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myfavoritesstuff · 2 months

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So there was this dialogue about Z's choice of dress, pointing towards the "weird body modifications to his teeth" and y/n said she wonders, "if they hurt?" I knooow she might've meant it must have been painful for him to get his teeth like that but, what if we took it the other way? What if she unconsciously voiced this thought in another situation? Would they really hurt? A neck bite? Smut please.

Embrace of Shadows

Pairing: Z (from Favor) x Reader

Prompt: How did it lead to this? Being curious leads to something more.

Note: This is a smut! I hope I understood this request correctly. Sorry if I didn’t, but either way, I had a lot of fun writing this. Please read all the way through, it gets better, I promise! NOT PROOFREAD

I wonder if they hurt…

"Curious, aren't you?" Z's voice was a whisper, “why do you stare at my teeth?"

You blushed, realizing you had been caught. "I apologize," you stammered. "It's just...they're so different. I've never seen teeth like yours."

Z tilted their head, studying you with eyes that seemed to pierce their very soul. "Sharp teeth are a necessity for survival," they said. "For feeding. For protection."

Your heartbeat quickened. "Would it hurt?" they blurted out. "If you were to bite me?"

Z's lips curved into a half-smile. "Ah, the curiosity of mortals," they murmured. "You wonder about pain, about pleasure. About surrender."

Your mind raced. They hadn't meant to reveal such thoughts, but now the question hung in the air like a forbidden fruit. "Would it?" You pressed, their heart now pounding in their chest.

Z got up from the opposite side of the table and stepped closer, their breath cool against your skin. "Pain and pleasure," they whispered. "Two sides of the same coin. To be bitten by a demon is to dance on the precipice of both."

Your heart still pounded. You should run, flee from this dangerous allure. But something held you in place—the pull of forbidden desire, the thrill of surrendering to the unknown.

And then Z's lips brushed against your neck, and all rational thought fled. Their teeth sank into your flesh—not cruelly, but with a hunger that ignited every nerve. Pain flared, then melted into something else—an ache that bordered on ecstasy.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Z's hair.

You could feel Z start to bite a little harder, starting to drink from them, drawing sustenance from their life force, and you surrendered willingly, lost in a dance of pleasure and pain.

When Z finally pulled away, You swayed a bit, dizzy and sated. Their neck bore twin punctures, a mark of Z's possession.

“Z…” You let out a soft whisper.

“Y/n…” his voice was deep. Your breath caught in your throat as Z pressed their body closer to yours. Z’s touch ignited a fire within you that threatened to consume everything.

“Y/n” they whispered, “keep your eyes on me, okay? I only need you to see and think only of me.”

A devilish smirk made its way onto their face. “You think you can do that, darling?”

Swallowing, you nodded. Their smirk turned into a small smile. “Good because after tonight, I won’t ever let you go or see anyone else with those precious eyes of yours.”

Z’s words made you feel warm inside. You never had someone talk to you this way before. Your thoughts were interrupted by Z speaking once more.

“I’m going to be taking what’s mine now. I hope you’re up for a few rounds.”

Your face flushed at their words, yet you did not stop them when they grabbed you by the arm and turned you around so you were facing the table. Their claw-like nails then proceeded to rip your clothing apart, leaving you exposed for them to see.

While the air was cold, your body felt hot. Just imagining the things Z could do to you made you feel excited. Z then began to strip themself of their own clothing. Once fully striped you could feel them start to trace their fingers along your body. You shivered as Z’s fingers started to travel lower.

“I want to taste you so badly”. As they said that, they kneeled down with one hand pushing you down so your ass was spread for them.

Their fingers made their way down to your hole, and started circling it. You gasped as they then stuck their forked tongue into your hole, stimulating the area inside. You grasped onto the table, as your legs started to shake from the pleasure you felt. Their tongue worked wonders as all you could do was grip onto the table.

Z seemed to notice this, for they suddenly pulled themselves away from your hole, stood up and turned you around. They then started to passionately kiss you and their hands made their way under your legs, signaling you to wrap yourself around his waist.

Your mind was in a haze. All you could focus on was him. Suddenly you felt something around your hole once more. As you felt them slip in, your immediately clenched around them. Groaning in response to you, they gripped hard on your legs, making you gasp.

They took this opportunity to slip their tongue into your mouth, making its way around your own tongue and to the back of your throat.

You slightly gagged on it but didn’t mind as you were overcome with an immense amount of pleasure.

Their thrusts hadn’t helped either as their hips angled themselves to hit a certain spot inside. Feeling the way their cock spread you open had you moaning their name. It was almost as if they were shaping your inside to the shape of them.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt an intense sensation wash over you. Moaning out their name again, you felt yourself come down from your high. Z however did stop, in fact; they kept going and increased their pace, trying to reach what you felt moments ago.

Whining from overstimulation you placed your head on their chest, letting them continue with their pace until they eventually reached their end. And it wasn’t long after until Z did. However once they were finished, you could feel a trail of their cum going down your leg.

You heard them make a sound of displeasure as they started thrusting back into you pumping the cum back into your hole. You gasped as you groaned from the pleasure that started to build up again, and you gently grabbed onto his shoulder.

“I hope you weren’t thinking that I was done with you, cause I told you that we were going for a few rounds.”

#favor vn #visual novel #vn #z favor #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #favor fanfic #favor fanfiction #fanfic smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #favor smut

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midnight-black2 · 1 month

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

pairing : jann mardenborough x reader

synopsis : jann didn't expect to find himself being caught getting off to you, let alone be touched by you.

disclaimers : dom!reader, sub!jann, masturbation (m receiving), praise, voyuerism, a bit of begging, slight degradation if you squint, honestly probably more i'm forgetting but you get the point

jann couldn't stop.

every single thought that filled his pretty little mind was you. from the moment he woke up, to the moment he fell asleep. hell, he even dreamt of you.

he couldn't stop himself.

he knew he should've had better self control. i mean, who touches themself to the thought of their roommate? but how could he possibly not at the same time? it was so incredibly insatiable. you, were so incredibly insatiable.

his own big hand sliding up and down along his cock. crying out, so so loudly. what ever possessed him to think sharing a home with you was a good idea? you could have walked in any minute, and he would have been utterly fucked out, and shit out of luck since he couldn't seem to find the power to stop. he wasn't sure if he would've been more mortified or turned on if you found him; legs spread, slight arch in his back, moaning your name.

and he wished he heard the front door creak open. he wished he would've heard the footsteps. but he was so close, he couldn't just abruptly stop. and the only thing he could hear was his own lewd noises. you almost dismissed it as well, almost. you wanted to spare him the embarrassment, but that was until you heard him say something between the high pitched whines and small whimpers.

"please, don't stop y/n," he moaned. your name. he moaned your name. you froze in your tracks, heat spreading throughout your body as you inched closer to the door.

"o-oh god, fuck please," jann's hand was set at a somewhat speedy, steady pace. he could feel himself growing nearer and nearer toward cumming. what did you want to do? you found it utterly adorable how he gets off to the thought of you the way he does. though at the same time, what were you supposed to do? simply walk in? tease him? perhaps get in a quick fuck? no. no no no no no. how could you forget?

jann was a virgin.

although, that does make it all the more exciting. he must be so sensitive...exhilarating.

so with all of your better senses screaming at you to stop, to spare yourself from an addiction you knew was going to grow from this, you grabbed onto the door handle. and all at once barged into his room. right as you did so, there it was. with pleasure painted upon his face, he came. his thick hot load came shooting out, and in the most pornographic way possible painted half of his chest that was heaving up and down as he fruitlessly tried to regulate his breathing. when he finally realized you were standing in the door frame, staring, maybe judging, he was mortified, to say the least.

he swiftly covered his entire body with his duvet, and his eyes darted around. "i-i, uhm, what are you...?" he stammered. his eyes were starting to water a bit. was he about to...cry? awww.

"i heard you," you said, getting to point as you took a step further. he wanted to cry. he wanted to disappear. god he wanted to be anywhere you weren't. how was he supposed to respond? beg for your forgiveness? say he would leave the house if you wanted? oh, he didn't know.

"y/n i'm so, so sorry i just..." jann began, the words dying on his tongue without a chance. he mustered up a bit of courage. he wanted to try to explain himself, but what was there to explain? "please, please i know you must think im such a...a p-perverted weirdo but..."

"no-well i mean...yeah, but i don't hold it against you," you replied, a smirk growing on your lips. jann faltered, he felt your demeanor change. you walked closer to his bed. "...cmon then, the least you could do is show me." jann audibly gulped, as he looked down to his hands.

"why-why do you want me to do that?" he queried, eyes still not quite meeting up to yours. he felt the mattress dip a bit as you sat down; his breathing started to quicken. there was a moment of silence as you thought of an answer. why did you want him to do that? well, you wanted to make him even more embarrassed after all, and who wouldn't want to see him completely exposed?

you hooked his chin beneath your finger before lifting his head up gently to meet your eyes. you said without any remorse, "because, i want to see the mess you made for me." jann didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything. he decided not to. his hand was shaking as it went to reach for the edge of the duvet to lift it off of himself. how could he not take an order from you? so, he did what was told.

there was his mess everywhere. in his lower abdomen, along his happy trail, on his cock (which was almost abnormally big but we'll dismiss that for now), and on his bedsheets. his cheeks became impossibly brighter red, as he looked down at himself--at the mess he made.

