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drunk-fantasies · 10 months

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the three of us

+18 content, minors dni

bf!jake x fem!reader x heeseung / 2,1k words - sorry / threesome with a hint of cuckolding (a huge hint if i’m being honest), unprotected sex, piv, oral (f+m receiving) throat fucking, praising, degrading, spanking, swearing / note: me in my heejake brain rot era 😌 / mlist

explicit content under the cut!

first time jake mentioned he would like trying to have a threesome you didn’t think he meant one of his friends, especially heeseung. at first, when he told you about him being his candidate you hesitated for a while.

“it’s just a suggestion. i want both of us having pleasure from that, so just think about it, no pressure,” he would assure you one night when you spoke about your hesitation, but his words made you even more curious about what potential sex with the two of them could bring.

you couldn’t help but have trouble concentrating on anything else. your mind was preoccupied with various scenarios including your boyfriend and his friend. just mere thoughts about them destroying you from two sides made you wet, without any exaggeration.

“let’s try,” you announced one evening when you were already after your night routines, getting cozy on your bed. jake looked at you confused so you cleared up: “let’s try with heeseung.”

you saw temptation in his eyes and soon a smile replaced his expression. he raised slightly on his elbow to kiss you deeply.

“i promise you’re not gonna regret this, princess,” he said before cradling you securely in his arms laying kitten-like kisses on your forehead. you settled on what you wanted and what was categorically out of the question. nodding he made sure to remember all your conditions to let his friend know.

after a few days, when jake was preparing to go to work he told you he already talked with heeseung, telling you to pick a date whenever you like. not thinking twice you told him to invite him even today, curiosity eating you up inside what awaits you.

“are you that impatient or want to have it already done,” he laughed and brought you closer by your waist.

“maybe both?” you raised your eyebrows and climbed on your toes to kiss him.

he left for work after a while and told you to not miss him too much, which you couldn’t promise. there was no day you didn’t miss him. his touch, his smell, and his whole presence made you feel in heaven — secure and loved. and the thought of another man seeing you vulnerable made your insides do a flip, both from excitement and slight anxiousness. not being able to move your train of thought to other trails you couldn’t even get the tiniest bite on the food you previously prepared. looking at the wall clock became your new hobby at this point, waiting for the time jake ends his work. and around the hour of him being usually on his way home, you received a text from him.

jake 💗: i’m already on my way, but i think heeseung will be a little earlier. you don’t have to wait for me, babe ;)

you read the text and bit your bottom lip in anticipation. part of you wanted to wait for him, not wanting to do anything with his friend. partly because you were scared. after all, you haven’t had sex with anybody else than jake in years.

all your concerns seemed to fade away as soon as you opened the front door for him. he greeted you with the warmest smile and gave you an even warmer hug. in a blink of an eye, not sure how that happened, your lips were attached to each other as your hips grinded against his desperately. his hands first roamed all over your body, now placed on your waist, guiding your movements. in between sounds of your sloppy kisses few grunts and moans were audible in your living room leaving no space for doubts if this was a good idea. which was definitely not.

you slowly moved from his lap and he whined at the loss of friction only to smile against your lips when he felt his belt being unbuckled. he raised his hips to make it easier for you to take his pants and boxers off. tucking at its waistband you pulled them off in a swift motion, sitting in between his legs. his dick was already hard from your previous touch and leaked in a slick precum. you laid grazing kisses on his inner thigh and he parted his lips at your touch. not wasting any second you licked a stripe from his base to the tip earning a breathy moan from him. you left kitten licks on his reddened tip while keeping intense eye contact with him. your hands worked your way on his body, uncovering his abs from under his shirt.

“cut the teasing, pretty,” he said, his eyes piercing yours and made a makeshift ponytail, slightly pushing you down on his length. he watched attentively as your lips glided over his dick sending him on a cloud nine. “fuck– you’re doing so good for me,” he murmured his grip on your hair loosening.

he let his head fall back and the intense pleasure his friend’s girlfriend was giving him right now. his thigh tensed as your hands massaged his balls, feeling how close he was. he gently cupped your cheeks looking fondly at you only to add his other hand now throat fucking you at a merciless pace.

you closed your eyes and felt how tears brimmed in them, not realizing the front door was opening. both you and heeseung were preoccupied with him being pleasured too much to realize jake already came back home, now watching how much you too had fun with each other. he smiled as his eyes met the older one’s now discharging his clothes too.

you felt how your throat filled with heeseung’s hot load and bobbed your head a few times to ride his high.

“nice job, princess,” jake spoke and you turned around to look at him. he made his way to you and cupped your cheek, only to smear his friend’s cum all over your face and push it into your mouth. “now be our good slut and go on all fours.”

you nodded quickly and he pulled his digit out of your mouth. before you sat on the couch heeseung stopped you.

“are you going to take those off or should we do that for you?” he asked referring to your fully clothed body.

“maybe you should?” you teased making him smile and eye you up and down, now being so close to your face he could see the remaining cum left on your skin.

“heeseung.” jakes voice jolted him from trance. “be so kind and do it yourself,” he said sitting on the couch and pulled his dick out to give it a few pumps.

on the other hand, heeseung’s gaze came back to your’s and he took a few steps forward. you walked backward, eyes staying on his until the back of your legs met the edge of your couch, making you fall on it abruptly. he leaned down to tuck your hair behind your ear and kissed you deeply. the kiss was needy and all over the place. just when you wanted more he pulled away to tuck at your shorts. giving him a small nod seeing his asking look he pulled them down with ease, smiling at the absence of any underwear, your folds already wet begging for any contact.

“take off your shirt,” he murmured and you obediently took it off leaving you all naked in front of him. he ran his fingers through your folds and you shook under his touch. “already this wet?” he whispered straight into your ears, quietly enough for you to shiver, but loud enough for jake to hear. “what do you want me to do about it?”

his voice was ever so soft as if he was talking to the most precious thing in his life. you could feel hypnotized by the way it echoed in your head like a sweet charm. it made you want to do anything he told you to, do anything with you and your body.

“i want you to touch me,” you managed to gabble out almost incoherent words.

“with what should i touch you?” his continuous question and no actions made you crazy, especially now that his face was in between your legs, his hot breath reaching your sensitive bud.

“with your tongue, please.” he smiled at the sight of you squirming in front of his eyes, with him not having to do anything. he quickly glanced at jake about whom he almost forgot, but he only nodded, too immersed in the pleasure of both his hand around his cock and the scene that played in his living room.

he turned to you painfully slowly and spoke in a low voice: “be a good girl and spread your legs wide for me.”

as soon as you opened them revealing your glistening juices cunt his face sank in between your legs. you let out a loud gasp and soon wet sounds of his tongue against your folds were drowned out by your moans and whimpers. his nose was pressed against your clit while he hungrily explored your bud with his muscle. his fingers were spreading your folds for better access, now tracing them against your hole.

“heeseung!” you whined and your fingers tangled in his locks, bringing his face closer to your aching core.

you became silent for a quick moment when you felt his finger finally making its way to your hole pumping it in and out at perfect pace. you opened your mouth wide open, resting it on the headrest, your gaze falling on your boyfriend who intently watched your reactions with dark eyes. he smirked slightly at your already dumbly fucked up state, even though the toughest part was ahead of you. breathing loudly you felt how heeseung added a second finger, another wave of pleasure overwhelming your body. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach, soon coating heeseung’s face and fingers in your juices.

without giving you time to catch a breath you felt how somebody threw your form on their shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. you fell on your bed and quickly positioned yourself on all fours, hands gripping the edge of your mattress. without a warning, you felt how your walls were being stretched by jake’s dick, who pounded into you at an animalistic pace. he left a few spanks on your ass before grasping your hair and pulling them making you raise your head. you noticed heeseung who now stood in front of you in his all glory, his dick proudly pointing at you. you opened your mouth to suck on it but instead, he leaned in pushing his tongue to your mouth now muffling your moans. jake kept on pounding his hips against yours, watching as your ass bounced with his every thrust, all while heeseung now explored your mouth with his tongue.

“fuck!” you exclaimed with immense pleasure as soon as your lips parted with his.

but he slowly shook his head in disapproval raising your head by your chin.

“what’s with that language, baby girl? don’t worry, i will give your mouth something to do.”

with those words, he pushed himself all at once and you gagged around him in surprise. he stayed like that for a moment, cockwarming himself against your throat. when he felt the vibrations of your moans he couldn’t help himself anymore and grabbed your head to fuck it once again.

both jake and heeseung filled your holes with their cocks making your eye roll backward with their every thrust, sending you on the edge. you could feel how jake’s balls kept on hitting your reddened clit, when your lips slid along every vein on heeseung’s dick. you loved it, you enjoyed every minute, every movement of theirs filled your head with filthy thoughts.

“shit! stop clenching around me,” jake groaned as you felt how close you were.

“i’m so close,” heeseung grunted and his pace got faster. you sucked harder to help him achieve his high and you felt how jake’s hot shot filled your pussy, soon followed by heeseung filling your mouth. swallowing it all you collapsed on the soft mattress, breathing loudly and deeply, trying to catch your breath. jake also laid on the bed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

heeseung sat on the other side, and panting heavily he said: “now that was something else.” earning a chuckle from you and your boyfriend. “you okay?” he asked and rubbed your back, seeing how you remained in an uncomfortable position.

“come here baby.” you heard jake and raising your head you noticed his open arms inviting you to his embrace. you crawled closer to him and nestled against his neck, throwing your leg over his.

your mind was going crazy. not only at the amazing sex you just had but at with whom you experienced it. you felt how a pair of arms sneak around your waist, your body now being hugged from two sides. it only made things worse for you, leaving the one who you wanted to yourself more often behind your back.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enha hard hours #enha smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heejake #heejake smut #enhypen jake smut #jake x reader #jake smut #enhypen jake x reader #jake hard thoughts #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen hard thoughts

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months

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This video is for everyone who supports Palestine. If you don't support Palestine, you can scroll.

What's Palestine? I am dead ass requesting you to tell me what's Palestine. Do you know who you're chanting for, and what you're chanting?

When you say "free Palestine" you are not talking about Gaza. Do you know that? Gaza is not Palestine.

"From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free." It is calling to end the existence of Israel. From the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea, which includes the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, and the entire state of Israel. The only Jewish state in the entire world.

7 million Jews and 2 million Arabs live here in peace. With your "free Palestine" idea, where do you want us to go? Where do you want us all to go? What do you think is gonna happen the day Israel stops existing? Do you not think that if Hamas takes over, if the damage they are already doing, having full control, full complete control over the tiny area that is Gaza, what do you think is gonna happen the day they have full complete control over the state of Israel?

What do you think is gonna happen to you? Chanting "free Palestine" in the streets right now. If you want freedom for the people of Gaza who, by the way, you guys are categorizing together as Palestinians, you have no idea who lives there. If you want freedom for these people, you stand with Israel to end whoever is actually occupying them.

Israel has never attacked Gaza unprovoked. Israel has never, ever, ever targeted the Gazan civilians during any war or any attack that we have inflicted upon Hamas and their terror targets, the places they hide their rockets and guns and ammunition, which are civilian homes, hospitals, schools.

The people of Gaza can't speak themselves against Hamas cause they know they'll be killed. You, from the comfort of your home in your Western country think that you can speak for the people of Gaza about who is inflicting terror on them.

500,000 Gazans cross to Israel every single day to work. Let me make something very, very clear. Since Israel left Gaza in 2005, Israel does not owe shit to Gaza. "The electricity, the water..." Why isn't Hamas providing those things to Gaza? Where is all the billions of dollars they are being sent constantly? We don't have to let Gazans come and work here. We don't have to give them food, electricity and water. We don't have to warn them to go out of their houses when we attack Hamas targets. We don't have to do anything. And somehow we are held to the standard that we do?

Hamas kills their political opponents. They have not held elections since they've been elected in 2006. Even after they have GoPro'ed a massacre of 1,300 people, not people killed by rockets - massacre by hand - you still don't know who they are. You still don't realize they do the same thing to the people of Gaza. You still support these people.

If you want Gaza to be free, you support Israel annihilating Hamas and freeing them of the people of Gaza. Once Gaza is free of Hamas, there will be peace.

Don't you think that if Israel was truly controlling Gaza and occupying Gaza, this wouldn't have happened. We would know what was going on there.

Wake up already. These terrorists are using your values against you. They are hiding in their terror tunnels right now alongside 199 hostages. These are not freedom fighters, these are bloodthirsty monsters.

Stop chanting these empty, empty slogans and wake up to see what is right in front of you.

"The siege, they have a fence around Gaza..." Have you seen what happens when they make one hole in the fence? Have you seen what happens in less than five hours to 1,300 people when they break through this fence?

This will never fail to amaze me. "Gaza's under siege! The fence around Gaza!" Do you mean the border? Somewhere that is not our territory? Same border that 500,000 Palestinians cross to make money here in Israel? The same border they can easily cross if they don't affiliate with Hamas or carry any weapon? The same border they have with their Egyptian brothers who do not allow them anywhere near their country?

And if after everything I said, you still support Hamas, there is no other way to say it: your values align with Hamas. And I'm being very, very gentle.

If you truly want peace, you stand with Israel.

Hamas is Gaza's Taliban. Hamas is Gaza's ISIS. Hamas is Gaza's Boko Haram. Hamas is Gaza's Iranian Regime.

Oct 7 was Israel's Mahsa Amini moment. Israel is doing this not just for the Israelis, but for the Gazans, who live in a terrorist regime.

If you rooted for the collapse of the Iranian Regime with #WomanLifeFreedom, then you root for the extermination of Hamas. Because they are the same exact problem.

How have people gotten so confused after only one year?

#Hillel Fuld #Israel #Gaza #Gaza Strip #Hamas #islamic terrorism #down with hamas #exterminate hamas #Palestine #free palestine #free palestine from hamas #free gaza #free gaza from hamas #stand with israel #hamas is isis #hamas is the taliban #hamas is a terrorist organization #religion is a mental illness

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roidepoison · 24 days

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Reo Mikage is Actually Great BPD Representation- Some Thoughts

So I had the extremely unfortunate experience of being exposed to Blue Lock (unfortunate because it's all my tiny pea brain can think about now), and while it is absolutely full of silly guys whose brains I want to pick, this little bugger really stood out to me. The second he came onto the screen, I KNEW I smelled the borderline on him. As I watched the series and read the manga, I noticed he is actually an incredibly well-written depiction of someone struggling with BPD. Reo is a super layered character and my favorite hobby is picking apart those layers and yapping incessantly about them, so here we are. I want to write this analysis for a few reasons:

1.) Too many people misunderstand Reo and categorize him as dramatic or childish without any elaboration and he deserves a proper character deep-dive. I think him being borderline explains a LOT of his reactions/choices throughout the story.

2.) Borderline representation is extremely important to me. I'm diagnosed borderline and have struggled with this disorder for around ten years now, so I get really excited when I spy BPD-coded characters (especially if they're likable people and not just ghoulish irredeemable villains or manic pixie dream girl characters). This disorder can be so isolating, especially when the majority of people will never even bother to research or understand it. I know that some people like to chalk Reo's emotional reactions up to him being a moody 17-year-old, but I think I have enough evidence to prove that this is undiagnosed BPD that's festering in his noggin. Not to mention, literally nobody else acts like this in the series. Reo is incredibly unique and distinct in the way he behaves through this narrative and I think it's way past the point of normal teenage angst. Regardless, believe what you want. He'll always be my borderline princess tho <3

3.) I have a master's degree in English and what good is that if I don't write long, painful, pointless essays on anime guys? Not that this is exceptionally well written, I just like to laugh at myself for getting a whole M.A and then this is the shit I publish online lmao

By the end of this, I hope I can shed some light on wtf is going on inside of Reo's silly little head. (I'm also obviously not a psychologist, don't use any of this to diagnose yourself pls I don't need the scandal)

If you want to read, buckle up, because this is gonna be a long one!

