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xtruss · 4 months

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Mahesh Magar, a guide with Himalayan Research Expeditions, exits a cave on the Khumbu Glacier, just a short walk from Everest Base Camp. With elevations of more than 17,500 feet above sea level, these are some of the highest mapped caves in the world. Caves like this one are forming in high altitude Himalayan glaciers as soaring temperatures send more meltwater cascading through the insides of glaciers, melting tunnels that are literally rotting glaciers from the inside out.

These Caves Mean Death For Himalayan Glaciers

Otherworldly Ice Caves are Rotting the Glaciers From the Inside Out, Putting Villages Below in the Path of Devastating Potential Flash Floods.

— By Douglas Fox | Photographs By Jason Gulley | January 10, 2024

Jason Gulley has spent 19 years crawling through the insides of glaciers, from Alaska to Nepal. Sometimes these caves, carved through the ice by running water, are large enough for a truck to drive through. Other times, they’re so narrow that he slides along the slippery floor on his belly. If he pauses, his clothing can freeze to the ice.

Gulley is a geologist at the University of South Florida, who began his career studying limestone caverns. It was only by chance that he started exploring the insides of glaciers. The first time he entered one of these caves in the Mount Everest Region, on Lhotse Glacier, was a harrowing experience.

He and his companion stood outside the entrance, watching basketball-sized rocks rain down from the unstable ice cliff overhead. After gathering his wits, he sprinted inside—followed a moment later by Douglas Benn, a veteran Himalayan Glaciologist from the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.

Left: Glaciologist Doug Benn enters a massive cave on the Khumbu Glacier in December 2006. This cave formed as ponds of melted water, sitting on top of glaciers, elevated water pressured and punched open the cracks, causing lake water to surge into the surrounding ice. Right: As the mountainous region warms, these ponds of melted water are becoming more common, hastening the demise of frozen glaciers.

After a few minutes in the cave, they accidentally triggered a minor collapse. The brittle ceiling shattered in a rain of ice shards. “That’s when it really started to dawn on us,” says Gulley. “We really have no idea of what could kill us in here.”

In the years since, Gulley, Benn, and several other scientists have managed to explore these little-known caves. Their work has laid bare the private lives of glaciers—and the disease that is rapidly consuming them.

Glaciers in the Himalaya are thinning by up to nine feet per year, and these caves are playing a pivotal role, hollowing out and collapsing the ice from within.

“It’s the cancer that’s eating what’s left of the glacier,” says Gulley.

As the world warms, the tongues of these glaciers are melting into large lakes, which threaten to unleash flash floods upon villages in the valleys below.

The Sherpa settlement of Gokyo lies beneath the rapidly disappearing Ngozumpa Glacier. Like nearly half of the glaciers in Nepal's Everest Region, the Ngozumpa Glacier is covered in rocky debris shed by adjacent mountains.

Little-explored Caves

Glaciers in the Himalaya differ from what most people imagine. Stand at the lower end of Ngozumpa Glacier, which flows from 26,864-foot Cho Oyu, the world’s sixth-highest mountain, and you will see what appears to be a jumble of rocks filling the valley.

Ngozumpa, like many Himalayan glaciers, is fed by avalanches that sweep down from above—depositing snow, rocks, and boulders onto its upper reaches.

As the glacier descends into warmer air, its surface starts to melt. This removes the upper layers of ice, bringing the buried rubble back to surface. There it accumulates in a layer, up to four feet thick, covering the glacier.

Many Himalayan glaciers are “debris-covered,” like Ngozumpa, and scientists believed that this would insulate them from warming temperatures. But it hasn’t worked out that way, says Teiji Watanabe, a geomorphologist at Hokkaido University in Japan, who has frequently visited the Everest Region since the late 1980s.

Melting water forms pools on the debris-covered Ngozumpa Glacier, in the Everest region of Nepal. Lakes like these heat up during summer and provide large sources of relatively warm water that can carve cave passages into the ice by melting the layers of ice below.

Electric lights in the Sherpa capitol of Namche Bazaar light up the night sky. Namche Bazaar and other nearby Sherpa settlements receive electricity from a small hydroelectric power plant. Infrastructure like this is vulnerable to floods from overlowing glacier lakes.

In the past few decades, the surface of Ngozumpa and other debris-covered glaciers has become pocked with thousands of sinkholes up to 100 feet deep, as the ice shrinks beneath the rocks. Melt ponds frequently fill these depressions. The total area of these ponds has tripled in 30 years—a rate of change that “is really, really amazing,” says Watanabe.

The cause of that rapid change was a mystery. But around the year 2000 Benn, the Scottish glaciologist, noticed a clue.

Melt ponds on Ngozumpa and other debris-covered glaciers often disappeared overnight. At the bottom of these empty depressions, Benn found cave openings, through which the lake had drained.

No one knew how extensive those caves were, or where they went.

But in 2004, Benn met Gulley—an accomplished caver—through a mutual friend.

Benn’s photos of gaping cave openings and pitted glaciers reminded Gulley of limestone landscapes in the Caribbean, where thousands of sinkholes had formed as caves collapsed beneath the surface. With Gulley’s expertise, they entered their first glacier cave in the Everest Region, in 2005.

Glaciologist Doug Benn examines the roof of a glacier cave on Nepal's Khumbu Glacier. The entire cave roof consists of blocks of shattered ice that had been frozen together.

Glacier researcher Matt Covington moves through a tight section of a cave inside the Ngozumpa Glacier, during a 2018 expedition. Crawling at altitudes between 15,000 and 18,000 feet above sea level is one of the most physically demanding parts of cave exploration.

A Downward Spiral of Melting Caves

As they ventured into the darkness, the beams from their headlamps illuminated the fog of their breath. Thin layers of dust, as fine as flour, coated the surfaces — “as if the cave was a store that went out of business 30 years ago,” says Gulley.

They hurried out of that first cave after part of its ceiling collapsed.

Their second cave entry, several days later, didn’t go much better. As they walked down a passage, their spiked crampons crackling on the ice, Gulley suddenly plunged through the floor.

Only later did they realize they’d been walking on a false floor—a veneer of ice, three quarters of an inch thick, that had formed on top of standing water. That water later drained out from below—leaving the five-foot void that Gulley fell into.

They gradually learned to avoid these hazards. And as they explored Ngozumpa Glacier, year after year, Gulley was amazed at how these meandering ice caves resembled limestone caverns—except in the glacier, the ornate scallops, grooves, stalagmites, and stalactites had formed in a few months, rather than thousands of years.

Jason Gulley navigates a cave in Nepal's Ngozumpa Glacier, stooping as he walks. Even experienced cave explorers struggle to descend caves covered in ice.

The caves formed where bands of debris-rich ice provided a weak spot that melt water exploited. The passages were often round, with a deep chasm cutting into the floor, indicating it was carved by gushing water that eventually slowed to a stream.

But glacier caves also differed in some striking ways.

As Gulley and Benn made repeated trips to Ngozumpa Glacier, they saw that narrow passages often squeezed shut from one year to the next—the glacial ice oozing inward like silly putty. Those passages melted open again the next time water from a draining lake gushed through.

These observations led Benn and Gulley to a theory—published in 2017—of how caves erode debris-covered glaciers.

“As those caves expand and collapse, they’re creating new depressions, that create new lakes, that create new caves,” says Gulley.

As this downward spiral continues, the depressions expand and deepen, forming ice cliffs that melt quickly because they’re warmed by sunlight. Warm melt ponds undercut the ice cliffs—crumbling them—exposing more bare ice.

In this way, a depression “can grow faster and faster the bigger it gets,” says Ryan Strickland, a PhD student studying caves at the University of Arkansas.

Strickland used a drone to measure 3,000 depressions on Ngozumpa Glacier. His analysis, published in August, suggests that depressions really do grow more quickly as they expand—consistent with Gulley’s theory that melt caves drive the process.

“It’s absolutely plausible,” says Owen King, a mountain glaciologist at Newcastle University in the United Kingdom, who has worked in this region. “The mechanisms that Ryan has described, we can definitely see evidence for.”

The melt water gushing through caves gathers in a massive lake near the glacier’s terminus. Spillway Lake is half a mile long. It is dammed by a massive ridge of rubble that the glacier piled up over thousands of years. As it grows, it could rupture that dam, sending several million cubic yards of water plunging down the valley.

In 1985, a glacial lake outburst flood eight miles southwest of Ngozumpa swept away 14 bridges, 30 houses, and a hydroelectric plant. This flood risk will increase as more glaciers give way to lakes.

Mere steps from Everest Base Camp, a pair of researchers drop into a glacier cave on Nepal's Khumbu glacier. Rising temperatures and melting ice lowered the ice surface at Everest Base Camp by a staggering 98 feet between 1984 and 2015.

A Remnant Cave Left High and Dry

When Gulley visited Ngozumpa Glacier in 2018 and 2019, he was shocked by what he saw. Very few caves remained. So much of the glacier had sagged down to the level of Spillway Lake, that melt water was no longer driven to flow downhill and create new caves.

They did find one fragment of a cave that Gulley first mapped in 2005. Back then its entrance was at the bottom of a depression. But now all that remained was a short section of cave piercing a ridge of ice.

Even as melt caves disappear from the lower reaches of Ngozumpa, they will penetrate higher up the glacier’s 22-mile length. Melt caves will eviscerate more and more glaciers—creating lakes that could release devastating floods.

“These caves are symptoms of dying glaciers,” says Gulley. “This is what almost all of the glaciers in the Everest Region are going to be turning into.”

#Environment #Himalayan Glaciers #Death ☠️ Traps 🪤#Douglas Fox #Melting Caves #Downward Spirals

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arjaandsimoni · 11 months

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Temptations

The following day, early evening.

Natasha returned to the Synagogue, Stephy once more playing the role of her ‘cousin.’ The plan was to find Nicu and have Natasha try to get what information she could out of the young boy. Stephy would play interference with Sammi’s help, the fae princeling hiding nearby in the Hedge. They also had one last bit of insurance; it was nearing sunset. If needed, Natasha would return to her full vampiric might once the sun went down.

The best situation would be that Umbra wouldn’t risk his adoptive son’s safety, or at least not want to expose his powers to the boy. Stephy could use his own fae magicks to confuse matters, but if worse came to worse then he and Sammi would bridge a portal to the Hedge between them and he and Natasha could flee through it. Even if Umbra chased after them the Hedge did not operate on the same logic as the mortal realm. His power over time could malfunction or possibly not work at all in the briars. If nothing else it could afford them the chance they needed to escape.

The fae ‘princess’ wheeled her into the lobby and towards the library, whispering just under his breath to her. Despite her vampiric powers being weakened during the day, she found she still had extremely acute hearing even when the sun was up. At least Cernunnos’ protection didn’t rob her of everything undeath had given her. “I’ll just browse around while you talk to Nicu, I don’t want to distract him and you’d know what to ask better than I would. Just call for me when you’re ready to leave, okay?” he said softly.

Natasha nodded, “Mmm… good plan. With luck, this shall not take very long.” she replied. She had insisted on dressing up a bit more for this visit, though the others had at least managed to talk her down from her usual Victorian era finery. A white button-down silk shirt, a long black denim skirt, and a pair of of black leather pumps. Dressier than normal, but still not enough to arouse suspicion.

Stephy had shrugged it off as the vampire’s desire to dress closer to how they usually did, as they weren’t creatures of habit so much as frozen in time like insects in amber… but the truth of it was Natasha had been a bit smitten with Nicu. It was very very rare for her to encounter mortals who treated her as a peer rather than a child given how young she was when she became a vampire, and perhaps it was in part because of the fact that she met him the day she became able to go under the sun again… but she was more than a little attracted to him.

That being said, she was also old enough to be his great grandmother several times over, but then… she was a vampire. The only people who were close to her real age were other immortals. Most vampires who wanted any sort of relationships either got over those hangups as quickly as possible or got used to the idea of only being around their own kind… and sooner or later the latter of those tended to go quite insane. It was part of why her sire was such a monster even by their standards.

When they arrived in the synagogue’s library the young boy was already there, Nicu reading through a large book and taking notes for a school project most likely. He looked up as he heard a faint squeak from the wheelchair’s bearings, then smiled at the sight of her. “Oh hey! You came back!” he grinned, the young boy trying (and failing) to not look too excited.

Stephy bit back a giggle, sensing exactly what he was feeling. Perhaps it was because he and Natasha had so much in common (at least on the surface level.) It could just be that he was a young boy and she was a ‘young’ girl, but Stephy could feel something a bit more under that. Something that hinted that there could be a future connection there… like seeds hidden under the snow, waiting to bloom in the spring.

The fae princess shrugged a bit, then wheeled her chair up to the table and nodded. “Heya, I’ll be right back. Need to go visit the restroom.” he explained, heading out as Natasha smiled at Nicu… though only a small smile. Even though she could endure the sun, she was still a vampire. Smile too wide and Nicu might notice something about her canines he shouldn’t.

“Of course Nicu, I do wish to do some research after all… and with such a grand library I simply had to return. I suppose I could use the…” she paused, frowning, “… what is the word… in… tor… nyet?” she tried.

Nicu smirked, “Internet. Don’t worry, I had a bit of trouble picking up English when I first came to America too.” he replied.

Natasha smiled a bit awkwardly, “Ah, yes that…” she nodded, glad that he’d thought she was simply having trouble with the language. The truth was she was more outdated on technology than most people’s grandparents were. She still thought the gramophone was a fascinating device. From her viewpoint human technology was moving along faster than light itself, and she had trouble keeping up after several centuries of unlife. “But yes, it is quite good to see you again.” she added quickly.

Nicu blushed a little, the boy nodding. “So… um… what were you wanting to research Natasha? I was just brushing up on some history at the moment.”

“Well… as I told your father I will be researching the stories of Herschel of Ostropel, but I am curious as to what else the library has now that I’m here. I have always been quite fond of studying history. Some have told me I know it so well that I could have seen it with my own eyes…” she chuckled, making a small joke herself.

Nicu nodded, “Ah… wish I could say the same. I’m actually pretty badly behind when it comes to stuff like that. The orphanage that dad found me at didn’t really have any stuff on Judaism, but I got stuck there when I was really young. I’ve been playing catch up ever since.” he sighed, “I mean, its important to me… some of my earliest memories are of my parents, my biological ones I mean, and me at temple… but… yeah this was years ago.”

Natasha pouted at him, “Oh… I am so sorry Nicu. I did not realize you knew them.” she replied, “If… it is not too forward, how did you become an orphan? Did something happen?” she asked. She did not think Umbra would go that far, but if he adopted Nicu he may have had a reason to do so. Perhaps his parents were collateral damage in one of the thief’s schemes?

Nicu squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, the boy glancing around. “I… well… I don’t remember much of it. They…” he sighed, “This is going to sound really dumb, but I was like… three or four so I’m probably just not remembering it right. I…” he glanced at her again, and the vampire nodded sympathetically, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table. Her body had been almost useless the first day in the sun, but today she could at least manage to move her arms somewhat… though lifting most things would be beyond her.

“… well…” he continued, “I think they were trying to make a golem… like in the old stories. My parents used to have a bunch of books about Kabbalism. I remember seeing the symbols on the covers in books on the subject here, but… well, I mean… yeah, sounds kinda stupid right?” he grinned sheepishly.

Natasha raised her eyebrow at him, “Not as stupid as one may think Nicu…” she replied, but then she knew full well that such things were very genuine. “I am in a somewhat similar situation. My parents have not been around in… well… a very long time, so I am an orphan as well. Happily I have what you might call a ‘found family’ that I can rely upon… but, I do know some of the kabbalistic arts…” she nodded, then quickly added, “… in theory of course. Still, it is an important link to our past and culture. Does your father help you study it?” she asked.

Nicu shook his head, “He says its just old stories and superstitions. Interesting to study, but no more real magic than stuff like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter… but…” he hesitated, then leaned across the table so he was closer to her and dropped his voice.

“… dunno why I’m telling you this, its gonna sound insane… but… the reason I’m an orphan? I think someone murdered my real mom and dad because they were trying to use magic. I was still little when it happened but… well… I remember a group of people came to our house, these big guys with foreign accents. My mom made me hide in my closet and promise not to come out and there was a lot of crashing and I could hear yelling…”

Nicu bit his lip at the memory, shaking a bit as he recalled that night of his life, “… and… when I did come out the house was wrecked and everyone was gone. The therapist at my old orphanage didn’t believe me though. I heard him talking to one of the caregivers there and he said that the stuff about magic was just me remembering it wrong because I was little. The official record is my parents died in a burglary… but… they didn’t steal anything.” he sighed, “Probably sounds crazy though… I mean… witch hunters got my parents? Nuts, right?”

Natasha listened to every word, her eyebrow going up. She knew full well about groups who would do this sort of thing and she made a mental note to ask Nelen when she returned to the hotel… but for now, “I see… Nicu…” she reached out and gently put her hand on his, “… I believe you. There is more to this world than what we can see. Whether or not your parents could use magic I do not know, but I do not feel like you are misremembering… your words, they sound true to me.” she nodded.

Nicu blushed brightly, “I… seriously? You’re the first person who… I mean, even I was beginning to wonder if that was just a bad nightmare… but…” he shook himself, “Yeah, I studied a bit and I tried a couple things… but I can’t get it to work. I dunno, maybe my parents never did either.” he nodded, “I mean, if they had managed to make a golem… then they wouldn’t have… yeah…” he frowned, then looked down at her hand. “… geez, you’re like… ice cold. Are you okay?” he asked, glancing up at her.

Natasha blinked in surprise, then coughed awkwardly and pulled her hand back. “Er… I have poor circulation. It is part of why I am in this device…” she replied, gesturing to the wheelchair. “Apologies, I forgot how strange it feels to other people.”

Nicu blushed, “Its okay! Just… yeah surprised me is all. Anemia or something? I dunno a lot about medicine, but I heard of stuff like that.”

Natasha nodded awkwardly, she knew even less than he did. Her vampiric senses would warn her if a mortal was bad to drink from, but otherwise she couldn’t tell one disease from another. She had never bothered to learn it as, well, she couldn’t get sick.

She was not surprised to hear that Nicu’s own attempts at magic use had failed however. The reason that most mundanes disregarded magic as superstition was that it was actually very rare for someone to become a magician without either being born that way or with outside help. Nelen had made his pact with Merihim, and now with Cernunnos, and Simoni was born with her powers. Arja was not human, and Stephy was no longer human… but the majority of mortals?

While anyone could potentially learn magic there was no Hogwarts, no Camp Halfblood, nothing like that. It took years upon years of study to learn even minor magic unless you were ‘awakened’ somehow. Hedge Magic, a sort of catchall term for ‘amateur magic,’ was what most mundanes could hope to learn… and it was extremely slow and difficult, relying more on materials, ritual, and proper times of year and day. Do it right and you could pull off some amazing feats, make even the tiniest mistake and you’re just some idiot dancing around waving a ceremonial dagger and chanting in Latin.

That being said, its also possible that his parents were genuine practitioners, or had at least been trying to become that before drawing the ire of ‘big guys with foreign accents.’

“Have you spoken to your father about this? He is a Romanian Jew as well, whoever attacked your parents… he may know of them.” she asked, it could just be they fell afoul of a hate group.

He shrugged, “A couple times, but he just says the same thing my doctor said. Just a kid trying to make sense of what happened.” he replied, “The police never found any sign of them, and my parents never had a lot of money. The cops figure that they got angry when they didn’t find anything worth stealing, took it out on them, and ran away.” he sighed again, looking like he was getting uncomfortable now.