"my, my, jann. you were quite excited, who got you like that, hm?" you teased, wanting to see how he would react. he met your gaze once again, and he breathed in deeply, feeling as if he might pass out.

"i-you. you did," he stutters out, his body tensing as you run your hand along his thigh beneath the covers.

"how dirty, jann," you uttered, with a small tsk. he felt himself hardening again, not only at your touch but your words as well. he needed you more than he needed the air in his lungs. your hand inched closer and closer to the place he wanted you to touch and tease the most. your fingers grazed the tip, and he actually let out a whimper at that. his fingers weakly wrapped around your wrist.

"please, y/n," he breathed out, looking up into your eyes with his doe ones, all glassy and needy.

"please what, pretty boy?" you asked, your pinter finger dragging up and down his length. he whined, it was soft, but definitely loud enough to hear.

"please touch me," he begged, heart beating in his chest quite loudly. that was all he needed to say before your hand formed an o shape that started pumping him.

"a-ah, fuck," he moaned breathily. he was so sensitive as it was his second time being touched this night.

"has anyone ever touched you like this, jann?" you asked, curious as to if you were his first for being touched.

"n-no, no," jann gingerly answered, almost embarrassed. you grinned. your hand started speeding up. your leg spread across to his other hip, now straddling him. you leaned in to kiss his neck, lips attaching to his smooth skin. kissing, sucking, licking, biting, but softly.

"fuck y/n, i don't think i'll last long when you do that," jann whimpered out. you smiled into his skin. you teased his tip a bit, then moved your hand back along his entire cock.

"h-hah, i can't-i think im gonna-" jann couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

"it's alright pretty boy, just cum for me," you instructed, and that's what he did. his back arched a bit as his hips bucked up, he let out a frail moan, tears that were earlier threatening to spill come flooding down his cheeks. he's shaking, only a bit, but he was still shaking. it was so different when you were the one touching him.

long story short, your little interactions did not end there.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥,

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#gran turismo #jann mardenborough #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #smut #send requests #send recs please

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devourable · 10 months

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hello, it's me again. from yesterday? i think it was. hopefully... okay so thank you for answering my questions and all. now i wanted to request the delinquents, the alt kids, and abraham or honestly you can do whoever. though i'm unsure if i need to be specific about the request,, but the only thing i can think of is how far would they go to get reader? to make them stay with them? something like that;; now if this makes no sense then i'm sorry and you can act like this never existed. have a nice day!

❥ the lengths they'll go · yanderes & their limits

❥ the softies

these yanderes prefer to not hurt others or you. their behavior mostly extends to stalking, breaches of privacy if given an opportunity — mostly harmless behaviors that go unnoticed by most, either due to being demure or because others genuinely just can't see them as the type to do the things they do. they will only go as far as to hurt someone if they pose a genuine threat to you/your relationship with them. a relationship with them is one that can be the most akin to normalcy, but don’t be fooled — it’s not hard to goad them into doing something unforgivable. and once they've started down that path, it's simply not possible to get them off.

the church boy | delta | aaron, judas | the widower | the parents

❥ the masqueraders

these yanderes only behave to maintain their connection to you. they don't care about others nor how their actions effect them, but know that acting out could hinder their relationship with you. so they're sneakier with how they work their way into your life. they like how you never notice that people who bother you always seem to get into painful 'accidents' or end up in life ruining incidents; or how you always seem to have no choice but to depend on them for one reason or another. they're masters of manipulation, terrifyingly good at putting up a facade to most and never get caught for their actions because of it. they don't mind the harm done to others if it gets and keeps them closer to you.

❥ the monsters

these yanderes care for no one but you. they’ll do whatever they have to in order to have you all to themself and they won’t feel bad about it, either. they’ll maim, sabotage, kidnap, and/or kill just about anyone who gets in their way with little, if any hesitation or guilt. they don't care who knows, and they don't care if they get caught. they want you, need you, and even if you don’t realize it right away, you need them too. to the monsters, the end justifies the means. and they'll do everything they can to get to the end. they'll destroy everyone and everything — including themselves and even you, if they have to — to achieve their goal.

#inbox | anons #lovesick | ocs #i loved this ask so i answered for all my ocs lool #format heavily inspired by mazzy!!!#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere boy #yandere x oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere girl #poly yandere #soft yandere #nb yandere #nonbinary yandere #also spoilers for upcoming ocs hehehe

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

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So I’m mostly curious about this for Muriel’s sake (he’s my favorite) but I have an HC request for if the M6, whether through a dream or magic, got to talk with their past selves from the darkest point in their lives, what would they say? Try to comfort/cheer themselves up? Assuming everyone got their Upright endings.

The Arcana HCs: M6 talking to their past selves

~ this is such an interesting one, @httyd-chocolate! thank you for the request, I hope you like what I do with it! (for hc purposes, this occurs as a magical dream where past and present selves interact) - brainrot ~

Julian

The dream is so vivid that he doesn't realize what it is until it's over

But right now, he's staring down at this gangly, scared, insecure almost-teenager, and every heroic bone in his body is telling him that this boy deserves all the safety and support in the world

It's weird to hear his young self saying the same deprecating things that he still does, but the jokes that normally make him laugh don't sound funny at all coming from a kid

And before he knows it, all the words he's heard you and Portia and Mazelinka say to him are spilling out of his mouth

"You're not alone. People are fortunate to be around you. You only drag everyone around you down when you refuse to let them lift you up. Sticking around to see the future is worth it."

At the same time, seeing himself in that kid's eyes is world-altering

Because to that younger self, the man he is now is smart, and heroic, and important, and somebody worth growing up to be

They stroll down to the seaside, at one point, as Julian listens to tiny Ilya's frustrations with his sister, and himself, and not knowing who he is or what comes next besides a call away from home

"You're pretty cool, mister," Ilya says at one point, "who are you?"

"I'm you," Julian says, and the look of hope and surprised delight he sees on Ilya's face makes him wake up with tears in his eyes

Asra

They know where they are as soon as the back alleys of the South End swim into view. They don't expect to see themself though

He's caught glimpses of the past once or twice, with you by his side, but those were moments of a childhood of wonder and escape. The kid in front of him hasn't found that magic yet

Little Asra is hiding in a corner behind a trash heap, clutching their lost mother's shawl and trying to hide the sniffles that shake their thin shoulders. Though all that disappears when they spot Big Asra

Suddenly, he's being scrutinized with the most curious gaze, and there's no hiding who he is. So he joins hands with him and starts wandering around, paying for lots of street food along the way

They'd forgotten how many questions they used to ask people

Until one hits him out of nowhere: "what's it like for us now?"

They don't want to leave that scared, lonely kid without something to look forward to, so they play with the dream a bit and lead Little Asra to a familiar magic shop a few streets away from the town square

In the dream, you're dozing by the fire, tea and snacks waiting on the table, and Big Asra watches his child self gaze at you in awe and remember what home feels like

It's sobering, to lead that child back to the docks and tuck them in to sleep under the pier, but it's a glimpse of warmth they're glad they got to share

Nadia

She has a suspicion of what's going on when she opens her eyes in her childhood bedroom, and that suspicion is confirmed when her 14-year-old self storms in and slams the door shut

She's ready to provide a haven. A listening ear. Ready to tell the young woman in front of her that she's right, that she's ready for more, that being held back and dismissed like this really isn't fair

Until the 14-year-old opens her mouth and starts to unload her day

For the first time in years, Nadia's not sure what to say. Does she want to tell this young woman that she's right, her parents and older sisters are being overprotective and unreasonable? Yes!

But does she find herself agreeing that a 14-year-old should not be allowed to go off to the battlefield her older sibling is serving as a medic on to lead the army to victory herself? ... yes ...

Does the embarrassed, hurting, angry teen in front of her need to know that? Absolutely not. So Nadia listens and nods instead

There are other things she sees that she realizes she remembers correctly. The fear of not measuring up. The frustration of having to wait to meet the milestones her siblings have already passed

So she tells this precocious, prickly young woman what you've been seeing in her all along: she is strong. She is smart. She is someone worth having faith in, and she doesn't need to be afraid

Muriel

He doesn't have to think twice. As soon as he sees that big, bony lad that was himself in his early twenties, huddled in a cell under the Coliseum after his first fight, he's breaking him out of there

He starts to wonder if this is a dream, when the iron bars give way under his grasp, but he's focusing on wrapping his cloak around those shivering shoulders and leading him out of the city

He's forgotten how scrawny he'd been before he bulked up on the meals provided for Lucio's prized fighter, and seeing spatters of his first opponent's blood on such a boyish face breaks his heart

They're both silent on the way through the woods. The younger him is still in shock, and the older him isn't sure what to do next

When the reach the clearing, the hut is more like what older him is used to. He helps young Muriel into the outside bath and begins putting together a hearty stew for the two of them to share

They both stay quiet. Older him watches every flinch and start and quiet pause of happiness and safety and keeps realizing that he deserves better. He deserves good things. I want him to have that.