First, let me define BPD- It's a personality disorder characterized by a long-standing pattern of instability in mood, interpersonal relationships, and self-image. At its core, it is a disorder categorized by emotional dysregulation (the inability to regulate one's emotional responses) People with BPD feel everything EXTREMELY hard. That's important to keep in mind IMO, because while their reactions may seem dramatic or extreme, what they're feeling IS dramatic and extreme. Everything they're feeling is amplified, so their reactions are amplified. Obviously from the outside, people assume it's an overreaction since they can't see what's going on inside the borderline's head. When you sit down and dissect the thought process of someone like Reo, it becomes a lot easier to understand why they react the way that they do to certain situations.

(Also, I'm not going to reiterate more than once that an explanation is not an excuse to treat people poorly. I cannot read ANYTHING on BPD without hearing every 2 minutes how the disorder isn't an excuse to hurt other people. We get it!! I'm explaining it, not excusing it. This enter essay is an analysis of why someone acts the way they do, not whether or not it's excusable)

So then, what behaviors/signs does somebody need to exhibit to receive a borderline diagnosis? The 9 diagnostic criteria for BPD are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment

2. Unstable or changing relationships

3. Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

4. Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors

5. Suicidal behavior or self-injury

6. Varied or random mood swings

7. Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

8. Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

9. Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

Someone would only need 5 of these to receive a proper diagnosis. Just with the main story and the spin-off manga that is currently released, I think I have enough evidence to argue that Reo has 8 out of 9 criteria for a BPD diagnosis. For the sake of organization, I’m gonna group some of those together though, indicated by a + symbol. I also want to define a few important terms before I start yapping, so that y'all without BPD can understand wtf I'm even talking about.

Favorite Person (fp) - This is someone who holds massive significance in a borderline's life. They emotionally depend on this person a lot and to a certain extent, their worldview almost revolves around them.

Splitting- the change in perception of someone or something caused by black-or-white thinking or dichotomous thinking. It is the devaluation of someone who was once idealized and vice versa.

Mirroring (aka: the chameleon effect)- the constant, unconscious change in one's identity or sense of self by imitating another person’s behaviors, characteristics, or traits. It is common in people who have a vacant or distorted self-image which is a general symptom of BPD.

Now, time for me to break down the most prominent moments where Reo showcases borderline behavior. As I mentioned, I'm going to try and organize this under each criteria point (with some being grouped together)

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self:

Before I delve into Reo's relationships, I want to start with his baseline sense of identity. It’s established early on that Reo is a very bored, empty, unsatisfied person. Nothing excites him, nothing motivates him, and everything is handed to him. He’s frustrated because his parents notoriously try and buy his affection even though he doesn't want anything. For most of his life up until the narrative starts, he's wandering through life empty and frustrated. That is, until he finally sets his sights on soccer and decides to dedicate his life to winning the World Cup:

The wording, 'proves my existence' is interesting here. I think this is the first instance Reo has felt alive. So far, the only notable thing about him has been his family and his money. He hasn't achieved anything exceptional for himself, but now he has that opportunity. With this goal, he can really build something up from nothing and make it his own. It's almost like he's clinging to this dream to prove that he has some purpose in his life other than being the family heir.

Now, this dream changes when he meets Nagi, of course. I'm not gonna focus too much on their relationship in this section, but I will mention that meeting Nagi shifted Reo's entire dream, and not for the better. Through the narrative, his dream went from:

Winning the World Cup

Winning the World Cup with Nagi

Proving to Nagi that leaving him behind was a mistake

Improving himself and becoming a good striker on his own

Being a tool for Nagi to become the best striker

Had Nagi not come in and ask for Reo to come back to him, I think Reo could have done a great job at establishing his own sense of identity without Nagi. But no matter how much he works on himself, with Nagi in the picture, he's never going to value himself more than Nagi. Reo lets Nagi cloud his identity to the point where Isagi calls him out and asks what he's even doing at Blue Lock in the first place, since he clearly can't survive on his own, he needs Nagi with him.

After dealing with the turmoil of being abandoned by Nagi, Reo goes through a few stages. He starts with wanting to become somebody worthy of being beside Nagi, somebody that Nagi would want to choose. Devoting himself to becoming stronger and more versatile, his end goal is to have Nagi realize he made a mistake by leaving him behind. After a few more matches, Reo starts to realize that he needs to grow and change and become a stronger, better version of himself for himself and not for other people.

He decides that the fight was all his fault to begin with, that he should have never forced Nagi to play soccer and now he is going to get back to what his dream was originally, combined with his new desire to be a stand-alone player (and person, for that matter). Reo accepts the mistakes that he made, admits that he shouldn't have forced his ideals onto Nagi, and resolves to become a better person for HIMSELF. That's excellent!

Of course, Reo can't be happy for TOO long. Nagi comes out of the woodwork saying that he can't beat Isagi on his own and asks for Reo's help. Reo does stand up for himself a bit, saying that Nagi is being inconsiderate of his feelings and mentioning how long it took for him to recover from Nagi leaving. Now, the BPD trait here is how Reo not only forgives Nagi and is jumping on him and hugging him THE NEXT PAGE, but he also just disregards everything he said in this sequence. In a matter of two minutes, he no longer wants to be a player that can fight on his own or improve for himself, he wants to improve for Nagi. He starts ruminating again about how hurt he was when Nagi left, but now he's saying all of it wasn't so that he could get stronger individually, it was so that he could be reunited with Nagi again. Nagi asking for his help and saying that now they can play together again motivate Reo more than anything we've seen so far. (Nagi notoriously throws Reo little affection crumbs like this that Reo eats up, but I'm not trying focus on that) Now, Reo's alright with being a tool for Nagi's success again. Everything that happened was supposed to make him stronger so he could be a better partner to Nagi, right? Reo also says as the chapter ends, to please let him be a part of Nagi's dream until Nagi becomes the world's best striker. That's literally so sad!

He's also immediately back to the 'our' 'we' 'us' talk as well. If he can master his chameleon style in order to keep Nagi above the rest of the players, he wont get left behind again. If he devotes his time and energy into being a solo striker like the rest of these guys, Reo knows that he wont be able to keep up. This was always supposed to be his role, right? Building Nagi up to his full potential! :*)

I also like the detail that Reo is back to hugging Nagi and holding him, but Nagi never really touches him back. I think Reo's love language is touch for sure, not that it's incredibly relevant, but I do think it shows that Reo is back to being 100% comfortable around Nagi as if their fight never happened. I hear a lot of fans asking how Reo could have forgiven Nagi so easily, and I say this with my entire chest, it's the BPD. The black-and-white thinking combined with Nagi being Reo's fp and the excruciating pain of being abandoned by him in the first place ?? Of course he's going to take him back. Also, I've seen people blame Reo for not saying no to Nagi when he asks for help and I have to say that is an absolutely insane take. How are we gonna look at a panel where Nagi asks for help and then blame Reo for helping him?? I'm not going to focus on it too much in this post but in my opinion, it is crazy how little accountability both the narrative + fans give Nagi. Reo is pegged as responsible for both of their downfalls and it's nuts tbh.

Currently in the story, I think Reo's identity is still centered around Nagi. It's really easy for borderlines to structure their entire lives and personalities around their favorite person, but I can only hope that these two keep having open and honest discussions with one another. Hopefully, Reo will eventually learn that he can exist without Nagi and that he's more than just 'his arms and legs'.

Unstable or Changing Relationships:

The most notable relationship in Reo's life is Nagi. They're both each other's first real friends, which already sets up a less-than-ideal dynamic. Nagi has no idea how to communicate and he has pretty weak emotional intelligence. On the other hand, Reo is great at communicating, but he isn't used to regulating his emotions. For a lot of borderlines, they can go a very long time without experiencing any symptoms when they don't have a favorite person. When you think about it, the bulk of the disorder is shown through those interactions with other people. If Reo has never had a real friend in his life, I don't think he'd be used to the emotional turmoil that comes with having a fp.

The minute Reo meets Nagi, he's attached. All his classmates notice it, too. They question why Reo is suddenly so obsessed with this random kid who has no interest in him. Reo is ignoring everybody that isnt Nagi.

Very quickly, Reo boils down his view of the world to being him and Nagi versus everybody else, and he makes that very clear. It also depicts something that I think is incredibly crucial to Reo’s character that a lot of people overlook; as Nagi develops to be Reo’s favorite person, Reo’s dream isnt ‘playing soccer’ anymore. It’s Nagi. It’s being with Nagi, playing soccer with Nagi, being useful to Nagi, taking care of Nagi, and being somebody important to Nagi. He doesnt teach Nagi the rules or how to actually play, he teaches Nagi how to play with him. He literally re-writes and re-structures the game so that it can center around him and Nagi. Nagi calls him out on this in the spin-off manga:

Reo doesnt care about the structure of the game, he cares about Nagi. The other people on the field don't matter. The other team doesn't matter. He also starts to unknowingly put Nagi up on a pedestal, which is another borderline trait. He starts reiterating that Nagi is special, he's different from everybody else, he's destined to achieve great things. The more he raises Nagi up, the more he isolates the two of them in his mind, reiterating the idea that it's them against everybody else. His language reflects this too: Reo exclusively talks with 'us' 'we' 'our', insinuating that they're going to do everything together.

When Ego says that there can't be two winners, Reo says that he'll make Nagi the best striker. His 'ego' will be making Nagi successful. Along with putting Nagi on this pedestal, Reo also very early on establishes the fact that he'd pick Nagi over himself any day of the week. He's the only person in Blue Lock who really couldn't care less about becoming a striker himself: his dream is to be a tool in Nagi's success. Or, in simpler terms, he wants to be useful and make Nagi happy.

These two were in trouble from the very beginning. Nagi is lazy as all hell, has 0 motivation to do anything, and his dream is to live a life of luxury and never have to work. Reo, being the borderline baddie that he is, is more than happy to do EVERYTHING for Nagi. Borderlines love extremely hard! It's one of our best traits and I think it's important to showcase that Reo is a massive sweetheart at his core. He clearly loves Nagi a lot and goes to extreme lengths to make sure he feels taken care of. To someone with BPD, NOTHING is too big of an ask for a person they love, especially if that person is their fp. I also disagree with the argument that Reo 'made' Nagi codependent. Nagi likes being taken care of, he says it all the time. If you ask me, I would actually argue that Nagi takes advantage of Reo a little bit because he knows that Reo will do anything for him. But regardless, I think that Reo starts to develop an unspoken expectation with Nagi that he'll provide him with everything he needs, and in turn, Nagi will stick around. I don't think he's doing this intentionally, nor do I think it's being done in a manipulative way. I just think that Reo has a dormant fear of being abandoned that he doesn't totally know he has yet.

It isn't just Nagi that Reo showcases having unstable relationships with, though. Zantetsu is another good example. Reo starts out disliking Zantetsu, he snaps at him a couple times, and calls him a moron more than once. He starts to warm up to him because Nagi tells him to. The favorite person has MASSIVE sway in the borderline's life. If Nagi likes someone, Reo likes them too. (This is, of course, on the condition that they aren't a threat, looking at you Isagi).

In the immediate next chapter, Reo is acting like they're all best friends. He's climbing on top of them in their big bed, saying that the three of them are gonna win their matches, being a little pookie. He goes from not liking this guy at all to considering him one of his close friends super fast. Also on the topic of Isagi, when they're making up the teams for the second selection, Nagi doesn't initially want to tell Reo that he wants Isagi on their team bc he's worried Reo will be upset. But, when he does finally say it, Reo is literally fine with it because like I said, who Nagi likes, Reo likes! On the condition that they don't replace Reo, which clearly happened soon after.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Reo also shows how he can go from loving someone to despising him very quickly. After Chigiri and Kunigami tell him to get back up in the game post-Nagi's abandonment, we can literally see the switch flip in Reo's head:

Suddenly, he hates Nagi. Nagi's a jerk who abandoned him; he never cared about him, and he threw him away. Dude literally says "Let's kill the bastards that betrayed us". This act of unintentional devaluing is called splitting. What Reo's essentially doing is going from one extreme to the other: if Nagi isn't his perfect treasure, he's the devil that broke his heart. There's no room for a grey area. The reasoning behind borderline's developing this black-and-white mindset is rooted in self-defense. If Reo devalues Nagi into being nothing more than a traitor, then he's stripping away the power that Nagi has to hurt him. If he looks at him like a rival or a villain, it's protecting him from being hurt by Nagi again.

That doesn't mean that he genuinely believes any of this, more so, he's trying to convince himself that it's true. We see that at his core, the reason he's acting like this is because he's hurt. I'll go more into it later on, but he's constantly thinking, what does Isagi have that I don't? What do I have to do in order to win Nagi back? This black-and-white thinking is an automatic self-defense mechanism that I think he's doing subconsciously. Regardless, the shifting he's doing here can cause a little whiplash, which brings me to:

Varied or random mood swings + Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights:

I can’t think of a better way to describe Reo's temperament than the wiki, so let me quote it: "Generally, he seems to feel every emotion with full force and is extremely aware of his own faults and shortcomings, which is evident in several instances of painful breakdowns shown in the spin-off manga. Due to his high emotionality, he can even get violent when he loses his temper."

Reo is characterized as being emotionally unstable. When he's happy, he's elated! When he's sad, he's miserable. There are a ton of scenes between the manga and spin-off manga that show how fast his emotions can flip, but this one was one of my personal favorites:

In this scene, Reo has developed a little scheme in the dining hall where the guys are trading their side dishes. At face value, a throwaway moment. But, I think it's worth looking at because not only does this show Reo's emotional response being triggered in an opposite, semi-extreme direction, but the root cause for the reaction was that he felt rejected by Zantetsu. In his own weird way, he's asking Zantetsu to come over and hang out with him. He's not being exceptionally clear with that message, but I can still pick up on it. "You wanna join in, don't you?" He's extending the invite, making himself vulnerable, and Zantetsu shoots him down by saying nah, I'm fine with my noodles. Reo JUMPS on him like YOU KNOW WHAT? I TOOK THAT PERSONALLY! lol. Jokes aside, I think this moment is a great one to argue Reo's BPD tendencies because it's such a seemingly mundane interaction. Even Zantetsu is surprised by Reo's random outburst. This also sets up the fact that one of Reo's most obvious triggers is being rejected/abandoned/betrayed, an extremely common one between those of us with BPD.

Other instances of Reo having a bad temper are a lot more obvious. In the match against teams V and Z, Reo straight up elbows Raichi in the throat, and then tries to go throw hands with Kuon for hurting Nagi. He only stops because if he gets into any more fights, he’ll get thrown out of the game and won't be able to play with Nagi anymore. He’s visibly pissed though and calls Team Z a joke. Hell, even Reo himself can recognize on a certain level that he can't control his emotions: they control him. They cloud his judgment and make him react in ways that he wish he didn't.

He is constantly plagued by these extreme emotional reactions that are out of his control. Not to say that people with BPD are unable to ever control their emotions, because we can! It takes time and therapy and practice though, which Reo hasn't had. His lack of regulation is also why he has such a dramatic and extreme meltdown when Nagi abandons him.

Fear of Abandonment:

Reo's biggest trigger and the cause of his inner turmoil throughout Blue Lock is his fear of abandonment. I mentioned before that I think he's had this fear dormant inside of him for a while as so many borderlines do, since he hasn't had the chance to experience it before. He alludes to it early on when they first arrive at Blue Lock:

The thought of leaving Nagi for somebody else? Reo considers that heartless. They came together, after all. They're going to win the world cup together. Nagi could break both of his legs and Reo wouldn't leave him, because again, Reo isn't there to team up with the best player and become the best striker in the world: he's there to play with Nagi!! And, like I said, in Reo's mind it's him and Nagi vs everyone else-

Reo exhibits a lot of signs early on of being jealous while they're playing in Blue Lock. I mean, as we discussed, everything should be focused around him and Nagi. When Nagi passes to Zantetsu in the team V and Y match, Reo pulls up like 'hey, why didn't you pass it to me?? ):' There are a lot of little moments like that, but Reo's jealousy is a lot more relevant to my argument after he gets abandoned by Nagi.