Natasha noticed this, then decided to shift the topic. “Nicu, I am sorry to bring up such painful memories… perhaps we could discuss my research topic instead.” she offered with a smile, “After all, I do want to see just what such a nice library has to offer.” she mused, “Oh, a thought… does your father have a library as well? Back in Romania our rabbis often have personal ones where they keep more… unusual things. Does he?” she asked.

Nicu smiled a bit, eager to talk about something else. “Yeah, I mean that’s traditional. He keeps it locked up though, and he’s the only one with a key. Makes sense though, he keeps a lot of really rare texts and stuff inside. Stuff like that would go for a ton on eBay.” he nodded, then grinned a bit mischievously, “But he never notices the window outside, or how you can make it pop open if you smack it right when you’re in the tree next to it.”

Natasha giggled at that, “Clever boy… did you find anything interesting?” she grinned, though still being careful not to grin too widely.

“Oh yeah. Dad may not believe in magic, but he sure likes to study it! Lots of old books, antiques, all sorts of stuff… though…” he grinned, “Last time I was in there he had this weird cage set up. It was empty, but my birthday is coming up in a few months. I think he might be planning on getting me a pet and hiding it there until he can give it to me!”

Natasha blinked slowly, “I see… and… where exactly is this library? Is it part of the synagogue?” she asked.

“Oh no, he rents a private storage building out by the… coast…” he began, the trailed off as he heard footsteps, looking up as he quickly stopped talking.

Natasha felt a chill, then glanced behind her and tried her hardest to keep from grimacing.

Umbra was walking towards them, the time-manipulating thief smiling softly… though it didn’t reach his eyes as he gazed at Natasha. “My my Nicu, I had no idea you were entertaining a lovely young lady.” he chuckled, “I was coming to see if you wanted to go get dinner, but if you and your friend are busy studying…”

Nicu nodded, grinning a bit. “Actually, now that you mention it dad I’m starving.” he replied, getting to his feet, “Is it okay if Natasha comes with us?” he asked.

Natasha’s mouth became a thin line, the vampire’s eyes going wide as Umbra grinned at her, “Of course! Why, how could I not invite your new friend? Natasha, was it? Please, do join us… my treat.” he nodded to her.

“Oh… er… thank you so very much for the offer Rabbi Hofer, but I am afraid that I must decline. I am on a strict diet due to my health condition. It is part of why I am unable to walk…” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, “I am afraid it is quite difficult to find any eateries that offer what I would require…” she chuckled. Blood banks, butcher shops maybe… ones that didn’t ask too many questions.

“Oh don’t be silly my dear. One advantage to eating with a Rabbi, we know all the places in the city that offer a menu for those who need to be careful about what they eat. After all, we do try to stay kosher, don’t we Nicu?” he nodded to his son with a knowing wink as the boy nodded back.

Nicu nodded, “Yeah, we do. Sorry about that Natasha, should’ve asked first…” he chuckled a bit in embarrassment, “I mean, you think I’d know better…”

Natasha glanced between them, wishing dearly she could flee under her own power now. Umbra was goading her, but Nicu had no idea what she really was, which just made this all the worse. She was totally powerless, even weaker than an ordinary mundane girl now, while he had power over time and who knew what else!

All it’d take is for Umbra to get Nicu to go away for a few minutes and all the thief would need to do is tell Nicu that Natasha ‘unfortunately had to go.’

She would, of course, be gone.

“Its q-quite alright Nicu. But… I would not wish to be a bother, I should perhaps be going… but I would certainly like to speak with you again soon… perhaps… um…” she fumbled with her skirt pocket, then pulled out a smartphone and managed to open the screen with shaking hands. Even the lightweight device was a struggle for her sun-weakened body to lift. “Perhaps I could have your phone number?” she offered, hoping like hells that she was holding it right.

Simoni had taught her what she could and Nelen had managed to get her a burner phone from a friend of a friend in the Wulfshead, but she could barely manage a text message at the best of times… but few things would be as suspicious in this day and age as a ‘young girl’ without a phone!

Nicu blushed a bit, then grinned widely, “Sure! Um… here…” he took out his own device, a much nicer current gen iPhone. If nothing else being a career thief meant Umbra could afford to buy his son nice things. He entered Natasha’s number into his phone, then awkwardly showed her how to do likewise… but then the vampire noticed a new issue… there was only one exit in the library besides the fire exits, and Umbra was between her and it.

“Er… I will send you a… text message?” she tried, “… and I would love to visit again soon…” she nodded, putting her phone in her lap and trying to wheel herself towards the door. It wasn’t easy but she couldn’t wait for Stephy any longer!

As she drew level with Umbra she glanced over, the rabbi watching her go with his hands behind his back… and she saw his fingers go towards his bracelet…

Then suddenly there was a crash and all their heads snapped up as a large painting fell from the wall, the frame and glass over it shattering as it hit the floor!

Nicu yelped in shock at the sound and Umbra swore as the librarian cried out in alarm at their desk, all of them looking over at it. As soon as they were distracted Stephy appeared behind Natasha in a swirl of frost, grabbed her wheelchair, and sprinted it towards the exit to the library as the doorway seemed to shimmer, then suddenly flew open to reveal the thorny pathways of the Hedge.

A moment later the door slammed shut and Stephy stumbled to a halt, “That was TOO close…” he gasped as Sammi nodded to him, the fae princeling snacking on a goblin fruit he’d picked during his vigil.

“Too close by far, brother…” he murmured.

Natasha was gripping the arms of her wheelchair, her teeth gritted tightly, “LA NABIA CU TOATE!” she swore in Romanian as she turned to look behind her, scowling, “Where were you?! If I could still have a heart attack I would have!”

Stephy winced, “Er… right next to you for a lot of it. I was using my magic to hide… but… when Umbra showed up I couldn’t risk anything or else he’d have known I was there! So I went to the wall and loosened one of the paintings there so I could use it to distract him long enough to get you into the Hedge.” he replied.

Sammi shushed them both, “… and I would remind you both we are still within the confines of the Hedge. Cursing loudly in here is rarely a good idea, undead or not.” he whispered, “Come, I know the path back to the hotel… stay close behind me and try not to make any noise.” he warned.

Natasha frowned, trying to stand, then shaking before falling back with a gasp. She looked up and squinted and... sure enough, while the branches did mostly block it out, she could see the sun (or at least, something large and round and bright) through the treetops.

Stephy sighed, pushing her chair along as her limbs were still too weak in the daytime to do it herself… and while they did pass some rather unnerving looking things wandering the briars they were able to make it back unmolested.

The door to the hotel room opened as Nelen and Reshephia looked up, the two reading through one of his tomes to see if there was some way to at least ward the succubus against being bound immediately, but their faces said that their search was fruitless.

“Ah hell, what happened?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

Stephy sighed, “Umbra showed up and we had to run away through the Hedge.” he replied, helping Natasha onto the bed as they drew up next to it.

“Quite…” she frowned, “I was able to speak with Nicu however, I may know where Umbra is hiding the Shamir now… he told me that Umbra has a warehouse near the coastline with a strange sort of cage set up inside.”

Nelen nodded, “Well, that’s something at least. I tried looking up some way to help keep him from binding Reshephia, but..." he frowned at her, “All I could find would easily be broken through if he had her godsdamn heart on hand. Why the hells did you think giving it to your cult was a good idea?” he asked.

The demoness shrugged, wearing a blood red tank top and tight black leather pants over her metallic skinned body at the moment, “It made sense at the time. The demons of our court can split our hearts into shards, so I gave one to the high priestess I had. She could use it to bind mortals to me, but I didn’t tell her that binding dealie worked both ways…” she replied, “I mean, normally I clean up better… but this was the original Burning Heart, the ones I had before I set up shop in Kansas. These guys were hardcore! Real true believers! I wanted to stay with them, but the locals were getting suspicious so… yeah…” she drew her finger across her throat, “Had to clean up and get out before they started hunting ‘em down. Still, hard to find a good set of believers for stuff like this…” she sighed a bit wistfully at the memory, grinning and showing a set of fangs like a sawblade.

Nelen shrugged, “I believe it. A decade of having Merahim living inside of me made it pretty damn hard to believe in anything.”

Reshephia smirked, “But yeah, a bunch of devoted genuine believers. Pretty damn useful for us, even dead. They were the best security system I could’ve asked for until Umbra came sniffing around…” she sighed, “Luckily, guys like him tend to work alone. If we axe him then there’s good odds he won’t have told anyone else.”

Natasha frowned, “Mn… as great a threat as Umbra is… I would prefer not to kill him. If we could relieve him of the bracelet then he would lose his power over time.” she murmured.

Reshephia looked at her, “Oh? Bloodsucker with a conscience?” she snorted dismissively, “Forgive me if I’m not as compassionate as you are… kinda comes with being, yanno, a fuckin’ demon.” she sneered.

Natasha scowled at her, then felt a tingling in her veins. Outside the sun began to sink beyond the horizon… and that meant her powers would soon return. “I am merely concerned for his son. I do not wish for ill to befall him for helping us stop his father, whatever he is planning.” she insisted.

Reshephia smirked, “Yeah, sure you are…” she taunted, looking at Sammi and Stephy, “What do you two think? I know you can smell that just as much as I can… sure she’s worried about the kid, but not for the reasons she says she is…”

Natasha frowned at her as Stephy coughed awkwardly, Sammi shrugging as he leaned against the wall. “W-well, I mean… Nicu seems like a nice kid… and they’re kinda the same age… got a lot in common…” mumbled the fae princess.

Reshephia grinned at Natashsa as the vampire glared, “Nicu is an orphaned boy, he has already lost his parents once to hunters! I do not wish to put him through such trauma again!” she snapped.

At this the others turned to her, Nelen raising his eyebrow. “Wait what? Hunters?” he asked.

Natasha nodded, “Yes… he said that his parents were murdered for using magic when he was a small child by ‘men with foreign accents.’” she replied, “So… likely not Romanian.”

Stephy nodded, “Yeah, I heard that too… I was hiding nearby when they were talking…” he confirmed, glancing at Nelen.

The two looked at each other, sharing an unspoken thought. This would have been several years ago… when Franklin Fullmoon was still alive.

“Natasha… what was the kid’s last name again?” he asked.

The vampire looked at him, then replied, “Luminita. Why? Nelen… are you implying that the hunters could have been…” she began, but the magus took out his smartphone and walked out of the room.

“I need to make a phone call.” he grunted, closing the door behind him.

Reshephia watched him go, then grinned at her. “Aww, so little miss blood drinker remembers how it felt to have morals… cute.” she taunted, her tail swishing behind her. “Whatcha gonna do if we gotta kill his daddy dearest then huh?”

Natasha frowned, “I will attempt to disarm Umbra if we can… it is clear that Nicu likes his adoptive father, I do not wish to deprive him of that…” she nodded, the feeling slowly returning to her limbs.

Reshephia snorted, “Yeah? How ya gonna stop him then? He can fuck with time, remember? All he has to do is use that bracelet and anything you did is undone. Easiest way is to go for the throat and finish it before he can do that.”

Natasha glared at her, “I… I do not wish… to cause Nicu harm…” she muttered, but she couldn’t think of anything. They couldn’t be sure to knock Umbra unconscious, and even if they did all he’d need to do is hit the bracelet before he blacked out and the injury wouldn’t have happened. Even a killing blow would need to be instant death or else he could just undo it!

“This is too damn funny…” laughed Reshephia, “You’ve been back out in the sun for all of a fucking day and you’re thinking like a mortal again!” she cackled, “What happens when he finds out you’re a vampire? Think he’ll still like you then?”

Natasha hissed angrily, slowly rising to her feet. “Mind your tongue hellspawn…” she growled, her eyes flashing red as the stars began to come out. “This child has been through much suffering, is it so wrong if even one of my kind can recognize this?”

Reshephia shrugged, “Eh, maybe? I dunno. Demon remember? Empathy is a serious weakness in my line of work.” she smirked, “So what happens if you guys do gotta ice Umbra then? Whatcha gonna do if his dear old dad winds up dear old dead? I know the local prince is who hired ya. Ya think he won’t make an example outta this kid if you kill Umbra? Send a warning to other thieves?” she grinned.

Natasha frowned, “I… w-we will figure out something…” she insisted.

“Yeah? What? WHEN?!” grinned Reshephia, striding closer, her tail swishing behind her, “This is so fuckin’ pathetic. You’re like some character from a shitty romance novel for housewives to masturbate to.”

Natasha hesitated, then glanced at Stephy and Sammi, “… perhaps… he could come with us?” she tried.

Sammi frowned and shook his head as Stephy gave an awkward smile, “Natasha… we can’t just bring another random kid back to Jaipur. I mean, Rajesh is great for letting us all stay there, but Nicu is just an ordinary boy… and with that manticore, I mean… it might be more dangerous.” the fae princess replied.

Reshephia grinned widely, “Well, there’s always the other way out, if he’s gonna die anyways…” licked her tongue, a long forked one, over her fangs. “Maybe you could at least have a snack. Let him go with a smile on his face?”

Natasha glared at her, the shadows darkening around the room. “Demon, I will not tell you again. Mind your tongue.” she warned, her eyes glowing red now.

Reshephia leaned in, “Or what?” she asked with a grin, holding her hands up as her fingertips began to smolder, the air beginning to stink of brimstone.

Then a large hand landed on each of their shoulders and shoved them apart, HARD. Natasha reflexively held fast, her vampiric strength returning quickly now that the sun was down, but Reshephia was thrown across the bed to land on the floor past it with a thud and a yelp.

“KNOCK IT OFF!” roared Cernunnos, the god possessing Nelen’s body, his emerald antlers shining brightly. “Right now! Both of you!” he snorted like an angry buck. “We are trying to return stolen goods to a vampire prince who would likely declare us marked for death if we fail…” he glanced at Natasha, “… and to prevent Umbra from binding YOU! REMEMBER?!” he snarled as he turned to Reshephia.

The demoness grumbled as she stood up and dusted herself off, “Yeah yeah, I got it…” she snapped.

“We don’t have time for this shit…” grunted Cernunnos, “Reshephia, go for a walk. Go, I dunno, seduce a nun or something.” he grumbled, waving her away.

“Ooo, challenge accepted!” she giggled, vanishing in a woosh of hellfire to go make mischief out in the city.

Natasha, however, stalked to the balcony and opened the door. She stepped out into the cooling air of the night as she tried to calm herself back down. The demon’s goading had struck something that had been bothering her for a while. To defeat Umbra they may well have to kill him, and if they did… Nicu would be orphaned once more. “Its just like when I found Lupe…” she whispered, “I should just kill Umbra, the boy is of no consequence to me but stopping the ritual is paramount… and yet…” she whispered.

She looked up then as Nelen walked out onto the balcony with her, Cernunnos having returned control of his body to him. “… I called Jeanne. Clan Fullmoon didn’t kill his parents.” he said. “Franklin would go after mortal practitioners, but he almost exclusively focused on non-humans. The only time he really lost his mind over mages was when it came to our own witches breaking his ‘no magic’ rule. Clan Fullmoon hasn't hunted in Romania in over thirty years.”

Natasha nodded slowly, then gazed out over the city, “… I see…” she murmured.

Nelen scratched at his beard, “… If I had to guess, I’d say it was probably Kinder des Scharzwaldes.” he nodded.

Natasha cocked her head. The name was German, but several centuries of unlife had given her time to pick up more than a few languages. “The Children of the Black Forest?” she asked.

Nelen nodded, “Yup. German group, but they branched out a lot after the EU was formed. They specialize in witches but aren’t exactly picky about what sort of practitioners they go after.” he explained. “Romania ain’t Germany, so that’d be why Nicu said they had accents most likely… one of ‘em must’ve caught wind about what his parents were up to and they decided to do something about it.” he frowned.

She nodded, “Mmm… I… feel so strange Nelen… why do I care so much about this boy?” she muttered, “He is just another mortal, another mayfly that will be dead in what is a mere eyeblink for one of us… and yet… I think of us killing Umbra and feel naught but anxiety for him…”

Nelen shrugged, “I dunno, you definitely like him. Even an old cynic like me can see that.” he replied, “I mean, I get it. I spent a decade thinking I was gonna be single forever.” he smirked a bit, leaning onto the balcony railing. “I had a few flings, I mean… I got lonely sometimes… but they tended to be either completely nuts, ran away screaming when they saw what I look like without a shirt on, or it was someone hired by Franklin to kill me who was trying to get close enough to do the deed.” he nodded.

He glanced back into the hotel, “I mean… Drusilla and Scylla? Tell me five years ago I’d wind up having a kid, with a cyclops no less, and I’d have called you completely batshit.” he sighed, “Still, probably best you don’t tell Nicu about this. It’d lead to way too many questions.”

Natasha sighed, “… but… can we not do something? Perhaps stay and help ensure he is cared for once Umbra is dealt with?” she asked.

He sighed, “Natasha, I get it. Really, I do… but we can’t. The manticore is still at large back in India and the mundanes have worked out something is going on. If the prince’s goons hadn’t shown up the other night we’d likely already be back in India. The best thing we can do is take down Umbra and get our asses back to Jaipur before that thing gets hungry enough to risk a populated area.”

The vampire looked away, gripping the railing on the balcony, “… you are right Nelen. Stopping Umbra is what is most important.” she sighed, “I… I need to go, I must feed while it is still nighttime.” she murmured, then she jumped up onto the railing and with a sudden leap she flew across to the rooftop across the street, then to the next one, moving with an unnatural agility.

After all, what could she do? Where would this lead? He was a young boy, and even the most hormone-addled teenager would eventually work out that he was getting older and taller and the nice girl he met… wasn’t. Excuses would only work so long, and dinner dates weren’t an option. Eventually the truth would come out. Being responsible is never fun but the alternatives, especially for her kind, were always worse.

As many younger lonely vampires found out, a potential lover finding out the undead really did exist tended to end in one of two ways: a wooden stake or a shallow grave.

#supernatural adventures #fiction #modern fantasy #lgbtq

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Cuddle Time w/ the OM Cast

Baby Simeon woke me up from my slumber. That card is fucking adorable, I want it.

Lucifer

The fact Lucifer doesn't immediately throw them off whenever they try to snuggle should be proof enough of his love.

Cuddling is mostly done in the privacy of his bedroom. Occasionally he'll allow it in his office, but only if he's not busy.

He prefers to do it on one of the many chairs or cushions he has by the fire. Between the warmth of their body and the heat of the fireplace, he'll relax into it in seconds…

His favorite position is face-to-face with them on his lap - it's a way for him to "hand over" control while still feeling perfectly in charge. Sure, they can trace his jaw or fluff his hair as much as they like, but it's his arms holding them in place.

Gets beyond grouchy if they get interrupted... First, it's embarrassing, but second, who even has the right? If he gets pulled away for anything less than a house fire, someone (usually Mammon) is getting tied up to the chandelier...

Mammon

Jumps at cuddle time, but always tries to play it off afterwards like an indecisive puppy.

Like Lucifer, he prefers his bedroom or theirs, but he'll do it in the Common Room too if he really needs a "pick-me-up." It's just that they usually get interrupted in there, so…

Likes to cuddle in bed or on couches, any place that's long enough to let him stretch out a bit. He wants to monopolize as much MC as he can.

Favorite position is laying on them so that his head is on their stomach or chest, kind of like a blanket. Like I said, the MC Surface Area to Mammon ratio is very important to him. More than half of MC must be cuddled for supreme satisfaction.

Whines like crazy if they get interrupted (and they usually do). Nearly every brother has an automatic gut reaction to toss him across the room if they see it happening, but that never stops him trying.

Leviathan

Levi had to warm to cuddling but after that he was all-in for life.

Really only does it in his room (duh). He gets so nervous about trying it anywhere else that you'd think it was scandalous or something...