They both turn bright red when younger him notices that the bed has two pillows on it, but they both know that that's a good thing

When the time comes for them to wake up, Muriel wraps that kid up in his arms. "... it gets better. Promise. You deserve it."

Portia

This is trippy, but after what she's been through with you, Portia guesses this is just par for the course. Why is she in Nevivon?

Her question is answered when a nine-year-old girl comes careening around the corner, fiery curls flying, just in time to collide with her and go sprawling in the dust by the road

Oh, Portia thinks, I remember being like this. I remember her.

Portia watches Pasha pick herself up, lower lip trembling with rage and eyes full of tears, getting ready to lash out at whoever just ripped her dress and made her day go from awful to terrible

And she pulls that little girl into the tightest hug she can manage

Once Pasha's made good use of the handkerchief she's been handed, she takes Portia's hand and shows her around town

She tells Portia all about her life right now. About the grandmas who take care of her, and the parents she doesn't remember

And she talks and talks and talks about her amazing older brother, the last family she has, who left several months ago to explore the world and find adventure and save people - without her

Portia listens and comments, but she keeps getting distracted looking at the strong, clear-eyed, purposeful little girl next to her

So she spends the rest of her visit telling that kid that she's strong, she's interesting, she's exciting, and she is so, so very important, even when it's just her

Lucio

He's back in the frozen woods. He doesn't like the frozen woods

And neither, apparently, does the six year old boy across from him

At first he's just concerned. Why is a small child alone in the freezing cold? He needs to help them get safe and warm

Then he recognizes the golden head of hair, and the big, silver eyes staring up at him, and the nose red from cold, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling as he starts a fire and asks for a name

He likes having a different name, he realizes, when he gets to introduce himself as Lucio the Adventurer to little Montag

Montag, he learns, is alone on a quest to hunt down a bear per his mother's instructions, but he's cold and hungry and frightened

To Montag, Lucio is a hero. He's big and strong and has a cool arm and builds a fire to keep him warm and listens to him talk about how he wants to be a leader when he grows up, without scoffing at his dreams

So the two of them huddle together by the fire under one of the trees, sharing a cloak and talking about who they are

Lucio hears the beginnings of his downfall already in Montag's stories about growing up stronger than everyone so the people in his family and his tribe will have no choice but to praise him

And Montag hears humility and hope from Lucio, about the importance of recognizing mistakes and learning to love and be loved

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana angst #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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utilitycaster · 8 months

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VERY glad that Evontra’vir said “the titans are dead” because like there are currently living beings that will suffer if Ludinus’s plan succeeds and they just don’t seem to matter compared to titans that died a millennia ago??? (After trying to wipe out mortals themselves)

Hey anon,

Agreed. The thing about the titans coming up is that it does, actually, make a lot of sense for the two characters who have been most vocal about it - Ashton and Laudna - to feel this way! But it doesn't come from a rational place; it comes from profound trauma and loss about which they can't be objective.

Taliesin talked about this on 4-Sided Dive: Ashton is grabbing on desperately to the one piece of information they know now about their missing childhood and is "leaning into it...probably before he should." We know this about them; Ashton's been emblazoning themself with the Hishari and Dunamancy symbols without having a single clue what they were. The titans are part of that. Did you notice how he keeps saying "things are changing" and didn't actually like...provide any meaningful information? Again to quote 4SD: "...there's not a lot of judgment happening about whether or not that's a good thing or not, and what it actually means." Like, I think that, based on Ashton's past position of "don't kill everyone for your goals, that is shitty" if they did stop, and process, and set aside that strong emotional factor that's in play (which is not something I'd expect them to be able to do easily!) They'd realize that the titans returning, were that possible, would be cataclysmic. But that's not what they're thinking about right now. I think Evontra'vir bluntly stating that the titans are dead was a needed splash of cold water on that line of thinking.

My thought re: Laudna is that it's slightly more metaphorical. Consider her backstory: a conquering force swept in and destroyed most of what had been there before. She is a relic both of that earlier time and of that conquering force, and the subjugation she experienced never truly stopped, even though Whitestone has moved on. Of course she'd see herself in the titans in the telling of stories about the titans! People like Percy get to return and revitalize and build a new family and grow old and happy and die, despite their trauma, and she's caught between life and death forever. Of course she'd relate to some half-buried thing that people call monstrous and ancient and displaced! But that doesn't actually help her do anything about her situation and it's not a philosophy that really is useful in understanding the larger geopolitical (and, frankly, cosmic) reality happening right now, because, yeah, if you let the titans back, people will die.

For both these characters - who have spoken to each other about being physically altered and left for dead, alone, in ways no one else can quite understand, I think there's something immensely seductive about the idea of something older than the gods, something defeated but could rise again, which both is relatable to their own situations and comes neatly packaged with a reason why it didn't save you when you called out. But it's still a fantasy. It's not real, it's not going to happen, and so it's important that Evontra'vir, who as Jirana said, does not mince words, called it out for what it is. The titans are dead. Something of their essences does remain for you to use to make a choice. You are going to have to do this using your own judgment; you are doing the saving; stop worrying about the dead and start thinking about what you will do to serve the living.

I think an emerging theme of this campaign - and arguably a secondary theme of the past campaigns, and really, the theme of D&D if you think about it, is that the person you developed into because of your trauma, and the coping mechanisms and behaviors and presentation you developed as a result may eventually cease to serve you once you find a support network and begin to be given more and more agency within the world; and indeed, if you cling to these things they will begin to hurt those around you, and eventually you as well. I think "The Titans are dead" is one way to very, very bluntly and effectively communicate that.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role spoilers #ashton greymoore #laudna #re the last paragraph i do find that this campaign the fandom voice in favor of NO WHAT IF I NEVER NEED TO CHANGE is louder #or perhaps i just had it better tuned out in c2 or perhaps the nein made a more inhospitable growth medium for that particular breed of mol #anyway. evontra'vir was right. titans are dead. nice dichotomy idiot. what lies outside it.#critical role

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yunohawkeye · 6 months

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Their crush falling asleep on them - Headcanons

for Chuuya and Akutagawa

I‘ve been getting some spurts of writing energy lately so feel free to send in some requests!

no beta - we die like men

Chuuya

His head jerks up when he feels your head hit his shoulder and your sleeping form is first met with an irritated scowl which quickly vanishes and his mouth closed as he was ready to give a piece of his mind to whoever dared to just touch him without permission once Chuuya notices who it is.

As the other mafia member nervously tries to get back his attention to the report they were giving, they‘re met with nothing less of a death stare from their higher-up before excusing themself.

Once they‘re gone Chuuya wraps an arm around you and pulls you close, gaze not leaving your face as his hand unconsciously caresses your side, small blush on his cheeks. It could have been a few minutes or hours at this point he spent just focused on you, he couldn‘t tell at this moment.

Whenever someone comes close or speaks in a volume above a whisper in the hall you were in, they‘re met with a simple stare from him which quickly shuts them up. You were tired enough to fall asleep while you were assigned to oversee this cargo shipment with him, you need your goddamn rest and anyone who dared to disturb that was faced with the redheads wrath.

When something does manage to stir you awake, another member or the sound of the cargo being shipped, you can feel Chuuya slightly squeezing you, „Go back to sleep. I‘m waiting for a special wine delivery anyways.“ His hat was drawn down a bit in an attempt to hide the small blush on his cheeks as you let your eyes fall closed again.

He kept sitting there with you until long after the cargo was taken care of and the sun was setting. After all, there was no special shipment that day.

Akutagawa

After his initial shock his head snapped towards your sleeping form with a mix of anger and irritation on his face. Although as soon as he realized it was you his expression softened and his cheeks were graced with a small hue of red.

Akutagawa was basically frozen in the moment, not sure how to handle this situation but as he feels you stir against him he didn‘t even have to think about what he was doing as Rashoumon came out to wrap itself around you and slightly press you against him.

While his blush deepended he tried to put on an indifferent front, though everyone just glancing your direction could see how nervous he was. He tried to focus on his work but couldn‘t get anything done, his mind and gaze involuntary wandering towards you and he scolds himself whenever he catches himself.

Quite some time later your head rolls off his shoulder and is caught by Rashoumon, but still you wake up from the force, blinking to orient yourself as you saw Akutagawa looking at you with a worried expression, although he did try to hide it. A soft, „I‘m sorry“ escaped your lips, answered by a hushed, „Don‘t be.“

He lightly guided your head back to his shoulder with his hand as he focused back on his work or at least tried to, „Go back to sleep, rest a bit longer. You seem to need it.“

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #chuuya #bsd chuuya #akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #bsd chuuya x reader #bsd akutagawa x reader #headcanons #bsd headcanons

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ugetelynx · 10 months

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This entire thing is me infodumping about Luis’ character and how I interpreted it because he everything to me

Luis as a character means so much to me in the way that he just feels real? If that makes sense?