Let's talk about that word: abandoned. It seems dramatic, right? Reo uses that term constantly and exclusively. Every time he brings that moment up, he uses the word 'abandoned', or he'll say 'betrayed' or 'chose'. These are very definitive words. He’s not saying Nagi ditched him or flaked on him or blew him off, no; he has abandoned him. That word choice may seem disproportionate to the situation, but that's Reo's reality. This was the ultimate betrayal to him. The constant use of that vocabulary reiterates that in Reo's mind, there is no grey area. Either Nagi chooses him, or he chooses someone else. In choosing someone else, he abandons Reo. Reo is paranoid that Nagi isn't ever going to come back to him and it's because of something that Reo is lacking. How can Nagi like Isagi more than him, anyway?

Now, I do fault Nagi a bit for not communicating better at that moment. I understand that he's bad at communication, but I don't think Reo could have been more obviously upset if he tried. The dude was in TEARS. Nagi saw him devastated and then expected everything to be fine when he met him in the bathhouse? Idk. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn't realize it would upset Reo to such an extreme: maybe he thought that they would miss each other, but Reo wouldn't take it personally. I'm doing my best not to harp on Nagi since this is about Reo.

Abandonment is detrimental to people with BPD. It causes extreme inner turmoil that we see with Reo as the story progresses because it is the only thing he can think about. If he isn't trying to cover up his hurt feelings with this idea of revenge, he's self-destructing over being abandoned. He becomes obsessed with wondering why Nagi chose Isagi over him. Was there something wrong with him? Isagi isn't that impressive, why would Nagi rather be with him? These thoughts torture him endlessly and fuel his desire to 'steal' Nagi back. He literally says to Isagi, that he's going to steal Nagi back. Much to his dismay though, Reo starts to notice that Isagi is bringing out some positive traits in Nagi. Nagi's entire vibe is different with Isagi. Nagi is having fun playing soccer without Reo. In fact, he's having more fun. He's making plays he's never made before. His face is visibly different; he's more excited than before.

This is heartbreaking for Reo. Not only was he right that Isagi did have something to offer Nagi that he couldn't, but Reo is having a massive self-hate spiral during this point as well, so he's internalizing all of his flaws and mistakes while the thought is sitting in the back of his head: did Nagi actually have a good reason for abandoning me? Was I not enough to satisfy him? Did I only drag him down? This gets significantly worse the longer he watches Nagi and Isagi play:

Everything is falling apart. Nagi is doing completely fine without Reo, and Reo is an absolute mess. We're circling back to Reo's lack of identity here as well. He's watching firsthand that he's losing Nagi to Isagi: what does he do? What happens to him if he loses Nagi, who is he without Nagi? He's overwhelmed during this match and at one point Reo literally screams that he's going to tear apart their connection. Jealousy is consuming him, but it's also those feelings of inferiority and wondering if he really did deserve to be abandoned. If Nagi is so happy without him, maybe he really did have a reason. These are the thoughts that are circling around in Reo's head. Not to mention, he is constantly tortured by the flashbacks of Nagi leaving him, which I think is a great detail. Some readers might say it's just pointless recapping but I disagree, I think it's depicting how traumatic that was for Reo. As a borderline, being abandoned by your fp IS traumatic. Reo relives that moment so many times because so many things trigger it for him throughout Blue Lock. He can't even look at Chigiri and Kunigami without thinking about him and Nagi. It's a really devastating experience that quickly deteriorates him emotionally.

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness + Suicidal behavior or self-injury:

One of my favorite things about Reo is the fact that he is self-aware that he's behaving somewhat irrationally, but he doesn't know how to stop. When we look at one of the several times that Reo is curled up crying over Nagi, he mentions how he really did want to tell Nagi to go and have fun, but he didn't. He couldn't. The visuals shift for this too:

Reo doesnt want to be acting this way, but he can't help it, and that's frustrating to him. It makes him start feeling ashamed of himself. His inner thoughts start to spiral and he feels weak and alone. He's reflecting here on what his true feelings really were at that moment, and how scared and lonely and weak he felt as a result of Nagi leaving him behind.

These feelings quickly evolve into Reo feeling worthless and falling into bouts of self-hatred. He's so ashamed of the way he's feeling and behaving but it feels so out of his control. He says, "maybe if I hadn't gone to Blue Lock in the first place, I wouldn't have to experience this feeling." As I said before, borderline's feel things EXTREMELY intensely; the disorder is described as living with third-degree burns all over your body. Everything hurts. His feelings are so intense and all-consuming right now, it's all he can think about:

I saw some posts in the fandom reddit asking why Reo is acting like this. One in particular reads: "I get that he is betrayed and stuff but he is acting like it’s the end of the world, is it explained later why he acts like this? Is it because he doesn’t think he can win without Nagi?" Not to call this person out, I just want to answer the question in this post-

It has nothing to do with winning; it was never about winning. It was always about Nagi.

If we're looking at Reo through the borderline lens, it IS the end of the world for him. Nagi was his world. What's worse, he's fully aware that he's not acting rationally and he doesn't know why, which is making him feel ashamed and weak and embarrassed. Now I know why he's acting like this, but there are no Blue Lock psychiatrists sitting around to wack him with the mood stabilizers or the DBT handbook, so he's gonna stay feeling like a monster.

He lets these thoughts, along with the resentment and anger from being abandoned in the first place, fuel him for the second selection match. As he's watching the game play out, as Nagi is about to score the winning goal, Reo's mind starts racing with intrusive, negative thoughts.

He's praying that Nagi fails, that he gives up, that he stops trying, anything to stop that solidifying moment where he scores the winning goal and proves once and for all that not only was Reo not strong enough to stop him, but Nagi doesn't need him anymore. He catches himself really quickly, because he realizes he's sounding just like his parents. Everything is spinning out of control so bad, Reo wants Nagi to end up in a vulnerable position so that he isn't the only one falling apart. As he catches himself thinking this, he's disgusted with himself. He calls himself 'utter trash', and as he watches Nagi score the winning goal, he falls to his knees, wishing he was dead.

As he sits there decomposing in emotional turmoil and suicidal ideation, Nagi's team chooses Chigiri to join them, and it's the nail in the coffin. This is probably Reo's lowest point in the entire story IMO. Nagi comes up to compliment him on his plays and Reo shows us another classic borderline move: he's anticipating how bad it's going to hurt to be abandoned by Nagi again, so he's trying to push him away before it can happen. We see the dichotomy of his spoken words and inner thoughts here, where he's talking big game to Nagi, saying things like 'you clearly don't care about me anymore, you're throwing me away, if you're going to abandon me just do it properly', while internally he's thinking 'I'm the worst, I wish I was dead, please take this bait and break my heart so that I can self destruct in peace'.

i LOVE the visuals during this moment. This is what Reo thinks is his last line of defense, the last thing he can do to preserve any part of his dignity is to make Nagi hate him so that he'll stop throwing these crumbs of affection at him. It's also really telling that despite his switch in behavior and the devaluing of Nagi, the root of all of that is STILL that he was so hurt by the abandonment.

I don't think I need to analyze the suicidal ideation because he just straight up says he wants to die like three times in this scene but, aside from that, the visual of his inner thoughts vs what he's actually saying is so powerful. Not to mention the chameleon imagery which i'll geek out about in a second, this is another example of his black and white thinking along with the reiteration that being abandoned was literally traumatic for Reo: he says they can never go back to what they were before. Speaking as a borderline, this is painfully true. When people break my trust even in a small way, I can never view them the same as I used to. I can forgive them and let it go, but I'll never be as open with them as I once was. In Reo's shoes, he had Nagi up on this pedestal that he was perfect and would never do anything to hurt him, but he did hurt him (in the worst way possible).

After Nagi tells him he's a pain in the ass and that he doesn't care anymore, Reo thanks him for 'finishing him off'. In his mind, they're done now and he can suffer in peace and quiet without dragging Nagi down anymore.

Bonus Point: The Chameleon Effect

I LOVE THE FACT THAT HIS THING IS CHAMELEONS AHHHH

The chameleon imagery with Reo makes me INSANE dude. As I mentioned towards the beginning of this post, a part of borderline that is seldom talked about is the tendency to take on 'the chameleon effect', or mirror the people around them. REO'S ENTIRE THING IS CHAMELEONS LIKE BFFR ?? That image where he was trying to get Nagi to hate him, was before he even started using his chameleon style, it was just something the authors thought was necessary to include during Reo's mental breakdown. Aside from the cool imagery, his chameleon style is a reflection of his relationship with Nagi. He gets called a jack of all trades and a master of none early on in reference to how when he’s without Nagi, hes not really exceptional at anything. He never really took the time to master one specific thing because he was always so concerned with helping Nagi. This rings my BPD bell for a couple reasons: first of all, when you have no sense of identity and you’re worried it means you have no real personality ?? Steal one!! Take the closest person to you and copy that one. That’s something us baddies know VERY well. Also, think there’s something about you that your fp doesn’t like? Change it! You can morph into anything they want as long as it means they won’t leave you !! :*) Before he makes up with Nagi, he copies moves in hopes that it'll make him stronger and appear more desirable to Nagi. After they make up, he copies whoever he has to so that he can get Nagi to that goal and make himself useful, make himself somebody that Nagi wants to have around. It is a literal direct metaphor for him changing anything and everything about himself for Nagi and graaaahhhh it’s so cool

Reonagi ?? Some thoughts-

I want to close this yap session with my thoughts on Reonagi as a ship. I do think that they can work and I want to make that clear. I'm not on board with the 'borderlines arent capable of having loving and fulfilling relationships' crap. That being said, they both have to put in a bit of effort. Reo has already recognized a lot of his own issues. He admits that he was wrong for pushing his ideals onto Nagi, that he needs to let Nagi grow and be his own person, etc. Nagi really hasn't accepted any fault. I stand by the fact that Nagi needs to be more sensitive with Reo. Way too often when a relationship like this fails, all the blame is put on the one with borderline. I'm gonna be the outlier here and say that if Nagi cares about Reo, he needs to learn about Reo's triggers and be mindful of them. I'm not saying that since Reo is sensitive to abandonment that Nagi should just isolate himself from everybody else, but what I am saying is that when he's going to do something that doesn't involve Reo, he needs to learn how to communicate that he still loves and values Reo. "I'm gonna go play soccer with this person right now, but I haven't forgotten about our promise. When I come back, we can play together. I still love you and I'm not going to leave you for whoever tf I'm playing with rn." (sneaking that 'i love you' in bc like..they're literally canon at this point asdfghjkll) But, I do think that Nagi loves Reo and cares about him in his own way. The two of them just have to keep working on their communication skills. Nagi has the potential to have a hot rich husband who will literally bend over backward for him and buy him all the robux he could ever want, he's gotta put in a shred of effort!

I also like to think that Nagi didn’t totally get the fact that Reo doesn’t gaf about just playing soccer. Nagi thinks soccer is what they do together, it’s what makes reo happy, right? He’s always pushing him to train harder and take the game more seriously because he likes the sport, RIGHT? It would make perfect sense to go play with isagi so that he can get better at soccer and come back to reo a more improved player. Maybe that’s why he was surprised when Reo was so mad in the bathhouse, bc he wasn’t making the connection that Reo cares more about him than soccer. That Reo puts all that energy into him playing soccer because he thinks it’s something that they can have as their own, and once Nagi notices how good he is, he’ll start enjoying it and the two of them can hold hands and run around the soccer pitch!! I think Nagi missed that part tbh, and I don’t think he know that even now in the story. Maybe Reo doesn’t even notice it.

Anyway, a shameless plug to my reonagi playlist if that's your thing (i cooked with this one, i fear) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CsvSqmuI4cxOl1nTaV4GJ?si=737a0f21e0bd482a

Closing Thoughts:

Reo is a bpd baddie and I love him very much. I think he's a sensitive guy with a lot of feelings who would benefit from taking time to work through his trauma and his emotions. I hope that he eventually is able to build an identity for himself that doesn't involve Nagi, but baby steps, I suppose. I think Reo is a great balance of positive and negative borderline traits and he reads as a really believable and sympathetic character. He is, however, definitely that friend that you have to slap to stop them from running back to their ex.

Jokes aside though, BPD can be extremely hard to live with, even more so when it's undiagnosed and untreated. If someone you love has BPD, take the time to read up on it and do your best to understand them. I promise you, it will mean the world to them.

If you managed to get this far, thank you for reading! This was a messy stream of consciousness and I appreciate your support by listening.

#blue lock #reo mikage #reonagi #nagireo #nagi seishiro #bpd

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brotherblaze · 10 months

Text

weedkiller —miguel o'hara

summary: LYLA likes categorizing what you and Miguel have as 'too close to be friends' because Miguel doesn't let his friends make themselves at home in his office.

word count: 2,2k

warnings: n/a

a/n: thank you @starrysatoru for listening to me ramble about Miguel & lyla and all the other wips i infodump at you🥹

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Not now, LYLA.”

LYLA scrunches her nose at Miguel’s dismissal. She’s hovering over his shoulder while he’s discussing (more like lecturing) the matter of not letting a villain blow up the Parliament, no matter how shitty the British institution. Hobie doesn’t seem all that enthused about what Miguel thinks. Gwen just looks like she’s hoping for the ground to swallow her whole.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything interesting anyway,” LYLA cuts in with as much passive-aggressiveness as she can find in her code and makes a note to ask if it can be dialed up. “Just that Anti-Venom’s day ended like an hour ago.”

Miguel cuts himself off mid-sentence and his eyes shoot to the clock LYLA is oh-so helpfully projecting for him. She revels in seeing the panic blooming in his eyes, the stuttering of his vitals, and the subtle hitch in his breathing.

He’s beyond late to pick you up.

“Where are they now?” He’s scrambling for something. Something that doesn’t make it seem like he forgot. She can’t wait to see where this goes next.

“On the elevator.” LYLA jerks her head towards the door. This might be the closest thing to glee she’ll ever get to experience so she makes sure to soak up every moment.

Miguel runs a hand down his face. The sigh that escapes him rattles his whole frame and she takes a snapshot of the moment to tuck away for the future.

“Call one of the reserved spider-bots. I want it up here ASAP.”

“Wow, you’re really buying their forgiveness with imported candy? Wanna get a white van while you’re at it, too?” She raises a brow, arms crossed over her chest like she hadn’t set a spider-bot on hold the moment Miguel first dismissed her. Because she’s an amazing assistant who gets her boss out of trouble.

“LYLA!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off like he’s a pest. She’d hauled ass to get those candies imported and now Miguel is using them as apology fodder because he dismissed LYLA’s routine reminder that your day was ending at exactly 5:45 PM.

Come next semester, she considers invading your university’s system and redoing the class schedules to maximize your time at HQ just to get Miguel to chill.

The door slides open and you pause in the doorway when you notice Miguel is not alone. Your fingers tighten around the edges of the pizza box in your hands. “Should I come back later?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Miguel motions you inside and you allow the long metal arm sprouting from the ceiling to wrap itself around your waist. It carries you over the room to Miguel like a very disgruntled cat and he holds his hand out to help you balance when you’re deposited on the podium next to him. “Why didn’t you call?”

“LYLA said you were busy.” You sink into your usual chair and place the pizza box on your lap. It’s still warm. “She also said you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Miguel sends LYLA a look. She sticks her tongue out at him.

You clear your throat to disengage them and hand Miguel a slice of pizza between a napkin.

“Gracias, mi luz.” He motions towards your captive audience with his free hand. “Hobie, Earth-138. You’ve met Gwen.”

You hum. “Again with the numbers.”

“How do you hate numbers, you’re studying programming.”