Actually prefers to cuddle on the floor - on beanbags or pillows of course. It's not terribly comfortable to cuddle and play games together in his bedtub and he needs the multitasking.

Favorite position (scratch that, the only position) is with their back to him and his arms around them in some way, probably also gripping a controller (or vice versa). They can do it laying down or sitting up, but that's what he can muster. His brain stops functioning if they ever try to face each other...

Not above vague thoughts of homicide if they get interrupted. He already doesn't like letting go, so add on the depletion of his all important "MC Meter" and he's going to be very grumpy indeed…

Satan

Cuddles a bit like a semi-social cat. Less big on full-on snuggling, but he still requires physical contact.

Much more relaxed about the PDA than the others, but his affection style is more casual looking as well. He'll cuddle right about anywhere, but mostly whenever he's reading.

Couches or loveseats are easiest. Chairs are less so, but manageable as long as they can sit close to each other.

Favorite position is to have them sit next to him with their legs over his lap. He only needs one hand to read so the other usually roams around mindlessly while he's engrossed in a book. He may rub their thighs, hold their hand, or play with their hair.

Hates being interrupted with a burning passion. The death glare he'll send to anyone stupid enough to try could curdle milk… Give Satan his MC time if you know what's good for you.

Asmodeus

Needs cuddle time like he needs air, but would you expect any less from the embodiment of Lust?

Down to cuddle anytime, anywhere - zero shame and no hint of hesitation. Sometimes he'll come over and latch into them in the middle of someone else's conversation...

Fond of using beds but he's also mastered cuddling in the tub, his bathroom is certainly built for it. Nothing beats a nice hot bath with his nice warm MC! 😘

Favorite position is really any of them. He's hardly going to be picky - though if given the choice, he'll pull them to the nearest bed and wrap himself around them so tight that they may get stuck together.

Whines louder than Mammon if they ever get interrupted and pelt the intruder with pillows or shoes to make them go away (it rarely works though…).

Beelzebub

Always happy to cuddle with MC!... as long as they don't mind his stomach growling from time to time.

Prefers to cuddle after he's downed some big feast. When the food coma is setting in, it's really nice to hold MC for a while… They make him feel full for at least five extra minutes!

He tries to incorporate MC into his training sometimes so his favorite position is to have them latched onto him like a kola while he goes about the House. If their arms or legs get tired, he'll carry them over to a couch and just continue from there.

If he's got to be still, then he prefers to cuddle in a bed, ideally one where Belphie is. Nothing warms his heart more than having the both of them clung into him in some way, it's very therapeutic. 😊

Not AS bothered when they get interrupted… If anything he's just disappointed. He was probably having fun, but they'll come back, right...?

Belphegor

Look, all time is "Cuddle Time" and any other activity is just a distraction. If Belphie could hot glue the MC to his body, he would.

Being cuddled to sleep is a MUST. He thrives on their proximity and the sound of their heartbeat is the world's best lullaby.

Unfortunately, he doesn't even need to be particularly comfortable to get cuddling in… He has been known to just collapse onto their lap if he's tired enough, all else be damned.

His favorite position is any way that lets them be his pillow. Any particular soft parts of the body like the stomach are fair game. He'll use their thighs like a neck pillow if he wants to (and hope that they don't try choking him out of revenge...).

There's really no interrupting Belphie. If someone needs MC, he'll latch onto their legs so they either stay put or bring him too. The others have to use magic or spatulas just to pry him off...

Diavolo

Big on cuddle time. HUGE on cuddle time! This man has hardly ever been touched, so this is a dream come true!!

Look, he's the king so he'll cuddle them wherever he damn well pleases! (That's a lie, Barbatos won't let him do it during work hours… Otherwise it's fine.)

He's very enthusiastic but uh… kind of inexperienced so a lot of things (like convenient location) don't occur to him right away. Like sure, they could go cuddle in a big ass bed, but he really wants to hold them RIGHT NOW so they're just going to have to do this in an empty ballroom somehow...

His favorite position is probably best described as the "Teddy Bear," where they just sit on his lap and he hugs them from behind. He'll even rest his chin on their head if he can. It looks vaguely like he's holding them hostage but they actually seem happy about it.

Unless your name is Barbatos or Lucifer, you do not interrupt them. As far as he knows, there's still a snake in the dungeons and you don't want to be the person he sends to check…

Barbatos

A spot of quiet intimacy is quite rare for him… but never unwelcome.

Assuming Barbs even finds the time in his schedule to sit still for a while, he will almost always opt to do so when utterly alone (sometimes even in deserted timelines). It's very embarrassing to be caught procrastinating at work...

Ever the pleaser, he'll claim that he has no real preferences but if he were being honest it's when they're curling up together on a cushion or loveseat. It's comfortable, but still allows for some proper conversion.

Unlike others, no matter what position they take he'll always want to be face-to-face. When he gets to be with them so rarely, why would he ever want to see their back turned…?

NO ONE interrupts them. No one. Short of Diavolo needing him desperately, if someone sees the two of them together they will turn around. Even an irritated Barbatos is scary, an angry one is terrifying…

Simeon

Oh man… This is the height of intimacy for an angel. Cuddling with Simeon is just as sweet and relaxing as it sounds - it's an almost photogenic level of serenity, fit for the brushes of Renaissance painters trying to define what divine love is...

Naturally, because it's such an intimate act Simeon will only do so in absolute privacy. He doesn't even want Luke to see, it's just that personal...

Part of why he's so guarded is because it's one of the rare times he'll let his wings be free. They're very delicate, so he has to sit on stools, logs, or other backless seats to even let them out but it's worth it.

His favorite position is to have the MC sit across his lap while he holds them as close as possible. He'll beat his wings for a nice breeze on hot days or fold them in to shelter the MC from cold ones. No matter what, their movement is so glimmering and graceful that they're practically mesmerizing…

To him getting interrupted is legitimately so mortifying you'd think he got caught streaking. Even the brothers - sans Satan - will avert their eyes if they find them like that… while still telling him to back off but at least they're considerate about it.

Solomon

Solomon's softest moments come when he's cuddling MC… but he's still a little mischievous no matter what.

They pretty much have to do it in secret because if any of the brothers see them, they'll throw a fit… So snuggling in cramped storage closets or "so-high-up-in-the-air-no-one-can-stop-us" it is!

But when he wants to poke buttons, Solomon will magic them onto his lap dead-ass in the middle of RAD, like, two minutes before a class starts just to watch the world burn…

If he had a favorite position, it's sitting wrapped up together in his cape. It feels intimate, warm, and the starry-sky pattern makes him feel like there's nothing in the universe but them…

Interruptions are frequent - thank the PDA police - but only in the Devildom. In the human world, though? They're all his and he soaks up every minute of it... Sorry fellas. 😏

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me dateables #obey me undateables

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bluecookies02 · 4 years

Text

Kinktober2020 -ending kink fest

Dabi,Hawks,Shigaraki(separately)-❗️NSFW❗️

warnings: consensual gun play(dabi), wax play(hawks), public sex(shigaraki)

/masterlist/

pic credit:birf on twitter. follow her, fucking follow her you'll thank me

He will put a gun to your lips, make you loll your tongue out and drool over the barrel, his finger jolting and twitching on the trigger all while his face holds a nerve-wracking smile that you can't figure out.

The truth is, you look so beautiful, your knees sore and red, slightly spread apart on the floor while the small vibrator buzzes against your clit.

He can still see the glimmer of trust behind your eyes, your eyelids hooded and pupils blown wide.

"You're so fucking crazy, you know that?" He comments as his shoe slips between your legs, your sweet juice coating the once dry leather.

You nod, reaching your arms to his pants, clawing at the fabric in attempts to finally get him out of his clothes.

The gun slips out of your mouth, the now wet pipe gliding over your tits in small circling motions, stopping briefly at your hard nipples.

It then goes back under your chin, your eyes meeting Dabi's once he kneeled down to your level, his lips hungrily pushing against yours, his tongue going as far as it can reach, a hum leaving his throat once you feverishly grip at his shirt.

His free hand slips past your slick folds, adjusting the small vibrator before filling you up with his digits.

Fuck...You're too beautiful to be left living...it's a thought that often plays in his mind, but he's selfish, wants you to himself for as long as he's alive.

His fingers expertly find your G-spot, his lips leaving yours as he takes his time looking at you, praising you and waiting for you to finally fall apart after undoubtedly agonizing hours of waiting.

"Lose yourself for me, doll."

And you do. Your orgasm is ripping through your body, your chin being held up only by a shaking gun against skin.

You manage to look at him through your almost closed eyes, his jaw tightened and his chest heaving, his whole arm trembling as you ride out your high.

He places the gun on the floor carefully before pouncing on you, trapping you beneath his arms and the floor, rubbing his clothed length against your damp hole, groaning at the way it seeps through the layers.

"I'm gonna make you wish I pulled that trigger" You smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, your mouth ghosting over his ear.

"Please."

pic credit:kawaiitentacles on twitter!

You're shivering under the heat, droplets of hot wax slowly cooling off on your skin, his wings spread open and waiting as the last droplets of melted wax fall over your chest.

Your body convulses at the new wave of pleasurable pain, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

He chose red...he always does, there's something that makes the setting ever so intimate, like you're slowly becoming his with every pearly stain on your chest.

Your pussy is smeared with drying wax, his fingers made sure your clit was completely covered in it, smearing the now barely warm liquid from your chest down to you puffy nub.

Your tits were a piece of artwork that he was sickeningly proud of, trails of red running down between them and to your belly button, some patterns obviously made by his fingers guiding the wax.

He settles the candle on the bedside table carefully, placing it back on the ceramic plate.

His cock is straining against his boxers, the perfect petal looking trail leading to your hole looks sinfully erotic, red beads all centering to your tortured clit.

You whine under his gaze, bending your legs to your knee, inviting him to slip inbetween. He does, his boxers now long gone as his cock head ghosts between your folds.

He watches the wax crack apart almost unnoticeably, each time he spreads the lips apart with his length.

He finally prods inside your heat, groaning when your legs hook behind his back.

Sometimes you wonder why he refuses to tie you down during these, but if you were to know that it's because he loves to see you jolt and shake, you would clearly tease him for being so sadistic.

Instead his arms pin yours on both sides of your head, plowing deeper in you when his chest presses against yours. It's almost too deep, fitting snuggly against your cervix and still pushing the tight walls wider.

His hips begin to move, his lips latching on your neck as he rocks his body into yours. It's passionate somehow... he can feel the wax brushing against his chest, each roll of his hips sending him even deeper in the crook of your neck.

His low rumbles and moans are so close to your ear, sending your mind into a frenzy. You're so close, so so close, yet you need just a bit more, wriggling your hips you try to find the perfect angle, getting frustrated when it takes you so long with no success.

You fight his hands while he's lost in chasing his own high, your arm freed from his grip with little struggle, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him to look at you.

The angry look on your face made him smirk, his next thrust perfectly hitting that soft patch inside.

"There you go my greedy little bird..." he whispers, moving the hairs away from your cheeks as he cups it into his palm before digging the pads of his fingers into your jaw.

His thrusts sped up, abusing the spot inside you, the clacking sound of your wet pussy filling the room. He was so close, the veins of his cock throbbing and pulsating, the fingers on your jaw tightening.

The build up became too much, headboard banging into the wall, the knot in your belly threatening to snap loose any second. Finally you felt your ears buzzing, hot waves crashing under the surface of your skin, your muscles giving out as you rode the high.

In a blink you were suddenly empty, hot ropes of cum splashing on your chest in continuous spurts, your boyfriend's groans and ruffling of feathers filling your ears.

There's a strained growl that leaves his throat when he lays next to you, his wings falling onto your chest, helping your body to stay warm as you begin to cool down.

He loves you. He can't stop saying it while he holds you to his chest, delaying the clean up just so he can say it as many times as possible.

You'll murder him if he makes you fall asleep like this, so he wills himself into getting up, not exactly agreeing to move away from you. He is picking you up and leading you to the bathroom, sending his feathers to prepare everything so he doesn't have to let go. He won't mind that you're practically asleep in his embrace...leave everything to him, he's got you.

You should've known really....

The famous wanted villain doesn't just ”feel like cinema date”.

You had your hopes up, imaginably high...Dressing up all cute and pretty. Spending hours to get ready and be perfect for your first public date.

You knew the risks, but the thought of enjoying a normal afternoon like a normal couple blinded your eyes.

None of that stopped you from spreading your legs even further apart in your seat, the lace of your panties tugged to the side as long slender fingers rubbed between your fold, smearing your arousal over your pulsing clit.

You were holding your skirt up to your tummy, one of your fists securely gripping your panties as you pushed your hips against his hand.

His intention was to get you worked up, pull you to the bathroom and have his way with you, yet he found himself lost in you muffled moans, your plump lips turning red and bruised as you dug your teeth in them.

It shouldn't matter, you were at the far end of the movie room, a few empty rows separating you and the group of guys that also came to see the film.

His other hand pulled at your chin, separating your lips and sending you a glare.

He didn't want you quiet. He wanted those bastards to turn around, be angered by the fact that a freak like him is having such a messy little slut on his sleeve.

Wetness seeped into the material of the red chairs, making the cloth a few shades darker. Your arms were now wrapped around one of his, hugging it to your chest as low whimpers left your throat.

You were squirming in your seat, making the screws screech with every movement of your hips. The sounds of your slick pussy seemingly at least 10 times louder in your ears.

His digits were now steadily pumping in and out of your warm cavern, never faltering when one of the men fake coughed, adjusting in his seat.

The movie wasn't even halfway through when you felt your high approaching.

The palm of his hand bumped into your clit with each thrust, your concerns pushed to the back of your mind the more his pace picked up.

You were now more than sure that the whole room knew, your slick cunt producing sinful sounds that were impossible to match anything else.

Tomura could feel your nails digging into the muscles of his arm, the wrinkled material of his shirt almost giving out and ripping under your clawing.

He's grinning from ear to ear, yet you can't seem to know why, his efforts doubling as he stares to the side.

You don't have the strength to move or to question his motives when you feel the electric pleasure in your stomach, the muscles there convulsing and flexing as you reach your high.

It comes not as pleasurable as it's embarrassing, the guilt eating at you as soon as you've reached your peak. Coming down from it proved even harder, Tomura’s long still fingers waiting for you to calm yourself before slipping out, cleaning them up on your skirt.

He's pulling you from your seat seconds later, rushing you out the room and out to the hallways.

”What the hell Tomura?” You try to question as you run behind him.

There's that grin again, his eyes squinting and his teeth showing only a bit.

”Cameras, they had cameras” you weren't supposed to be shocked, it's normal and pretty common, you were supposed to be aware of that.

What pisses you off is that grin that still hasn't left his face, making your brows furrow and cheeks puff up.

The nerve.

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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years

Text

Bo Sinclair x Female Reader

Sinclair College AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Woo, NONCON ELEMENTS! This was written by demand. Seriously, bug me to write the AUs if you want to read them lol

Underthecut - NSFW, NONCON do not read if you do not like noncon, Dark fic, Vaginal sex, brief mention of anal, Bruises, creampie and Brief mentions of pregnancy

You shivered as Bo brought the blankets over you, cooing at how tired you must be, how you'll need all the rest you can get.

The dull ache throbbed throughout your body. Your toes hurt from curling them repeatedly, your hips hurt, from Bo's near incessant pounding and nails digging into your hips. Your breasts were sore, nipples teased and played with so long, his stubble scratched along your valley. Your neck was bruised, a feint handprint along the front mixed in with hickeys. Your lips sore and dry, lip gloss smeared around your mouth.

Dried tears over your cheeks, into your hair, onto the pillow.

"Hey, c'mon Sweets." Bo leaned in to kiss your cheek, making you squeeze your stomach in response, "Hey, you're good." He sat next to you, lightly patting your cheek, "Y'did so good for me, hm? So perfect." He leaned in, lips inches from your cheek, "Just like you've always been."

Bo looked down at you, bit his lower lip as your eyes remained vacant, body reacting out of an impulse to his touch, but emotionally wrought.

"You can rest for a lil while but then we gotta clean ya up, Sweets."

You cringed at the nickname, what was once a cute endearing term made your stomach turn.

"Rest for a bit, then we shower." Bo leaned in to kiss your temple, kissed your cheek ad a chaste kiss over your sore lips.

You curled into yourself, letting the motel blanket, stale smell, and lull you into a weak state of slumber.

Bo walked over to the chair, grabbing his crotch as he sat down, letting his chub rest against his thigh. He tapped his foot on the cheap carpeted floor. He leaned back to rummage through his stuff on the table, grabbing a joint and lighting it up.

He took a hit, leaned back. He listened, listened as the cars outside drove by, tires hissing along the wet pavement. A random dog barking, its deep thundering barks upsetting another tenant enough he heard a woman shouting for the thing to shut up.

The rain hit along the window, repeated taps along it felt commoning to Bo. The dull noise helped with his racing thoughts.

Bo wanted to curl into you, wrap his arms around you, kiss along your shoulder, laugh as you playfully reprimand him "Bo, stop! Your stubble is tickling me!" He smiled, "Bo, least you could do is just kiss me."

He coughed, smoke sputtered out through his lips. A deep hum rumbled from his chest, the image of you and him on the bed, curled into each other came so easily. Just like that one Valentine's day...

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Bo held you in his arms, hand running up and down your back. He kissed your lips, groaning as you let him slip your tongue in.

He cupped your cheek, tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your moans spurred him on, his thigh pushed in between your legs, spreading you out for him.

"Bo...again?" You asked in a whisper.

"You know you got another round in ya." He kissed you again as he angled his cock at your entrance, grunted as his cock head was met with your warmth. "Ah, sure feels like you're ready." He pushed in, his hands grabbing your wrists to pin them above your head.

Deep intimate strokes have you cantering into him, "Bo..."

"Daddy, c'mon you know how we do this."

"Daddy, please, I want more."

Bo pulled out all the way and bucked forward, a quiet laugh as you squirmed under him.

He picked up speed, huffing and moaning above you. Placed sloppy kisses along your neck, sucking and biting, groaning at the fresh bruises forming along the skin.

"Daddy, ah, more." You freed your wrists from his grasp and ran your hands down his back, resting your hands on his ass. You pushed him further into you, "Daddy please, deeper in me."

His cock twitched in response, "You like when Daddy fucks you? You just need me fuckin' you always."

He kissed you as you moaned in response, hands traveled to the back of his hair, fingers threading through his brown hair.

Bo's hips grew sloppy, your pussy clenched around him as he pushed in deeper and deeper. He wanted to scream out his release, get another call from the front desk. Telling him that there have been noise complaints coming from his room.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in, his movements became shallow, you felt his cock throb within you.

Bo moaned into the kiss, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you. He grinned as you sobbed under him, mewling out praises, whimpering how full he was making you feel.

"Daddy, you keep coming in me, and it might just take." He wheezed, running a hand over his forehead to brush away the sweat.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" His smile fell as you gave him a mortified look.

Reality hit him, "Bo, I can't get pregnant. I'm only in my second year of University! I need my degree first. How in the hell can I have a baby? I can't afford it, I can barely afford my classes."

He groaned at your rambling, he knew you were right, knew that realistically you could never afford a baby, that a degree gave you and your children together with a better shot.

He hummed in agreement, pulled you back into him, "Shh, we'll figure it out later." He kissed your forehead, growled as you nipped at his neck.

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Bo sat up and walked over to you on the bed, "C'mon, we need to shower now."

You remained still, eyes closed, face turning into the pillow.

Bo pulled off the blankets, a hard breath through his nose as he took you in. He lifted you into his arms, pressed kisses to the top of your head, mumbling at how sweaty you smelled and tasted.

