyang is finally being a meek obedient boy nestled on your chest. As you are undoing his restraints, Yangyang asks, “What did you write on my back?”

“Of course, your first SSID I made you change.”

“Ugghh you bossy...nevermind save that for later.” Yangyang bites back his riposte as he cuddles up close to you on the bed.

You smile while embracing your now cutesy little lamb, glad that there’s finally a moment of peace and truce between you two.

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Tagging: @wildernessuntothemselves because she’s Yangyang biased lmao

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bread0nhead · 3 years

Text

Miscreant (18+)

TW: SADISM CONTENT

Part of: Dark Fantasies: Kinktober Collab 2021

Sadist!Tomura x F!reader

❌❌❌❌

In this room there is no night or day. Time stops existing. Everything either feels like forever or not long enough. It’s dark with cold cement floors, no windows and only one door with two reinforced locks. There is a ceiling fan with flickering lights from the bulbs being too old to provide sufficient visibility. The walls are so thick that the air always feels stale. You could scream to the heavens and no one would hear your cries.

This room is for pain

This room is for pleasure.

This room is where you wait patiently for your lovers return.

The metal ring spreading your jaw open as the leather straps dig into your cheeks makes drool ooze down onto your folded legs. A black satin blindfold covers your eyes leaving you to rely primarily on hearing. Your hands are tied behind your back with your legs tucked under your naked ass. Two metal clamps decorate your nipples with a dainty chair dangling between. You can’t even begin to fathom how long it has been since he left you in this spot calling you his ‘good little girl’ and his ‘meal for later’.

Your legs have long gone numb. Your jaw aches and throbs in pain. The spit that have dribbled from your parted lips has long since turned dry. Your nipples feel bruised and raw. But none of that matters, none of the pain and discomfort is anywhere on your mind as the vibrating dildo and bullet vibe taped to your clit viciously electrify every nerve in your body. Your own juices puddle under you from the countless number of times you came undone. It’s clear he has remote control over your naughty torture toys as no pattern is ever the same. He will tease you by turning off the vibration for long periods only to surprise you with maximum speed sending you in moaning fits.

A familiar thunking sound of the thick door opening sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. There is a shiver between your legs as your now drooling with hunger. The ribbon covering your eyes is pulled away revealing your favorite sight of all. That dark grin, lustful eyes, dangerous demeanor. Tomura Shigaraki.

“What a fucking mess you made. Coming all over my floors.” His right hand grips a fistful of your hair ranking you back, getting a good look at your fucked out expression, then soon pushing your face to the wet cold floor. “Clean up this mess, slut.”

Your face is pressed firmly into your own puddle of pleasure. Your tongue darts out of the metal ring gag, slurping up your juices. You don’t have to see Tomura to know he’s enjoying this with a huge smirk on his face. His hand presses your face deeper telling you to pick up the pace. The roughness of his voice has you mewling with heat building in your apex. He must have liked your sick little sounds and coaxing for more. Tomura pulls a remote control from his pocket and turning the speed of both vibrators to maximum strength. You scream and moan but only to have your hair ranked back.

“I said clean, not scream.”

You’re quick to return to licking your mess off the floor with tears rolling down. You moan with each lick as the salty sweet flavors coat your tongue. Tomura grabs the dildo and begins to pump it in and out as it continues to vibrate. He slowly licks the shell of your ear before whispering “you better not cum until this mess is cleaned up.”

His words of warning encourage you to make quick haste, licking and suck up the juices as Tomura laughs at your pathetic actions. His pumping speeds up and his other hand roughly pulls at the chain connected to your nipple clamps drawing out a loud yelp.

Your body is shaking with the desire to cum, but you don’t want to displease your master. You want the real thing- no, need it. Finally, the floor is clear of your sinful evidence and the vibrating has stopped and Tomura has stopped plowing the dildo into your abused pussy. He gives a pleased hum inspecting your work. His thumb and index finger lift your chin up, forcing you to look into his vermillion eyes and scared grin.

“You did so good for me. So I’ll let you pick the number.”

Number?

Tomura unfastened the ring gag from your mouth and you stretch out your jaw slowly letting it relax. You don’t know what the number implies but you do know not to bother asking.