“You’d be surprised.” You wave to Gwen and Hobie. “Nice to meet you.”

Gwen waves back while Hobie merely nods in greeting.

“How’s a wanker like him know someone like you?” Hobie asks—he’s immediately jabbed in the ribs by Gwen’s elbow and a hiss of ‘stop’ under her breath.

You raise a brow.

“That a compliment or an insult?”

Hobie shrugs.

“Oye,” Miguel warns. You jab your foot against his shin.

“Alchemax,” you say. “I used to intern there when I was still studying biochem. Didn’t work out so I no longer intern there.”

“Uh, so, what do you do now? If I may ask.” Gwen hastily adds that last part like she doesn’t want to bother you. Her movements are jerky. She’s nervous. You look at Miguel and raise a brow, then turn back to Gwen.

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” LYLA whispers into his ear. Miguel swats her away.

“I study programming.” You jerk your head towards Miguel. “My first-year internships used to run until what, 11 PM, midnight-ish? And he didn’t want me going home alone that late, so he picked me up. Then we kept doing it for convenience’s sake.”

“And today he forgot.” Hobie shakes his head with a tsk. “Ignored the A.I., actually, by the way. Deplorable.” He looks towards Miguel. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

All eyes turn to Miguel. He glares back at Hobie. “I’m not explaining myself to a 12-year-old.”

You snort. “Remember that one jackass who threw a tantrum when I told him I was the intern and not the babysitter?” You look back down and hold out your hands, palms facing the ground. “Literally on his hands and knees crying in the middle of the hallway while his kid is standing there watching—god, I wish I had pictures.”

Miguel covers his mouth with a closed fist to hide the chuckle that escapes him. “His wife was divorcing him, by the way.”

Now you actually laugh. “I would’ve too.”

Miguel looks at the spiderlings below. “Fill out your mission reports by tonight. And no more blowing up the Parliament. You’re dismissed.”

Hobie opens his mouth to say something but Gwen has him by the scruff of his jacket before he has a chance to voice his opinion and quickly drags him out of the room. The door slides shut behind them and silence fills the room. It’s not uncomfortable by any means, both of you working on devouring your slice of pizza.

Even LYLA is sitting on your lap, munching on her own little pixelated slice of pizza.

“By the way,” you begin through a mouthful. You pause and swallow before continuing, “You busy tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet.” He reaches to pick up another slice and you watch him devour it in three bites.

“Dude, are you even enjoying the food?” You deadpan. “I just… realized I haven’t seen so many old horror movies, and I wanna watch them. But not alone.”

“Scared?” He raises an eyebrow, wiping his fingers in a napkin.

“No. Just kinda lame to watch them alone. Was thinking of like, Carrie, maybe—speaking of horror movies: what’s stopping you from dressing like 80s horror movie hunks?” You rest your elbow on the chair armrest and your chin against your knuckles. One leg is sprawled out to chase off the oncoming pins and needles.

“What?”

“A nice crop top, short shorts, or low-rise jeans…” You shrug your shoulders but don’t look away from him.

“I’m 6’9”, do you know what a pain in the ass buying pants is?”

“So? Just saying you’d look really good.” You allow your eyes to slowly slide down his body and then back up again. “Like,” you begin again, almost breathlessly, “really, really good.”

“Yeah?” He leans over you, one hand on his hip, the other gripping the back of your chair. “You think so?”

Your mouth dries up abruptly and swallowing feels like someone’s scooped sand into your mouth. So, you only hum.

“What, cat got your tongue?” His voice has dropped and you can feel the warmth he radiates.

“Yeah.” Your voice cracks and heat floods into your face and you feel like you’re a volcano about to erupt. There’s a hollowness in your chest, a fuzzy, messy ball of feelings bouncing around your ribcage, and a tingle in your right leg and—

Oh, that’s a pinched nerve, not oncoming pins and needles, you belatedly realize. You tap on Miguel’s wrist to push it off the chair’s backrest and let it fall flat to allow sprawling out for comfort.

“You okay?” Miguel asks, hovering over your newly acquired horizontal position. You wince.

“Nerve pain again.”

“LYLA, have the infirmary send a heat pack up.”

“On it.” She materializes on your chest and suddenly you realize you hadn’t seen her blink away.

Miguel crouches next to your chair, fingers hovering over your skin. “Where does it hurt?”

“Hip.” You tap the spot with a finger, then return to willing the pain away until the heat pack arrives. Whoever said mind over matter better be right.

“Well, considering I’ve seen you sleep like a pretzel…”

“You sleep on your back like the fucking dead, dude.”

Miguel gently presses his fingers against your hip and the fabric of your jeans melts away enough for him to reach skin. His hand is warm. “Symbiote as pants,” he states, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards. “That’s new.”

“Now, which one of us uses unstable molecule fabric as their whole spider-suit?” You let your eyes flutter shut, taking slow, deep breaths to cope with the stabbing pain under your skin. “Plus, this is the one pair of white pants in the whole world that will never get dirty, or be see-through.”

“Oh yeah,” LYLA appears again, as if she’s remembering something important, “hey, Miguel? I could use a new outfit.”

“What?” Miguel tears his eyes from you to look at his A.I. assistant like she’s grown a second head. For a moment, LYLA entertains the idea of having you modify her code to make that possible.

“Or seven.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Y’know what, the more the merrier.”

“You can just download them off the internet.”

“So?”

“I’m busy; I can’t just drop everything to give you new clothes when you can do it yourself.”

“But you do it so well!”

“LYLA—”

“Good boys who do what their A.I. asks get rewarded.” LYLA holds up a finger. “Now, shh, listen.”

She begins a list of items she would like, specifying colors and patterns, accessories—even a car. You stifle your laughter at her demands and glance toward Miguel. Despite his grumpy demeanor, you know he’s listening intently, interjecting every now and then for clarification.

It’s reminiscent of the Miguel you knew before he became Spider-Man. The man who had lunch with you at Alchemax (even though you were just a lowly intern) and who listened to you talk about the chemical compounds Venom and its siblings and offsprings produced without rudely interrupting. Even now, in the midst of his verbal sparring-turned-hostage situation, there’s the ghost of a smile creeping up on his features.

You’re drawn from the reverie when the sound of spider-bots skittering across the floor draws your attention. One parks next to Miguel and opens the container on its back. Miguel grabs the heatpack and presses it against your hip. Anti-Venom forms around it, keeping it glued to your side. One of the metal arms hanging from the ceiling collects the empty pizza box from your lap.

A second spider-bot parks in front of you once your chair is upright again and you slide off, kneeling on front of the bot on the floor. The hatch in its back opens with a chirp, exposing a handful of colorfully wrapped candies. All familiar.

“You had them imported all the way here?” You reach in and retrieve the candy, staring at the collection in your hand as if it’s the 8th wonder of the world. “I—I never even thought of checking if they export.” When you look up, Miguel is avoiding your gaze. The tips of his ears are burning, as indicated by LYLA on your Gizmo.

“He spent an ungodly amount of time agonizing over what flavors to get.”

“LYLA.” Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, effectively hiding his whole face from you.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t look at you but he does grunt out an acknowledgment.

The silence that follows feels a little prickly and you frown. Not prickly, per se, but… awkward, maybe.

“Are you uh…” you lick your lips and nod toward the screens hovering a few feet away. “Do you have work you have to get back to? ‘Cause I should get on with my homework.”

“Oh, uh—” Miguel glances back at the screens as you stand, pocketing the candy in your hand. “Yeah. I’ll drop you off.”

“Can I maybe stay?” You venture to ask. “Watch you work when I’m done?”

“You… want to watch me work?” You nod. “You’ll get bored.”

“But you look so pretty when you’re doing stuff I don’t understand.”

Heat floods your face and you clamp your jaw shut. You’re sure your heart skips several beats at once and suddenly you’re praying to be sent to the infirmary. No such luck and so, you slowly lower yourself onto your usual chair again to get on with your homework.

Miguel opens and closes his mouth a few times like a gaping fish before he finally closes it. A few beats of silence and then—

“Tú serás mi muerte,” he mumbles as he returns to whatever he does with the million screens he always has open. Maybe you should ask one day, but not this day.

LYLA appears in front of you, glowing a warm yellow. Maybe she should’ve asked for a new display color, too. She stares at you over her pink heart-shaped frames.

“Wow, smooth.”

part two.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider verse #across the spider verse x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n

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ineffable-suffering · 8 months

Text

I'm back with another Good Omens meta in which I'm gonna scream about This Shot now because otherwise I might go insane:

Everything. Every single thing about this shot is so telling and painful and perfect. So, let's break it down before I loose my blessed mind.

LIGHTING

Notice the very obvious, massive ray of light shining in from the top right corner? At first glance, it might seem like it's coming from the window but really, the angle is completely off, the outside is way gloomier than the inside and it seems like it's actually coming from the skylight. The literal one and, mayhaps, also the metaphorical Heavenly one? *winks at you with both eyes*

PLACEMENT

In addition to the source of the Mysterious Ray Of Light being quite the obvious reference to Heaven: it also shines directly onto the heavenly array in the bookshop. The very array Aziraphale used to try and talk to God in S1. And who is standing in the dead middle of it? That's right. The fucking Metatron. Just like all the way back before the End of the World. Appearing to Aziraphale albeit not being called upon. Parallel much?

Aziraphale on the other hand, is not even close to being in the middle of it. Neither the array nor the ray of light. He's standing at the very edge of it, still distraught down to his angelic bones, completely cast into the shade. Despite being the one closer to the camera (= us, the audience), he still draws our eyes in less than the Metatron. It gives us a very clear image of which one of the two of them is currently dominating the shot and also the conversation.

The bookshop is Aziraphale's space, the most Aziraphale space there is. And yet, he's not the one currently owning it. The Metatron's presence is almost making this feel claustrophobic. If we were to draw a line right down the middle of the shot, both him and Aziraphale are crammed into the left side of the picture. Just like in so many shots with Aziraphale and the other (arch)angels, it feels like his space is being invaded, he's beeing crowded against a metaphorical wall, squeezed out of his own comfort zone.

Because that's exactly what the Metatron is doing here, isn't it? It's what Heaven has always done to Aziraphale. Get up all in his business when he leasts wants them to, with nothing but bad intentions and arrogant distain, masked under the hood of feigned corporate politeness. ("You.. you– bad angels!")

BONUS: CROWLEY'S ABSENCE PRESENCE

As we all know, Crowley has already left the bookshop after The K*ss. And he's clearly the missing half to this shot. The Metatron is crowding Aziraphale away from him, away from the door and the window that lead and look outside of the bookshop. Where Crowley is. Where freedom is. Just this once, the bookshop is actually not at all where Aziraphale wants to be. But he's being kept in there by the Metatron, because the choice was never his.

So, we have our clear image: The Metatron backing Aziraphale away from his freedom and what he wants – the metaphorical and literal "right" side (of the shot). And what do we see in the background, on that very right side? The horse statue Crowley always puts his sunglasses on. Look at her, there she is:

In S2E1, right when Crowley and Aziraphale get back from Nina's café to the bookshop (with the damn Eccles cakes), he puts his sunglasses very obviously atop the horse statue ...

... and then takes them again when leaving the bookshop.

It literally gets its own close up shot. It tells us: Crowley feels safe in the bookshop. Crowley feels safe with Aziraphale. This is his home just as much as it is the angel's. And I don't have to tell you about the metaphore of him putting the glasses back on once he realizes he has lost Aziraphale to Heaven. (In addition, I categorically refuse to talk about the way Aziraphale looks at him when he does it.)

So, the horse statue being on this side of the shot –– the side that Aziraphale actually so desperately wants to be on right now (their own side) but is being kept from –– is just beyond symbolical.

Because just like the statue representing him, Crowley is still there. He's waiting. Right outside the shop, by the Bentley. He's there. He'll always be there. He just can't come with this time. Not to Heaven. Not after how he just laid himself bare after 6000 years of wearing his bloody metaphorical sunglasses like a battle armour, and was left hanging just like his shades on the god damn horse statue.

Literally me right now:

#my heart = broken #why is everything a fucking metaphore in this show #i cant with this show #aziraphale's bookshop #crowley's sunglasses #and the 3490583049 parallels #metatron #aziraphale #crowley #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #go2 #gos2 #ineffable husbands #go2 spoilers #good omens meta #good omens #my own meta

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multifandomwhore-003 · 1 year

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Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned

Pairing: gf! Ethan Landry x female! reader

Summary: He would do anything for you.

Genre(s): angst, just pure angst.

Warnings: SCREAM VI SPOILERS, obsession, very graphic descriptions of k*lling, inj*ring, bl*od, a lot of yelling, a lot of violence.

Taglist: @bratty-lxndry444 @melancholy-avi , join here :)

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗

REQUESTS CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Reblog if you like

"Baby, baby," he whispered, tears menacing to come out.

You covered your face, shaky hands hesitantly touching your forehead, "Ethan, please-" you took a step back.

He followed you, like he had promised himself he would, making it a vow, a blind devotee, pledged fervor and intensity since the first night he followed you home. He traced your shoulders with his fingers, a hopeless attempt at soothing you.

"No, no-" you took a shaky breath, "I-"

"Baby-"

"No, Ethan, I need to fucking think! Please! I shouldn't have to ask you for a fucking minute!" you spat, voice cracking.

He returned to the couch, perfectly still, he couldn't leave, he never would. Ethan never thought he'd felt fear with you, no matter how many douchebags flirted with you, how many people you had slept with before, the negative opinions people who never learned to mind their own business had, or the extensive periods of time you'd go without seeing one another, he had never doubted your relationship, your bond, he had never been afraid to lose you. It was new, the uncertainty, the mistrust, the anxiety, the dilemma; he was not appealed to the idea of new, not after all the changes his life had gone through in the blink of an eye.

He had chosen you, it wasn't chance, or a senseless coincidence, out of all the people he categorized as appealing, you were seamlessly outstanding, he made you more than the pretty girl from Econ who couldn't keep opinions to herself, he made you his fate, his and his only. He couldn't take credit in shaping you, however, he did crumble to how perfect you were, how flawlessly you filled his every need, a dangerous temptation with the sweetest of embraces. He couldn't afford to lose you, not now, not ever, he would never be able to get such luck, he was never a religious young man, but he felt blessed, and without a question, he would delightedly kneel before you.

"How?"

He turned to you, noticing your quiet sobs.

"How did you do it?" you sniffed.

He gulped, "You saw the news,"

"Yes, I saw the goddamn news Ethan, but I want to hear it from you, with that same confidence that you admitted it, I deserve to know!" you banged your hand on the kitchen counter, "It's the least you can fucking do! The whole fucking truth! I don't care how gross or violent it might sound! We both know you're not ashamed of it, so you better not fucking lie to me, I deserve the truth!"

He corrected his posture, "I took the knife from-"

"No!" you rushed to the living room, "I said everything! When did you decide to kill him?"

He had never seen you in such a way, so angry, so free; he had no choice, but to confess, "When he first whistled at you," he clenched his jaw, "I held back because you told me that you were gonna handle it, but you never did," he relived the frustration, "You knew the school wasn't gonna do anything, and you lied about everything else, so when I found the picture on your phone, I lost it, I followed him home as many times as I needed to memorize his routine, and last night I just-" he slightly grinned through the salty fluid, "I knew he didn't deserve a quick death, so I just began to cut him, until he had no blood to fight, I castrated him, something his parents should've done in the first place," he chuckled, "And to finish it off, I just chopped his head into nothing but paste,"

You looked at the ceiling, "And you-" you winced, "You did this for me?"

"I would do anything for you," he tilted his head.

You nodded as you returned to the kitchen, weakly filled a glass with water, and then drank from it, drowning the urge to feel nausea. You didn't notice when he suddenly was less than three feet away, you almost jumped at his sight.

The room had finally gone silent, nothing to be said, nothing to be thought, just raw suspense. He observed you wiping the runny mascara, hiccuping with every inhale, and almost whining with every exhale, washing the container, and drying your hands, trembling every second like a stray under the rain.