He walked into the shitty motel bathroom, a far cry from the last time you ever shared on together on Valentine's day.

The yellow light and avocado green sink, toilet, and tub held a nasty hue.

Bo looked at himself in the mirror as he held you, his eyes held a light pink hue (the weed), bags under his eyes, his hair sticking to his forehead. He grinned taking in the bruises along his shoulders and chest. A mixture of teeth marks and fists.

He set you down, an arm around your waist to steady you.

"Okay, Sweets, gonna get you clean. How many days has it been?"

You swayed in your spot, eyes downcast.

"About five days, best to get you clean." He leaned in to place a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

He turned on the water, the steam rising up to the ceiling. "Let's step in."

The water felt euphoric on your skin, washing away the last five days of bodily fluids. Bo's dried saliva, the dried semen on your front, the bits you couldn't fully wipe off your face. The hot water kissed your bruises, a pleasant ache from the hot touch.

You stared at the yellow shower tile, steadying a breath as Bo rubbed his hands over your body. You let your mind race, let it fall into a day more pleasant thoughts.

You thought of Vincent, his arms around you, holding you close, outside the library. Tears spilled as you cursed yourself, wishing you blew off Dan to accompany Vincent. Wanted to sleep in Vincent's arms like you had been almost every night since you started dating.

"Sweets?" Bo patted your cheek, "You good?"

You snapped your attention to Bo, his thumb whipping away your tears, "Might be in the shower but your red eyes are giving you away." He kissed you, tongue running along your lips.

Bo retched back, hand raised up to his cheek, he looked at his fingers, the blood trailing down.

You held a feral look, your eyes hed a feral glare, your nails with blood being cleaned by the running hot water.

"I. Want. Vincent!" You punctuated each word. Teeth bared to the tall man in front of you. You looked through him, not taking in his baby blues, his confused expression.

Bo gave you a booming laugh, you jumped as he grabbed your wrist, "Five days of this and you still want him. I thought I could get you cock drunk on me."

Be spun you around as he pushed you against the tile. Your front pressed into the slimy uncleaned surface had you gagging.

You steadied a breath again, letting your mind race to Vincent. Not Bo poking his cock along your entrance.

"Y'know, you should be pregnant by now, I think the other whole is a little lonely." You fought back a scream.

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Vincent ran through the campus, running up to the Flamingo dorms. He had no time to think about how silly it was that the campus dorms have animal mascots.

Brahms burst through the dorm's door. Pulling on his jacket as he scratched his stubble.

Vincent ran up to him, knowing his girlfriend was a friend of his own, "Hey, Brahms, you seen Y/n? Has your girl seen her?"

"No, Princess hasn't seen her."

Vincent would normally smirk at Brahm's nickname for his girl. It was fitting, Brahms did treat her like a Princess. The gifts, the lavish vacation he took her on, she was even invited to a family wedding.

"She did mention that she has yet to get ahold of her though, apparently Dan is upset that they missed their study dates."

Vincent slapped his leg in frustration.

"I haven't seen her in five days. I've talked with my brother but I haven't seen him either." Vincent breathed in heavily, he staggered back.

Brahms reached for him, steadying his friend, "Bo probably took her."

Vincent's eye went wide.

"I mean, think about it, is it that hard to get to that conclusion. You fuck her, start dating her, flaunt how good you've both been to each other. Bo's always been, Bo. Masking his insecurity with macho bravado, hitting on pretty girls, and when they take the low-hanging fruit it fuels his ego. For a day, at least. And the one girl who managed to escape his low-level bullshit falls into his brother's arms, of course, he's pissed."

Vincent clenched his fist, "You justifying my brother?"

"No," Brahms stood up straight, arms over his chest, "Remember when I punched him for bugging my Princess? He tried to jump me a week later. For me," Brahms gave Vincent a cocky smile, "Was nothing. I can only imagine if he had anger towards a female."

Vincent's blood went cold at Brahms words. "Y'sure?"

"Hm, I am an actor! I observe people constantly, I am not known as the best method actor this school has ever had for nothing!" Brahms puffed up his chest, his cocky smile faded as he watched Vincent's shakes become near tremors.

"Look, Vincent, Have you been to the police, her parents, sibling? or whatever?" Brahms leaned closer to Vincent, a sympathetic hand remained on his shoulder.

"Yeah...her parents said...she sounded a little shaken up but fine. They said it was stress. The police are useless."

Brahms laughed, "When are they useful?" He frowned when Vincent shot him a glare.

"Okay, no joking, though not a joke, Look, I'll get Princess later and us three can go around asking for her, okay. I'll even ask my drama teacher to put pressure on the campus police."

Vincent nodded a weak defeated nod.

His hope had been diminishing day by day. He missed class and called into work. The past five days were spent on you, finding you, wanting you back in his arms. The sick feeling in his gut knew you were being held by him...the other half of him.

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You sat on the bed, your clothes back over your, the warmth they offered little comfort.

"Okay, Sweets, we're gonna get going, alright?" He nudged your shoulder.

"I need to get back to class, Bo. I need to finish my degree." You said lifelessly as if on autopilot.

"You will don't worry." He kissed the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. "Sweets you smell so damn good. So clean for her Daddy."

Your throat felt tight, the urge to barf suppressed as you pinched yourself.

"Why did you cheat on me?"

Bo looked down at you, head cocked, "Cheat on you?"

"Yes."

"I never cheated on you."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Bo!"

He stepped back, hand running over his bandaged cheek. He composed himself, leaning over you, "You better watch your tone." He growled.

The past five days had gotten to you, a resentment, and anger bubbled to the surface, "You date me, Cheat on me, on valentine's day. And you expect me to never be angry, never be upset. And you get mad when I cheat on you. fuck you, Bo. I meant nothing to you. You're nothing to me."

You screamed as Bo shoved you down onto the bed, his large hands pressed hard into your arms, he huffed above you, "Nothing to me? Did I not just spend the last five days lovin' you? Being intimate with you? Shared the most wonderful experience two people together could experience together?"

He shook you as you failed to answer, "Hm? That Valentine's day meant everything to you. This meant everything to you." Bo kissed your tears, gritted his teeth and he shook your head under him.

Bo cheated, he knew this. Knew why he cheated. Self-sabotage as always.

How could someone so sweet, caring, friendly, and loving as you fall for him, why would you? Bo was awful, downright awful, his own parents even said so.

"You'll see, Sweets, you'll see our love grow within you."

You sobbed under him, you murmured Vincent's name, repeating it over and over, as if you said it enough he'd burst through the door, saving you from Bo's hell.

#Bo sinclair #Bo Sinclair x reader #Bo sinclair x you #Bo sinclair imagine #Vincent sinclair #brahms heelshire #house of wax 2005 #smut #Lemon #Dark fic

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

my virtues uncounted (6)

warnings: panic attack, fear, arguing

there will probably be an epilogue after this, but we're nearing the end of this story! :)

Virgil floated into consciousness with surprisingly little pain, considering the last thing he remembered was bleeding out from a stab wound.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the others’ returned after discorporating-- they weren’t much in the habit of randomly sharing vulnerabilities-- but for him, it was always rushed, his reformation slapdash at best. It was probably part of being Anxiety: he couldn’t stand the idea of being ‘out of it’ for long, not when anything could be happening to Thomas with his influence muted.

So, he would come back to himself with whatever injury that killed him barely knitted back together, and grit his teeth and bear it for the next few weeks while it slowly healed. One of his recurring nightmares was the Light Sides finding out about it, using it to keep him out of commission to ‘help’ Thomas. It seemed… less likely, after meeting them.

Meeting them. Right. He’d done that.

A low thrum of panic in his gut chased the lingering sleepiness from him, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he dared, figuring that he might as well test the boundaries of his lack of stab wound pain before he snuck over to check that the core parts of Thomas had all made it through okay. Or before he encountered Remus again.

The first thing he registered was that there wasn’t any pain, none at all.

The second thing was that everything was proportionally huge around him.

The third thing was that these absolutely were not the Dark Side commons.

His heart rate spiked immediately as he whipped his head around, staring at what could only be the Light Side common area. He’d only caught a glimpse of it before, with the whole ‘bleeding out’ thing, and it looked impossibly different from where he stood on the living room table. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the way Thomas was so much closer here than in the Subconscious, like the difference between shallow water and the depths.

He shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in how much easier core Sides had it. There were bigger things to worry about, literally. He hadn’t discorporated, he was in the Conscious part of the mind, and he was tiny-- through no doing of his own.

Oh. They wanted revenge.

Virgil kicked away the assortment of tiny blankets around him and got to his feet, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been an asshole to them while they were stuck in the Subconscious, so they were returning the favor. Why else would they have healed him and turned him pocket-sized? It was the only explanation that made sense.

The commons were just shy of completely disorienting while empty, so he certainly wasn’t going to stick around for something as overwhelming as a Side to appear. He hurried to the edge of the table, eyeing the drop with no little trepidation. Was he lighter like this, or would he land heavily on the carpet below and break half his bones?

He shouldn’t risk it. No point in doing half the work for his captors.

If he could get a running start to the other end of the table, he might be able to make the jump to the couch, though. From there… maybe pushing a pillow to the ground. Could he even move a pillow at this size?

Another shudder worked its way through him, something small and terrified in the back of his mind shrieking at the way everything around him had changed. Had this been how the others had felt? He shook his head, stepping back from the edge and turning to face the other end of the table. He couldn’t freak out yet. Not until he was safe.

There was a distant phone alarm, the generic sort that Thomas had come to resent after using it for his morning alarm for months on end. Virgil felt a chill of foreboding pass over him, and a heartbeat later, he heard the telltale woosh of one of the core Sides rising up next to the table.

Their shadow fell over Virgil, impossibly large, and he bolted.

There was a voice, but he couldn’t pick out the words past the blood rushing in his ears, his own breathing, and the panicked rush of thoughts that came with picking flight. He focused on the jump ahead instead, the length of table ahead of him growing shorter and shorter until he was nearly to the edge, muscles tensed to leap.

The light around him being blocked out was the only warning he got before his view of the world was suddenly cut off. Half a second later, his momentum was halted by a collision with something soft, warm, and alive. He recoiled as sharply as he could, but there were already what could only be fingers curling around him, his stomach dropping as he was lifted clear off the table’s surface, his center of gravity shifting against his will.

If he hadn’t been panicking before, he certainly was now, his breaths coming shallow and shaky, barely bringing in any air as black spots started to dot his vision.

He was in someone’s hand. They could do anything to him, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it, would probably deserve it, but it would hurt and couldn’t they have just let him discorporate--

The low, calm voice that had been rumbling in the background paused for a moment, and then they were moving again, his nausea growing as everything moved too fast around him, like a car someone else was driving but a hundred times worse.

And then, abruptly, there was solid ground under his feet again. The hand opened around him.

Virgil dropped to his hands and knees immediately, pressing his forehead against the table to both quell his dizziness and find something to ground himself. He was hyperaware of the warmth emanating from the hand that still bracketed him on one side, like a shield or a threat.

The Side was still talking, though Virgil still couldn’t quite parse the words. Despite his incoherence, the hand didn’t even twitch, no underlying threat to whatever it was they were saying to him. His breathing settled a bit despite himself. The implied promise that they weren’t going to outright attack him shouldn’t have been so reassuring, but it was.

His head slightly clearer, he slowly pushed himself back up to sit back on his heels, looking up to see who had found him.

It was undoubtedly Logan, though he’d never seen those glasses and tie at such a warped scale before. He could have figured it out earlier, if he’d just been listening; neither Roman nor Patton tended to be so carefully enunciated with their words.

Logan’s words, right. He was counting, which confused Virgil for a moment-- was this an experiment? Something to see how long the local idiot spent caught up in a panic attack when he was supposed to be a survival instinct-- until he caught on to the way Logan’s chest rose and fell along with the numbers. A breathing exercise.

He was kind of surprised, in that pleasant ‘pessimist-proven-wrong’ sort of way, but it figured that the Sides up here would offer even their captive literal time to breathe. He let himself follow along with the pattern for a few more moments before clearing his throat roughly and forcing himself to speak.

“Hey.”

Logan paused, looking down at him. “Hello.”

There was a short, slightly awkward pause, in which Logan seemed to flounder while Virgil refused to apologize for being kidnapped and reduced to doll size, even if he’d just had a completely image-ruining breakdown over it.

“Are you alright?” Logan finally settled on, his gaze piercing as it swept over him as though searching for injuries. “I apologize for not warning you, but I needed to stop you from recklessly endangering yourself. I didn’t intend for my actions to trigger a panic attack.”

“Yeah, who would freak out over some little old thing like being picked up by a giant hand,” Virgil snapped back sharply, his sarcasm coming out a little less biting than usual after such a draining attack. “It’s not like I’m the embodiment of Anxiety or anything.”

“You are Anxiety, though.” Logan shifted, the motion jarring his hand slightly, and Virgil barely managed to contain his flinch. “And as such, I’m surprised that you would entertain the idea of unnecessarily trying to fling yourself off of a considerable height at your size.”

Virgil squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. “Unnecessarily?”

“Clearly? I cannot imagine why your first solution would be to attempt something so risky, though it’s possible I’m missing some vital context,” Logan replied, his face scrunching up slightly in confusion. “Perhaps the others--,” he lifted a hand.

“Wait!” A surge of panic forced Virgil to his feet, but it was too late. The summons registered, and Creativity and Morality wasted virtually no time in rising up, both of them instantly looking to him instead of Logan.

“Anxiety!” they both cried, and they didn’t sound mad, but that didn’t really mean anything, did it?

They crowded forward, and Virgil couldn’t keep himself rigid this time, his whole body jerking back and bumping into Logan’s hand.The mixed signals-- hide versus get away-- left him frozen, cowering under that pitiful defense.

“Anxiety?” Patton tried, and the concern in his voice was enough to convince him to look up and meet the other Side’s gaze. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

“I’m stuck in a room with three giants, what do you think?” he spat automatically, his shoulders hunching up like they could protect him.

Patton’s mouth twisted in a sympathetic sort of way, and he moved to sit, scrunching his body down slightly so that he was more-or-less level with the table. “It’s all kind of overwhelming, huh?”

With a simple glance from the moral Side, Roman followed suit and Logan settled back on his heels, having already been kneeling. Virgil stared between the three of them, his skin prickling with nerves.

Behind him, Logan’s hand moved. Virgil immediately crouched, ducking his head down and lifting his arms in an ineffective attempt to ward off whatever was happening. There was a beat of silence, and when he glanced up, he found that Logan had simply retracted his hand, apparently convinced that Virgil wasn’t planning on a repeat of his escape attempt. Or that the three huge Sides surrounding Anxiety was enough of a cage in itself.

“We’re not going to hurt you, Jack and the Beanstalker,” Roman lied, doing an impressive job of sounding confused and harmless. “You’re not in the Subconscious anymore.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in Virgil, one that he didn’t bother to stifle. “Yeah, right. I’m not an idiot, Princey. Remus got you all twisted up over what he did and I was an asshole and now you’re paying the favor forward, I get it. You don’t have to lie about it.”

The three of them exchanged complicated glances, ones that admittedly looked more upset and horrified than conspiring, but Virgil refused to buy the act.

“We’re not lying to you!” Roman insisted, making Virgil scoff. Patton’s face started to take on that kicked-puppy cast, and Virgil averted his gaze, feeling hot anger bubble up in him at Patton’s involvement. How was any of this right and moral?

“I live with Deceit, you’re not going to fool me. Just get whatever you’re going to do to me over with,” he forced out, grimacing when his voice wobbled slightly at the end.

“Anxiety.” Logan leaned forwards, meeting his gaze with utmost seriousness. “Perhaps it will help if you understand our motives for your current state. Can you tell me how much you remember from our escape?”

“Remus found us and turned me into a pincushion,” Virgil deadpanned, a hand moving to settle over his gut. He knew now that he probably hadn’t discorporated, but he could still barely believe that there was no pain there. Core Sides could just do that? “And then you three decided to turn me pincushion-sized, I guess. How is that not revenge?”

“It was to save your life!” Roman cried dramatically, looking very put-out. “And to keep you from going back to the Subconscious and my brother, y’know, the guy who was tormenting us for fun!”

“To save my-- we can’t die!” Virgil snarled, pushing his complex feelings about Remus down in favor of twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “You trapped me up here, no room, no powers, no height, and you expected me to be grateful?!”

“We weren’t trying to trap you,” Patton interjected, looking between him and Roman worriedly. “And we aren’t going to hurt you, I promise.”

Roman, who had drawn himself up in outraged offense, visibly deflated. “Patton’s right. You know he wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

Virgil hesitated despite himself.

“The problem of your current stature is one that we know how to fix,” Logan took the opportunity to add, fiddling with his tie. “Once you summon your room to this level of the mind, you will be able to find security and power within it, and we won’t bother you while you recover your lost energy.”

“Woah, woah,” Virgil held his hands up to stall further explanation, feeling thrown off. “Who said anything about putting my room up here?”

Roman raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “What, you want to be that size around a vengeful Remus?”

“I wouldn’t be this size if you hadn’t meddled!” Virgil snapped, scowling fiercely

“We weren’t going to just let you die,” Patton burst out, looking downright distraught. “You saved us. You didn’t want to rise up and you knew it would make your friends upset, but you did it anyhow. It wouldn’t be right, to just… not try to save you back!”

Virgil gaped for a moment, his next prepared retort completely upended. “No, I… that’s my job. Of course I did that. You don’t owe me for it.”

“Anxiety, Roman prevented your discorporation because he wanted to help you. Not to repay a perceived debt,” Logan informed him, his words stiff but genuine.

Roman shot Logan a look, heaving a dramatic sigh before turning back to Virgil. “All of us wanted to help, Gloomy B. Jones. Who wouldn’t choose to revive a party member who nearly perished heroically on a quest?”

In what universe was Roman calling him a hero? Inside his hoodie pocket, Virgil pinched himself, his confusion rising when everything refused to turn out to be a dream. Even a terrible plot twist like that would be more understandable to him than whatever was happening right now.

For that matter, they couldn’t really be implying what he thought they were implying.

“You really want me to pull my room up here. And be a… a core Side.”

Looking from face to face, he found no trace of anger or mockery, only earnestness. A genuine offer. He shook his head, his heart somehow racing even harder.

“What about when I have to do the other part of my job? The part you guys all hate me for?” he reminded them harshly. “I bet you won’t be so keen on my presence then.” He could easily imagine how well that would go over. Could a Side be cast out from both parts of the mind?

Patton shuffled forward a bit, his hands flapping like he wanted to reach out reassuringly but knew that Virgil would absolutely lose his shit if he even tried. “It’s like you said, kiddo. You want to keep Thomas safe, and we want that, too!”

“You’ve more than proven yourself willing to compromise when it counts,” Logan said, and then added wryly, “Statistically, the three of us already spend a fair amount of our time arguing before we come to a decision anyways.”

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, and Logan gestured to the necktie emphatically.

“That’s right! You may be as contrary as your jittery little heart desires, and you’ll still be in excellent company,” Roman piped up, gesturing to himself magnanimously. After a moment, he let the posturing fade into something more serious. “Anxiety, we don’t have to agree on everything for you to deserve better. Won’t you at least give us a chance?”

Virgil scrubbed his hands through his hair roughly, turning away despite his misgivings. Apart from that first incident with Logan, they hadn’t grabbed him, hadn’t even touched him despite knowing that he couldn’t do anything to stop them. At some point between that first disastrous meeting and now, they’d stopped treating him like an enemy.

He’d have to go back down there and explain at some point, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of not being repressed was one that seemed almost too good to be true. Deceit wouldn’t be happy, but maybe this would be the proof they all needed, that separating the Sides and hiding some of them from Thomas wasn’t working as well as they pretended it did.

