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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

Text

Title: Profane.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @elsecrytt.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 7.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con (Coercion + Inebriation), Brief Cannibalism, Wildly Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Torture (No Injury To Reader), No Like Literal Torture, Gore, Blood, Possessiveness, Theology, and Past Trauma (Reader's Got Issues). The Dove Was Dead, Got Resurrected, And Is Once Again Dead. Please Do Not Eat.

Barbatos showed you to the garden himself.

Usually, guests as unremarkable as yourself would be ushered in by some lesser demonic spirit, shown directly to Diavolo’s in-home office, and rushed out as quickly as the prince’s unwavering sense of hospitality would allow. You’d been through the process yourself a handful of times since you came to the underworld, gotten to visit the castle on an errand for RAD often enough for the shocked awe to dull into simple wonder, but you’d never been able to see the prince or Barbatos in their own home, and when you received the prince’s package, when you smelled the fresh scent of roses and felt silk against your hands, a part of you refused to believe this could be anything but another request to run a few files from one location to another, an invitation to discuss an upcoming festival or ceremony somewhere less imposing than the shadowy, stiflingly gothic student council room. Part of you still refused to believe it now, in all honesty, even as you walked arm-in-arm with the prince’s butler. Even as you wore the gown he'd sent to your off-campus apartment, a wine-red train trailing half a meter behind you and the fabric of the corset clinging to your skin like spider silk.

Even as you stepped into his rose garden, the rose garden. The rose garden you’d only ever heard about in gossip and rumors. The rose garden that was supposed to be saved for the prince and his select few.

The rose garden you were never supposed to see, and yet.

And yet.

A pavilion had been erected in the center of the innermost ring and decorated for the occasion, cords of red blossoms strung across the obsidian guardrails and a trail of flower petals left out to guide your way. Barbatos left you a few paces away from the pavilion’s steps, bowing his head as he detangled himself from your rigid hold. He spared you no words of comfort, offered you no advice, only letting out a breath of a chuckle as he slipped away and disappeared into the tangle of the garden. It fell onto you to soothe yourself, so you did – sucking a ragged inhale and balling your shirt in your hands before forcing yourself to relax, driving an ounce of tension out of your shoulders and willing your hands to stop shaking as you took an unsteady step towards the pavilion, then another, then another, until you were starting up the short staircase and it was too late to turn around and hide. There was a table let up on the center of the platform, a teapot and matching cups and saucers laid out among a sugar jar and an adorably quaint cream jug. It would’ve been charmingly simple, if the set hadn’t been crafted from pure obsidian and most likely would have cost more than a year of your salary.

Diavolo was at the head of the table, dressed in a suit that matched your gown. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention, his expression brightening as his eyes might yours and a wide, giddy smile you could only compare to that of a lovestruck schoolboy spread across his lips. He pushed himself to his feet hastily, your name falling from his lips with a slight stutter. There was a rose in his hand, but rather than thrust it into yours, he held onto it, opting to pull you into a brief, bone-crushing hug, instead. “I’m sorry to call you here on such short notice,” he said, his voice breathy and the words spoken quickly enough to blur together. “And I, well—” Now, the rose was presented to you, his smile taken on a shy tilt. “I thought it’d be romantic. Admittedly, it feels a little silly now.”

“No, no, it’s very sweet.” You rushed to reassure him, more afraid of making this more awkward than it had to be than genuinely hurting his feelings. You tried to take the rose by the stem, but your thumb caught on an unpruned thorn and you pulled back out of instinct. There was no pain, but when you glanced down, you found a small bead of scarlet, the injury practically nonexistent but an injury, nonetheless. Diavolo’s expression faltered, but you were quick to take up the rose again and tuck anything that might’ve sown any ill-will away. “You were going to tell me why you asked me to come…?”

Immediately, his smile returned in full force. “Please, have a seat.”

A chair was pulled out, a cup filled and sugar cubes dispensed generously. You took the cup in your hands, but didn’t raise it to your lips, only soaking in the gentle warmth as Prince Diavolo cleared his throat and went on, more nervous than a man of his status, a man with so much power over you had any right to be. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed why you’re here. I know subtly isn’t my strong suit.” A slight pause, a hopeful smile. Somehow, the implication of his anxiety alone was enough to make the knot resting in the pit of your stomach twist that much tighter. “We don’t know each other very well, but… I think I’d like to know you a little better, if you understand what I mean.”

Oh, you did.

You’d understood as soon as you saw the low cut of the dress, as soon as you were told you’d be meeting him in privacy.