You came close, placed yourself on top of the counter to match his height, grabbed his hands timidly, as if you had never held them before, and cried more at the mere thought of what they can do, there was no point in having remorse anymore, so you simply began to bawl; but even then, you kissed his palms delicately rubbing them after, and guided them to hold your face. You finally met his terrified eyes with your red and puffy ones, trembling fingers crept to his brunette curls, reverently caressing them. You leaned in to peck his lips, testing, they felt so warm, tasted so delicious, you repeated your action, and this time he corresponded.

You had never kissed him with such passion, with such sincerity it almost felt like worship; his right hand hugged your waist, he wanted you, all of you simply in contact with this skin-wrapped vessel of his that was the only thing he could ever be allowed to hold you with.

"Please forgive me," he moaned into the kiss, "I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry,"

He dried your tears with his rough thumbs, out of all the wicked things in his life, you were the best one, the most utterly divine one.

You didn't think it would be possible, but you broke again, you hated every inch of yourself, and almost felt disgusted by it, you weren't mad at him, you never were, you just wanted a reason to withdraw, but you couldn't, now that you knew everything you still loved him, all of it. There was no way back now, no second thoughts, no doubts, just a corrupted girl at his mercy, waiting, patiently waiting for the conflagration, you were ruined by him, for him. Your dearest sin.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream 6 spoilers #scream vi spoilers #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry angst

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gaylordscooter · 2 months

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Say Goodbye to Your Name

Ever since the twins fought, the guardian of negativity made it his goal to ruin the balance. He didn't care which way it went at first, but he was feeling awfully sluggish recently as it tipped in favor of positivity.

His brother was giving it his all to make everyone happy. Everyone but him.

He was always like that.

Figures that they would be programmed to feel the need to keep the balance, but he had a thought: if he powered himself using only a few people, how would that affect the balance?

He's noticed how proximity affects their energy. Being physically near someone who’s feeling happy or sad affects him more than the infinite multiverse does. He presumed proximity gives them easier access, therefore more energy.

Still, one person wouldn't be enough to fulfill the quota. Besides, one person could only give so much negativity before running out, and it would be hard to give them a break without companionship. Maybe if he got multiple that disliked each other he wouldn't even need to do anything.

Three sounded like a good number. It was odd and meant they couldn't split up into pairs. Pairs would be annoying to keep track of. He would want them all to stick together when he puts them through…

Put them through what? Torture? Torment?

Nightmares.

Now that was a nice word. He remembered his brother explaining to him what those were after helping people get over a particularly bad one.

He didn't know that he was the one that caused them.

It wasn't out of malice, he was keeping the balance like he wanted him to. Like the multiverse wanted him to.

Besides, without a nightmare every once in a while, they wouldn't be able to fully appreciate good dreams.

But of course, even when he was doing his job, he was doing something wrong.

As for which people to power himself with…He already had a vague idea.

There were three prominent sources of negativity coming from different universes. Not once have they faltered even with all of his brother’s meddling.

They’d need a place to stay. A big building where all of them can live. Perhaps a mansion or castle.

As for where it would be located, he already stayed in a pocket of the Antivoid which was far away from Error’s.

With a wave of the hand he created a forest and a castle. It was more of an illusion than an actual building, but when it felt and looked like a building, what difference did it make if it wasn't “real”?

And now for actually rounding them up.

Something New was the first universe he went to. He wasn't sure how the naming schemes of the universes worked, he assumed that the Ink guy was the one naming them all, maybe for categorizing.

The world was empty save for one lone skeleton.

He always hated the feeling of loneliness.

It didn’t take long for him to find him, with only one person in the universe he might as well have a target over his head.

He was, predictably, in his room at Snowdin, currently playing a game on his computer.

He was talking aloud, whether to himself or to someone, he wasn't sure but he bet on the former.

“sans, turn around there's some weird octopus thing behind you,” he read the text on his screen aloud. He chuckled and continued tapping away at his keyboard. “you’re not distracting me that easily.” He frowned as he scanned over the words on the screen. “chat, you’ve tried doing this before you're not gonna get me…” he trailed off as the guardian entered his peripheral vision. He choked out a nervous laugh, tearing off his LED cat-eared headphones as he swiveled his chair towards the being.

“Hello,” it said.

Was this some fun event no one’s ever documented before? No, there was something off about this code, it didn’t match with the rest of the game. The coding language wasn’t anything familiar.

Great, not even the anomaly was familiar with whatever this thing was.

“hey,” he greeted.

The creature scanned the room, its many tentacles flicked around the floor like they had brains of their own. He wasn’t sure where the thing’s cloak started and tentacles began, or maybe they were the same thing. Its singular cyan eye looked akin to a human’s eye flipped vertically. At first glance it looks pitch black, but the tar surrounding it has a slight blue-green tinge to it. Its hands, however, were bright cyan like its eye and looked skeletal.

“You’re all alone,” it said.

“yup.”

“Your world is of no use to you anymore,” it said.

“uh.”

Its head leaned closer with its eye piercing at his empty sockets. Some of the tar on its face melted away, revealing a sharp grin of cyan teeth.

Funnily enough, he couldn’t feel the presence of the anomaly right now.

He decided to place his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned his head against his hand. He exaggeratedly moved his head up and down to show that he was looking it over.

“you’re kinda hot.”

As expected, the thing reeled back.

It looked to the side, hiding its mouth once more and clasping its hands together. All its tentacles curled against its body. Was it flustered?

A moment later it composed itself, moving its hands to its back and straightening its body to full height.

He had to move his head up to make eye contact.

“You can leave this world, if you come with me,” it offered.

“wait, actually?” He perked up, believing he heard wrong. Wait, what did “leave this world” mean? Like, die? Is this thing Death?

“I have a place for you to stay, in another universe. It’ll have all things vital for a mortal like you, shelter, food, water.”

Freedom from this hell? It was highly likely the anomaly wouldn’t be able to follow him. That sounded too good to be true.

He quirked a brow bone. “what’s the catch?”

“There will be two others living with you. You will not be able to return here. I will be feeding off your negativity.”

Well he didn’t mind those first two—What was that last one?

“huh?”

“Oh, and I forgot to mention,” its arm reached out. Suddenly, it held him up by the collar of his shirt. “You don’t have a choice.”

It tossed him backwards. His back hit the ground roughly, but the texture was all different. The ground was vaguely pointy. When he opened his eye sockets he realized he was lying down on grass.

The sky was blue. He could see the sky.

Was this the surface?

“No, this is not the surface,” the thing said as if it read his mind. Could it read his mind? “But you are not underground either.” A tentacle pointed towards a castle in the distance. “That is where you’ll be staying.”

The castle looked exactly like its owner, dark and imposing. It was like it had it custom made and gave the architects a picture of itself for reference.

He whistled, impressed.

“You’ll have to walk there yourself. I need to get the other two residents you’ll be staying with.” It opened a portal, so that’s how they got here, and stepped through before he could respond.

The next universe he went to was similar in concept to Something New, Dusttale. Like the other one, it was empty and it was easy to locate who he needed. Unlike the other one, he wasn’t sitting around in his room, but aimlessly wandering around the Snowdin forest.

Something was off, he thought. He would walk here everyday. This time he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

YOU’VE LOST IT.

He lost it a long time ago, but he's never felt like this.

YOU CAN ALWAYS BREAK SHARDS INTO SMALLER PIECES.

True, but he was inclined to believe something was there. So of course he was on guard.

I WOULDN’T EXPECT YOU TO ACT RATIONALLY ANYWAY.

He stepped over a branch on the ground to avoid tripping. It was habitual, maybe he should move that branch to the side, or change his path, but he's never been good at change.

He was reaching the end of the forest.

Snap.

The branch broke.

He turned around, summoning two gaster blasters by his side and a wave of bones at the direction of the noise.

He heard the bones hit something. It made a squelch noise as if it pierced through viscous mud.

And then he saw what it hit.

YOU’VE LOST IT.

He was inclined to believe that.

“Rude, aren’t we?” Its voice caught him off guard. Really, hearing any voice other than his or Papyrus’s would've caught him off guard but on top of that, this one sounded otherworldly.

He refused to speak. The sound of his own voice reminded him too much of who he used to be, of what he lost.

The being melted into the ground. He almost thought he killed it, and then it rose up by his side a moment later.

“Quiet too,” it hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll just get this over with, then.” It opened a portal next to them.

Before he could move away, one of its tentacles grabbed him by the shin.

“I am taking you to a different universe. There will be another person there and he is not as hardy as I am. Do not attack him.” It squeezed his shin tightly as a warning.

A different universe?

He was dragged through the portal. The thing didn't follow him, however. The sight of grass and a blue sky threw him for a loop and the other skeleton that looked like him did not help.

The third and last universe was much different than the other two, Horrortale. It was still populated, unlike the others. It was harder to locate who he needed, but again, he was in Snowdin. This time he was at one of his sentry stations.

The spike in his fear when he saw him gave him a rush.

“Hello there.”

The Sans immediately attacked like the one before. A row of sharpened bones burst out of the ground and impaled him, but much to his dismay, it didn't stop him at all from getting closer.

In fact, the bones impaling him were dissolved by the slime covering him.

“Your life here is so drab, isn't that right?”

“you gonna kill me?” he grumbled.

“Quite the contrary. I’m here to give you a new life. It's not like you'll miss the old one, anyway.”

His sockets widened in terror. There was sweat beading on his forehead as his hand scratched at the counter of his stand. “what the hell are you talking about? that's not—”

“—possible?” he cut him off, mimicking the other skeleton’s voice. He laughed, his voice gradually changing back to his own. “Don’t believe me? That's okay, it'll happen regardless.”

A portal opened behind the Sans.

“you can't. i can't just leave my friends—”

Another laugh cut him off. “Friends?! What friends? Oh, the people that you manipulated? Or the people who are the reason why you have that gaping hole in your skull?”

“how the fuck do you know about that?” he snarled.

“Your guilty conscience is so loud, it told me itself,” he sneered. “Come on, don't you want to leave this hell? You’ll have food—of good quality too. You won’t have to worry about going hungry ever again, and it won't be human meat. Doesn't that sound nice? Don't you miss eating?” To give him an example, he summoned a plate of freshly cooked steak on the counter.

Sans’s attention immediately snapped to the food in front of him. The smell was intoxicating. He couldn't help but drool. He could feel his metaphorical stomach screaming at him as his persistent hunger wrenched at his soul.

When's the last time he’s seen steak like this?

His body moved on his own. He lunged. He tore at the steak like a fucking animal. The second he swallowed the first bite, the logical part of his mind took over and he stopped as soon as he started.

“You have more willpower than I thought you did. Stopping yourself after having one bite? I expected you to down the whole thing.”

He gripped at the counter with both of his stained hands, cracking the wood beneath his phalanges. “i’m not some mindless animal,” he retorted.

“Yes, perhaps, but you're a moment away from becoming one. If I left and came back a few years later, would you even be able to hold a conversation with me?”

He didn't reply. He tapped on the counter, irritated.

“You don’t know.”

He gritted his teeth. His smile was strained and stained red.

“And that terrifies you.”

He was trembling.

The guardian shoved him into the portal before he could say anything.

The Sans landed on his back on the grass. The blue sky was as startling as it was to the other two.

Speaking of the other two, they were currently at each other's throats. Scorch marks from gaster blasters and broken pieces of bones littered the grass.

He looked down at the third one. “Welcome to your new home.”

He said nothing, as if he was in shock like a bird that crashed into a window.

Two of his tentacles lashed out to grab and lift the other two by their necks. He brought them closer to him. “I told you not to attack him,” he said to the hooded one.

The third one watched nervously, staying completely still as if moving meant joining those two up there.

The other one laughed, filling the hooded one’s silence. “what nice company we have here. sans one two and three.”

The guardian hummed at his comment. He put the skeletons down before they ran out of breath—could they even run out of breath? Perhaps not. “I will need to give you new names,” he concluded.

The one from Something New, scoffed, “nah, i’m not letting you name me. just call me…killer.”

“Killer,” he repeated. “How fitting.”

Killer shrugged, “if it works, it works.”

“new names. new names?!”

“now red-eye over there should be called crack-head.”

“very creative,” Crack-head deadpanned.

No, that was a dumb name.

“Horror,” he decided. He pointed at the hooded one, “Dust.”

Naming them off of their universes was basic, yes, but they didn't need a name with any thought put into it. In fact, it was better to put as little thought as possible into them.

“great, i’m yanked outta home, surrounded by alternate versions of myself, and now i’m being stripped of my identity. what’s next, you gonna torture us?” Horror complained.

The guardian smiled impossibly wide. “Funny you say that.”

Horror looked unimpressed.

“and what’s your name, huh?” Killer questioned, looking the guardian in the eye.

His name? He didn't recall having one. There was no one to give him a name, but as Killer demonstrated, one could name themself.

He decided to go with the most pleasing word to him.

“Refer to me—as Nightmare.”

“ok, edgelord,” Killer snickered.

He impaled Killer through the chest, narrowly missing his soul, with a sharpened tentacle.

He choked out and staggered, only being kept upright by the tendril impaling him.

The other two's wariness shot up.

Killer fully expected to die right there, but he had a fraction of HP left. It was a calculated hit. If he wanted him dead he would be.

“what the fuck?” he hissed out.

“That's not my name,” Nightmare growled.

“ok ok, sheesh, nightmare!” he shouted with desperation.

The tentacle withdrew. Killer couldn't suppress his scream in pain as he collapsed to his knees.

Horror had a clear grimace, while Dust’s expression was obscured by his hood.

Killer’s breathing was labored and sporadic.

“You can be as insufferable as you want to be, Killer. Just be prepared to live with the consequences,” he said coldly. “Let me make this clear for you all, your old lives are forfeit, your new home is here at the castle, I will provide you with all the necessities, and I will put you through horrible scenarios for my entertainment.”

If it wasn't for the fact he just impaled Killer mercilessly, that last sentence would make them laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“The first scenario—starts right now.” He raised his arms up and lurid black fog overtook the area, obscuring their vision.

It didn't take long for the fog to do its job. He felt their misery rise in mere moments. The fog in question was a party trick of his; it allowed him to send people into a nightmare of their own making while awake.

He watched as the three struggled and fought against nothing. He could hear one of them arguing, saying something about his eye. The other two were completely silent, blindly throwing attacks at the fog.

He dispelled the fog once he got bored, which didn't take that long. The three passed out once the area was clear. He rolled his eye and opened portals beneath them to send them straight to their new rooms.

This would work, he thought. He already felt better, but he wanted to make this more fun. Using his fog was too cheap and would get old quickly. He’ll brainstorm ideas while they get accustomed to the place.

Horror awoke. He was in an unfamiliar room that was fancifully decorated. He was currently on a bed that seemed like it was worth more than his entire house.

Oh, and he also felt awful. He had a painful headache from whatever the fuck Nightmare did to them. In a way, this was like a personal hell for him. Was this the world’s way of making him repent for all he's done? He wasn't remotely a religious person, but at this point he didn't doubt it.

He caught sight of a slice of pie on the floor. It almost reminded him of one of Toriel’s. He knew better than to eat it, despite his nonexistent stomach’s complaints.

He took the risk of exploring, exiting the room cautiously.

He entered a long hallway. There were five doors in total, three along one of the walls and two at each end. It was relatively dark with the lack of windows. The dim blue flames from the candles along the wall were the only light source.

Killer was also in the hall, currently eating a slice of pie.

“are you crazy?!” Horror blurted, startling the skeleton.

“fuck man!” he jumped, “warn a guy before shouting.” He took another bite of the pie with no regards to if it was poisoned or wherever the hell it came from.

“you're just eating random food on the ground? who knows what it'll do.”

“bud, i was at low HP and saw a delicious slice of pie. of course i’m gonna eat it, poison be damned,” Killer replied without a care.