It could be an opportunity. It could be… good.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to where they’d all been waiting, “I’ll pull my room up. I’ll-- I’ll try. That’s the best you’re going to get.”

And as the others cheered or smiled victoriously, he felt like maybe it was worth a shot after all.

#sanders sides #sanders sides g/t #sanders sides fic #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #remus and janus are mentioned #g/t #mvu #my virtues uncounted #my writing #writing

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

Fast and Slow - Harry Styles smut

The one where your dom lent you to Harry and he’s very eager to have you.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (m), p in v, overstimulation, sex bench, sex fluids, cursing, bdsm, restraints, sharing kink?, Harry is a soft dom and calls you “little one” a lot.

A/N: Day 12 of kinktober and the prompts were being lent to another dom and “say my name + louder”. I’m actually really proud of this one because I managed to incorporate another prompt that I never thought I’d be able to use on my fics, so I guess this idea of doing kinktober to explore some kinks is really working for me. As always (for kinktober fics), unrevised because I literally just finished it and I’m already dead inside.

Harry’s P.O.V.

I did my best to close the door behind me making as little noise as possible. Still, I noticed by the way her muscles tensed up that she’d heard me approach, and the anticipation was visibly affecting her.

Clicking my tongue, I allowed myself this first moment to explore her naked body with my eyes as she remained knelt by the foot of the bed, her head lowered to avoid meeting my gaze. She’d followed my orders perfectly, as I’d come to expect by what her dom explained of her, and I could feel my cock already hardening on my pants, the only piece of clothing I still wore.

There was nothing I appreciated more than a good, obedient little girl. I already knew she’d be perfect for me. But I’d known that long before, the first time I laid my eyes on her, even. It was an immediate attraction, one that I couldn’t act on simply because she already belonged to someone else.

So when her dom announced that they were up to experiment with sharing, I was quick to jump on the opportunity to have her, at least for one night. “You really are beautiful, aren’t you?” I asked, running a single finger under her chin so I could raise her eyes to meet mine, and I lost my breath at that simple connection.

She just had this thing about her, such sensuality seemed to lie just beneath the surface of her gaze. I felt it deep in my bones every time we were out for drinks and I had the hardest time trying to keep my hands to myself, trying to remember that she was with my friend.

And as much as the outings proved difficult to me, I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Not when my friendship with her dom meant that I got to see her at least once a week. Not when it allowed me the chance of being here with her, in this situation.

Well, first things first, I knew we had communicated pretty extensively prior to this session, but I felt like I should run over the most basic rule once more. Even though all I wanted to do was to jam my cock in her pretty little throat.

“What’s your safe word?” I asked, still holding her jaw so she’d look me in the eyes and see just how seriously I actually took this. I thought I saw the shadow of a smile pass over her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and she was back to the picture perfect submissive front.

“Red for stopping, yellow for slowing down and three taps when I need to stop and can’t speak.” I did smile at her answer, satisfied at how thorough she’d been. It was clear too, by the way she ran over her words and the glint in her eye, that she was just as eager as I was to get this started.

I wouldn’t keep her waiting much longer. We did have only one night, after all. “Good job, little one.” I acknowledged as I straightened up, keeping my crotch on her eye level before nodding to her. “Take me off my trousers.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she worked on my belt before going for the zipper, but it was clear by the way she bit on her lower lip that it was from excitement. I licked my lips at the prospect of the night that we had ahead of us, knowing she was right in getting anxious for it. I had a lot planned for us.

I watched with clear amusement as her breath bitched at the sight of my cock, almost hard already, and it was obvious that she was entranced by it. “Go ahead,” I signaled, once again nodding towards her. “Lick it. Give it a taste.”

She looked up at me with those bright, wide eyes and I had to bite on my inner cheek to contain a groan of desire that threatened to make its way into our one-person conversation. But then, she stuck out her tongue, running it over the length of my member and I was a goner, a loud moan escaping my lips.

I’d always been a vocal person in bed.

“Okay, stop. Hands behind your back. Open your mouth for me.” Her mouth fell open to obey my request easily, her tongue sticking out once more like she couldn’t get enough of my taste already. It was hard to keep the smile off my face, and I could see that she appreciated the sight of my dimples as she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

Once, she’d been wine drunk in one of our friendly outings, and she admitted she thought they were extremely cute. I’d started to smile even more around her after that, always keeping an attentive eye to watch her fascination with my dimples whenever they appeared.

“‘M gonna fuck your face now, okay, love?” She nodded, mouth still open, eyes connected to mine. I had to chuckle at the pure image of compliant enthusiasm that she portrayed. I, too, couldn’t wait to have her mouth wrapped around my cock.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

His hand curled around my nape and he pulled me to meet his member by it, the other one coming to cradle my cheek as he slowly penetrated my open mouth. The hiss he let out as he fed me inch by inch of his beautiful cock was like music to my ears.

God, he was beautiful. I couldn’t believe he actually wanted to dom me and now here I was, with his cock halfway down my throat. I felt so unbelievably lucky, and even more incredibly horny. How could it be that he didn’t have a sub anymore? I would drop to my knees instantly, any time he asked me to.

I knew I should feel bad about thinking like that when it was only a loan - I was with another dom, I wouldn’t be with Harry again after tonight. But I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t how I felt.

Specially when he threw his head back after I managed to swallow his entire length, his curls bouncing from the action and the sweetest little moans escaping from his beautiful pink lips. God, he was beautiful.

“Fuck, you’re precious,” he complimented, suddenly looking down at me with those incredible green eyes. A shiver ran down my spine at the connection, and the most predatory smirk painted his lips, making me whine around the cock on my lips. “Ready?” He asked, running his thumb over my cheekbones, his hands making my already hot face feel even warmer. When I managed to slightly nod, he did too, immediately pulling almost completely out of my mouth before thrusting back in.

The instinctive reaction to gag was undeniable, but despite the tears that immediately appeared on my eyes, I forced myself to breathe deeply through my nose and focus on the symphony that Harry was creating, with his moans and gasps and the wet sounds of gurgling and spit from his thrusts.

“You’re a little cockslut, aren’t you, sweetheart? So eager to please, I could see it in your eyes just how much you wanted my cock, huh?” I moaned around his member at the dirty words he so effortlessly threw around. I’d never thought Harry would be this vocal during sex, but god if it didn’t make me horny. In fact, I was so fucking wet that it was dripping down onto the floor of his bedroom, running down my thighs and ankles.

It was so damn filthy, and I loved every second of it. He pulled me by my hair so I could lick his balls while I gathered my breath, and I immediately put one in my mouth, rolling it before doing the same with the other. By the way he whined, I could see he loved it.

“Come back here, I wanna cum down your throat.” The prospect was one that I very much ached for, since my pussy was throbbing at the perspective. I didn’t even feel any hurt from the way he forcefully thrusted into my mouth before he started to roughly facefuck me, I was just too ecstatic about bringing him this much pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum, love. I’m cumming.” I loved that he kept the same nickname that he usually called me in social situations. It had always made me feel tingly, but when he was filling my mouth with his warm liquid, it was a different experience entirely.

Harry’s P.O.V.

It took a lot of strength and control not to fall down on my knees after cumming on her lips. She made me weak, it was ridiculous and dangerous but I was already addicted to the feeling.

I took some minutes to catch my breath before offering my hand to help her up, and when she accepted it, I couldn’t help but to trail my eyes down her body, appreciating each inch of skin available for my gaze to explore. But there was another way in which I wanted to survey her body.

“Come here, little one.” I took her to the edge of the room where I’d prepared the sex bench, observing her reactions to see how she would take it. She didn’t look like she recognized it, but she also didn’t seem repelled by it, which I took as a win.

“I take it you haven’t used this before.” She nodded, glancing at me before averting her eyes. “You can look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.” The look of surprise she gave me left me with an unpleasant feeling. I knew it was common in bdsm, especially with more stricter doms, to train their subs so that they’re always visibly submissive. But the idea of someone missing the chance of having her beautiful eyes on them left me in despair. It left me feeling like she wasn’t properly appreciated, and that didn’t sit well with me at all.

“Are you comfortable with exploring this with me?” When she immediately nodded, an easy smile appeared on my lips, and I allowed her to see it flourish. “Then hop on it, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you spread open for my viewing pleasure.”

She bit her lip at my admission, and I helped her settle on the bench before strapping the restraints over her ankles and arms. Then, after a quick caress of her cheek, I assumed my position behind her, biting my own lip at the sight that welcomed me.

Her wetness was already dripping over her pussy lips, and I instinctively raised my hand to open her for me, checking her weeping hole before quickly plunging two fingers inside of her, making her gasp.

“You’re drenched, love.” She agreed with me, albeit a little breathlessly, and I chuckled before wrapping my lips around the two fingers that had been inside of her, tasting her wetness. She was so sweet, it tasted heavenly in my mouth.

Humming in appreciation, I collected some more of her juices before sticking my fingers inside of her again, this time in search of her sweet spot. When I heard her gasp again, I knew I’d reached my goal.

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” I asked, thrusting my fingers in and out of her, making sure to hit that special spongy place every time my digits were deep within her pussy.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out at the feeling of Harry’s fingers inside of me, after spending so long with this burning arousal inside of me, taking care of him without being touched. He fucked me so furiously, it barely seemed like he retreated his fingers at all, and soon enough, I was cumming with his digits pressing inside that spot that had my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my legs spasming as I felt the urge to close them, stop him from continuing to stimulate me, but I couldn’t. Not when I was tied to this bench, vulnerable to whatever wish he wanted to express with my body.

I finally understood the reason for the chair.

When he didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of me, another orgasm quickly rolled in, making me spasm against the leather seat, begging him for something - to keep fucking me or to stop, I couldn’t say.

Still, it seemed like he knew just what I wanted to say, or at the very least, what I needed in that moment, because even though he didn’t remove his fingers - or even stopped moving whatsoever - he drastically slowed down the movement, opting to insert them in me at a snail’s pace.

“You like it here, don’t you?” He asked, clearly laughing at my agony, and if I could, I would have laughed too. “You know, I like having you here, like this, too. It’s been so long since I had a sub, I didn’t remember how much I missed it until I saw you knelt down by my bed.”

I was trying very hard to focus on what he was saying, but it was getting harder by the second, since despite the brutality of the last two orgasms he collected from me, the calm pace with which he kept on fucking me with my fingers was very quickly reigniting the fire of desire within me.

“Of course, it could just be you. You know, I had no idea you were into this kind of thing, when we met. If I’d known…” He didn’t continue, but I understood what he wanted to say nonetheless. If we’d known about this aspect of our personalities, perhaps I’d be his sub now.

The idea of being Harry’s, of having this every single day paired with the feeling of his digits still pressing against my sweet spot incited another release from me, and now I could hear just how wet I’d become.

“Feeling a tad overstimulated, love?” He teased, finally pulling his fingers from me and granting me some relief. I heard a sucking sound that brought shivers down my spine at the realisation that he had sucked my wetness from his digits, but before I could focus too much on that, I felt the blunt head of his cock against my hole, just slightly rubbing it in.

“Think you can handle just one more orgasm? Wanna feel you clench around my cock, sweetheart. Think you can do this for me?” I don’t think I’d ever nodded as quickly for anything in my entire life, but I felt plenty compensated for my enthusiasm when I felt him pushing inside of me, stretching me open to accept his long cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he finally bottomed out, the position I was in due to the sex bench assuring that he was perfectly nested against my sweet spot and I think the sensation was overwhelming for him too, by the way he inadvertently jerked his hips, hitting my g-spot after he was finally completely in.

I didn’t think I could feel better than I felt in that moment, impaled on his cock, but that was before he started thrusting in and out of me. The overstimulation had my nerves on fire, every single one of my cells screaming out for me, as I was too, and then his voice pierced through my senses, begging me to say his name, scream his name, until I did just so, exactly when I felt that warm pit of arousal explode inside of me.

“Louder,” he ordered, his fingers burying themselves on the flesh of my ass, and I couldn’t disobey him. All I knew was his name, all I could do was to scream it from the top of my lungs, desperate to release some of the astounding sensations I felt travel through me.

Harry moaned my name when he came, too. It was the first thing I remember focusing on when I stopped hearing the beat of my own heart on my ears, followed suit by the feeling of his warm cum dripping from my abused pussy lips and running down my legs.

He scooped some of it up, careful not to overwhelm me, before feeding it to me, and I was more than glad to wrap my lips around his fingers and suck them just how I’d done to his cock.

“You know…” He started after he’d released me and helped me put on a robe, and was now massaging some lotion on my wrists. He looked nervous, almost unsure of himself, and the idea made me curious. “Call me crazy all you want, we can pretend I never even asked it after you get out of here.”

He took a deep breath before continuing and I felt my heartbeat pick up as I realised what he could be about to ask. “Would you consider becoming mine? My sub, I mean? We can talk to…”

I interrupted him by throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulder as I buried my face on his neck. “I’d love to, Harry.” He didn’t immediately react, but then, I felt him reciprocate my hug before feeling his warm hands rubbing over my back.

“I’d love to too, sweetheart.”

#harry styles #smut #harry styles smut #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles wrinting #harry styles writings #harry styles dom

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 4

Lazy Mornings: A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1958

Warnings: smut (MF, Oral sex, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself. When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

Chapter 4

Once Steve let go and just let himself get to know you, he actually started to like you. Not just because being around you opened him up to a feeling of soft serenity, but because he genuinely liked who you were. The two of you shared enough in common that he didn’t get that alien ‘man-out-of-time’ feeling that he got around other people. You understood the references he made when he spoke about things from his past. You understood what it was like to not only have been around for much longer than you should be but what it was like to be from when he was from too. He liked your sense of morality too. The way you were connected to other people brought out the best in them, something that Steve believed in but didn’t see as much as he liked. He liked that you saw that part of humanity too and that you could show it to him.

It wasn’t just that you had things in common that he liked about you either. He liked how different you were from him too. He had thought your relaxed nature might grate on him, he was so used to being around the highly strung and he didn’t know if he could even relate to someone as relaxed as you were. He had been very wrong. Your calming nature balanced him, while his more uptight aspect did the same for you. You got him to stop and relax, while he drew you back out into the world for a little more excitement.

Your dates were never high adrenaline, but he took you dancing, and you would take long walks in the park, often including a lazy picnic where the two of you would feed each other things like brie and pieces of fruit. He’d even managed to convince you to go to a ball game with him. It was nice seeing you out of your element and enjoying yourself, and it was nice being out of his element too.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” You asked as you sat cuddled with him in the back of the horse-drawn carriage.

Steve was ready. He was slow to act. He knew that, but with you, he had fallen faster than with anyone. Maybe it was your powers. Maybe it was him that had changed. All he knew was he wanted you. To taste every part of you, and to feel your body wrapped around his as he penetrated you.

“I would love to,” Steve breathed against your ear.

Your eyes lit up and you gave a small, excited wiggle, like a puppy that was about to get a treat. “I’m so excited,” you giggled.

“Let’s lower those expectations, way down,” Steve teased and kissed you deeply.

The carriage ride ended and the two of you got out and he flagged down a cab. It was a short drive to your apartment, but the two of you sat in the back of the car, sharing glances at each other out of the sides of your eyes. The sexual charge between you was palpable, and the fact that neither of you would even look at each other seemed to heighten it.

The cab pulled up and while Steve paid, you waited on the curb. You took his hand and led past the doorman and upstairs.

When the door to your apartment closed behind him, he spun you into his arms and looked down at you. Even at this late hour, it looked like you were bathed in morning light. Almost as if it radiated from you. “You are beautiful,” he said and leaned down and kissed you passionately.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, dipping back as you surrendered to him. He slid one hand down your back and over your ass, it settled on your thigh and gripped it. You leaned into, lifting your leg and wrapping it around his waist.

He lifted you, making you squeak into his lips, but the kiss didn’t stop. He continued to passionately caress his lips over yours as he carried you to the bedroom. As soon as he was in your bedroom, he pressed you against the wall and began to grind against you. You moaned and gripped his shoulders, kicking off your shoes and then slipping back down to the floor. You gripped his shirt and slowly began to unbutton it. At the same time, he unzipped your dress and pushed it down over your shoulders. He tugged it at your waist and the fabric gave and fell to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“Steve,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked to yours and he ground his hardening cock against you again. “Mm-hmm…”

“I’m on birth control,” you said. “And an actual god. So you don’t need to worry about anything if you want to forego protection.”

Steve smiled and kissed you hungrily. The thought of fucking you raw was even better than he thought it would be. He wasn’t the most experienced person in the world but he always used protection when he went to bed with someone. He was excited to try something new.

You went for his belt, but he lifted you at the waist, putting you on the bed and kneeling between your legs. He grabbed the waistband of your panties and dragged them down, nearly snapping the elastic with the force he used. You gasped and fell back, spreading your legs for him. He hummed and paused for a moment taking in the inviting sight of your glistening cunt, open and display for him. He ran his thumb between your folds and rubbed it over your clit in a small slow circle. As you moaned softly, he kissed you, first on the inside of your thigh, and then at the apex, so close to your sex that he could taste it. He licked up your folds, swirling his tongue around to greedily draw as much of your arousal into himself as he could. You moaned arching your back and gripping his hair and more of that heady fluid dripped from you.

He drank it up, sticking his tongue inside you to taste it from the source. Your walls clenched and you lifted your hips, moaning his name as you tugged on his hair. He began to suck greedily, first wide and unfocused, and then narrowing in on your clit. He pulled the little bud into his mouth and lapped his tongue over it, making it twitch in his mouth. He pushed his middle finger inside you and groaned softly as you squeezed your walls around him. He could imagine his cock buried inside that wet heat, being squeezed on all sides as you clenched around him.

He began to fuck you with his finger, curling it and twisting his wrist as he searched for that sweet spot inside you. His fingertips touched down on the spongy surface of your g-spot and he pushed against it hard. You cried out and jerked up hard into his mouth. He smiled around your clit and kept going.

He used his finger to drag over that same spot again and again as his tongue flicked quickly over your clit. The sounds you made got louder and more primal. Your legs trembled and your spine curved off the mattress. With a loud cry, you came, gushing on his chest. He groaned and sat back, his fingers still moving inside you, as your cunt fluttered around it.

“Oh my god,” you sighed as you began to relax again. “Steve…”

“Mmm…” he hummed. “It was good for me too.”

He stood up and as he unfastened his pants you turned around in the bed so your head was hanging over the edge, sticking your tongue out invitingly.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked looking down at you.

“It seems only fair that I reciprocate,” you said.

He bit his bottom lip and ran the tip of his cock over your lips, pumping it in his fist a few times so his foreskin slid back and forth over the head. You parted your lips and flicked your tongue out, flicking over the slit. He hummed and pushed in. You closed your lips around his shaft and curled your tongue. He gently thrust his hips, adding some friction to the delicious suction you were providing. He groaned and his cock began to leak. It twitched in your mouth and he wanted more. He began to thrust a little deeper.

You opened your mouth and grabbed his hips, pulling him in deeper still and guiding him to go faster. He groaned as he watched your throat contort as his cock pushed down into the tight space. He took the hint and began to thrust properly. You mewled around his shaft as he fucked your throat, and he began to pull and tug on your already hardened nipples. It only made your sounds louder and his cock throb harder. He could feel his climax approaching and he pulled out suddenly leaving you blinking up at him.

“I want you inside me, Steve,” you moaned, shifting into the middle of the bed and spreading your legs. “I need it.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he purred, climbing in between your legs. He leaned over and kissed you deeply, lining himself up to your entrance. The heat radiated from you, drawing him in and with a hard thrust, he sunk deep into you.