“Tw-twenty.” You hesitate while fidgeting in your spot.

Another pleased hum rumbled from his throat. “Red, black, purple or silver?”

The second question throws you off again.

“….red.”

“My favorite” she spoke with a velvet tongue.

Quickly Tomura picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking you over to a standing metal bar that goes up to your stomach. He drapes your top half over the cold metal and quickly cuffs your ankles to each end of the pole holding up the bar. Your hands are still tied behind your back but he has since removed both vibrators from your dripping cunt. You can hear Tomura walking away and stopping to dig through something. You use this time to settle your breath, preparing your body for whatever is to come.

A deep red leather paddle with a few dozen silver spikes presents before your sight. Tomura drags the non decorated side against each cheek with uncharacteristic softness.

“Count to 20 for me. If you scream, cry or anything other than the next number comes out of that filthy mouth of yours, we start over.”

You look up from heavy lidded eyes, nodding that you understand. You smile as you say ‘yes Master’ in that sweet seductive voice Tomura loves so much. The twitch of his cock doesn’t go missed by you.

Tomura walks behind you, taking fist fulls of your ass with his pinkies up. He spreads you apart getting a good view of your sex and puckered asshole. He groans with desire at the view, debating to just start railing you now. But with one gentle kiss to your ass, his first strike of the spiked paddle comes slapping against your left ass cheek. Even with the metal tips being slightly dulled down, small imprints litter your skin. A red welt in the shape of his paddle paints your flesh. Your mouth gapes open with a silent scream but soon slowly closed as you mutter

“One”

Tomura doesn’t give much time between the next strike. This time he slaps the paddle harder letting you know the first was simply a test.

“Two”

Tears start to swell up in your eyes and your face beats red with ecstasy. His third strike makes your whole body violently flinch up and you almost cry out to him.

“Three!”

By the fourth strike, small punctures freckle on your skin. Speaks of blood threaten to release with another attack.

“F-four!”

Blood beads up and skin has quickly turned dark. Tomura palms his hard cock over his pants with a throaty moan. His strikes become faster and harder. It’s becoming more difficult to count without crying. He loves the sight before him. Your ass covered in small cuts and large bruises. Your hole visibility leaking, letting him know you love this equally as much as he does.

“N-n-nineteen!”

His eyes watch as the blood starts to drip, as the bruise becomes deep purple. He loves as your squirm in agony. But you’re not any better. Your love let’s him torture you. Your addicted to the pain just as much as he is to inflicting it. You trust him enough to let him do these cruel acts to you. And that’s what makes this so damn erotic. His last strike is the strongest of any before. He lets the spikes linger before he roughly scrapes the paddle across your abused ass.

“Twenty!!!!”

Your body falls limp, Tomura gives a breathy chuckle as he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. You peak behind you to see him with an open smile and dark eyes. His face is flushed and his chest drums up and down as he catches his breath. Tomura drops his pants just enough for his fat cock to spring out. He slowly strokes himself a few times with a single hum.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

His tone is gruff, deep and dark. Those words crash through your body and electrify your needs.

Before you can ever reply, both of his hands hook on the inside corners of your mouth from behind. Your skin is being stretch, your jaw being forced wide open. Drool fill your mouth, eventually spilling over. With no warning, Tomura impales you with his cock from behind, bottoming himself out until his balls are rubbing against your clit. As he braces himself with your abused mouth, he pounds himself inside of you repeatedly. He grunts loudly, calling you everything from “disgusting fucking whore” to “my slutty bitch”. It feels like your mouth is being ripped open. Your tongue lulls out and spit dribbled to the floor creating a puddle. Tomuras balls slap you with each thrust, adding extra stimulation.

Tomura released one hand from your cheek, only to shove his fist deep into your mouth, letting his fingers play with your wet cavity. You choke and gag as he shoves his hand deeper down your throat. His other hand moved to pinch your nose, making breathing nearly impossible. Your body instinctually thrashes around, trying to catch air, all while Tomura continues to assault your pussy with his impossibly large member. You can hear him laugh, mock you for being so weak. Your vision becomes spotty, your heart is thumping at unhealthy high speeds. Tears run down your face as your skins is on the verge of turning blue. Tomuras pounding picks up, harder and faster. Even on what feels like the verge of death, your screams carry the sound of ecstasy. When your pussy gushes around Tomuras cock, his laughing only become louder and more cruel.