“you were at low HP because of the one supplying you the pie.”

“if he wanted me dead, i��d be dead. he’s givin’ me pie, i’m eating the pie it's simple.” He took another bite as if to support his point.

Horror muttered something Killer couldn't hear. He sighed, “where's the other guy?”

“you mean dust?” He quirked his head.

“you're not actually going to use the names he gave us, are you?” he questioned.

“well, what else? call us all sans and get all confused? or are you jealous i got to name myself while you're stuck with ‘horror’,” he said with his mouth full.

Horror scrunched his face in disgust. He already hated this guy. “as if ‘killer’ is a good name.”

“it's not a good name, it's a killer name,” he smirked.

“that sucked.”

Killer pouted and finished the last of his pie.

The door in between the two opened, and Dust stepped out.

“good morning sleeping beau—”

He shoved Killer against the wall using blue magic.

“woah!” Horror exclaimed and backed up.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. “ok, damn, bad morning, i guess.” Thankfully the plate in his hands was still intact.

“what's your problem?” Horror said.

Dust glared at Horror, his mismatched eyelights catching the other off guard.

Horror realized how high his LV was and realized why Nightmare named him Dust. He raised his hands in defense. “chill out, dude, we ain’t the enemy.”

Killer summoned a bone in his hand and tossed it at Dust, hitting him in the back of the skull. “yeah, dude, chill.”

Dust slammed him into the ground with a loud shatter before releasing the hold on his soul. He tucked his hands into his pockets and walked towards the end of the hall without a word.

Killer pushed himself up to his feet once Dust exited the hall. “that guy’s a dick.” He brushed the broken shards of the plate off his clothes.

In all honesty, Horror could see where Dust was coming from. Killer's proven to be nothing but annoying so far.

Killer looked down at the broken pieces of the plate on the floor. “it wasn't poisoned, by the way. so hah!” He looked in the direction of each end of the hall. “i’m gonna see if this place has a kitchen.” He decided to go to the door opposite of the one Dust went through.

Horror sighed and pinched the bridge of his nasal bone once he was alone in the hallway. There was a lot to process here, but Killer and Dust seemed unfazed by their new predicament. Weren't they going to miss their friends? Or at the very least, their brother?

He was trying his best to keep calm, or at least appear that way. He decided the best course of action now—was to go back to that room and eat that pie.

#utmv fic #the bad sanses #nightmare sans

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

Text

a prayer in perfect piety (homelander x plus-size reader)

originally written as this prompt here. 18+. 5.2k, f!reader, body image, smut. see AO3 Link for detailed tags.

Homelander invites you, his girlfriend, to your first public event as a couple. He's over the moon to show you off to the world, dressed to the nines and utterly smitten with one another. At some point, he loses track of you in the crowd. Confused, he goes looking for you, only to find you crying your eyes out in a bathroom on an entirely different floor.

Someone hurt you, and he's going to put them in their place.

Tonight's gala is a significant one. Not only does Homelander have about a dozen deals to grease with a firm handshake and some oily promises, it's your first time attending one of these events at his side.

He couldn't be prouder.

You took his breath away in your formal wear; a sight to behold that had him clapping his delight. "You're gonna knock them dead," he whispered in your ear, savoring the flustered, breathy way you laughed. Strange now that when he looks for you, Homelander doesn't see you on the event floor. You had gone to get drinks while he spoke with this senator—who has officially lost any and all of his interest in the wake of your disappearance—but you've been gone too long. Like an itch at the back of his neck, something doesn't feel right.

"Ah, apologies, senator, I seem to have misplaced my date," he says, flashing his best award winning smile. "Gimme a minute to find her. Make sure she hasn't gotten herself into any trouble," he says, throwing in a wink for good measure. His pleasant expression falls off as soon as his back is turned to the boring little man. When Homelander doesn't find you on the event floor, he steps out. He listens for you, filtering out the music, the chatter, the noise of the world. He seeks what is familiar to him, what he would know from a meter or a mile away, and what he hears puts a lump of ice into his gut. You're crying . Homelander moves swiftly down the hall, finding the women's bathroom in a heartbeat. You've gone far from the event floor, bypassing the nearer bathroom to use one further away. You're hiding, he realizes, but he can't fathom what from. He moves faster, imagining that you're hurt, that someone has you, that— "Babe?!" Homelander calls sharply, slamming open the door. He doesn't mean to scare you, but he can see in your expression that he did. Your eyes are wide and red, tears trailing black mascara down your cheeks. You stand with your hand lingering on the bathroom sink, and as the shock fades, your expression falters. He's never seen you look so... sad. It twists in him like a hot knife, the discomfort he feels at it turning immediately into rage. Anger comes quickly and easily to him. His voice is low when he demands, "Tell me what happened." "It's nothing," you try to dismiss, picking up the tissues you dropped on the floor to toss them into the garbage. "I just got overwhelmed at the party." "You're crying in a bathroom a floor down from the event, it is categorically not nothing," he argues, taking hold of your arms once he's near enough. He pulls you into him, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face. Thanks to plenty of experience with makeup in film and television, he knows better than to smear the blackened tears on your cheeks, though the impulse to wipe them away is there. "C'mon. Tell me." You lean into him as you always do. He is a pillar, just as you have been for him. He can't stand seeing you like this. "I don't belong here. I don't... talk, or dress, or look like these people. They're all..." You lift your hands, gesturing vaguely. Your voice sounds hoarse. He can't bear the sadness in it. "Perfect." "You have to be kidding me," Homelander says, his disbelief genuine. "The gaggle of sycophants and suits back there? They're insipid. Boring as all hell. I can't even tolerate being in the same room as them without you anymore," he says, huffing a laugh in an attempt to ease your mood. Anything to bring back your smile. "Seriously, what brought this on? You've never given a shit about all that pomp before." Your gaze drops. He knows you're hiding something from him. "Hey, c'mon," he coos, using the knuckle of his index finger to tilt your chin back up. "Tell me, and I will make it better." One way or another. With visible reluctance, you take a breath. "I... went to get a drink, like I said," you begin, fidgeting with the zipper on his glove. "When a group of people kind of cornered me at the bar. They seemed nice at first, they were asking questions about me, about us, which I know you said to expect, but then..."

Your eyes prickle, he can see fresh tears well up as you speak. Homelander slips a hand to your back, rubbing it, his brow furrowed. Sounds like someone's going to die. "One of them commented on my dress, she said that... Vought must not be used to dressing women my size," you say, voice falling quieter with every word. New tears fall. Homelander's jaw tenses. He looks away from you, blinking back that familiar crimson burn.

"They all started laughing, and I just wanted to disappear," you say, a tight little sob escaping your throat as Homelander pulls you in against his chest, rubbing your back. "I'm sorry I didn't-"

"No," Homelander interrupts, his anger making the word sound harsher than he intended. "No," he says again, correcting himself to be gentler. This rage isn't for you, after all. "No apologies. Let's get you cleaned up, alright? Get back out there."

Someone is definitely going to die.

You tense up, pushing back from his arms to look up at him. "Please, I'd really like to just go home."

"We will," he assures you, smoothing his hands up and down your arms. "Soon. I want you to show me the group who spoke to you."

"I don't want to cause a scene," you plead, flattening your hands to his chest. "They're not worth it."

"No, they're not. But you are," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. He holds you firm until he feels you begin to melt, yielding to the warmth of him. “Let me make this better.”

By the time he draws back, you look sufficiently pliant. "Okay," you say quietly. He bites back a predatory smirk. "Nothing too dramatic, please?" You plea, leveling him with an attempt at a firm look, despite your big watery eyes. He’s never been less intimidated in his life, and never more endeared.

"Me? Dramatic?" He asks, feigning outrage.

"I mean it," you stress, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

There it is, Homelander thinks. There is not a single heinous thing he would not do to see you smile. "Relax," he purrs. "I'll handle this."

When the two of you return to the event floor, it only takes you a moment to point out the offending group. With an arm wrapped securely around your waist, Homelander brazenly guides you to them. He feels you squeeze his hand anxiously, but he isn't the least bit deterred. "Heyyy, what's up!" Homelander greets boisterously, bulldozing into their conversation with the friendliest of tone. Only you are wise enough to recognize the venom dripping from the corners of his mouth. His canines glint sharply in the light, eager for a bloody meal. The air is strange, a mixture of drunken excitement and surprised nervousness. It's not every day Homelander himself steps into your conversation. A few of them look at you before they exchange glances, but clearly enough alcohol has been imbibed that they're feeling brave. They don't see the danger they're in.

Homelander runs his tongue along his teeth. Clueless fucking idiots."Homelander, oh my god! I was hoping to run into you," one of the women announces. He can smell the liquor on her breath when she leans in, putting a bold hand on his arm opposite to the one he holds you with. "I'm such a fan, you have no idea. I've seen every one of your movies," she says, flushed giddy. "Always great to meet such a dedicated fan," he says, lying through his teeth. A glance through the material of her bag gives him exactly what he needs; her Vought security badge. She works in communications. "Kathleen, right? In Communications," he says, pointing a finger at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he's just now recalling this information.

"Oh, I-wow, yes! I can't believe you know who I am," she says, glancing back at her companions. "I try to know everyone I work with," he lies smoothly, subtly shrugging her hand off of his shoulder, placing his hand on his hip. Not all of them work for Vought, but all of them have their ID on them. A quick flit of his super powered vision between them is all it takes for him to know each and every one of their names. Homelander cocks his head to the side, giving her a once over. Her dress is richly patterned, a myriad of black, white and red. The belt bears a familiar double C logo.

“Wow, Kathleen, look at you. Chanel, huh? Oh, wait…,” he stops himself, leaning forward to take a better look at the details of the dress. He clicks his tongue, standing straight. “Nooope, I misspoke. Chanel doesn’t bleed. Not a bad knock-off, though,” he says with a brief downturn of his lips, shrugging. Immediately, all eyes fall on Kathleen. There are a couple of stifled giggles and some childish oohh's . The man to her left, seeming eager to play along with Homelander’s little game of Mean Girls, readily chimes in, “Busted.” “I’d be quiet if I were you, Chuck,” Homelander says, rounding on the man so sharply, his laughter falls immediately silent. The shock on his face is understandable. He doesn't work for Vought. Homelander has no right to know his name. “I can smell the red paint on the bottom of those misshapen Johnston & Murphy’s you’re trying to pass off as Louis Vuitton. Now that’s embarrassing.” This time, no one’s laughing. There’s no mirth left in Homelander’s voice, and they've all finally realized it. His gaze is drifting from one potential prey to the next, his mouth set in an unyielding line. He lifts his brows, waiting for them to continue their jeering. “What? No one has anything to say to that? How about you, Jason?” He asks, startling one of the other men. “Why don’t we talk about those fucking ugly veneers of yours? I mean, god damn . I’ve never seen a more square smile in my life. It’s like staring at white slatwall every time you open your mouth.” Homelander begins to laugh. The sound of it is thorned, vicious to behold. “Aww, c’mon, don’t be so fucking sensitive . You wanted to have a laugh at my girl, right? Let’s laugh, then,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to snap his fingers impatiently, demanding, “Laugh!” Like a bark from an obedient dog, a single man amidst the group forces a stilted laugh.

Homelander hones in on him with the precision of a heat seeking missile, dropping his hand. Deadpan, he asks, “Something funny, Jim?”

Jim audibly gulps. “Y-you said-”

"Y'see, that's your problem. You're all just a bunch of fucking sheep, so desperate to be seen as somebody, you end up being no one at all. If you put half the effort you put into kissing ass into a personality, you might be a fraction as interesting as she is," he says, gesturing to you with the hand he doesn't have holding you close. "But instead you prop yourselves up on all this..." Homelander spins his hand loosely through the air before sighing, "Bullshit. It's boring. You're all so fucking boring and miserable with yourselves. You reek of it," he says, lip twitching in a near snarl. "Go. Get the fuck out of my tower,” he rumbles, voice set low. “All of you. Before I throw you off the balcony myself.” There's a pregnant pause before Homelander snaps, "Now!" Like roaches, all of them scatter. Homelander watches them with a sneer. He would have preferred literally tearing them apart, but it's neither the time nor the place.

"Holy shit," you whisper.

Homelander hums quietly, turning to look down at you. Before he can say a word, you grab hold of the back of his neck and kiss him senseless. He grins against your lips, turning to pull you properly into his arms. His ego swells immediately, the kiss speaking volumes. You're pleased. Pleased with him. He greedily soaks up the feeling of your body against his, lips moving against yours, eager to chase away the salty smell of your tears with something a little more salacious.

The two of you break apart before the kiss becomes any more scandalous than it already is, the buzz of the crowd around you dulled by the fervency pulsing between your bodies. "That was... the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me," you whisper, your heart beating heavily in your chest. "Hottest thing so far ,” he says, smiling wolfishly. He gives your plush hips a squeeze, licking his lips. ”Because this dress on your body has been driving me wild . All. Night. Long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. “And I cannot wait to tear it off you.” You bite your lip, inhaling a sharp, flustered little breath. "Can we get out of here yet?"

"You're damn right we can," he says, kissing you again.

Homelander slips away from the venue without an ounce of fanfare, half because you’re so eager to be home, and half because he knows Stan Edgar will be pissed that he took off without shaking the hand of every single political figure the man wants a finger in the pie of.

Fuck Stan Edgar, and especially fuck every one of the brownnosing nobodies invited to that sycophantic cesspit.

The only person in the world he cares about right now is you. ~~~ He wasn’t kidding about the dress. The second he has you back in his room, he’s pushing it off your shoulders, trailing kisses from your neck to your chest. He drags the fabric down until it’s pooling around your waist. You gasp so sweetly in his ear when he snaps your bra apart in a single tug, leaving your upper half bare.

Your breasts hang heavy and flawless, soft in his gloved hands as he fondles them. “Love your tits,” he says, sucking your nipple into his mouth, coaxing it with his tongue until it’s hard, and you’re squirming in his arms, panting and pulling at his hair. He comes off of it with a wet pop. He cups your ass in both hands, grinds against your thigh so that you can feel how hard he is. “You’re so fucking soft. Wanna fuck ‘em, wanna fuck your tits.”

Those idiots at the gala had no goddamn clue what they were talking about. They were jealous of you, jealous knowing that it wouldn’t be any of their sorry asses he was going to worship inside and out tonight. They wanted to be you, or they wanted to be him, and they were stained an ugly green in their envy. He should have punched their hearts clean out of their chests for making you feel anything less than perfect.

You–the divine creature you are–nod your assent, breathless and flushed. You’re staring up at him with reverence that runs deeper than the insipid glee he sees in the hoards of livestock he tends to every day: the American populace. You aren’t just awestruck by him, you love him. He wants to devour you for it.

“Okay,” you say, eager and sweet. He lets you take a step back from him. “Do it. I want you to.”

Homelander watches you drop down onto the bed, intently tracks every bounce of your body. He steps towards you, and takes in the sight of you while you work on unbuckling his pants. He touches your hair, cups your cheek. He likes the way your skin looks against the crimson of his gloves, wants to see you stripped down bare and ruined by your hero, your god. Tipping his head back, he stares up at the mirrored ceiling above his bed, lets out a soft groan at the sight of you both.

The suit is carved into the shape of an adonis, rippling muscles that jut and curve. It creates the illusion of the body people expect from a man who can bend steel with his bare hands. It’s everything he should be. He sucks in a sharp breath when you free his cock, but he stops you when you go to push his pants down, grabbing hold of your wrists. “Not yet. Leave ‘em,” he says, distracting you by bringing your hands to your chest.

“Hold ‘em up for me, alright? That’s it, there you go, just like that,” he says, licking his lips. He takes hold of his cock, and takes a step closer, nudging the leaking head of it under your breasts. There’s not enough slip to be comfortable for either of you, so he leans over to the bedside table and pops open the drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube. With a brief flash from his laser vision, he warms the bottle.