Still, you played coy, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “I’m afraid I don’t, your highness.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want you to feel like royalty, right now.” And yet, he’d asked you to meet him behind his castle, attended to by his butler, wearing the gown he’d had tailor made for you. You would to ask how he got a hold of your measurements later on. Actually, you shouldn’t ask him anything at all – it’d be a mercy if you never had to talk to him again. “I’d like to court you. Officially. With your permission, of course.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, but then again, your permission could only count for so much when a flick of his wrist and a half-baked royal decree would change the meaning of consent by its very definition.

You let your eyes fall to the table, then to the rose in your hand. “I don’t know how to say this,” A pair of pursed lips, a decisive beat of silence. “But, I’m not sure, your highness.”

This time, he didn’t bother to correct you. “You’re not sure?”

“As you said, we don’t know each other very well.” You gaze caught on the spot of blood still welling on the pad of your thumb. A minor inconvenience, but still an inconvenience. It’d make handling much of anything a nuisance for the rest of the day. It’d make you pause the next time you thought about taking a particularly beautiful rose by the stem. “And I’m afraid there might be some parts of me that you wouldn’t be so happy with, if you saw them for yourself.”

That seemed to catch his attention. Whereas you leaned back, he leaned forward, arms crossing over the tabletop. “I have to admit, it’s hard to believe that there’s any part of you I wouldn’t be happy with.”

“It’s just,” A thorn in the right place could ruin the entire rose. Hopefully, if you managed to break the skin, he’d give up on you entirely and move on to less pointed flowers. “I have some… appetites that people have deemed difficult to keep up with, in the past. It’s nothing out of place for those in my profession, but I’d hate for you to have to waste your time tending to my desires.”

You could practically see the excitement spark in his eyes, feel it rolling off of him in waves. “Please, go on.”

“It’s too morbid to discuss in polite company,” you said, sparing a glance towards the walls of the rose garden, as if you were wary that someone might be listening in. “But things tend to get gory rather quickly, and I have been known to get a little carried away when I get something sharp in my hand.”

The tea was put aside completely, forgotten in favor of more interesting topics. He didn’t stand, didn’t do anything to close the limited distance between you, but you could tell he wanted to, that he wasn’t taking your threats seriously enough for intrigue to dip into caution, and that was all you needed. “I think you’d look stunning with something sharp in your hand.”

“But I’d hate to waste your time,” you reiterated, bowing your head. “And your subjects might not care for me, once they see what I’ve done to their ruler.”

“We’ll have to keep this our little secret, then.” While you had your doubts about how secret one of his secrets could stay, he was clearly excited enough to buy into the idea that it would be possible. “And, as for your appetites…”

This time, he stood, rounding the table and falling to one knee at your side. For a second, your heart stopped beating in your chest, your mind forcing you to consider the possibility that your vision of rings and proposal might not have been based entirely in paranoid delusion, but he only gestured for your hand and reluctantly, you gave it to him. His lips ghosted over the curve of your knuckles, then turning your hand over in his own, the apex of your wrist, lingering against your pulse point. Finally, he pulled away, grinning up at you as he went on.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to satisfy that hunger.”

You were starting to wonder if, even in your grandest of schemes, your eyes might’ve been bigger than your stomach.

It was old work. Diavolo – as he insisted you call him, despite your best attempts to keep a semblance of formality between you and him – was eager to please, quick to show you he was just as enthusiastic as you claimed to be and dedicate one of the more expendable rooms in his sprawling castle to your little engagements. The tools of your trade were discussed and crafted into familiar shapes: thorns braided into the lashes of the whips, runic symbols you’d long-since forgotten how to read burnt into the leather of the riding crop, a small vial of holy water waiting beside a gold-lined tub of water. Even the dagger you were holding was of celestial design, the blade symmetrical and gilded with pure silver, the hilt molded but not padded, allowing the chill to seep into your palm without reservation.

It was a relief, however small, that you wouldn’t have to use the demonic weapons you’d nearly gotten used to. In the Devildom, suffering was just another tool, something to be used when convenient and drowned out with needless hedonism when not. In the Celestial Realm, suffering was holy.

There was nothing holy about this, though. You’d had the foresight to restrain him, binding his wrists and ankles to each poster of his grand bed with enchanted chains, but he offered no resistance. Even brought low enough to fall into his demonic form, to show himself with leathery wings sprouting from his back and gold-adorned horns curling upward from his scalp, he retained as much of his composure as you could expect him to, keeping his claws curled into his palms and dulling his fangs with the occasional whimper or sudden gasp. When you dragged the point of the blade from the spine of his wing to the small of his back, he arched as if leaning into your brutal touch and clenched his eyes shut, but he didn’t scream. You almost wished he would. At least then, you’d be able to tell if you were making progress.