Like he’s such a genuinely tragic character. He watched his grandfather, the person who raised him, get bitten by a wolf and become infected, then the village burned his home down. He gets wrapped up with Umbrella’s shit, likely because he was an aspiring prodigy. Getting assigned to the Laboratory Six Team. Then after ditching Umbrella and disappearing back to his home town, he finds the people he grew up around all taken over by this cult. (Let’s not forget his village went from a catholic cult to whatever the fuck Los Illuminados was)

He gets dragged into this whole mess by Saddler, getting hired to research the parasite. Whether it be pure curiosity and getting to nerd over a new parasite, or doing it for the sake of keeping his life. Luis’ choices in life, his mistakes, were his own fault.

Because even when he realizes that Saddler was up to know good, betraying Los Illuminados and getting tied up with Ada, it was already too late for him. His mistakes simply hadn’t caught up with him yet.

He wanted to help people, he feels compassion even despite his shady past. Considering his childhood, it’s likely that Luis seeks or sought out any sort of validation. He’s used to smooth talking people, slipping out of messy situations, but all it did was prolong the inevitable once he got tangled with Los Illuminados, maybe even as early as Umbrella.

Yet Luis continues to make the same mistakes, again and again. He further drags himself into this hole he’s digging because it’s all he knows how to do. His line of “Because it makes me feel better” to Leon correlates to his past because with Umbrella and Los Illuminados, it was likely he did all that research to make himself feel better about himself. Living in this fantasy that he was helping people, when it actuality he’s just trying to make himself feel better.

But then he by chance meets an American agent sent to save the president’s daughter from Los Illuminados. That’s when he realizes for once he can actually help someone.

He can prove to Leon, to himself, that he can change. That he can stop making these mistakes, that he can be a good person.

Maybe he even starts to think that he can weasel his way around death again. That he can make it to the end of Leon’s mission with him. Maybe grow close enough that instead of just fleeing with Ada, he chooses to flee with Leon and Ashley.

Or perhaps deep down he knew his time was running out, so he simply tried his best to help Leon as much as he can. Make a good choice for once in his life.

And hey, he got to hang out with a hot American agent until the very end, grow close with him and flirt at any given opportunity.

Luis feels so real because he’s such a flawed person. He makes human mistakes.

Most people like to believe they’re a good person deep down, but they continue to make mistakes over and over, hurting themself or others around them over and over. When you’ve grown accustomed to habits, they become hard to break.

Especially when that’s the only way you’ve lived your life.

Sometimes you need a person to come into your life and give you that push to change.

For Luis, I wholeheartedly believe it was Leon. Leon gave Luis the opportunity to prove himself. Not even just to Leon, but to himself.

If anyone ever tells me re4r Luis is a forgettable character I will personally smack them cause he was so integral to Leon’s character development, even after Luis’ death, he’s on Leon’s mind. Luis showed Leon that even though we may make some stupid choices in life, we aren’t all doomed to fall down that bad path forever.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #resident evil 4 remake #serennedy #kinda #heavily implied #luis means absolutely everything to me #i miss him so much im gonna sob #i cannot continue to live in a cruel luis-less world

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delimeful · 1 year

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you can’t go back (9)

Intermission Part 2: Remus

warnings: involuntary drug use, murder (intentional and unintentional), blood & injury, remus POV shenaniganry (specifically mentions of cannibalism, sex, spiders, & gore), tension, and misunderstandings (lmk if i missed any!)

It was possible that Remus should have waited until the drugs had worn off a little more before indulging in a blitz through a ship full of aliens.

Unlike what one might expect, the realization wasn’t actually for his own sake. In fact, the drug had left him numb around the edges in a way that was vastly preferable to the bone-deep ache that had slowly seeped into his entire skeleton over the course of his imprisonment.

He was more than fine with delaying that particular feeling, even if it meant dealing with staggering steps and clumsy movements.

The doorways he’d slammed into the edges of probably weren’t as happy with the situation. The aliens that he’d swung at with far less precision than normal were probably even unhappier.

Since they were the ones who had abducted him, he found he didn’t really care about their feelings on the matter.

They should have watched Alien, done a little bit of cultural research on humans. Maybe then they would have had a better idea of what kind of response snooping around on a planet’s surface and picking up passengers would earn them.

Sadly, Remus didn’t have acid blood, but he did have a bile-producing liver and the ability to projectile vomit on command. If these aliens had been even half as badass as Sigourney Weaver, he might have even gotten the chance to try it.

Instead, he’d gotten splattered with alien blood that didn’t so much as sting, and also with his own blood when a lucky swipe had shredded the right straps of his muzzle and the flesh of his cheek alike, and also also with the growing realization that extraterrestrials were far less durable than Star Trek would have led him to believe.

He should have waited for the drug to wear off. His face would be stinging right now, his arm would be even worse, and his fighting style would still have been best described as ‘berserker’, but at least he would have had a better idea of just how much force he was inflicting. Maybe then he wouldn’t still be feeling the sickly pop of organs and bone alike giving way under his knuckles.

Every alien he’d encountered on the ship was down. He wasn’t sure how many were still breathing, and he didn’t particularly want to check.

Well. He knew there was at least one alien onboard that hadn’t gotten their brains bashed out.

Not by him, anyways. With how squishy aliens apparently were, it seemed possible that the guy had slipped and bashed themself right into brain death the moment Remus had walked out the door.

He wouldn’t know until he checked, so he started his way back to his former prison cell, stepping around the limp or twitching bodies as best he could without directly looking at them.

(His imagination filled in the blanks, as always.)

The new guy had caught Remus’s attention from the moment they stepped into his line of sight, because they had familiar crunchy beetle-shell plating in angular, armor-like patterns over their skin.

Just like Tall, Dark, and Spidery. The only alien who hadn’t seemed onboard with the abduction plan, and the one who had been subdued and dragged away right in front of him.

(He’d caught a glimpse of the other cells, during his first escape attempt. They’d been empty.)

There were clear differences between the two, most notably that Spidery was about a foot taller, not even counting the stabby spider-legs on their back, and their plating had been even and symmetrical. Remus remembered how it had gone from charcoal gray to inkwell black, like the plates were full of hundreds of tiny squids, all flushing their ink sacs all at once.

(He’d been pretty thoroughly drugged by that point. Not that thinking about cephalopods was unusual for him.)

Newbie’s plates had been far more translucent, a pearly-gold color, and the ones climbing up the left side of their face were jagged, irregular patches, like a giraffe’s spots. But they had the same glossy glazed-icing shine as Spidery’s plates, a texture that had been promptly wedged between marbles and porcelain in the edible-if-you’re-not-a-coward section of Remus’s brain.

They had the same big, dark eyes, the direction of their gaze only visible by the miniscule movements of the muscles framing it. He’d wondered if they’d known Spidery, and then he’d watched them stare up at the scratches in the ceiling and he’d been certain that they did.

He hadn’t been planning to move much, hoping that inactivity would keep them from upping the dosage of whatever space-elephant-tranquilizers they’d put him on, and yet he found himself slowly skulking closer to the cell’s front as the muted conversation continued.

Last time, Remus had distracted Spidery at the wrong moment, but Patches had had their back to him. If it turned out that Remus was actually the fly-bait for another spiderguy mugging, he figured he could lunge silently at the barrier and distract the others.

Instead, Patches had revealed their own set of extra limbs, ones that were far less sharp than Spidery’s but turned out to be just as good at stabbing.

At that point, he’d been practically wired with adrenaline, his brain already convinced that Patches was about to be murdered or dragged-off-and-vanished right in front of him. He hadn’t thought twice before lunging through the newly-opened cell door and promptly performing the most lethal headbutt of his life.

In hindsight, maybe inflicting massive blunt force trauma without hesitation wasn’t the way to make friends with new acquaintances that were extremely vulnerable to blunt force trauma.

Sure, Patches had technically started the violent murder streak with their own expert knife-wielding, but Remus had (only somewhat intentionally) continued that streak all the way through the ship. He’d have scared off plenty of humans with his behavior, let alone aliens.

When Remus poked his head back through the doorway to the undersized prison hall, though, he found that Patches hadn’t run for the hills after all.

In fact, they hardly seem to have moved in his absence, despite the open doorway and all the alien screeching and wailing that must have carried down the hall.

(Going by how sore his throat was, he’d probably been screaming too. Maybe they’d thought he was being murdered right back? Or maybe that catchy tagline had been right all along: in space, no one could hear you scream!)

Patches was half-slumped against the wall, their extra arms laying limp against the ground at either side of them, palms up and fingers uncurled. Remus couldn’t see any blood, but his heart still jumped strangely at the sight of the alien so lax and still. The only sign that they were still alive was the barest twitch around their eyes as their gaze flicked over to take in Remus’s arrival.

Their plates slowly deepened to a dark grey, a pale imitation of the sharp flush of pitch-black that had overtaken them while they’d been gutting the boss alien earlier. Remus was guessing it was some kind of reflexive threat display, since he remembered that Spidery had done the same at the mere sight of him.