You gasped, arching up against him and clenching your walls. It felt like a soft clamp around his cock and he groaned into your lips. He gave you a moment to relax and then started to thrust. You dug your fingers into his arms and broke the kiss, nipped at his earlobe. “Hard, Steve,” you whispered. “I won’t break.”

Steve pulled himself up onto his knees and began to pound into you.

He looked down at you as you began to fall apart for him. He had imagined what it would be like to have sex with you for the first time. He’d imagined it would be slow and gentle. The kind where it was just two people connecting on a physical level. Not this hard and rough fucking that was happening now.

You moved your legs up onto his chest, pushing your hips up so that he could penetrate you even deeper. He groaned, kissing the inside of your ankle, and began to thumb your clit.

You cried out and shuddered around his cock. He could feel you nearing your orgasm and see the tension on your face as it threatened to break. He pinched your clit and all at once your orgasm hit, bucking up hard and crying out. You clawed at the bedhead and your cunt squeezed and pulsed around his shaft, milking him.

He groaned and with a hard thrust, he came, pumping hot ropes inside of you.

You hummed and relaxed back into the mattress, your legs slipping from his chest. He slid out of you and lay down beside you, draping his arm over your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Was that what fucking is like?” You asked.

He looked at you puzzled. “You were a virgin?”

You started laughing. “No,” you said. “But normally… the way I affect people… it’s not like that.”

“I didn’t expect it to be like that either,” he admitted. “That was a first for me too.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. “Were you a virgin?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. But I’m usually a little more gentle than that.”

“It was fun,” you hummed and nosed at his cheek. “Tomorrow, we can do it my way.”

Steve smiled and kissed you gently. He felt sleepy and sated, but the sound of waking up with you tomorrow was definitely something to look forward to.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #small gods #lazy mornings

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 3 years

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cherry - close reading

alright, this one’s different, for a bunch of reasons that i will be getting into after the lyrics. this might be the point where people who have very strong opinions on narratives surrounding stunts could get angry at me. that’s totally fine, as long as you keep it to yourself (hehe). i wanted these close readings to steer clear of that whole side of harry’s public persona, but i couldn’t write this post honestly doing so. i needed to get this off my chest and apparently i had a lot to say (i surprised myself, really).

so, this is actually a WARNING: do not proceed if you are a firm believer in hamille. that’s all (and i won’t be replying to anons about this)

fine line, track 5

title: from French: “chérie”, darling

Don't you call him “baby”

lovers calling one another “baby” ～ to be so lonely

We're not talking lately

Don't you call him what you used to call me

common theme: jealousy

I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best

the other is thriving now the relationship is over

I'm selfish so I'm hating it

self-deprecating, honest, jealous

I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress

Take it as a compliment

the relationship has left its traces

no bad blood after the split, pretty blasé

I, I just miss

I just miss your accent and your friends

Did you know I still talk to them?

miss little things, more the atmosphere and context of the relationship, no strong yearning for the person

Does he take you walking 'round his parents' gallery?

again, jealousy

gallery: repeat of word in sunflower, vol. 6, but with (possible, likely) different meaning

[Outro: french girlie]

Coucou ! Tu dors ? Oh, j'suis désolée...

Bah non... Nan, c'est pas important...

Ouais, on était à la plage, et maintenant on—

Parfait ! Allez !

(translation: yoohoo (ish?), you’re sleeping? oh, i’m sorry… oh no, it’s not important… yeah, we were at the beach, and now we… perfect! (“allez” literally means “go” but it’s kinda like “let’s go” and more of a stop word. hard to translate)

this is not a voicemail. a voicemail gives you a monologue, a short message by the person directed at the owner of the phone number they’re calling. this is an overheard phone call: we hear one side of the call

SYNTHESIS

Right, okay. I have to be honest: from the lyrics themselves, there’s not a lot of deep shit I’m getting. This is a simple love song about a lost love, written about the period right after a breakup. It’s full of pettiness, simple jealousy. There’s no bad blood and the “I” even seems pretty okay with it. He misses the person, and the missing is expressed through the little things, like their accent or style. The relationship is definitely over, since the other has moved on already, and the “I” is not asking them to come back. There is no yearning, loneliness or miserable missing like Harry sometimes likes to express (～ Falling, To Be So Lonely, MMITH, From the Dining Table…). What the “I” seems to miss most is the other person’s attention, presence.

Now, we all know that this has been painted as the song dedicated to Camille Rowe. It's shoved down our throats: her voice is on the track (though can we be sure it’s actually her?), the title is a play on a french pet name, she supposedly dated someone involved in galleries after Harry (idk the details leave me alone). Naturally, I’m in no position to say whether they ever actually had a relationship or not. I’d be very surprised, since I’ve only ever seen and heard Harry’s love and praise for dick, but that's whatever. If it is about a real relationship (of an entire year), then all I can conclude is that the relationship remained pretty surface-level and they managed to move on easily, unless Harry suddenly changed his entire style for expressing love when writing this. (And No, the other love songs on the album are not about this relationship. Don’t fuck around.)

I’ll say that I think this song was written for a purpose, crafted to fit that narrative. I have avoided the personal aspect, or the who is this actually about shit in previous posts as much as possible, because I wanted to focus on the lyrics and artistry only. In this case, this song, however pretty and cute it is, stands out on the album, to me, because of its simplicity and the absence of attachment to the rest of the story. Golden, Adore You, Falling, To Be So Lonely, Sunflower, Vol. 6 and Canyon Moon tell parts of the same love story. There’s depth, connection, care, and - especially - a long-term love that’s persisted. In my later posts on Sunflower, Vol. 6 and Canyon Moon, especially, it will become clear how I read them as being about a long-term relationship. Even the simple line in To Be So Lonely, “i was just a little boy,” should be enough for everyone to know that song is not about that one relationship with a french model in recent history.

Sure, Cherry can still be about something real; another relationship that took place during a break in Harry's long-term one. Again, I'd just be extremely surprised by our curly boy walking in a rainbow paradise in a strawberry lipstick state of mind. But even then, placing the song on the album like that, preceded and followed by songs about a love that's life-altering and successful, just feels off to me. The story would make a lot more sense to me if the song weren't there. That's of course my own experience of the album, and another interpretation is just as valid. Who knows, maybe I'm totally wrong - but there's no need to come tell me that 😇

Fine Line being branded during its publicity as an album about being sad/a breakup and having sex will always infuriate me, which I really shouldn't let happen, because I know Harry is just sitting there with that wide-ass grin on his face, safely hiding behind his wall of vague lies and half-truths. Literally only Watermelon Sugar is explicitly about sex and even Falling, arguably the most straightforwardly sad song, holds hope for their love to survive. Harry being that open about a relationship - naming her, putting her voice on the track (!!) - is also very out of character and simply reminds me of interviews during the 1d days, which is an extra reason for me to attach little or no truth to the entire narrative. He's still just as private about everything else in his life: he's offline, we only see photos of him when his team wants us to and when talking about any other song or inspiration he's as vague as can be. This is the only exception and it's a thorn in my eye. But, of course, the stunt worked perfectly and it was the perfect plan to distract the general public. “This is the narrative, this is what it's about, here you have all the answers, you can stop thinking now, no no no don't look at the other lyrics, it's fine shhhhhhh." Cherry is Harry's favorite song, his most vulnerable song, damn he really bares his soul in this one. And we definitely mustn't look into any other theme the album might be about, no no. Bad gp. And that the voicemail is not really a voicemail so the narrative of it being one Harry saved from their relationship doesn’t even hold up but we won’t get into that.

Alright, time for me to calm down. Let's just say there's one thing that will always always convince me that I've got it right: the Vogue interview, featuring its writer wondering if something went lost in translation when Harry invited him to a gay swimming pond, descriptions of Harry and Harry Lambert (his stylist) calling each other Sue and Susan, ending with Harry playing Cherry and Gemma saying, "he does his own stunts." No, this is not said about the kid bouncing on a trampoline for one of the shots. This is a reaction to his performance for the crew, and that's what the article decided to end with. Ok I’m calm once more

Typical that I wrote so much about a song that I initially thought was going to be a breeze, since I knew I wouldn’t be able to link it to the greater themes. Guess that’s what made me rant about it in the first place. This one was a muuuuuuch more stunty post than the others in this series, and that’s also because this song is not like the others. It doesn’t belong here and I treated it as such. Tune in tomorrow for our regular scheduled programming, with the one and only Falling.

Read my other lyric analyses here

#cherry #fine line analysis #stunts #vogue interview #harry #lyric analysis #this took a few years off my life not gonna lie #it just gets to me #and this is the only version of events that makes sense to me #i'm serious when i say i won't reply to negative anons #but any other feedback i'd happily read bc i'm obviously not all-knowing #this is mainly instinct yk #and based on my overall interpretation of harry's lyrics #lp #my posts

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plant-flwrs · 3 years

Note

hi! could you do a draco x reader imagine where it’s enemies to lovers and one night at a party draco gets drunk and confesses his feelings?

drunk // draco malfoy

masterlist!

a/n: i literally had an idea exactly like this n my drafts omg but it was smut :0 wut r the odds. n e way, hope u like it, thanks for the request anon!!

summary: You and Draco are enemies until one drunken night leads to a confession of secret feelings.

(4.4k)

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It was no secret that the Slytherin house was plagued by Draco Malfoy. The house was split; people who went along with Malfoy’s bullying and those who hated the boy. You were proud to say you definitely did not get along with Draco.

Over the many years of mutual torment between the two of you, you had both improved on your ways you made the other’s life a living hell.

This week, you had decided to casually mention to Ron that in his sleep, Draco sucked his thumb. You had no idea if this was true, of course, but you knew Ron would tell everyone he knew.

In retort, Draco had been stealing any of your school work you left out in the common room. He would return it a few days later with all your work erased.

This was typical. It would have been unusual if you didn’t have the added stress Draco gave you.

The worst part was the classes you shared. You shared a fair amount of them, being in the same house and finding a lot of your courses to be the same. The both of you were fairly smart, proving to be good competition.

Charms was your least favorite. You had an awful memory, and when you had to remember the physical movements with the vocal spell, you struggled miserably. Draco did fine in Charms, which made it even worse.

Today was particularly difficult, having to memorize at least ten spells, each with different movements and verbal aspects. You sulked out of the room, loosening your green tie in frustration.

“Finding Charms a little hard today?” Draco mocked, raising his voice so it mimicked that of a baby’s.

“Not as hard as that Transfiguration test was for you last week. How much like a tea pot did your poor little mouse look like? I seem to recall it still had its tail,” you retorted, feeling better already about Charms as you looked at Draco’s sour expression.

“So what? What good will a mouse teapot do me? At least I can cast a gouging charm without nearly killing half the class,” Draco shot back, taking an intimidating step closer to you.

The two of you stood off in the middle of the hallway. This often happened after Charms, for it was the last class of the day and neither of you had anything better to do than shout at each other.

You rolled your eyes at the boy and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t even come close to killing anyone, Draco. Your such a drama queen,” you teased him, enjoying the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh shut up,” he managed to still sound fierce, even with the pink hint on his face.

“Gonna cry about it?” you teased further, hoping to rile him up more.

He squinted his eyes at you and gave you one last critical look. He lifted his lip in a sneer and stalked off, Goyle and Crabbe following after him.

That was how you and Draco interacted. You would tease him, press his buttons, and he would get incredibly angry. It either ended with his storming off, or him saying something hurtful enough that actually made you sink to his level. He didn’t do it very frequently, because usually it resulted in him having a bruised eye for a few weeks.

You were happy to stand up to Draco, because not many other people did it. He was often too favored by Snape to ever get too badly hurt by Harry, and everyone else was too scared of him. Snape didn’t often interfere with the interactions between you and Draco, and you assumed he simply did not care.

You left Charms for the day feeling significantly more confident than when you had entered. You failed miserably at the assignments, and that upset you, but your little victory over Draco made up for it. You walked with Pansy to the Black Lake, books clutched tight to your chest as shields against the cold air nipping your skin. Your scarf clung to your neck and did its best to defend your vulnerable lips.

“You really can’t go?” you asked again, adding a slight whine to your voice.

“I can’t,” Pansy replied regretfully, “I’ve got loads of work to do, and my mum’s been on me about it recently.”

Pansy had fallen behind in more than a few of her courses. You supposed you could blame yourself a little, but didn’t like to think that hard about it. You and Pansy had been fast and loose recently, attending almost any and every party you could find, and spending a little more money than usual on certain substances. You justified it, though, thinking you’d be spending just as much at Hogsmeade every weekend.

“It won’t be any fun without you, though,” you said, still hoping she would change her mind.

“You’ll have Daphne,” Pansy said teasingly, “give her enough firewhisky and she’s a hoot.”

You giggled with Pansy, thinking back to the last time Daphne got drunk at a party. She had climbed on almost every elevated surface to dance, and when she ran out of tables to stand on, she had tried walking on the heads of the nearest first years.

“Can I help you on some of your work? Get it out of the way?” you offered, practically desperate at this point.

“Would you? That might actually work,” Pansy exclaimed, rushing to the nearest tree to sit against with her school things.

You trailed after her, sitting next to her and pulling out some of your quills. You looked dutifully at Pansy’s Ancient Runes work, starting to write in your best attempt at your best friend’s handwriting.

You knew there was an ulterior motive in wanting Pansy at the party, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. She was usually the only person who could effectively stop you from drunkenly interacting with Draco. She was the only one who could keep you two separate. As much as you hated Draco, something in your drunk subconscious always made you drawn to him. You needed her at that party.

Pansy stole a glance from her Potions work, looking at you. She smiled thankfully, tucking her short hair behind her ear and returning to her work.

The two of your worked silently for as long as you could, but the sun was against you. It crept away, hiding behind trees and clouds. The two of you began to collect Pansy’s scattered books in the dusk, some faint and lingering sunlight peaking through trees branches lighting the ground. You pulled your robes closer to you, feeling the air get colder as the sun was no longer there to warm you. You and Pansy struggled back to the castle, avoiding stray tree roots carefully.

The both of you heard leaves crunching from a few feet away. You ignored it, figuring it was just some other students making their way up to the castle for dinner, too. The light was fading more and more, and you and Pansy were just about to clamber out of the heavily forested area when something hard knocked into your shoulder from behind. Draco had come from the left of you, walking past you and throwing his shoulder into yours. You stumbled forwards, but Pansy’s vigilant hand was quick to steady you before you could fall forwards.

“Merlin!” you said out of surprise, before you realized who it was.

His hair looked white in the moonlight that now illuminated the field. The bottom half of his face was shadowed by a tree, but you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was smirking. You rolled your eyes, feeling your feet firmly planted on the ground again, and began walking past Draco with Pansy’s arm looped in yours.

“Scare ya?” Draco snarled, taking a few long strides to walk in pace with you and Pansy.

“The only thing about you that scares me, Draco, is your nasty breath,” you said, pretending to sound sweet.

Draco scoffed, and you made a disgusted face, pretending to smell his breath from the few feet you were away from him.

“Honestly Draco,” Pansy said from beside you, struggling to hide her smile but going along with your joke and lifting her hand to cover her nose, “you’d think some of your daddy’s money would go towards toothpaste.”

You laughed earnestly, looking to Draco so you wouldn’t miss the offended face you knew he always made. He wasn’t doing it though, his brows weren’t furrowed and his lips weren’t curled. He looked off. His eyes narrowed but his lips were spread into some sort of crooked grin.

You narrowed your eyes back at him in suspicion, which he noticed. He quickly snapped out of whatever he was in, and his usual sneer was directed towards you and Pansy as he sulked off to the castle.

You and Pansy sat at the Slytherin table in your usual spots. Draco was a few people away from the both of you, as he usually was, but you both ignored him. It was easy to do, especially recently. Blaise had taken a peculiar interest in Pansy, and wherever Blaise went followed his friend Klein.

Blaise was busy fawning over Pansy, watching her with a dazed look as she brushed her hair from her face. Klein kept his eyes locked on you, something you did not mind.

The boy was a year ahead of you, and he was the interest of just about every Slytherin girl. His green eyes were piercing, especially against the black hair that fell onto his forehead. He always kept his tie remarkably straight, and you often found yourself twirling it in your fingers to tease him.

Tonight, he and Blaise walked with you and Pansy around the grounds before curfew.

“Are you going to the party on Saturday?” Blaise asked Pansy, bringing his arm up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, and upon seeing your pitiful face she continued, “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”

“Are you going?” Klein asked you, pulling a hand from his pocket to adjust his green tie.

“Of course,” you smirked, “I would never miss a party.”

Klein stared at you for a moment longer, and aware of his gaze, you bit your lip. You liked to mess with him, he was always so uptight and serious, it was fun to see him unwind just at your little actions.

You and Pansy said goodnight to the boys as you went to the girls dorms.

The next day was odd, for as you came down the stairs to the common room, you saw Draco. It was not odd to see Draco in the common room, but it was odd for him to not immediately find you in a room and insult you. Instead, he merely locked his eyes with yours and stared at you. When you crinkled your face in confusion, he looked away, turning his attention back down to the book perched in his lap.

“Ready for breakfast?” Pansy asked, coming from behind you on the stairs.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, still looking at Draco as you followed her out of the common room.

In Potions, Draco didn’t torment you. In Transfiguration, he only stared at you, no sneer or grimace present. Most strangely, in Charms, he didn’t even bat an eye when your wand movement was off and your spell rebounded and hit Hannah Abbot.

You apologized to Hannah profusely, even offering to walk her to the infirmary as her hand began to swell two times its normal size. She blushed, obviously embarrassed by the affliction, but insisted she could go by herself. She made sure you knew she forgave you, smiling politely as you followed her to the door and watched her go down the hallway. You shouted one last apology at her as she turned the corner, and she lifted her swelled hand in a friendly wave.

Draco watched the entire interaction from his seat, his eyes following you as you held Hannah’s large hand in yours to look at the damage you caused. He looked at the guilty expression on your face, the red tint in your cheeks. He felt two things bubbling in his stomach: adoration and rage. He felt adoration, as he had been feeling for you for a while, and felt rage because he felt this way.

He swallowed hard as your eyes met his. In your flustered and guilty state, you shot him an annoyed look. He widened his eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring, and plunged his face downward to look back into his Charms textbook.

Draco had been weird lately, you noticed. For it was the third day, Friday by now, of no loud arguments in the hall, no insults in the common room, and not even a stray dinner roll being launched at your head during dinner (yes, he did that often). You and Pansy, however, were too busy doing her late work to do anything about Draco. She really was behind, and it was hard for you to do her late work as you had new assignments to do yourself. Pansy found a similar difficulty, leading you both to spend your Friday night poured over textbooks in the common room.

“Hard at work, girls?” you and Pansy looked up to see Blaise and Klein.

They fell into the couch across form you where you sat at a wooden desk against the wall. You had pulled two large armchairs to the table, the leather giving you some sort of relief as you bent over the work. Klein’s long arms stretch the length of the two person couch, and his stalky fingers tapped against it. Blaise leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Pansy. Klein eyed you hungrily, obviously enjoying the sight of your tie undone and your skirt riding up as you sat with your legs tucked beneath you.

Normally, you and Pansy would have engaged the boys, entertained yourselves with their mindless presence, but you had real things to do. Blaise and Klein may have been handsome, but they definitely weren’t the company you wanted right now.

“Hello Blaise,” Pansy mumbled tiredly, not looking up from the Transfiguration essay she was about to finish, “how’re you?”

“I’m alright,” he said airily, leaning back into the couch and taking Pansy’s simple question as an invitation to stay and talk.

You fought the urge to groan, not looking up form the Arithmancy problems you scrawled over and over.