“Look at you, I could kill you right now and you would still cum on my cock!”

Your eyes begin to roll back, your heart begins to slow down. Logically, you know Tomura knows when to stop, his timing and perception is impeccable. But instinctually, your body moves without thought. Your teeth bite down at the hand in your mouth, hard. Enough for Tomura to scream profanity and blood to drip to the floor.

Realization of the situation shocks you to your core. Acid bubbles in your stomach and blood leaves your face. Frantically you beg to Tomura, watching with misty eyes as he is holding his hand with the look of pure anger written all over his face.

“I-I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me!”

Your returned with only a snarl. Something inside Tomura snapped.

The room is so silent, you swear your racing heart beat is echoing off the walls. It’s uncomfortable and with your baby blue haired lover on the other side of the room with his back twords you, anxiety starts to kick in.

The squeezing of lube can be heard. Tomura hates lube, its an necessary mess and makes his skin all itchy. When he comes back, a vibrating butt plug with a long fluffy tail is attached to the end. You want to speak, ask questions, understand anything. But instead you get of a show of Tomura dousing the metal end of the butt plug with lube and strutting with his big cocky ego behind you. “You want to bite like a dog, then I’ll treat you like one” Tomura growls just before pushing the metal toy until it couldn’t go any further up your asshole. The long fluffy tail was embarrassing. You felt like some cosplay pornstar.

While distracted by the new fuzzy appendage, you didn’t notice the black leather collar Tomura swiftly strapped around your throat, decorated with a long leash. Out of old restraints and into new.

A harsh tug at the leash around your neck almost has you face first on the cement. With another tug, you catch yourself and look up with terror.

“Crawl, bitch.”

Your palms and knees scrape against the rough floor as Tomura guides you upstairs where the commotion of chatter can be heard. The plug in your ass becomes almost unbearable with every inch forward. The sound of familiar voices gets louder the closer your dragged to where the league members hangout. The only thing between you and complete embarrassment is two wooden doors.

“Tomura, please…. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bite. But this is too much.” Your voice is a pleading whisper as you look up at him from your lower position. This is the first time he’s ever truly looked furious and certainly the first time he ignored your discomfort.

Kicking the door open this his foot, Tomura snaps the leash forcing you to clumsy crawl in the bar room. Voices became dead silent. You could feel their eyes on you. Dabi snickered and Toga was the first to make a comment. Something about you being in trouble, but over your racing heart and thick flowing blood- it was hard to hear.

Your eyes stayed glued to the wood floor as Tomura dragged you to his usual booth at the bar. Moments after he sat down, his damaged hand grips at your jaw with just his pinkie lifted. Your cheeks and lips smoosh together with the strength he has on you. Your eyes lock his his nearly glowing red orbs.

“Bitches think they can bite their master and not get punished.” His glare stayed on you but his message was clearly for the rest of the group.

“Toga, leave.”

…fuck.

You know whatever he’s about to do is something surely not suitable for a child to see. You close your eyes with shame as the door creaks open and your young friend leaves the room. Everyone else stayed, mumbling to themselves. Again, too quiet for you to hear. When the door finally latched shut after what felt like years, your eyes slowly open to the same view of Tomuras enraged stare.

“Shigaraki Tomura—“ “shut up!” Tomura raises his voice over Kurogiri. The misty man puts down the glass he was polishing and leaves the room as well. You prey for everyone else to follow, leaving you alone with Tomura and avoiding the inevitable embarrassment.

Tomura raises from his seat and makes haste to undo his pants.

“This time, you best not bite.”

Two fingers are shoved in your mouth and force your bottom jaw down, opening you wide for Tomura’s thick cock to kiss the back of your throat. All it takes is a few strokes of your favorite flavor to remind you what you truly are.

Unapologetically shamelessly Tomura’s whore.