Patches’ half-hearted attempt was almost funny, except it felt less like they weren’t that scared, and more like they were too resigned to really try, which was much less funny.

“You don’t look too hot,” Remus told them, ignoring the still-dripping gouges on his own face. The broken muzzle was still dangling from one ear, and it swayed slightly as he tilted his head. “In the possibly-dying way, not in a you’re-unattractive way. At least if you do kick the bucket, you’ll still look sexy doing it!”

The alien didn’t respond, which Remus decided to take as an invitation to keep chattering, stepping into the hall and squatting so that they were closer to eye level.

From this close, he could see that the irregular plates along Patches’ left side were still that same shiny gold color, even as the rest of their plates went even darker at Remus’s proximity. He absently wondered if it was some kind of scarring or something they’d been born with.

Did spiderguys even have live birth? Were they hatched? Could they produce webbing? Were there huge insects on their planet?

“Do you bite the heads off your baby daddies after doing the nasty?” Remus asked, still scanning them for visible bumps or bruises. “Or are you the guy getting devoured? Is it like a matriarchy run by huge cannibalistic spider ladies?”

Patches didn’t say anything in response, gaze still locked on him, but a pair of transparent eyelids distinctly swept across their dark eyes, once, twice.

Honestly, those eyes kind of looked like really big boba balls. Would that be a societally appropriate thought to share if they were cannibalistic? Actually, if the cannibalism took place during sex like some Earth spiders, it would probably come across as flirty.

“Your eyes look like boba balls,” Remus told them, because obviously he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to flirt with an alien, recent traumatizing experience or not! “Wait, if it’s just the ladies that eat people, does that mean that spiderdude-on-spiderdude action is the only nonlethal boinking on the planet? Gay guys don’t get to participate in the cannibal dystopia? Tsk, tsk. Hannibal would be so disappointed in—!”

He cut off mid-admonishment as Patches lunged for him with an alarming number of limbs, his whole body twitching sharply as he just barely wrestled down the impulse to lash out. He could still hear the crunch of the last ribcage he’d immolated, and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

Instead of hands on his throat, or possibly even a knife to the torso, he looked down to find Patches had simply grabbed onto his ratty, bloodstained pajama shirt in six different places, stretching the fabric slightly with the force of their grip. Their chin had dipped down slightly, as though bracing for a blow.

The lunge had been violent and startling, but the actual ‘attack’ had been harmless, as though they hadn’t even expected to get that far. As though they’d known the motion was a bad idea and done it anyway, like a spider held in the palm of a hand biting down even though it meant triggering the reflex of the massive, crushing fingers around it.

Except Patches was a lot smarter than a spider, smart enough to know what their movement would provoke, especially when Remus had spent the last half hour displaying exactly what a twitchy, half-drugged human would do when attacked. And they’d done it anyway.

Remus had originally thought that Patches and Spidery were different. That he’d been freed because they saw humans as more than bloodthirsty animals, unlike the aliens who had literally strapped a muzzle on him.

Now, it was looking more like they’d just found out that their goth friend had been disappeared-probably-murdered, proceeded to stab someone to death in an act of furious all-consuming vengeance, and finally set a dangerous feral creature loose in a theatrical murder-suicide attempt.

“That hurts my feelings,” Remus informed them. “I’m a very emotionally complex murderbeast who didn’t ask for any of this, and also it’s hypocritical of you to treat me like a monster when you potentially live in a society that runs on sex-cannibalism.”

Patches lifted their head up to stare at Remus directly and hissed, the single large plate on the right side of their face shifting back so they could properly display a pair of wicked-looking curved fangs. They were translucent enough to show the venom within, shining like liquid gold, and positioned awfully close to his neck.

It was one of the most blatant goading attempts he’d ever seen, and Remus grew up with Roman.

(Remus had spent his childhood doing just about every inadvisable thing he could think of. He had plenty of experience keeping his hands still and gentle while spiders bit him.)

“Do you envenomate your prey?” he asked, leaning back slightly to rest his weight on his hands in a purposefully relaxed manner. “It seems like you’d need a lot of venom for me since I’m so big, but I also don’t know your organ arrangement, your torso could totally be full of venom sacs instead of lungs or something. Hey, if you did melt my insides into a smoothie, would you use a straw or shotgun me like a frat boy with a beer?”

His new friend’s hiss slowly spluttered out, their grip loosening as Remus continued to not tear their head off or punch through their chest or perform any of the reflexive murder they were trying to prompt.

“If you’re not going to drink me like a soup, we will become BFFs,” Remus warned them. “A blood pact will be involved, and also at least three jars of mayo, and also also, semi-regular ritual sacrifices to appease the ancient Earth deity, Hatsune Miku.”

Patches, who had dropped the snarl and withdrawn far enough back to look at Remus properly, jerked back with wide eyes. He had half a second to wonder if the guy could actually understand him after all before there was a stinging impact against his spine, sending a painful paralyzing pulse through him.

His muscles seized for a moment— he wasn’t sure if the weird space-tasers actually used electrical currents, but it sure felt like the time he’d reached up and touched an exposed wire on a shitty theme-park carousel— and he caught a glimpse of Patches diving past him as he listed sloppily to the side.

Nobody new had entered the space, and there was only one body behind him, so there was only one alien it could have been. The tall one that followed the boss alien around everywhere like a bodyguard.

Huh. Guess his headbutt hadn’t one-shotted them, after all.

As annoying as the weapon’s blast was, it wasn’t exactly debilitating until he’d been hit by it like seven times in a row while also trying not to breathe in more drugged air, which was coincidentally how his last escape attempt had gone.

He had more important things to worry about now. Remus forced himself to move through the pain, pushing back up to his knees, and immediately twisted around, ready to come to his new buddy’s aid whether they liked it or not.

His new buddy had knocked the weapon from Bodyguard’s grip and was now shaking them like a ragdoll, tense as a live wire, as though they hadn’t been resignedly waiting to die five minutes ago.

Bodyguard made some truly wretched-sounding noises— probably due in part to losing whatever had splintered to bits under the force of Remus’s skull— and seemed altogether unconcerned about the new knife that Patches was now holding against the underside of their jaw.

(So they did have more knives. Fun!)

Humans that sounded that level of gurgly tended to be in the process of dying, so it made sense that Bodyguard cared about the threat to their life about as much as Patches had while threatening Remus. Being inured to death wasn’t the same as being inured to pain, though, and their nonchalance didn’t hold up against being stabbed through an arm, especially not when Patches twisted the blade like that.

Remus settled back onto his haunches. Going by the interrotorture, Patches probably didn’t need his help with this one. If he’d had access to someone who’d caused Roman’s death, he definitely wouldn’t want someone else elbowing in on his bloody and excruciating vengeance. He’d also be doing much worse, but Patches seemed too focused for this to solely be about revenge.

He could see the moment they got what they needed, their entire frame going stiff with tension at whatever information Bodyguard had just ground out. They headed towards the door, and Remus pushed himself up to his feet to follow.

At the movement, Patches whipped around and scrambled back a few paces at the same time, like a snake rearing back but not quite striking.

At some point, one of their hands must have sneakily scooped the abandoned space-taser weapon off the ground. It was pointed directly at him.

Maybe they’d only just found out that he was the reason Spidery was gone.

“If you’re going to crazy-murder me for not saving them, you should at least do it with a cool knife. I don’t even know if you can murder me with that thing, unless it's got a setting strong enough to induce heart failure.” Except if they didn’t want to murder him, it would eventually work to incapacitate him. Which meant he’d probably be going right back in that cell.

Remus’s hands balled up at his sides, part of him already bracing for the sting. “Come on, I know it’s not as effortless as pulling a trigger but a little stabbing action won’t kill you. I’ll even make my death throes super dramatic and overblown, as an added bonus.”

Remus had spent the last however many days so drugged he couldn’t feel his toes, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way the others had looked at him, the excitement some of them had shown after he’d dragged his nails down an alien’s arm and gouged far deeper than he’d meant to.

He’d mauled one of their own, and they’d liked it. They wanted violence from him, and they didn’t care who he’d be hurting, because it benefited them somehow.

Even back on Earth, they’d thought he was too impulsive, too strange, too violent. He’d tried not to be, and then when that hadn’t changed anything, he’d embraced it, voiced all his gross, gory thoughts until everyone already knew what to expect. Why bother changing himself when it was never quite enough to avoid disappointing them either way?

Out here, they thought he was feral, bloodthirsty, a weapon to be pointed in whatever direction they preferred. How long would it take to convince himself he enjoyed it? How long would it take for him to forget how to be anything else?

Space wasn’t even horrifying in the fun ways. Remus wanted to go home.

Patches was still watching him, not lowering the weapon but not drawing a knife, either. Their extra arms were stretched out on either side of them, hands slowly flexing open and closed as though grasping the air. It kind of looked like the motions a cat made when kneading.

“Hanging out with you was a lot more fun when you were still thinking about liquefying all my flesh into palatable mush,” Remus told them.

Their hands tightened on the gun, and Remus’s whole body scrunched up in anticipation, his eyes slamming closed and his chin ducking against his chest without conscious thought.