“Lean your head back,” he says, and you do. You look like a work of art, your breasts heavy in your hands, spilling between your fingers where you’re holding them up, pressed together nice and tight. He drizzles the warm lube all across your chest, watches with perverse hunger as it rolls down the slopes of your body. Admittedly, he goes a little overboard, taken in by the image it paints.

“Too much,” you say, but he gives the bottle an additional cheeky little squeeze anyways.

“Can’t help it,” he says, tossing the bottle back into the drawer. “Y’look like a goddamn porn star.”

He can feel the heat of your flush. Somehow, you look demure, even as you sit naked from the waist up, holding your breasts for him to fuck. “Will you fuck me like one?” You ask, and Christ, he feels your words like punches to the gut.

“Is that what you want?” He puts his hands on yours, and slips his cock between your slick breasts, rocking his hips slowly. They feel unreal, enveloping him, impossibly supple and warm. “Want me to fuck you like the whole world’s watching?”

Your blush deepens, crawls all the way down from your cheeks to your chest, where he can feel the heat of it all around his cock. Holding his gaze, you nod, too flustered to respond verbally, which only drives him wilder.

All the while, he can smell your building arousal. The wetter you get, the more his head spins, focusing on the nuances of it: the damp smell of those pretty silky panties he bought you, the way you’re subtly rocking your hips like he won’t notice, seeking any friction at all to feed your own mounting desire.

He’ll have to resist ripping those panties off you. He wants to keep them as a trophy. The smooth slip of your breasts is sweeter than words, but as he thrusts faster, he aches for more. More tension, more friction, more everything. Homelander groans roughly, and pushes you down onto the bed sharply enough that you yelp, falling back harmlessly onto the plush bedding. He wastes no time in tearing the dress from your body, to which you make a noise of protest.

“But–you got that for me, I-” “I’ll get you another,” he dismisses. “I’ll get you ten of them, twenty. You’ll have everything. You understand me?” He drags his hands down your sides, hooks his fingers on the hips of your panties to slide them off. Those? Those he tucks into his pocket. “You’ll have everything.” He dips his hand between your legs, gloves slick with residual lube, and rubs your wet entrance with the leather clad tip of his middle finger. He pushes it in deep.

“I already do,” you gasp, reaching for him. He leans over you, lets you take hold of his hair, his cheek, obliges you when you pull him in to kiss. His hunger is barely contained, leaving him in sharp little nips to your bottom lip, and the ravenous press of his tongue into your mouth. He slips another finger into you, crooks them wickedly as he rocks them in and out, turning your voice thin and breathy. “You are everything to me.”

“Keep talking,” Homelander tells you, drawing out of your hold. He kneels at the edge of the bed and hikes your legs up over his shoulders, mindful of his pauldrons. He never stops pumping his fingers, keeps his pace steady while he leans in and sucks your clit between his lips. You jerk up, but you’re powerless against his hold.

“You’re so good to me,” you breathe, tangling your fingers in his hair. He’s never fingered you with his gloves on before, but you’re certainly not complaining. You’re moving with him now, pushing into every thrust, moaning. “You’re so beautiful. O-oh, god, I could watch you forever.” Homelander’s gaze flickers up. He realizes you’re not looking at him, but at the mirror above you. He smirks, nuzzling in against you, enjoying that you’re watching him ruin you. You used to hide from that mirror, stay under the covers as much as you could. Now look at you, splayed out beneath it, enraptured by the vision of him swallowing you down. He preens with your words, shakes his head against you. Drags his tongue through the wet mess and fucks you deeper, firmer. He keeps going until your litany of praise and prayer falls off into sharp gasps and wordless euphoria.

He can taste your orgasm when it hits, smell it in the chemistry of your body. Your clit throbs wildly against his tongue, and he sucks it greedily. He doesn’t stop until you’re nearly sobbing from whe overwhelm of sensation, pushing him back with frail, exquisitely delicate efforts. He could hold you down if he wanted to, it would be easy to wring another bursting climax from you, but he relents.

This time.

Standing up, Homelander drags his gloved hand over his mouth, wiping away the majority of the mess. He unzips both gloves, and tosses them to the side. He wants to feel what he’s about to do next.

You look heavenly, sprawled out loose-limbed and spent, but there is such fire in your eyes when he meets your gaze. “I didn’t forget,” you say, to which he quirks a brow. “Like a pornstar,” you remind him, and he grins.

Effortlessly, Homelander flips you onto your stomach. He loves the way you giggle when he manhandles you, moving you as though you weigh nothing at all. To him, you don’t. You’re light as a feather, and he uses that to his every advantage. He lifts you up onto your knees, brings you right to the edge of the bed, and presses in close behind you. He grabs two helping handfuls of your ass, kneads it while he grinds his cock along the line of it. He gives an appreciative little slap.

You moan, resting your head atop your folded arms. Despite your release, there is neediness etched into your every movement: the anticipation in how you spread your legs, impatiently rocking back into his hands, your nails clawing at the bedding. He’s more aware of your body than you ever will be. He drags it out a while longer, finds your clit with the head of his cock and grinds against it.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine, trying to push back against him, but he holds you easily in place. He licks his lips, his own cock achingly hard. “Tell me then, sweetheart,” he says, his voice reduced to a low rasp. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you say without hesitation, twisting your grip in the bedding.

“Specifics,” he pushes, his ego nearly as demanding as his cock.

“Put your cock inside me and pound me until your name is the only one I know,” you say, voice wrung tight and impatient. “Please, please, I want you in me. I need to feel you. You make me feel so good , please–”

Fuck, your voice drives him insane. He’s maddened by the eagerness with which you appeal to him, the sincerity in it even when he’s edging you, toying with you, riling you up to see if you’ll crack, to see if you’ll lose this perfect sweetness in the way you profess your love and your need, but you never do. He aches for it, he never wants to stop digging it out of you.

Your string of adulation is cut short when he finally lines himself up and pulls you back onto his cock, wringing a keening moan from you, a noise of relief and pleasure and agony all at once. He’s only barely breached you with the head of his cock. It isn’t nearly enough to satisfy you. You want more. You want all of him. You want to be fucked by Homelander’s fat cock.

Tipping his head back, he stares up at himself, dressed still in red, white and blue while you’re stripped naked, wearing worship and vulnerability more beautifully than he’s ever seen it. He grabs hold of your hips and steadies you, sinks you back onto his cock in one smooth pull. You make a noise that goes straight to the heat at the core of him, feeding it like kindling to the flames.

“Look at you,” he moans, watching both of your reflections. He alternates between the curves of your body, and meeting his own eye. “So fucking perfect .”

Sliding his hands up your sides, he drops his head to kiss a trail up your spine. He cups your breasts, fondles your nipples with his thumbs. They feel so much better in his bare hands, soft and still slightly slick. He gives a shuddering moan and picks up a steady pace, kneading them against your chest while he starts to fuck you in earnest.

You asked him to make you forget everything but his name. That’s exactly his intent as he pounds into you. Holding you steady against the sharp slap of his hips, he’s moving so relentlessly that you can’t get in enough air to string together any of those pretty words. He doesn’t care anymore, the gasps and half-sobs of pleasure each thrust knocks out of you are music to his ears. He’s already walking the wire’s edge, so hard and sensitive that it almost hurts. Dropping one hand from your chest, he takes those slick fingers and presses the middle to your clit, cradling your belly against his arm, sinking again and again into the sweet, wet softness of you, wanting only to ever be closer, deeper. He moans when the contact makes your pussy tighten up. He barely has to move his finger when he’s fucking you fast and hard enough to jostle you against it. You come again, and this time, you pull him over the edge with you.

Homelander slams in deep, practically growling against you as load after load spills into you in wet pumps. He comes so hard his vision tunnels for a split second. It takes him a full minute to recover, to feel as though his soul has tethered itself back to his body.

Carefully, suspecting you will be tender, he withdraws from you, gentle in the way he helps you sink back down onto the bed. He lets out a long, slow exhale. Christ.

While he had expected you to immediately melt into a pile of goo on the bed, you surprise him by sitting up, adjusting until you’re sitting in front of him. He begins to usher you back, get you comfortable down on the pillows, but as weak and lovely as you are, you refuse it. “Let me undress you now,” you say, unbuttoning the lapel of his suit top. Reflexively, he stops you, hand exceedingly delicate on your wrist.

“Yeah,” he says, still coming down from the high. With it, those complicated feelings from earlier come bubbling back to the surface. “Yeah, in a minute. Lay down.”

Still, you do not.

“You love my body so well,” you say, tone supplicating. He nearly flinches, a part of him hating that you know him well enough to know to speak so tenderly in this moment. “Let me love yours, too. Please.”

Disarmed, Homelander slowly drops his hands to his sides. With a kind smile, you unfasten his top, working it off of his shoulders until it falls to the ground. Up on your knees, you rest your hands on his shoulders, and he begins his hands to your waist. He watches the top of your head as you kiss the center of his chest, then the left side, then the right. You pepper these saccharine touches all over his torso, murmuring sweet nothings against his skin all the while.

Eventually, without his permission, his vision begins to blur. He blinks it back stubbornly, caught off guard by the sudden threat of tears. Why is this happening? He’s happy.

You work his pants off as well, sweeping your hands down his slender thighs. They’re nothing like the carved musculature of his suit. He pets your hair, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck as you kiss your way back up to his chest. Your hands glide down his shoulders, his arms, and you squeeze. He flexes subconsciously, though it does little to make up for the bulk missing from his suit. His heart falls into his stomach when you meet his gaze, and he sees your expression falter.

“I’m fine,” he says reflexively.

“I know,” you say, ever so persistently gentle. “I love you so much. Every part of you–” you say, tracing your hands down his sides, to the sharp jut of his hips. “–is so unbelievably beautiful. Sometimes I can’t believe that it’s mine,” you say wistfully, leaning in to kiss his throat, his jaw.

Closing his eyes, Homelander wraps his arms around you, cradling your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” he echoes, voice little more than a low rasp. You coax him under the blankets with you, your body a relief to sink in against. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he tucks your head in under his chin, your legs easily tangling together. There is an ease in the way your bodies slot against one another, as if they were always meant to.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“What for?” He asks, absently stroking your hair.

“Everything. For defending me. For loving me. For seeing me. Just… For all of it. Thank you,” you say, squeezing him as tight as you can. Somehow, despite the disparity in your strength, it’s the most securely held he’s ever felt.

Homelander is rendered speechless by it. He squeezes you in turn, nuzzling in against the top of your head. He feels warm and heavy all over, lost to the steady beat of your heart. Your heart, this precious, bleeding thing that you’ve given him so wholly and freely. He would think it foolish if he was not so painfully aware that you, too, hold his heart in your hands. It is a mangled, ugly thing, battered and discolored from years of misuse, but it is yours nonetheless.

Now more than ever, he thinks that it’s never been safer.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #i'm in a rush but LOOK I DID IT

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carionto · 8 months

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Nothing is safe from becoming "exciting"

I've read a bunch of HASO stuff and often when I'm writing something I know I'm drawing from a ton of somewheres, to the point where I can't pinpoint anything, it's all a big mush that my brain then spits out here. This one, however, I know was inspired by jpitha's writings, specifically the bit about Gene's High G Gym (I think that's the mostly correct name anyway). Shamelessly shilling their work cuz it's great, go read it!

______________________________

Humanity has begun expanding their hold over their native system. Like an insect hive, ships ferry just about everything to and from Earth, building stations both in planetary orbits and around the Sun. Nearly all experimental of some kind - a lot of ideas they couldn't try built up over the thousand years they were isolated.

They do also have countless small space worthy vehicles, nearly all with varying superficial designs and patterns, but also quite a few rather different underlying mechanical principles.

Soon we noticed a lot of activity throughout the entire system not affiliated with any organization or group. Just... individuals and small family units doing their own thing. We quickly gave up trying to categorize such behavior. When we asked, they said:

"Anyone with a license to pilot their craft can go pretty much wherever that isn't restricted. For some places and activities they do need to get a permission first though."

Worryingly lax on account that many of the larger "civilian" craft are still powered by their "Mini-Suns" as they call them.

One particular individual craft got our attention. It created a spike of thermal activity in one region of their Oort Cloud, so one of us went to ask this Human. Abigail was her name:

"Yo space dudes and dudettes, what's up?" Our translators were still incorporating the various Human linguistic peculiarities, but their liaisons are very helpful. We inquired as to what she was doing here so far out.

"Oh you are gonna love it!" another phrase we are learning to be wary of. "Victor, that's this bad boy right here," she affectionately slaps the armrest of her, now that we are closer, disturbingly modified vessel. Is that a second engine cluster bolted on the back? And a... weird exposed device with a large neon label - Space BBQ. We instinctively fear her and her next words. "He and I are making a race track with these here ice cubes. I got this idea when I was a kid, and it is going to be. So. Awesome!"

All of the red flags triggered. Then, Abigail demonstrates by shooting a harpoon claw... thing... at a nearby object the size of a few skyscrapers and begins pulling it towards a cluster of other planetesimals. Normally, these kind of clouds have stabilized over billions of years and each object is thousands and millions of kilometers from one another.

There were dozens stacked so close to each other that you could barely fit an escape pod between in some places. One in particular was surrounded by a small cloud of its own.

"Ooh, that one right there." She enthusiastically pointed out its somewhat flattened ovoid shape. "Doesn't it just scream to you that it wants to be the ultimate doughnut? Hector thinks so, he's my cat by the way - Say hi Hector! [hiss] (Fine, be that way, ya bum) Love that bastard. Anyway, just gotta finish blasting a hole big enough and it'll be the perfect finish line."

Not wanting to hurt our sanity further, we decided to leave her be, but not before she proudly exclaimed over all open channels:

"Remember to tell your folks if they ever wanna race to come here to Abby's Action Asteroids [quick whisper] (trademark pending)! Soon it'll have laser obstacles!"

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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hyrule-in-a-pokeball · 1 year

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A BIG OL' GANONDORF THEORY (TOTK)

This gonna be a long one, kids

I've just got a bunch of thoughts on Ganondorf. I'll categorize them or something

GANONDORF CAUSED HYRULE'S UNIFICATION A great war of some kind has been mentioned a few times in Zelda canon. most notably in OoT. 9 years before the events of OoT kick off, a great war comes to an end, but not before orphaning a baby who gets adopted by a tree. 9 years after this war, the leaders of the Gorons and Zoras consider the King of Hyrule to be a close friend, with the leader of the Gorons even considering him an honorary brother. With OoT being erased, why is this important? Because the legend that is OoT is based on the historical fact shown in TotK. Real events that were embellished and re contextualized over time. Well, here's what the legend tells us about history... At one point in time, Hyrule was divided. Each race seemed to be a different kingdom, but there didn't seem to be any tension among them. But then something happened that forced them to unite. Or rather...

Someone Ganondorf has always been bent on ruling Hyrule, but I think his invasions weren't targeted solely on the land of the Zonai/Hylians, but also the lands of the Gorons, Zora, and Rito. Basically all the lands that aren't a barren wasteland. He probably planned to take over each region and unite it all under one glorious Gerudo banner. Alone, they may have all had trouble fending off the Gerudo army. I believe that with a common and very powerful enemy in the form of the Ganondorf-lead Gerudo, King Rauru was able to convince the Gorons, Rito, and Zora to unite with him under a single Hyrulean banner, thus creating the unified kingdom of Hyrule and forming a solid, united opposition to the Gerudo invasion.

GANONDORF'S STONE ENHANCED FORM

We skip forward in time a little. The war has ended and Ganondorf is swearing fealty to King Rauru, but thats just so he can get in and move about freely without suspicion even though he's the world's most suspicious looking man. It works though. He kills Queen Sonia and steals her sacred stone, the power awakened from which causes him to transform

The sacred stones, as explained, do not give powers to their holders, but instead greatly amplify powers that were already present. But what they ALSO don't do, is cause a physical transformation in their users. None of the other stone holders were shown to change form when using the power of their stones. And its not like his stone was extra special. It was literally the same stone Sonia was using. So why did Ganondorf change form when he came into possession of one?