“How about we sneak to the kitchens tonight?” Klein suggested, and you heard the smirk in his voice without having to look at him.

“We’re busy,” you said curtly, clenching your jaw as you came across a difficult set of numbers.

Pansy looked up at you from her paper, flashing you a warning look. You rolled your eyes, giving her an exasperated look. She raised her eyebrows, her face becoming stern. You sighed, releasing the tight grip on your quill.

“I’m sorry boys,” you forced your sweetest voice, “we’ve got loads of homework to do before the party tomorrow. Another time?”

Blaise looked disappointed, but accepting. Klein stood to his full height, and your eyes followed him as he grew. He looked down at you with a playful smirk, licking his lips.

“Of course. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and Pansy waved kindly to Blaise. You decided then that you were no longer interested in Klein. He had been fun when he got flustered just from a glance, but now he was becoming like every other teenage boy. His smirks made you want to gag, and his lingering looks were creepy. You figured you’d tell him tomorrow night, if you still cared that much by then.

You and Pansy continued to work until Pansy slouched back in her chair and groaned loudly.

“I can’t get it done tonight. I’ll have to work on it tomorrow,” she pouted, but looked resolute.

You didn’t bother to attempt another guilt trip, or convince her otherwise. Pansy’s mind was made up. You had to go to this party alone. Pansy wouldn’t let you stay in the dorm all night with her, either, so it’s not like you even had a choice. At least Klein wouldn’t bother you. He seemed to only have the guts to come up to you if Blaise did too, and he wouldn’t come up to you if you weren’t with Pansy. Now all you had to do was make sure not to get roped into an argument with Draco. You had to be the bigger person for one night and make sure you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret in the morning.

Pansy was right, she couldn’t get all her work done that night. She sat on her bed with books sprawled around her. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the clothe hugging your body. You looked good, you felt good.

“You’re going to be fine,” Pansy reassured you for the tenth time as you sat at the end of her bed, “you can go to parties without me.”

“Okay, but if I come back here tonight having lost a shoe or something, it’s your fault,” you joked, smiling as Pansy laughed.

You, Daphne, and Millicent stayed in your dorm for a little while longer. You moved some clothes around in your trunk, lifting a hidden compartment at the bottom. You retrieved two bottles of firewhisky, handing them to Daphne and Millicent. You closed your trunk, meeting the impressed expressions of the girls. Usually Fred and George Weasley provided alcohol for the school, known for their impressive parties. You and Pansy, however, had your own supply you liked to keep for rainy days. While this wasn’t a rainy day, you couldn’t help the need for a little liquid courage as you had to go to your first party without your best friend. You took the bottle from Millicent and Pansy giggled as she looked up from her Ancient Rune dictionary to watch you take a large swig of the drink.

You felt it burn as it traveled down your throat, and it spread through your body like a warm blanket. You handed the bottle back to Millicent, and the three of you finished off an entire bottle. You didn’t want to go downstairs until you heard the music become loud enough, and by the time you were putting the empty bottle back in your trunk, the party roared downstairs.

The three of you said goodbye to Pansy and went to the common room. The music became louder and louder as you got closer to the party. Soon, Daphne was dragging you and Millicent to a large table with assorted drinks. You watched a boy on the other side of the table pouring himself a heavy amount of a clear liquid. He met your eyes and handed you the bottle. You looked at the label but all that was there was a cartoon drawing of a witch with bubbles spouting from her mouth. You raised your eyebrow at the boy, and he smiled, taking a sip of his drink. You filled your own cup with the liquid, drinking it quickly. It burned more than the firewhisky did, but it was still enjoyable.

You felt your head feel lighter as Daphne clasped onto your hand to pull you out to the dance floor. You danced with her, and as you moved your cup slid from your hand. You and Daphne looked at it for a moment, the cup spilled over as a wet spot formed on the carpet. You looked back up at each other and fell into a fit of giggles.

You continued to dance, looking around the crowd with ease. You felt like someone was staring at you, but you couldn’t find anyone in particular. The music and alcohol coursed through your veins. You felt lighter than you had in months, no worrying thoughts of homework or boys, or even Draco Malfoy.

The second you thought about how you weren’t thinking about Malfoy, you were immediately thinking about him. Part of you missed the hateful sparks between you, the natural narrow of your eyes at the sight of him.

Your body tensed involuntarily, and your drunk subconscious was already hoping to see his blond hair in the crowd. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking of what to say so Draco’s stern face would devolve into a furious expression.

You slowed next to Daphne, a wicked look overtaking your dazed face.

“What is it?” Daphne shouted into your ear, pulling you closer by your arm.

“I’ve got to go find someone,” you shouted back, “I’ll be back in a second.”

You were moving through the crowd before Daphne could reach out and stop you. A small voice in the back of your head sounded a bit like Pansy, her familiars warnings from the last party you were at with Draco. She had found you as you were just about to pour your drink down his front, and her soothing words floated into your drunken mind like good-natured clouds.

“He’s not worth it, honestly. All the stress he causes you is going to give you wrinkles, you don’t want wrinkles. Leave him be,” Pansy was right then and she would have been right again. Alas, Pansy was not here and her words did not echo loud enough in your head as you finally found the blond.

He was draped across a leather couch. His legs dangled off the arm as his head was perched on a pile of blankets. At the floor, Crabbe and Goyle hunched over, goblets clutched loosely in their seemingly unconscious hands. Draco’s eyes were closed, his long eyelashes delicately hovering over his pink flushed cheeks. His hair was pushed off his forehead, falling in handsome tufts onto the blankets under him. You stood there for a moment, interchanging which leg to rest your weight on.

“Are you going to say something,” Draco suddenly drawled, barely loud enough to be heard over the music, “or are you content to sit in silence for once?”

You scoffed, taking a breath that made your chest rise. You walked towards him, curling your warm fingers around his legs and flinging them off the arm of the couch. His body twisted and his eyes opened at the touch. You sat next to him, at least a foot between the both of you.

“What do you want?” he asked, leaning over to take Crabbe and Goyle’s full goblets from them. He handed you Goyle’s as he drank from Crabbe’s.

“Just wanted to see if you had done anything embarrassing that I could tell the whole school about tomorrow,” you lied, taking a considerable sip from the goblet.

Draco scoffs next to you, “Not yet, darling.”

You gave Draco a glance. He seemed distressed about something. The way he cradled the goblet in his hands and drank with an urgency was the way someone drinks when their upset.

“What’s got your panties all tied up, Draco?” you asked teasingly, leaning in his direction slightly.

Draco looked at your lidded eyes, the natural smirk on your pretty lips, the outfit you wore that you looked absolutely amazing in; he couldn’t feel any rage as he looked at you that night.

“You,” he said softly, staying stiffly straight but turning his head to face you.

You felt your cheeks warm, looking at him with a curious smirk.

“Really?” you indulged, wondering what else Draco may drunkenly confess. His words weren’t slurring like yours, but the faint pink flush on his cheeks and his unseemly kindness told you he was not sober.

He nodded silently, looking down at the goblet in his lap.

“Draco,” you said, turning to rest your back against the arm of the couch as your legs spread on the cushions. Your feet were inches from touching Draco’s thighs, and he tensed as he looked at the lack of space, “You’ve been acting odd with me recently.”

Draco, if possible, tensed even more at your statement. He was not nearly as drunk as you thought he was, or as you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered, biting his bottom lip. This was the first time you had ever seen Draco Malfoy seem flustered.

“Draco?” you slurred, not speaking again until he turned his face to yours.

You moved forward, bending your legs so you still didn’t touch him, but so your face was close to his.

“Do you fancy me?” you drawled, intrigued.

Draco’s previously tense and stiff stature seemed to relax, as if a secret was released that he had been bottling up. He brought his goblet to his lips slowly, and you did the same, the both of you finishing off what Crabbe and Goyle had been drinking.

“If I’m going to be honest-” Draco had turned his head to you and began speaking, but you weren’t listening. His lips looked so soft and his eyes looked so kind, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him.

He was surprised at first, unmoving against your lips. You smiled, still against him, and it seemed to make him realize what was happening. Within seconds, one of his hands was on your waist as the other was on your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, tasting a cinnamon flavored alcohol on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth. Your brought your hands to his neck, unable to stop yourself from playing with his hair. You ran your fingernails across his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, smiling again as he moaned into your lips.

You pulled away when it felt like your lungs needed air, which they did, and kept your eyes closed. Your shoulder fell into the side of the couch, your forehead resting on Draco’s shoulder.

You felt yourself drifting off into a drunken sleep, your body feeling heavy as it slumped into Draco’s.

“I really like you, Y/n. I really do,” Draco confessed from beside you, stroking your hair, “I think you’re the most clever person I’ve ever met.”

You felt your heart swoon at his confession, wondering if he said it because he thought you were already asleep, or if the alcohol was affecting him as much as you. You shifted, bringing your legs to fall into his lap, to which Draco wrapped his slender fingers around your thigh and pulled your closer to his body.

“I hope you’re not too drunk to remember this,” he mumbled, his own eyes fluttering shut as the both of you fell asleep.

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

Text

Let the Stars Witness

Okay okay holy— omg I did it! My first request and from an admired writer of mine no less!

From @kim-monsterlings : Hi and welcome!! Really looking forward to seeing your work! ~ If you would, could I request some form of friends to lovers with an orc? (Prompts maybe like, "you deserve better.") Thank you! <3

Since it wasn't specified on what their genders are, I hope your okay with what I went with! And I kinda trailed off from the prompt (or rather it's different but similar)

Anyways you'll know when you read!

•

Pairing: Male Orc (Duruk) x Human Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: None.

•

"You know, I never thought I would be friends with anyone here, especially with someone other than my, well, species," you tell your companion, your eyes not leaving the cloudless night sky as you lied on your back on the roof of his house. The stars were out tonight.

If you told your younger self that you'd be having great escapades (if running away and getting into a series of trouble fall under that) with an orc, you would most definitely cry your eyes out because you thought were being teased, taking it as a hurtful comment. You were sensitive like that. Part of the reason why no one would even go near you, afraid they might hurt you with a pat on the shoulder or with one word alone. You became the prime target of bullies, finding twisted amusement at your pathetic reactions. A crybaby, they called you. But it wasn't your fault you didn't have much control over your emotions. You were weird, asocial, timid, maybe even depressed. Having a neglectful family didn't help either, it just worsened.

•

The morning you met Duruk was after the orientation. And it was not so good for a first impression.

Long story short, you cried.

But since you're perhaps curious as to what happened exactly, let's elaborate.

You had your headphones on, the melodic sound of gentle rain played in a 3-hour loop and blocked out other noises, your eyes glued to the path you were on. You took long and hurried steps, wishing you could teleport to your classroom and hide in the back, disappear or become invisible.

You were distracted, or should we say, focused on the ground and expecting everyone to step aside and let you through.

Well, except for the one who had his back on you.

You crashed—not an exaggeration— into something- someone massive. You stumbled back and landed on your bum, wincing from the impact. Luckily, your headphones were safe (ah yes, priorities), detaching from your ears and landing on your shoulders. When you looked up to see who it was, you thought your eyes were gonna fall off, grow little legs, and scamper away.

Before you stood an orc, halfway turned to glance at whoever it was that tried to push him, his sharp tusks jutting out from his maw. His brows were furrowed as he looked down on you. Sure, he wasn't as tall as the orcs you've seen around the city and campus but still was over 6 feet, with muscles thicker than your thighs, easily hulking you.

You tried to get out an apology and run as far as you could go, but you just sat there, frozen as you strained your neck to meet his gaze, you couldn't look away. Your heart was trying to claw its way out into the surface.

Then you felt the tears swell up.

They cascaded down your face before you even could stop them.

The orc's eyes widened at your reaction and crouched down to your level in an instant that he almost fell over. His hands hovered, not sure what to do.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry. Please don't—"

"I-I-I'm re..really s-sorry p-please don't hurt m-me..." You managed to choke out pathetically, hiccuping in every word.

"Shhh now hey, it's okay. It was an accident— what? No! Why would I do that?" he replied. The orc peeked over his shoulder and to the sides. "Let's get you to somewhere, uh, less crowded," he added. You turned your head and saw that you had an audience, whispers went around as they sent pitiful and disgusted glances in your direction, only making you cry even more.

He proceeded to unceremoniously lift you into his arms, bridal style, and dashed away. You gripped the front of his shirt and shut your eyes. You were trembling now, scared of what he might do to you. How could you even fight back with your small stature?

It wasn't long until you felt him slow down and placed you carefully on a bench. The orc knelt in front of you, brows scrunched up as he studied your face.

"You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You didn't reply, only staring at him through your glassy eyes as you heaved.

You flinched when his hand started rubbing your back, his other hand placed on the side of the bench to balance himself.

He continued to caress your back and murmured soothing words in hopes of calming you down.

Your tears didn't stop falling until moments later when you came down from your initial fear, the warmth of his palm leaving your back once you did. All the while the orc remained where he was, at a loss of what to do next.

You rubbed your sticky face with the collar of your pale and blotchy crimson sweater, sniffing and taking slow, deep breaths before you spoke.

"I... I'm sorry for causing you trouble. E-Even going as far as to take me somewhere quiet. I...appreciate that." You thought you'd pass out with the way people gathered around you, it was suffocating. "Thank you..."

"I panicked," he started, "Sorry—I mean, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I get that a lot of people run away from the sight of me, but you didn't, and just froze there on the ground so..." he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

You shook your head. He was such an imposing figure to many, their first thought was most likely to get away or scream at him.

"You looked angry... When I bumped into you." You slammed into him actually, but he didn't budge an inch. Guess it was one-sided.

"Oh, that? Well, my brother scolds me a lot for having such a grumpy face, scaring humans away. Like he was the one to talk when he's taller and bigger than me! People would faint on the spot when they see him, I bet!"

The image your mind conjured up tore a laugh out of your body, two orcs arguing about how not to terrify people at sight was damn hilarious. When was the last time someone made you laugh like this?

The orc grinned, your reaction a contrast to that of earlier.

You opened your mouth to say something but the ringing of the great bell resounded, cutting you off. The two of you stood up as you realized you were late for your first class of the school year.

"So, uh, what now?" you asked.

"How about we go to our class, then maybe meet up later? Oh, fu— my mother will gut me— I haven't introduced myself!" He blurted out, his voice making you yelp with the sudden outburst.

Clearing his throat, he reached out, "I'm Duruk."

In turn, you gave him your name, taking his hand and smiled. "Hello, Duruk."

•

True to his word, you met again later when lunch came. The cafeteria was packed so you settled on getting the convenience food they offered and eat somewhere quiet.

Your conversation that day spiraled when you found out the two of you had a lot in common. From your favorite rock band to your favorite flavor of ice cream.

You both strongly agreed that vanilla ice cream was superior.

You agreed to meet up during breaks, always having something to chat about.

Eventually, you became inseparable.

He even changed and transferred to your class just so the two of you could be together at the start of the day rather than walk half of the campus to see each other every time.

You became best friends, sharing each moment in school, may it be helping the other stay awake in a boring class, or copying homework when one of you forgot to do it. Soon enough, Duruk started inviting you to his house to hang out. He did mention he had four other siblings, but he lived alone. You came by almost every night and on whole weekends to escape from home, only a few miles in between. No one would notice you gone anyways, but you returned around midnight, not wanting to impose on Duruk no matter what he says, so he walks you back instead.

You basked in each other's company. The odd and scrutinizing glares didn't go unnoticed when you two were together, but you shrugged them all off.

It didn't take long before you started having feelings for the orc, a little wishful thinking that you could be more than friends. You noted lately that his touches would linger seconds longer than usual, hugs and even a hand on your shoulder and back seem to be warmer and —you dare say— affectionate. It weighed heavily on your heart, your simple crush turned into something else, and it only grew with each passing day, and every laugh you shared.

But of course, you swatted those away, buried them deep inside every damn time they climb back up. Who could even love you? Yes, you have Duruk, he likes you, you think. But that's the end of it. Just close buddies. You can't take the risk of ruining your friendship with him and make things awkward with the only one you had! What if he stops talking to you, weirded out by your confession? You don't want to go back to being alone again, your heart can't take the rejection that came with it.

So you endured.

•

A little over five months ever since the embarrassing accident, here you are now, stargazing with your best friend.

"Well, good thing you didn't watch where you were going that time then," he says, chuckling beside you. His hands cushioned his head against the hard surface. "I wouldn't have..." he trails off.

"Hm, what?" you ask. Duruk went silent and didn't answer you for a time. You were about to let it slide but then he breathes in audibly.

"I wouldn't have met an angel if you did. Should've caught you in my arms, but sadly I didn't move fast enough." He replies, his voice deep and mellow.

You straighten up and turn to face him, your brows shot up, incredulous to what he just implied.

"W-Wait. What?" you squeak, your heart thumping hard in your chest, your skin warming up even in the chilled night air.

Is he—

"You're so cute, y'know that? Fuck it, it's all or nothing," he whispers under his breath as he sits up to face you. His expression was unreadable, but you see in his mahogany eyes a familiar glint of determination. "I'm not good with long-ass speeches so I'll make this short," he breathes in before he continues, "I feel something for you, for a while now, more than a best friend does, like...in a romantic sense. I want to cherish you and hold you in my arms every time I see you, I- ah fuck- damn it I just—" he growls, "I love you, so much and if you don't love me back then please re—"

You shut him off with your lips against his, Duruk's tusks pressing against your cheeks as you held his face in your hands. He was stunned for two solid seconds before returning the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you close and into his lap.

You feel something wet roll down your hand and you immediately jerked back to see his face. The orc was crying.

Did you do it wrong? Were you so terrible at it—

"I don't deserve you... A monster like me doesn't deserve an angel like you."

Where was this coming from??

"Say that again, I dare you."

"I don't de—"

This idiot!

You pecked his lips to cut him off.

"You big dummy," you begin, "I love you too, idiot. You may be a monster but not what everyone else defines you as. I love you as you are. You're my best friend, and dare I say my l-lover now. Is that right...?"

Duruk gives you a small, gentle smile, "If you'll have me, then yes, for as long as you want me to be." He says, sniffling a sob as a couple more tears tumbled down his rugged face.

You never thought you'd see him like this. He was the one who kept making you laugh with his stories and terrible jokes. Before you, in your hands was someone vulnerable, his eyes soft and fond as he gazed into yours.

It made your heart pound and it hurt.

You leaned in and he met you halfway, kissing once again, deeper and more intimate this time. Real. You brought your arms around his neck, your tears spilling out and he tightened his grip around you. It felt like a dream, too good to be true, but the way he hugged you like you were the only thing that anchored him in this world made you believe it wasn't. All of this was real and you couldn't be anymore happier.

From above, the glittering stars, the light gentle as they shone, bear witness to two freed hearts, bottled up feelings gushing out like a broken dam as you embraced one another and lost yourselves in the moment of bliss, cheeks stained and clothes lightly damp from the tiny rivulets of liquid that dropped down.

It's a lovely night, isn't it?

#athenawrites #my writing #exophilia #monster lover #orc lover #orc x human #monster boyfriend #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster x human #requests #fiction #terato #romance #monster romance #orc

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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The Kaiser wasn’t very good at being a villain (and that’s the point, actually)

Ken’s journey of redemption is generally well-documented overall, and it was explicit enough in the series that there’s only so much you really need to explain it, but due to the blurred boundary of what was supernatural influence from the Dark Seed and what was Ken’s own emotional problems wreaking havoc, it’s somewhat more difficult to bridge that gap between the Kaiser and Ken, and how they can be the same person.