“Knowing if you will try to kill me would take less effort if you’d stop thinking strongly about cannibalism,” a dry voice said in slanted but entirely understandable English.

Remus’s head jolted up, and he found that Patches had tucked both the weapon and most of their arms out of sight, and was now watching him with a calmness that was only slightly undercut by their stone-gray plating.

“Did I imagine that or did you just talk to me with human words,” he asked blankly.

“Talk,” Patches echoed, fangs flashing as they shaped the syllables. “That’s the word. Stop talking about cannibalism.”

They’d understood what he’d been saying the whole time.

… Holy shit, that was so funny.

“No can do, boss,” Remus replied, grinning unabashedly. “I’m a romantic at heart. Which, coincidentally, is one of my most edible organs.”

“I do not liquefy organs,” Patches told him haughtily. “And drinking your organs, coincidentally, would give me death throes.”

Remus couldn’t stop smiling, even as he mimed a blow to the chest. “Ouch! You really know how to make a guy swoon.”

Patches ignored his wink, rotating their wrists in what looked kind of like a nervous tic as they formulated their next sentence. “If you’re thinking about crazy-murder me with bite,” they gestured to their own mouth, mimicking Remus’s exposed teeth in a hilarious-looking grimace, “do not.”

The flat delivery was too much for Remus, and a slightly-unhinged cackle slipped out, presumably not helping de-escalate the situation at all.

“Wait, wait, no. I promise I will not crazy-murder you,” he told them, voice pitching high with barely-suppressed hilarity. “You are much cooler and funnier alive.”

Despite the unconvincing delivery, the alien took his promise in stride. “I will not crazy-murder you. I will not envenomate, stab, liquefy, melt, bite,” they made a little encirculating gesture with cupped hands, as though to say ‘and so on, you get the idea,’ “murder, cannibalize you.”

“Boo,” Remus protested, though the mirth was fading. “What do you want from me, then?”

“Lungs,” Patches started, ominously enough. They gestured to their chest and their sides, and inhaled loudly through their mouth. “Do you? To alive?”

“I need my lungs to live, yeah,” Remus told them, nonplussed. “For breathing, and stuff.”

He took a deep breath, his own torso swelling significantly more than theirs had. Patches made a short clicking noise, getting tenser in what seemed like excitement. Was that the spiderguy version of a nod?

“I want to know your breathing– Earth breathing?” they tried, hands returning to that air-kneading gesture as they searched for the right words. “Will it crazy-murder me?”

“Earth breathing? Breathing on Earth? Like… the atmosphere?” Remus puzzled aloud. “Wait, like you want to know if you can breathe on Earth?”

“Breathe on Earth,” Patches echoed immediately. “Alive on Earth?”

Okay, so however they were picking up the language, it wasn’t exactly fluency. They probably hadn’t actually understood everything Remus had said right away. In fact, it was possible they’d spent that entire silent stare down earlier trying to piece together a coherent sentence.

“I mean, you guys have reverse spacesuits for that, right?” Remus replied, miming the blocky helmets he’d seen out in the fields, shortly before receiving what he assumed was the space version of a shovel to the skull. “That’s how they came down and got me in the first place.”

Patches repeated the charade. “Yeah reverse spacesuits for breathing, right? No reverse spacesuits.” They mimed taking the helmet off, and then inhaled again. “I am alive, right? No? Will the atmosphere breathing kill me?”

Remus understood the question. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the answer.

“I don’t know. The air on Earth is oxygen, carbon dioxide, uh, nitrogen I think…,” Remus trailed off, realizing that however they were translating, something as specific as humanity’s periodic table wasn’t going to be easy to convey. “Why? Do you want to go to Earth?”

Patches hesitated for a long moment. “They came down to Earth.”

Remus frowned. “Yeah, I was there for that part.”

“Not…,” they clenched their hands. “Not you. Me, not me. Spiderguy. Chelcerae.”

The last word was too sibilant to be an attempt at imitating one of Remus’s words. “Spiderguy, but not you. Another spiderguy. Your spiderguy? Spidery?”

Remus held his arms up, trying to imitate the shape of Spidery’s long, sharp limbs, and struck down at an invisible opponent a few times. “From before, right? They saw me in the cell, freaked out, got attacked?”

“Yeah, right, yeah,” Patches replied with more of those confirmation clicks. “The spiderguy, Virgil. They came down to Earth with Virgil. He would talk about you in the cell.”

The pieces snapped into place. “So they left Virgil on Earth. Without a spacesuit. To kill him.”

“Will it kill him?” Patches asked, stuck with present tense even though this had already happened. Did he die?

“I don’t know what you breathe!” Remus groaned, finally on the same page and now just as frustrated with the non-answer. “I don’t know, he could be dead. He could not be dead.”

Schrodinger’s Alien.

Patches had clasped their hands together firmly, but Remus could see the way their cape was rippling slightly from the agitated motions of the limbs tucked underneath. “Virgil is dead,” they said, as though trying to convince themself. “Breathing or no breathing, Earth will crazy-murder him.”

“I mean, yeah, probably, but there’s a chance that he’s still alive,” Remus pointed out. “It’s worth checking, right?”

Patches’ right face plate twitched back and forth slightly in agitation. “Earth will crazy-murder me.”

Remus rolled his eyes, a gesture that Patches watched with mild concern. “You were ready to get crazy-murdered by me like ten minutes ago, remember? Besides, I’ll be there. I’m an Earth native, I know all the ways people get crazy-murdered there, and I’ll make sure none of that happens to you.”

All of their fidgeting went still. “...Why?”

“Because I think you’re funnier alive, remember?” Their expectant silence continued, and Remus sighed petulantly. “Because I want to go home. And also because he was the only one who tried to get them to put me back. Unless he just wanted them to kill me, I guess. I didn’t exactly catch what they were saying.”

Patches made a weird kshh sound, and when they spoke, they sounded amused. “No, Virgil is not like that. He is… ‘I’ll make sure none of that happens to you,’ to me and you and little ones and hurt ones. Saving them. He doesn’t need liquefying venom. His insides are a lot mush.”

“A total softie, huh?” Remus snorted. “He’d probably get along with my brother. His brains are mush, too.”

“... You want to go back to him?”

Remus pulled a face on principle, but ultimately nodded. “It’s my solemn duty as his twin. His hubris would grow too strong without me there to mock him, and I can’t exactly vibe check him from off-planet.”

Patches made that whispery noise again, longer this time, and Remus realized it was a laugh.

“To crazy-murder planet, then.”

#sanders sides fic #space au #humans are deathworlders #you cant go back #ycgb #ts janus #ts remus #my writing #writing #i cant believe this intermission ended up being this long. good lord

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sea-saur · 3 months

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Out Of The Way (Omorashi Story)

Ok so I've had this story in my head ever since I saw this post and cranked it out last night/today. I didn't edit it very much, so this is basically a "typed it out, gave it some tweaks and a read over, bing bang boom" kind of deal. Just needed to get it out. Disclaimer: the events in the story are consensual, the couple has done things like this before and any distress mentioned is agreed upon in the context of the story. Also, it's kind of long. Here ya go:

It was a bright Sunday afternoon, and Cyan and Indy were on a date at the mall. They’ve been there for the past three hours, Cyan mostly interested in the bookstore (Cyan finding a graphic novel they’d been looking for, Indy excited about a new horror novel that had just come out), candy shop, and various cute knick knack stores, one of them in which Cyan and Indy both found Pochacco blind bags and, to their delight, pulled their favorites from the set. Cyan was on cloud nine, hazy with love for the day and for Indy.

Except.

Except for the fact that it had been about four hours since they’d last used the bathroom, one hour since they finished a large lemonade from the food court, and half an hour since they started feeling the first inkling that their bladder was starting to fill. They’d decided to ignore it at the time, and maybe see about finding a restroom once they were closer to leaving the mall.

“Oh perfect, here’s the botanical shop, let’s head inside!” Indy said, spotting one of their favorite stores. Indy had a modest yet thriving collection of houseplants and took pride in keeping them healthy. This independent plant store was their favorite spot to pick up soil and other odds and ends, frequenting there so often that they’d become friends with the owners. Cyan loved how well Indy took care of their plants – Cyan wouldn’t touch them, as they were known as a harbinger of death for the poor things. Cyan was better suited for furry creatures to care for than leafy.

“Oh sure!” Cyan agreed, happy to walk through the fresh smelling plants while Indy got more soil for their apartment. They were greeted at the entrance by a waterfall feature – one of those small garden decorations, where the water continually flowed from the top of the stone structure down to the small pool basin. Cyan eyed it nervously, the trickling water reminding them of their own bladder, which tingled uncomfortably at the sound. They quickly followed Indy further into the shop and blessedly, away from the waterfall.

“Violet! Lil!” Indy cheered as they caught sight of the two owners of the shop, a married couple who happened to live just down the street from Cyan and Indy. “Hey you two!” Violet said. “Didn’t tell us you were coming by today.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to be here,” Indy replied. “It’s a Sunday, after all. Don’t you usually have other staff here on Sundays?”