The lewd comments coming from the onlookers behind you fell on deaf ears and all you quickly cared about was how god damn erotic this is.

Tomura gripped your head with both hands, fucking your face like a toy. His anger was directing his speed and carelessness. Tears pebbled in your lids and your face ran flush. The sound of grunting, moaning and panting from….well, everyone, had you utterly drenched. The countless string of harsh names Tomura called you became music to your ears.

After several long minutes of bruising the back of your throat, Tomura yanks you up by your hair and turns your whole body around, forcing you to see your fellow comrades expressions as you stood in nothing but ripped stockings and a strappy garter. His hand grips around your throat as his chapped lips ghost your ear.

“Make a show like the whore you are.”

A foot kicks the back of your kneecap, bring your down to your hands and knees. The pathetic excuse of any resemblance you had left of clothing is quickly ripped and decayed away. Your eyes scan over the faces of those still watching. Dabi has a sadistic fucking grin in between taking drags of his cigarette. Spinner is torn between looking away and nearly drooling from watching. And even though you can’t fully read Compresse’s face behind the mask, you know he always appreciates a good show.

You wonder what they think of you. Surely they have no ounce of respect left for you, not while their boss has you naked and collared. If they ever did respect you as an equal, it couldn’t have been for long. Tomura claimed you just weeks after joined the league. And becoming Tomuras property comes with certain judgment. The bruises, scratches, careless display of shameful desire no matter where you are. The chanting his name loud enough for everyone to hear. That’s how Tomura wants you, bruised body and bruised ego. To have you like putty in his hands. And you happily oblige.

The tip of Tomura’s cock licks up against your needy hole. He’s slow at first as he fully dips himself inside. It’s so slow, you can feel every detail of his dick pressing against your spongy walls. His movements hardly provide satisfaction when his momentum is this leisurely. It’s frustrating how little you’re receiving. It’s torture how madly you want him to just- fucking- move!

He wants you to beg, cry and plead for more. He wants you corrupted under him, he wants the others to hear you break for him.

This game of his goes on for more than several minutes. Your body practically shakes with need.

“Tomura…please…” your voice a murmur, almost too quiet for even Tomura to hear.

A harsh tug on your leash snaps at your throat, making you gasp.

“Speak up.”

His movements stop all together. You wimper and squirm under him, backing yourself up into his cock. But Tomura doesn’t let you for long as he shoves your face into the floor, preventing you from moving.

“I said speak—“ “USE ME! ABUSE ME! I don’t CARE!” You cut his words of with your loud declaration. “Do anything and everything to me! I’m YOURS! So please, Tomura….” You look back at your love with hazy eyes and see his big toothy grin. “Just FUCK me like you OWN me!”

His red eyes roll back and he groans at your words. Seconds later his cock is turning your insides and the loud clapping of his balls slapping your cunt echos through the room. Tomura pulls on your collar, forcing your head back and ass to arch up more. His other hand pinches and pulls are your bouncing breasts. His mouth bites until bruises form, leaving love marks all over your skin.

The other men in the room pleasure themselves to your defilement. You feel a mixture of pride and shame. But that doesn’t last long as your first orgasm comes crashing down and you become a wet mess. The way Tomura makes you feel in these moments are true bliss. Incomparable to anything else.

“That’s right, bitch- cum on my cock.”

The way your cunt squeezes around him sends Tomura closer to the edge. Both of his hands grab at your hips, with one finger on each hand lifted. He slams your body harder against him at even quicker speeds. With each final thrust, he grunts and growls himself to his orgasm.

“Fu-fuck… so fucking good.”

Tomura spills inside you, so much so that it leaks from your abused hole. Your body collapses to the ground, panting for air. In moments, Tomura removes himself from you and is already tucking him back in his pants. He stands up and looks down at you with a sadistic expression. He begins to walk away, with you still unable to move, keeled on the floor. You eyes go wide and adrenaline comes rushing at Tomuras words.

“Any of you touch her, I’ll kill you. But don’t be afraid to make a mess on her.”

❌❌❌❌

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#tomura shiragaki #darkfantasieskinktober2021 #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader

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