The easiest way to understand it comes from both directions. One is that Ken, even in his normal element, is much more assertive than he’s often given credit for -- it’s just that the Kaiser is a (fragile) manifestation of that very carefully cultivated to channel that in all of the wrong directions. The other has to do with the fact that the Kaiser is actually really terrible at being a villain, and the persona itself is very fragile and difficult for him to maintain.

Rewatching the first half of 02 shows multiple indications that, for all he seemed to be the stereotype “evil genius”, Ken was forcing himself into the mold. He was never cut out for it from day one. Even from the beginning, Ken’s actual nature as a lonely and inherently kind eleven-year-old child was tearing apart at the Kaiser persona, and the fateful episode 21 was not so much a single turning point for him as much as it was the last straw in a series of things tumbling down for him.

Before we continue: While all of the meta on this blog is only possible thanks to support and input from a handful of friends (whose names will not be disclosed on account of privacy requests), this one in particular arose from a long and extensive discussion with said friends that I am extremely grateful for. As always, I hope I was able to convey your points well.

Well, firstly, it’s important to understand that, much like nearly any other character in this series, Ken’s surface demeanor is a bit deceptive. The Crest of Kindness has the original Japanese name of yasashisa (優しさ), which has a secondary meaning of “gentleness” (lost in translation, but still apparent with the bubble metaphor in 02 episode 23). That also ties into the secondary meaning of “kind” -- it’s not just about being naturally “soft”, but actively choosing to be gentle with others even when you’re theoretically capable of not doing so. (For those of you who have seen Appmon, the entire point of that series was about what it means to consciously and deliberately choose to be kind, and, in fact, quite a few parallels could be made between Ken and Haru...)

The contrast between Daisuke and Ken goes far beyond just the surface. Daisuke’s surface demeanor is abrasive, but he’s not actually very good at being assertive until push comes to shove, and he otherwise tends to bend easily to others or get overwhelmed; in contrast, Ken has a more polite demeanor and for the most part seems non-confrontational, but has much stronger control of his emotions and is more easily able to be assertive than Daisuke is. (Of course, both of them share the common point of being like-minded when it’s something that really matters, but Ken is much better at imposing his will and getting what he wants done before Daisuke ever gets to that point, which is what fuels the whole punchline of Daisuke and Ken’s Shopping Carol.)

So, the point is: Daisuke is kind out of instinct and just “naturally” being so, but Ken is kind because he consciously believes in treating others well and not causing conflict, and not causing pain to others.

That’s not to say that Ken’s behavior is out of suppression or anything! It’s not a case like Takeru, who’s trying to push complicated emotions down while pretending they’re not boiling under the surface, nor is he like Hikari, who’s compulsively pressing her emotions down out of a desire not to burden others. Rather, even as early as 02 episode 26, he’s very straightforward about what his issue is and what he thinks about it. Ken’s “shyness” during the latter half of 02 is largely due to shame and hesitation from not knowing the other 02 kids well, but as the series goes on and as we go into post-02 material, he indicates that he’s perfectly wiling to be vocal about what he thinks without necessarily fighting any compulsion to suppress it. For someone who claims he doesn’t know much about his own heart, he arguably seems to have the best grip on understanding himself compared to a lot of this cast!

So in essence, the main take-home here is that Ken is theoretically capable of being strong-willed and assertive, and is very good at choosing when he wants to be assertive and when he wants to hold back. And he likes seeing people get along, and he wants everyone to be happy, and he doesn’t like seeing people be hurt or hurting others, and under normal circumstances, Ken has very good control of his emotions for the most part and quite a lot of self-awareness. That’s why Ken is the one to get the unique designation of this Crest; everyone in this cast can be said to be generous and supportive of others in some form, but there’s a difference between being a “natural” doormat who defers to others by default (Daisuke being a very good indicator of how this kind of mentality has a flip side of lack of self-esteem and high insecurity, and Tamers’s Takato being a good indication of how “being deferential” doesn’t necessarily preclude you from having tendencies towards selfishness or cowardice), versus choosing to be kind by understanding everything and still being gentle out of a belief that it’s the right thing to do (again: see Shinkai Haru). And it’s why Wormmon says in the 02 episode 23 flashback that Ken’s kindness can be used against him; being “kind” in this way requires a lot of mental fortitude, strength, and guts, all of which are things that could easily be very bad things when applied in the wrong direction.

This means that all the Dark Seed really needed to do in order to turn him into the Kaiser...was make him lose grip on that self-control.

Actually, Ken says it himself in less-than-subtle words in Spring 2003:

…It was revenge. But who was this revenge against? Did I want to triumph over the ones who made fun of me? The ones who looked down on me and used me? But… In the end, it was revenge against myself. I couldn’t do anything but deny the kind of human being that I was.

So in other words, the Kaiser persona was, effectively, a self-loathing eleven-year-old boy throwing a massive tantrum. A lot of the Kaiser’s actions in the first half of 02 are honestly rather petty -- he’s basically upset at the kids spoiling his holiday in 02 episode 6, he attempts torturing Daisuke out of a petty grudge over a soccer sliding tackle in 02 episode 8, and everything to do with expanding his territory and eventually (hopefully?) becoming ruler of the Digital World is frankly very sloppy. For all he’s said to be a genius, his genius only seems to extend to book smarts, and his “tactical planning abilities” never really expand beyond that of a soccer field sort of affair; his way of locking down control on other things is basically just “brainwash it harder” or “whip it harder” and applying harder brute force instead of doing something in the long-term like, say, trying to rule with charisma and recruiting allies.

(Again, bringing Appmon back into this, seeing Cloud in action will give you a much better example of a charismatic human villain who’s actually competent at his job. Or, heck, you can even look back at Savers’s Kurata, who at least was savvy enough to pull strings with people in powerful positions. Or even the Kaiser’s predecessor Saiba Neo from V-Tamer, who may have been openly sadistic but still had the sense to align himself with background power. Really, compared to all of these folks, the Kaiser is downright pathetic.)

Remembering that Ken fell into the Kaiser persona partially as a desperate attempt to become a “perfect person” like Osamu, Ken “imitated” Osamu’s cruelty to him because he felt that was how he could improve himself to become a “strong” person better than him. But the irony here is that Osamu’s “cruelty” was something that he himself never liked, and mainly came from lashing out at Ken due to feeling like he had a lack of control over his own life. So Osamu was never happy in that position, and Ken, who is indirectly pointed out via the bubble metaphor to be even more fundamentally inclined towards gentleness, is probably even more miserable.

Because everything Ken does as the Kaiser is “unfocused lashing out at everyone”, the Kaiser has less control over his emotions than Ken normally would. Takeru manages to emotionally pin him to a corner by confronting him with enough assertion in 02 episode 19 (this is before he punches him), and correctly points out that the Kaiser isn’t capable of winning with words (i.e. ideologically) and resorts to violence as the first thing he can think of. You’d think that if the Kaiser were actually someone with the self-confidence to consider the other Chosen Children beneath him, he wouldn’t even bother giving them the time of day, but Takeru just happening to be a little assertive is enough to make him lose his composure and start falling apart, and a lot of his shaken “insects!” yelling comes from him seeming pretty desperate to cling onto that rather than being all that confident about his natural superiority over anyone. 02 episode 20 establishes that he’s getting himself in over his head by tampering with the powers of darkness he can’t control, and while, on a plot level, it means that he’s misjudged his own capabilities, on a metaphorical level, it corresponds to the fact that even Ken himself is incapable of getting himself out of the emotional abyss he’s in.

And on the flip side, one of the biggest “tells” that Ken is still miserable during all of this is 02 episode 9, where he’s seen ruminating on the “glory” he’s getting in the real world despite having just decided to leave it all behind. The episode prior, after all, had been called “The Digimon Kaiser’s Loneliness”. The media is using him like some kind of “hot topic”, his parents’ affection (in his mind) is shallow and based only on his achievements, and he has no friends (how much of a role Akiyama Ryou played in his childhood is unclear, but either way, he’s no longer around now). With no emotional support coming from any direction in the real world, he’s resorting to at least trying to have some “fun” in what he perceives to be a “game”, and yet he’s still not having fun at all.

If you look carefully at a lot of the Kaiser’s actions during the first half of the series, one thing you’ll notice is that there are multiple indications that he’s not quite up to par to being as sadistic as you’d think he’d be. Recalling that we learn in 02 episodes 20-21 that the Kaiser is under the impression that the Digital World is like a game that he can “reset” and the Digimon in it not real living beings, it has interesting implications of the fact that he’s actually very hesitant to physically harm other human beings -- he certainly likes emotionally toying with them, but even when he’s trying to take petty revenge on Daisuke in 02 episode 8, he goes out of his way to set up a trap with Bakemon to torture him rather than, well, actually using the kids as hostages. That’s a hell of a lot of work to do, but he instead uses this extremely roundabout way to get them out of the picture in a somewhat less harmful way, risking having them escape (which is exactly what happens).

And in 02 episode 19, when Takeru confronts him and he ends up whipping him, you can hear a slight “...gh?” in the Japanese audio for a split second right after that, meaning that the Kaiser is, for some reason, having a hard time dealing with the fact that he just hit Takeru, and he does a very poor job defending himself against Takeru punching him out despite ostensibly being trained in judo. (Seriously, if you watch the animation of the scene, he’s just lying there while Takeru repeatedly punches the hell out of him, because he’s so out of it.) Regarding the Digimon, he’s convinced himself that they’re not living beings, but regarding the human Chosen Children, who undeniably are, no matter how much he might look down on them, he has a suspiciously hard time harming them as much as he could...

On top of that, one interesting question that might come up to one rewatching the first half of 02 is the strange “contradiction” of why the Kaiser ostensibly seems to hate Wormmon so much, calling him an unworthy idea of a partner in 02 episodes 10 and 19, and yet does remarkably little to get Wormmon away from him or off his case (he hates Wormmon calling him “Ken-chan”, yet doesn’t really try very hard to stop him). He could have easily locked Wormmon away in a cage or something if he really wanted to -- actually, there’s the question, why doesn’t he slap an Evil Ring on him? Because in the end, Wormmon is the only emotional support he’s really getting, and so it’s likely he unconsciously doesn’t want to lose that. Recalling that Digimon are fundamentally linked to the inner self, the Kaiser rejecting Wormmon for being “weak” is analogous to Ken rejecting his own self for being “weak” and “not perfect” -- which means that the fact he still keeps Wormmon around is analogous to the fact that Ken hasn’t really been able to bring himself to completely let his fundamental nature go. And, hence, it’s why he gets so initially incensed at Wormmon’s “betrayal” at 02 episode 10 (and yet still keeps him around despite that), and is ultimately emotionally destroyed by his death in 02 episode 21.

Although, actually, if you look carefully at 02 episode 21, it’s not quite Wormmon’s death that necessarily does it -- the turning point where he sheds the Kaiser persona is right before that (and in case you have any doubts, the animation puts highlights in his eyes for the first time in the series right at that point). Wormmon’s death is the first major consequence of his actions that he has to deal with, but what actually brought Ken back to his senses was his own realization that Digimon are living beings, that his actions have had permanent effects this whole time, and that he can’t take back anything he’d done.

Remember that 02 is a series that is largely about moving on and accepting that you can’t change the past, and that you have to move forward regardless of that. Ken’s fall into sadism was only possible by driving him into extremely deep-seated denial -- he was already starting to face the potential reality of Digimon being real, existing beings in the real world an episode prior. He says, outright, in 02 episode 21, that part of the reason he came to the Digital World to do all of this was escapism -- and, presumably, under the idea that any mistake he made could be rolled back and redone, unlike Osamu’s death. But the Digital World is not a place you can reset like a game, Ken will have to live with the consequences of his actions again, and moreover, every single one of the actions he’d been convincing himself were relatively meaningless had caused severe and permanent harm, and the entire thing overwhelms him.

It’s also important to point out that this was probably where the Dark Seed had to work a lot of magic to get Ken to embrace this kind of denial so easily -- after all, it’s established in the final quarter of the series that it does have a tangible impact on personality and puts a damper on one’s ability to feel empathy. In the flashback in 02 episode 23, regardless of whether Ken considered the Digital World to be a “game” or “able to be reversed” or not, he clearly still didn’t care and treated those around him with proper kindness (even if he did consider it to be all of that, it probably wouldn’t have been entirely unlike how a lot of us have a hard time picking rude choices in video games). It’s a very complicated chain reaction of events that allowed this to be even possible, and it was so against his fundamental nature that once the denial broke and Ken reached his limit, he wasn’t able to do it anymore. The Chosen Children’s main role in 02 episode 21 was really just cleaning up the massive mess he’d made in the form of Chimeramon, but as far as the whole thing about the Kaiser’s persona completely falling apart and Ken being forced to confront his own self goes, that was pretty much all Ken and Wormmon, in a series of dominoes that had already been collapsing for episodes on end.

The following episodes have Ken treat the 02 team with a certain amount of detachment, and this is often construed by a handful of people as being reflective of Ken being standoffish of some sort. The fact that Daisuke and Ken are often promoted in franchise materials as “rivals” mainly due to them being in the “protagonist and right-hand-man” position such characters are in might tempt you to think that way, but they are most definitely not!! (Considering that even saying that Taichi and Yamato fit that mold is a bit questionable, and neither Ruki nor Jian quite fulfill the expectations of the role in regards to the genre-subverting Tamers, Frontier, which is explicitly said to be deliberately written to be conventional, is probably the first proper execution of this trope in the form of Takuya and Kouji.) Ken’s detachment from the group at this time in the series is something he actually gives the reason for quite directly: he believes it’s his fault and doesn’t want to burden them with what he considers to be his job, and in the end Daisuke ultimately breaks through to him and they become completely normal friends who get along. “Rival” what?

Ken is, at worst, distant during this point of the series, but he’s actually very straightforward about what he wants and intends to do; it’s just that he’s being a bit blunt about it because he’s still drowning in his shame and not sure how to approach them. (Also, consider the fact he was rather lacking in friends or a support group before all of this; he doesn’t have a lot of experience in socializing, either.) So he keeps everyone at arm’s length, and the reason he comes off as so standoffish is because he’s so assertive! He directly and bluntly makes some very strong remarks about how he believes everyone else shouldn’t be getting involved! Again, when left to his own devices and not being manipulated into by a supernatural evil seed into multiple levels of denial, Ken is very in control of what he wants and thinks, and is even very open about speaking his mind.

That’s even when they’re not good decisions, mind you. Ken starts off the climax of 02 episode 26 being very firm about wanting to suicidally throw himself into the reactor in order to stop it, and 02 episode 30 has him consider himself a burden to the team after the fallout with Iori and try to stay out of it despite them very badly needing his presence, which Daisuke (of all people!) rightfully calls him out for being childish about. But he also listens to reason very quickly and acknowledges the others’ point very easily, with Daisuke reminding him in 02 episode 26 that his suicidal recklessness is actually pretty self-centered and short-sighted of him, since it’ll prevent him from doing anything else to take responsibility for his actions going forward, and Miyako, uh, slapping him in 02 episode 30. (But he comes quietly right away as if acknowledging his own idiocy, and never holds it against her thereafter.)

Nevertheless, the point is: you can see that this kind of assertiveness is the same kind of assertiveness he had as the Kaiser, just channeled in a different direction and for a different purpose. But as the Kaiser, he was angrily lashing out at anything and everything and stepping on anything he could just so he could have a show of power; once he comes back to his senses, he reserves that force for it being something he consciously believes is the right thing to do (regardless of whether it’s actually the right thing to do or not).

Because of the fact Ken spends a lot of the last quarter of 02 suffering and parsing a lot of trauma, a lot of people have tended to pin him as constantly sad and being a soft crybaby, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! Despite all the emotional pain he goes through, Ken has a hell of a ton of strength through all of this -- he even flings a well-aimed quip at Oikawa in 02 episode 44 despite being in a completely helpless situation, and in 02 episode 45 he himself is the one who volunteers to open the gate to the Dark Ocean, despite knowing exactly what it entails. That takes a lot of guts, and all things considered, his recovery from being the Kaiser spans only four months and is altogether incredibly fast given what he went through -- it did not take long for him to regain his bearings and get himself back on track. Again, it’s the same kind of “assertiveness” and capacity for action that fuels what the Kaiser did, just better controlled and in a direction Ken knows he actually wants.

This is also why I tend to object to insinuations that Ken would be overly touchy about or traumatized by the mere discussion of him being the Kaiser in the aftermath of 02, because the series itself, multiple times, portrayed him as being very able to talk about his experiences bluntly and honestly, at worst maybe considering it a bit of an awkward topic. He has no problems admitting that it was a thing that happened, especially if it involves discussing it as part of taking responsibility or preventing further damage -- it’s just that he of course doesn’t enjoy it either, and is equally as open about the shame he feels as a result. All of the times Ken loses his composure in the latter half of 02 involve either physical pain being inflicted on him, or a lot more actively vicious invocation of his memories and insecurities, and even then he gets himself back on his feet with a rather prompt amount of speed. Poorly timed of a statement as it may have been, Miyako is not incorrect when she says in 02 episode 31 that he has a certain amount of natural resilience that he carried from being the Kaiser.

All the way back in 02 episode 9, shortly after it was revealed to the group that Ken was the Kaiser, Iori, Hikari, and Takeru all label Ken as someone who doesn’t look like someone who could do something so horrible, and Hikari even says that his smile looks “gentle” (note that this is yasashisou, a word derived from the same root word used for his Crest). So in other words, even all three of them were able to catch on to his actual nature betraying himself even during that awful period of time. It’s still poking through, all things considered.

But we as the audience know he’s putting on that face for the camera, and his eyes are still as dead-eyed as they are for the first half of the series, and when Miyako accidentally makes him laugh during the Christmas party in 02 episode 38, it’s very much framed as probably the first time Ken has been this genuinely happy in a long while. He was never able to be this happy even when “satisfying” himself by stepping on others as the Kaiser.

And that’s why it’s so extremely unlikely that Ken will ever be able to lapse back into the Kaiser persona after the events of 02, even with the Dark Seed technically still inside his neck. He wasn’t enjoying it anyway; the Kaiser persona wasn’t a habit that he fell into out of emotional suppression or even catharsis, but rather him forcing himself into a role he was never comfortable in to begin with. He was never truly satisfied with anything he was getting out of it, and moreover, it took the combination of supernatural influence and a hell of a lot of denial to allow it to get that far in the first place, because of how far against his fundamental nature that was. (Again, for those of you who have seen Appmon: think about what it would take to get Haru to embrace sadism.) Even Osamu wasn’t enjoying being cold; being kind and living your life with positivity is a lot more fulfilling and fun, anyway.

In 02 episode 48, Ken describes the influence of the Seed as “horrible” in retrospect; even if it didn’t involve physical pain and exhaustion the way it did for the Dark Seed children, the entire experience sucked even back then. And while Ken theorizes about the Dark Seed’s influence being countered by the power of love earlier in the episode, when you look at the whole of 02, it’s not just his family’s love -- Ken now has the emotional support of his family, and Wormmon, and his newfound friends, and that’s giving him all of the fulfillment he wanted that putting on a front of sadism wasn’t giving him, and he doesn’t really need anything else anymore.

02 itself is very much about the fact that it’s not a bad thing to rely on the support of others to be happy; the Ken and Kaiser are undoubtedly the same person, but the latter’s existence requires a very specific lineup of events and factors to happen, and one of the massive parts behind that was a severe lack of emotional support or anyone who properly understood him. And by the end of the series, Ken has more than enough strength of heart to accept everything that’s happened and move on, and to stop reaching out to denial and clinging onto the past, and he has emotional support and understanding from a whole new group of friends that thoroughly understand everything he did and went through, and wholeheartedly accept and love him anyway.

He is never going to have a gaping hole in his life like that again.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #ichijouji ken #ken ichijouji #shihameta

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