“Yeah, well, two of ours called out sick, what can you do.” Lil shrugged. “How’s it, Cyan?”

Cyan smiled a hello. “S’all good,” they said, shifting their weight and shoving their hands into the pockets of their denim jacket. Their need to pee was more noticeable now, and they hoped that adjusting their stance would help quell the urge while they chatted. It did for a minute, but Cyan soon realized that they couldn’t keep standing still, so they excused themself to go look around the shop while Indy continued to chat. Unfortunately, that meant getting closer to the waterfall again. Cyan’s hands balled into fists in their pockets, mentally urging Indy to hurry up. The insistent splashing of the water into the basin was a tease to Cyan’s bladder, filling up more quickly now that the lemonade had made its way through their system. They were going to need to say something to Indy, and soon.

Thankfully, Indy finished up their purchase and said their goodbyes to Violet and Lil. “Hey, ready to go?” Indy asked Cyan.

“Yes,” Cyan breathed, relieved to finally be away from that waterfall.

“Where would you like to go next?” Indy said.

“Well, actually,” Cyan started, “could we stop at the ah, the bathroom before we keep going?”

“The bathroom?” Indy asked. They cocked their head slightly, feigning confusion, but Cyan immediately saw the knowing glint in their eye. Cyan knew what that look meant and could only hope Indy would take it easy on them.

“Yeah...” Cyan said, somewhat sheepishly. “The bathroom.”

“What do you need the bathroom for?” Indy asked, still playing innocent. Cyan groaned internally.

“I just, well...the lemonade from lunch...”

“Yes?” Indy prompted, smirking.

Cyan felt a blush start to creep on their cheeks. “Well, I finished it about an hour ago and now I just...have to pee.” They finished their sentence in a rush, their bladder panging as a reminder of that fact.

Indy gave an exaggerated nod, as if they were only now connecting the dots. “Oooh, I see. Well, I don’t think it’s time for us to take a bathroom break yet. It’s only been an hour, like you said, since you had anything to drink. Surely you can wait a bit longer.”

“Ah, but,” Cyan huffed, “I need to – “

“In fact,” Indy continued, “it’s probably a good idea if we got you another drink, don’t you think? You’re supposed to drink so much every hour, whatever that recommendation is, I forget exactly. Either way, it’s definitely time for another drink for you.” Indy took Cyan by the hand and began to drag them back to the food court. Cyan gave a small whine in protest.

“Indy, really, I need to pee – “

“No, you don’t.” Indy replied, their tone seeping with excited yet controlled dominance, “You don’t need to go yet, and any of that lemonade that’s filtering through you, well you’ll just have to hold it like a big boy. One lemonade is not enough to need to go.”

Cyan shushed at Indy’s command, letting themself be pulled back to the food court without further arguing. They’ve played this game before, and Cyan accepted that they were playing again now, although how long Cyan could hold off the inevitable...they were unsure. They were even more unsure when they landed at the soda dispenser at the center of the food court – the kind that’s self-serve for over a dozen brand and flavor options – and Indy pulled a large cup from the stack. Cyan squeezed their thighs together at the sight, forcing themself to take a deep breath and try to steady the splashing feeling in their bladder.

“Hmmm, what drink would you like?” Indy asked, looking over the options on the screen. “Oh! They have Cherry Sprite, how about that?” They turned to Cyan, gesturing with the cup.

Cyan wavered. They did like Cherry Sprite, but the large cup...

“Yeah, Cherry Sprite sounds good,” Cyan replied. “But...how about a medium?” they ventured, hoping Indy would take the bait. They didn’t.

“No, a large. We wouldn’t want you to get thirsty and have to come all the way back here, would we?” Indy added some ice, then selected the Cherry Sprite and pushed the pour button. Bright, bubbly soda started gushing out. Cyan groaned, their need to pee escalating with the sound of the drink rushing into the cup. They shifted from one foot to the other, longing for relief that was a far way off.

“Here you go!” Indy chirped, handing Cyan the now full cup. “Drink up.”

Cyan, knowing there was no way out of this, immediately obeyed, their teeth chewing at the straw while they took a large gulp. The citrusy sweet drink fizzled down their throat, and while admittedly it was delicious, it was also a stark reminder of what was already trickling into Cyan’s bladder. Cyan took a few more sips, which pleased Indy. “There,” Indy said, “doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” Cyan gasped, fingers gripping the cup a bit too tight, “feels...feels good.” It did not feel good. It felt like Cyan was a water balloon quickly overfilling itself to pop, the soda and lemonade sloshing together in Cyan’s tummy down to their bladder. They bit their lip nervously, shimmying their hips from side to side.

“Good!” Indy said. “Now let’s go check out some other stores.”

Indy led Cyan throughout the mall over the next half hour, reveling in every squirm, pant, and whimper Cyan made as they went. Indy loved seeing Cyan grow desperate, their little bladder throbbing until Cyan couldn’t take it anymore and begged Indy to let them pee. And this time, Indy had something a little special planned for when that moment finally happened.

Cyan could barely concentrate while Indy dragged them from spot to spot, their need to pee growing rapidly with each sip of their soda. They fidgeted restlessly as Indy presented candles to sniff, game boxes to read, stuffed animals to feel, their bladder quivering below their belly and sending increasingly urgent signals to Cyan that they needed to go! They needed to go now!

“Indy...” Cyan said quietly, swaying from foot to foot as subtly as they could manage, their free hand hovering over their belly while the other held a now half empty soda cup, “please, I have to pee. Please can I go now?”

“Hmm?” Indy looked up nonchalantly from the price tag they were checking. They eyed Cyan’s potty dance and chuckled. “Aww, does my pup have to go so soon?” they mocked. “You haven’t even finished your soda.”

“Hnngg,” Cyan groaned, glancing at the remaining soda in the cup, condensation dripping onto their fingers and sending tingling chills up their spine. “I c-can’t finish this, Indy. I can’t take it anymore!”

“You poor thing. You’re just going to have to hold it, we aren’t going to the bathroom right now.”

“But,” Cyan protested, “but I have to go!”

“You sure sound restless,” Indy replied, ignoring Cyan’s plea, “let’s go take a seat for a minute by the fountain.”

“The fountain?” Cyan said, incredulous, as Indy took them by the hand and walked them to the main water feature of the mall – a giant white stone pool with water shoots spraying sparkling water in a circular pattern. Merry go round animals were hung form the ceiling above, making it all look rather whimsical.

“Yeah, there are benches here,” Indy said, sitting them down. Cyan immediately began to grind down on the bench, fanning their thighs in and out. The rushing water of the fountain was torture to their sensitive bladder, their own pee splashing menacingly against its walls and threatening to make its way down their urethra. “Isn’t this nice?” Indy asked. “I just love watching all this water flowing around us, so free and easy. And the sounds it makes, aren’t they relaxing?”

“Ooooh,” Cyan moaned a reply, writhing in a desperate attempt to find any sort of relief from the tingling all along their lower belly. Indy’s teasing was making the situation exponentially worse, and Cyan wasn’t sure how much longer they could hold back the flood. “Fuck, I gotta go to the bathroom. Indy, please!”

“Big boys don’t need to go without permission. You’re just gonna have to handle it.” Indy made no move to leave the bench. “Now let’s rest here for a bit, enjoy the fountain.” They eyed Cyan. “Drink more of your soda.”

Cyan was decidedly not enjoying the fountain. They took a few quick sips from their soda to appease Indy, but their need to pee was all encompassing. They rocked back and forth on the bench, their legs quivering as their bladder sloshed inside them. The sips of that soda felt like electric bursts sliding through them, making their bladder buzz with fullness. It was torture to sit here and do nothing. Cyan longed to be sitting on a toilet instead, where they could finally relax and release all the liquid pent up about to burst –

With that train of thought, Cyan suddenly felt the first drop of pee tingling at their entrance. They panicked, jumping up from the bench and squeezing their thighs together, frozen. Fuck, no, please not a leak! Not yet! They thought frantically.

“Is something wrong?” Indy asked innocently. “Don’t you want to finish your soda before we go?”

“N-no more soda, please!” Cyan begged, crossing one leg over the other and bending at the waist. Their bladder threatened that drop closer and closer to their tip, and Cyan was desperate to gain any amount of control. “Indy, I need a bathroom, now! I have to pee so bad, please.”

Indy shook their head. “Not until you’ve finished that soda,” they replied. “Until then, you keep holding it in.”

Cyan shook their head, unable to fathom putting any more liquid into their already thrashing bladder. Pee rippled along their lower half and they wrapped their arms around themself in need. “B-but I’m going to leak!” they whispered loudly. It was thankfully pretty deserted at this area of the mall, but Cyan was still embarrassed to be seen standing like this in public.

“Not my problem,” Indy replied, although their piercing eyes and upturned smirk indicated that they were certainly enjoying the show. “You’ll hold it until you’ve finished your drink. Big boys should be able to hold two drinks without needing to pee.”