Because his power is not his own.

While Zelda inherited her powers from her ancestors through blood, Ganondorf inherited his as a result of being the product of Demise's cheeky curse. While Demise is dead and gone, his power lives on in Ganondorf, and so it was Demise's demonic powers that were amplified by the stone. As a result, Ganondorf's form changed to reflect those demonic powers.

But that might not be all that changed. You see, after his demonic powers awakened, his goal changed a bit. While he was still hell bent on ruling Hyrule, he now also wanted to wipe out every living person within the kingdom, supposedly to replace them with the monsters he summoned, and "Cast the world into eternal night" He even turned on his own people, the Gerudo, as in the scene in which Rauru grants the soon-to-be-sages their sacred stones, Ruto states "We just received word that the last free village in the Gerudo desert has fallen..." So the demon king's armies were attacking everyone indiscriminately on his command. I think he truly became a demon, and possibly something in his psyche changed as a result.

THE 8TH SAGE

Those who hold Sacred stones were deemed sages. Zelda and Sonia were the sages of time. Rauru, reflecting his roll in OoT, was the sage of light. Nabooru was changed from the sage of spirit to the sage of lightning. Darunia was the sage of fire, Ruto; the sage of water, and Mineru was the sage of spirit. Saria and "forest" being completely replaced by a nameless Rito and the element of Wind. Sonia dies, so the sage count is 7.

When the stone bonded to its holder, stylized Japanese kanji would appear on it. This is most visible with Nabooru/Riju's stone

Its up-side down and partially wrapped around the stone itself, but that is the Kanji "Kaminari" meaning "Lightning"

When Ganondorf steals Sonia's stone, the kanji for time "Toki" disappears and is replaced with this

Its side ways and partially obstructed by his hand, but when he uses his power, we see the symbol flash in its proper orientation

Yami. Darkness. (funnily enough it also means "Gloom")

If holding a secret stone makes one a sage, then Ganondorf is the sage of Darkness, a being in direct opposition to Rauru; the sage of light

#Tears of the kingdom #Ganondorf

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sashi-ya · 8 months

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𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂//𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 Jugram x Arrancar! F! Reader x Virgin! Adult! Uryu. [+18]

⋆ au: some years after the war, where the Quincy have won. Uryu is +20 y/o ⋆ tw: mdni. threesome. virgin Uryu gets a lesson from Jugram. oral. cum swallowing. humilliation. cream pie. fingering. ⋆ taglist: @hohoooowhy @cyberdazetragedy @stygianoir @tsuukichan

“Haschwalt, Uryuu… when will you two cooperate to make me a little bit happier?” “ Your majesty, I am always open to do so”

White capes blowing against the sordid winds of the Silbern. Purest black strands and blonde ones, imitating the motions. Your image reflected on those glasses, and the shine of a sword that seems to balance the weight of the world on its edge.

The hollow in your chest, so dark as the void you feel in what once represented your heart. Who are these people? Why are they here? Why did they do the things they do to your people? What do they want from such arid lands, where the sun is never up and a moon shines eternally on a dry sky?

“What is this woman doing here?” the glasses wearing man asks. Your muffled gasp still audible gets to his ears.

That young adult has eyes as blue as a deep sea, and the finest face expressions you ever seen.

“Your Majesty has brought her to you as a gift, appreciate it. A true King needs to have fun sometimes too” the blonde one says, his face is barely visible underneath the Sternritter hat and the long strands popping.

“Is not just for Uryu, Haschwalt. Share her, get along. I need you two cooperating for the greater good of the new world” the man that has brought only pain and destruction to your endless lands of sand says. And those words make you shiver, the way the blonde man gasps and how he takes off his hat… showing underneath a beautiful masculine depiction of perfection.

It won’t be admitted, until that king looking man leaves, that none of the guys standing in front of you wanna hurt you. However, you can see it in their eyes.

But your work there was, in order to have your fracciones and your life forgiven, to please the Quincy…

And just about two or three seconds after the maroon caped old man flew out of the place, both men came closer to you.

“Don’t worry, we don’t need you to do anything” the one, apparently named Uryuu, says. He assures you, in all honesty that nothing will happen to you as long as you keep it quiet.

However, the blonde one, refuses to follow Uryuu’s sayings.

“Your Majesty said we have to use her” he categorically says, so impassively it’s almost scary.

“Use her? What do you think she is, Jugram?” the dark-haired youngster says, almost bumping heads with the blonde one.

Jugram’s turquoise eyes fix on the deep blue ones that so morally are judging him, and sighs.

“You are gonna be the king, aren’t you? Why are you afraid, Ishida Uryu? Do you regret taking our Majesty’s blood? Are you sure you are on this side?”

The hate in between both men grows stronger every second it passes, and it feels like your knees will collapse soon. You need to stop them, but most importantly, make sure you will do your work… if not, there is a lot involved that you might lose.

“Jugram-sama! Uryu-sama! I’m here, willingly offering my body for you both to take as many bites as you desire from it!”

Silence takes over, their noses almost touching and their frowning so very serious now takes a glimpse of your subduing posture on the ground.

On your knees, covered by white clothes that you slowly unzip to reveal the purest form of your Arrancar body.

“Please, use me. I wanna please you both” you purr, in hopes of luring them into your trap of honey and lust.

Uryu swallows; pale cheeks blushed, sprinkled with reddish shame. Jugram tilts his head, slowly to the right. His blonde bangs softly caress the bridge of his straight nose, and an almost visible smirk garnishes his lips.

“Go ahead, future King… dig in” he murmurs, pushing Uryuu to be the one to take the first taste. Out of pure courtesy, perhaps. Or who knows why.

You nod, fixing into the deep blue eyes of the future ruler of the Quincies. “Come… sir, please” you whisper, stretching your right hand to him.

Wary steps are taken towards your submissive persona; is not that Uryuu isn’t interested in the bouncing motion of your breasts, or the fresh flesh displayed for his only enjoyment, but right now? This way? He is already an adult, but he has never… not after winning the war.

“May I ask, future King… you wish to be guided?” Jugram asks, as keen as always, when noticing Uryuu’s doubts come from inexperience.

The dark-haired man isn’t able to look you nor him in the eyes, but rather to the side. His lips semi open, the accelerated breathing, the warmth on his lips and in between his legs… a body so desperate, a mind so confused, a soul so naïve.

“Yes…” he sighs.

“Very well, then. Should I show you how to please a woman?” Jugram asks, lifting you in one swift swing up from your hand.

Uryuu fixes his glasses, using his left index to move the frame upwards. “Hnn…” he nods, this time adopting a position of a younger brother. What it takes for him to finally be taught something so basic, instead of being required to rule a new world with the blood of his friends still dripping all around.

Jugram takes a good look at your body proportions with squinting eyes. He is probably calculating where and how to touch for his motions to be the most effective. He still needs to show the future king the perfect way this is done.

When he finally positions himself behind you, a shiver runs through your back. You were there because of different reasons, but you couldn’t blame yourself for experiencing real desire for those two men. The experienced teacher, and the virginal pupil, both about to enjoy a new lesson based in your body…

When the cold hand of the blonde comes from behind, and places it over your breast, you squirm a little.

“Stay still, we are here to show our future king how to please a piece of meat like you” he murmurs, right in your ear. It makes you bite your lip; it makes you moan when he finally pulls from your hardened nipple.

Jugram shows his pupil how rock and erect your pleasure points are in between his slender delicate fingers. You look to the side, but still, you are able to see how Uryuu fixes his eyes into the turgor of your chest. “I’m sure you know about erogenous zones; you’ve been studying the human body. This is one of them. You need to pull, touch, and if you feel fancy enough… use your mouth to do it. In fact, you could use your mouth all over… even your teeth”

The blonde, turns you to the side with no mercy. And with no mercy he also sits you over the huge white table in the centre of that cerulean lights room.

“Never, ever you should kneel. Is the woman who should be lifted if it’s small enough for your lips not to reach her breasts” Jugram sentences; he takes it very seriously; he is raising a true king.

He cups your chest with one of his hands as his pale lips reaches for your nipple. First, the tip of his tongue. Then, the wet sensation of it, dampening your hardness. And ultimately, the sharp surface of his teeth, nibbling on them, making your head to be thrown back in total pleasure.

“See? She likes it. Now, if you want it to be faster so that you can use her insides you need to prep her” Jugram says, as if you were non-existent, like a piece of meat, like a doll to use…

And you couldn’t care less; as Jugram’s fingers open its way inside your sex. He didn’t take much to undress you, the white skirt wouldn’t cover much either way.

The pumping motions start slowly and from there the rhythm increases. Reflected on Uryuu’s glasses is the image of your body reaction to such blissful movements, going in and out, always hitting up so that you feel like you are about to burst.

“See how she retorts? It is exactly because she wants more… right, you slut? As a Quincy we should kill you, but first this hole should be useful” the blonde spits, so indecently fingering you while he does nothing but degrade you.

Uryu, who fights a moral battle inside himself, focuses on the way his white pants are now tightly crushing his erection. Why is he hard to such humiliation… when did he become the way he did? Why he is moving on his own, right now?

You whine louder as the glasses boy is also all over you in a blink of an eye. His delicate hand grab you by your cheeks, pressing hard with violence he never knew he had.

He swallows, letting his cape fall to the ground while cracking his neck. Your pleading eyes, and your opened lips are like a beautiful trap in which he had fallen.

Jugram has now added uncountable number of fingers inside you while pulls from your hair back to show your neck to his friend. Like the Devil presenting temptation to the young apprentice, he invites him to carve his teeth on your body.

And that’s exactly what Uryu does. He bites, as if he was trying to retrieve blood from your carotid, leaving marks in your skin. He takes the time, next, to smell the scent of your sweating sex flesh.

His soft lips travel up and down, the tip of his tongue too.

Jugram finds it fascinating; it doesn’t matter how much of a virgin Uryu could be, a man’s instinct can lead the way perfectly fine. And he notices, also, the way his pupil slowly kisses down your belly towards your already about to burst sex.

The blonde stops the masturbating pumps and allows Uryu to reach your folds as he can see his avid need to drink from it.

“Guess I don’t have to explain how to do that, huh?” he kinda laughs, something weird coming from the balanced man. And while Uryu gets lost in the perfume of your dripping core, he makes sure you spread your legs as it is proper.

And after slapping your inner thighs Jugram enjoys the way your eyes turn white when the tip of his next king’s tongue reaches for your salty taste.

Your belly spasms, your back arches but even if you wish you could lay on it over the table, Jugram won’t let you. His hand hasn’t stop pulling from your hair, and it’s both painful and pleasant.

“Do you think we are here just to please you? Open your mouth” he commands, moving your head towards him while he lets his zipper down.

You swallow, knowing that saliva will be the last thing you will have before his hardness hits your throat. And indeed, he lifts one of his legs over the table so that his crotch could reach your mouth, and guiding his sex inside your mouth, he makes you gag.

The frame of Uryu’s glasses carve into your thighs, as you involuntarily close your legs. He is not worried; he is actually enjoying the warmth of your skin against his blushed cheeks.

Your juices drip from the lips that once were tinted in blood, to his chin as if he was devouring a fruit. Uryu eats you out desperately; his senses have been overly stimulated and he swears he could cum by just this.

His eyes sometimes scan the way his blonde teacher makes you gag, with all of his length buried in your throat. He can only think of doing the same next. The tears running through your cheeks, the way you run out of oxygen, the protrusion of Jugram’s dick showing on your throat… why is he enjoying this? why the more you plead for mercy the more he gets harder, and harder?

In any case, the sudden explosion of your breathless climax amazes him. Uryu can feel your inner walls clenching to his fingers, and your orgasm invading his tongue.

Drop by drop, he feeds well off you. While Jugram grunts, because your mouth tries to close on its own as you come.

“Don’t bite, you bitch!” he protests, slapping your cheek hard enough to feel it but still soft enough not to hurt you. He might speak that way, but he is indeed very delicate on its own. He won’t go deeper for an inch more; he knows how not to cause you damage.

Uryu stands up, watching Jugram about to reach his own orgasm with the wetness of your mouth around his dick. He looks at his glasses wearing “little brother” with a smirk.

“I know you wanna fuck her, go ahead. Fill her cunt, I will stuff his stomach with my cum” he says, in between breathy pants. Words that surprise Uryu to no extent, where is the sophisticated Jugram he knows?

You give him a look, with blurry vision and a needy broken sight. You wanna tell him to do it, you want Uryu to fuck you and fill you up as Jugram said. You hope that your looks will be enough for him to understand, because you can’t use your mouth as it begins to get flooded with warm, sticky, white release.

He gets the message, clearly. But he is still inexpert; he thinks he knows what to do, but he doesn’t really.

Haschwalt sticks his dick out, pumping with his hands the last drops of his orgasm onto your lips. His seed drips from your lips to your neck and into your breasts, and it’s ok.

“Come on, fuck her… or should I show you that too?” he mocks his dark-haired companion while coming closer to him.

Jugram stands behind Uryu, grabbing a fistful of his straight hair. In other situation he could have been killed for doing so to the future king, but Uryu didn’t mind; he was too lost in pleasure to even think about it.

The blonde Quincy whispers on his ear, pushing him against you slowly and dominantly. “remember what our majesty told us… use her, now”

Reddish cheeks and warm breathe kissing Uryu’s lips, his eyelids sloppily falling down as he fixes his eyes in yours. His white pants fall to the ground, and the wet spot on his underwear grows bigger as his hardness does to.

You can only wait for his intrusion, eagerly to be penetrated, panting, and cleaning the still rests of Jugram’s cum off your lips and chin.

Uryu’s pale hand pump his never used sex, getting him ready to slide right in as Jugram spreads your legs surrounding Uryu from behind, leaving him in between you and him.

“Go…” he murmurs, ordering so sweetly. “Ye-yes” Uryu stutters, getting ready to fix all the time lost.

He is delicate, but it feels amazingly well. He slides in, resting, as Jugram grab him by his hip for a moment, right by your entrance. “Calm down, do it slower at first”

It’s so perverse to see Jugram believe he is the right of taking the lead, but it’s even more depraved that Uryu seems to be enjoying it even more than both you and Jugram.

“Now, begin moving… fuck her rough” the blonde finally says, while smiling so corruptly towards you as if he wanted to warn you of something. Perhaps, he was happy to find the perfect hollow to use on and on.

Like a total slave of desire, with no humanity left whatsoever, his glasses get foggy, and you take them off his beautiful face. Jugram allows you to close your legs, trapping Uryu with them around the waist.

You lift your hips up, allowing for him to go even deeper in that steady rhythm he has so easily learned to maintain. Carving nails like claws into his soft back, allowing for him to moan into your mouth, as you do the same.

Sometimes you take a look at the man who taught him; Jugram is sitting on one of the couches, ready to continue once his pupil is over.

But the one who is almost over, is you. And the grunts and moans become louder and faster. Your insides clench, milk your lover desperately. Uryu can feel it, he shakes, he bites your lip pulling with no mercy from them. You fix your eyes into his deep blue ones, mumbling something similar to an “I’m coming” and “please don’t stop”.

Of course he won’t stop, he can’t even if he wanted to. And soon after you carve your heel into the small of his back as you climax, he does to.

Uryu slams the table right next to you, as he is sweating and filling you up. What a beautiful façade of pure extasy and delicious desire…

More, I want more. From the regret to the need. Hollows might be toxic to Quincy, but Quincy aren’t toxic to Hollows… only deadly.

#uryu x jugram x reader #ishida uryuu #jugram haschwalth #bleach fanfic #uryu x reader #bleach jugram #jugram x reader #bleach tybw #bleach x reader #bleach imagines

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