Cyan shivered, deciding quickly to obey Indy rather than waste more time arguing, and guzzled down the rest of the drink. They sucked at the straw until the cup was empty, sugary cherry flavor coating their tongue and sloshing into their belly. They gasped when they were done, “There! It’s gone. Can I please go to the bathroom now?”

Indy mock sighed, but nodded. “Well, really you shouldn’t need to go yet, since you only just finished your drink, but since you did listen very well, I suppose I could let you pee now.” Indy stood up and began moving towards the restrooms located on the other side of the fountain.

I’m going to make it, Cyan thought triumphantly, scurrying along with Indy, thighs rubbing together as they walked. I’m so close to peeing oooh god, oh god please let me make it to the door –

“Closed for Cleaning”

Immediately Cyan’s stomach dropped, and their bladder threatened to burst right there in their pants. The sight of the closed sign outside the bathroom was unbelievable, after their body was so ready to release. Cyan tensed their muscles and moaned, leaning against the side wall. “Indy, Indy it’s closed!” they whined. “A-another bathroom, please, now!”

“Oh dear,” Indy said, sounding much less surprised than Cyan. “It looks like they are closed. Too bad. Can’t you just wait until we get home?”

Home? Home was 45 minutes away, plus the bumpy roads and seatbelts, Cyan couldn’t stomach the thought. They hissed as a sharp throb of their bladder caused them to sway their hips and throw their head back in desperation. “I won’t make it home!” they cried. “I need to pee right now!”

“Well, if you really don’t think you can hold it...I do know where another bathroom is around here.” Indy eyed Cyan hungrily, flashing a shark like grin at the state of them. “It’s a bit out of the way, Violet told me about it earlier at the shop. It’s one that employees will sometimes use if they want to cheat into having a longer bathroom break by walking the distance. It’s always open, unlike the other bathrooms here on a Sunday cleaning schedule.”

“Yes!” Cyan panted. “Anything, Indy, just take me now! Please!”

“If you insist,” Indy replied. They took Cyan by the hand and guided them back across the mall.

Cyan wriggled and danced next to Indy, fighting off urge after bubbling urge to release their pent up piss right there in their pants, all onto the mall floor. After a minute of walking, Indy took Cyan through a side door, one that usually looks like an employee entrance to the back doors of the stores. On the wall inside there was a painted bathroom sign, and an arrow pointing to the right. Indy led a trembling Cyan in that direction, and through a set of double doors leading to –

Another long hallway. Cyan turned to Indy, panicked and confused and drowning in their own piss. “Indy, where’s the bathroom? The sign, it said it was this way!”

“It is,” Indy replied, continuing to walk. “I told you, it’s a bit further away. We have to keep walking. Just hold it, pup.”

Cyan was holding it, they were trying so hard to hold it, but the pressure was too much. They were bursting, their need so bad that they felt like their entire insides were just lemonade and cherry soda, sloshing around inside them like a bottle ready to pop. They whimpered, hurrying along the hallway.

It soon became apparent that Indy was telling the truth about how far away this bathroom was. They passed through three more doorways with signs indicating to go left or right to find the bathroom, but all they kept finding was more hallway, and no relief in sight. Cyan felt wild, animal like in their primal need to release. When they came to a short three step decline in their path, Cyan stumbled their way down, and in their hard landing felt their bladder shudder and a small spurt of pee escaped, wetness blooming on their underwear.

“Ahhh-“ Cyan hissed, freezing in place and shoving a hand into their crotch. Pee tickled their entrance, and Cyan moaned as they fought back another wave that threatened to come out. Their entire lower body trembled to hold back the ocean that was roaring inside them from exploding out. Ooooooh, I have to pee! Cyan moaned internally. I’m going to piss myself! Please, where is the bathroom, I need a bathroom!

“What’s the matter?” Indy asked, looking to Cyan. “Did puppy spring a leak?” Their tone was casual, teasing. Cyan whined.

“Ooooh, y-yes, yes I leaked,” they confessed, bending their knees and twisting their legs together as they bounced in place. “Indy, where is this bathroom? I c-can’t hold it anymore!”

“It’s a bit further this way,” Indy said, gesturing to yet another door that surely led to another corridor and likely not to the immediate relief of a glistening, porcelain toilet that Cyan had been longing for well over two hours now.

“I n-need a toilet now, Indy! Now!” Cyan tried to straighten up, teetering as their piss sloshed back and forth in their bladder, warning of another leak. Their pee hole tingled menacingly, the sensation utterly unbearable.

“We’re going, we’re going,” Indy replied, continuing to walk forward. “Well, you’re not going yet, but we’ll get there. Until then, I expect you to be a good pup and hold it.”

“Ooooh, hurry, please hurry Indy,” Cyan pleaded, picking up the pace with them and squeezing their thighs as they walked. Pee crashed against their bladder walls as they moved. “I can’t hold it!”

“You’ll just have to find some way to handle it,” Indy replied, not walking nearly fast enough for Cyan’s liking. “There’s nowhere for you go to yet.”

Cyan felt their bladder surge downwards at Indy’s comment, rejecting that fact with the more pressing fact that Cyan couldn’t not piss. They were full to the brim and already starting to runneth over. After passing yet another set of useless double doors and banking another right following another useless bathroom sign, they felt another splash of urine flow down their urethra. Cyan doubled over, bouncing and moaning, practically on their knees with how scrunched up they were, dying to hold it, just hold it a few more minutes, surely the bathroom has to be close by now?

Indy looked down at Cyan’s frantic grinding and moaning and gave them a gentle touch on the shoulder. They were unbelievably turned on, and also impressed of how far Cyan was making it. It’s maybe the longest they’ve held during this game. “C’mon pup,” Indy said. “Get up. Hold it, we’re almost there.”

With a groan, Cyan stood up, and felt a sudden electric current of pure desperate need run up their spine. Their whole body was tingling, their lower belly shaking with the effort of holding back more piss than Cyan had ever held in their life. “Ooooh, I can’t take it anymore!” they cried, making a mad dash forward down the hallway and through the next set of doors, hand shoved haphazardly into their crotch. They could hear Indy’s feet hitting the floor behind them, keeping up. “I’m going to have an accident! I need to gooooo!”

Cyan burst through the next set of double doors, and to their surprise, found themself in an underground parking lot. They had just enough time to register the thought this must be extra parking for employees before their bladder shuddered and a spray of pee escaped past their shaking hand, trickling down Cyan’s thigh inside their cargo pants.

I’m peeing! I’m peeing! They thought frantically. They looked around but didn’t see a bathroom. “Where is it? Oooooh where’s the bathroom?” Cyan pleaded, kneading and twisting and grinding down in a desperate attempt to prevent another leak.

Indy appeared next to Cyan, also looking around for the bathroom. They knew it was in this garage, and after a moment, saw the sign on the door for it on the other end of the parking lot. But before they could say anything-

“I’m going to have an accident! I’m going! I can’t hold it!” Cyan wailed, unable to think straight anymore. They were losing it, fully and quickly, and couldn’t bear to take another step forward without voiding the endless amount of piss that was fighting its way out of them. Cyan grabbed themself and looked around like a deer in headlights. “Indy, hurry, is anyone watching? Is anyone else here?”

Indy knew immediately what Cyan meant, and felt their face flush with arousal. Cyan wasn’t going to make it, they were going to lose it right here in the parking lot. And Indy, excited at this turn of events, was about to let them.

Indy took an exaggerated look around the clearly empty parking lot, hearing Cyan heave a long groan as they twisted like a pretzel, bending practically to their knees before bouncing back up. Finally, Indy said “Yes, pup. You’re all clear. Go on.”

The moment Cyan heard their permission, they whipped themselves out and a spray of pee burst out of them and against the concrete pillar by their side. Pee gushed out forcefully and audibly, the stream pattering down the wall and onto the ground in a puddle. Indy watched, impressed, as their partner emptied hours worth of pent up piss. Cyan moaned loudly, their voice echoing around them, as relief washed through them. It felt orgasmic, to finally let out every drop that had been torturing them all afternoon.

When the stream finally stopped, Cyan tucked themself away and turned bashfully to Indy. “I uh...I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

Indy nodded, a laugh escaping them. “No, it looks like you couldn’t. Poor puppy had to loose it in the parking lot, huh?”

“Heh, yeah..” Cyan said, chuckling a little. “Umm, I feel much better now though, so.”

Indy nodded. “I bet you do. You pissed for so long I thought you might have drank a whole ocean.”

“It sure felt like it,” Cyan said. “I really had to go.”

“Well, maybe next time you’ll make it to the bathroom,” Indy said, pointing to the bathroom across the lot. Cyan followed Indy’s gesture and finally saw the bathroom themselves. They sighed. “Oh, so close. Yeah, maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time,” Indy repeated, giving Cyan a gentle kiss and rubbing a hand across their back. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Cyan said, relieved. “Let’s head home.”

#omorashi #omorashi story #pee #pee holding #bladder control #transmasc omo #trans omo #nonbinary omo #yes cyan is the name i use here too i just like the color blue and all of the different types of blue a lot #also im lazy with names and prefer the pokemon model of naming #uhhh the end i hope you like it

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