It was old work, but more importantly, it was work you’d been good at, once upon a time. Your mind might be out of practice, but your hands remembered how to move, how to cut, at just what angle to hold your dagger as you slid the flat of the blade into the incision. It was a delicate balance; applying enough force to cut through the connective tissue without tearing the epidermis. There was a slick sound from underneath your knife, a half-choked groan from Diavolo, and skin separated from muscle, leaving both intact and swimming in an agony of their own. It was beautifully precise, the kind of workmanship that should’ve gotten you a promotion. You could only regret that it was wasted on Diavolo.

Thick, dark blood washed over his tan skin, spilling out in every direction and distracting you from your task. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned to your supplies and took up the most limited of your precious tools: common table salt, imported from the human world and kept in a simple glass jar. You’d always known it had purifying properties that demons didn’t care for, but it’d surprised you just how difficult it was to get a hold of in the Devildom. Diavolo was strong enough to withstand it without being reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but hopefully, the burn would be more than he cared to endure.

With great care not to get any on yourself, you took up the vial of holy water and undid the bottle’s seal, dampening the blade of your dagger with a generous portion. “Did you know that holy water can’t be diluted?” You asked, idly, taking one of the larger salt rocks between your thumb and forefinger and crushing it, savoring the slight sting before spreading the fine residue over one side of your blade. “My boss didn’t – used to lecture me for wasting it. You should really be more selective about your staff, down here.” You paused, bringing the point of your dagger back to Diavolo’s skin. You found your target quickly: the flesh over his shoulder blade, where the tissue was thin and the bone prominent. You drove it down with just enough force to break the skin, and in an instant, you were rewarded with the smell of burning flesh. “It was one of the first miracles the guys upstairs performed on Earth, after the humans realized they could it themselves without divine intervention. Remember to spare a drop for the next batch, and you’ve got an endless supply – as good as if it’d come from Micheal himself.”

You returned to the first incision, sliding your blade back into the slit you’d just carved. There was some resistance – Diavolo’s regenerative abilities were second to none, just as you’d expected from demonic royalty – but with grit teeth and a quirk of your wrist, you pushed through it, spreading your little concoction across raw, bleeding muscle. This time, Diavolo screamed, the sound animalistic and agonized and exactly what you were looking for. It reminded you of wind chimes, of church bells, of a timbre voice congratulating you on a job well-done as you stood over the maimed remains of a breathing corpse. Eager to chase that satisfaction, you pressed down harder, cutting into the muscle of his back before jerking your dagger back, ripping through tissue and flesh and leaving carnage in your path. You couldn’t just smell burnt flesh, this time – you could practically taste it, coating your tongue like ash and filling your lungs like smoke. Everything your blade touch seemed to melt, to scorch, leaving a filthy black char slashed across Diavolo’s back, infecting the wound you’d inflicted. If you were at work, if he were anyone else, you’ve taken it further, watched the blisters form down the curve of his back as you slowly and melodically removed each unnecessary vertebra of his spine, but he was a prince, and your goal wasn’t to kill him. You just had to make him wish he was dead when he was with you – that was all.

You dropped the dagger onto the stone floor, sucking in a harsh breath as you shook out your stiff fingers. You considered the whips, elegant in their design and brutal in the affection, then the golden tub, how good it would feel to string your fingers through his hair before you shoved his head below water, but the former would leave too many marks too quickly and the latter would’ve taken more preparation than you’d cared to make. Instead, you chose something you were less familiar with – a length of braided silver, leather handles molded onto either end. You slung it over your shoulder as you climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. Out of instinct, his wings shuttered, moving to fold themselves against his back, but you grabbed the arch of his left wing’s spine and forced it flat against the velvet sheets, holding it still as the appendage squirmed and thrashed below you. “No fighting back,” you muttered, because it was what you’d agreed on as you stepped over the threshold to his little homemade torture chamber, because it seemed like the last thing you’d want to hear when you were at someone else’s mercy. “Remember why I’m doing this. If you don’t want to take, I don’t need to give.”

“That’s not—” Heavy panting between each word, all attempts at speaking soon forfeited in favor of an airy gasp. You waited for him to settle, driving a nail into the delicate membrane of his wing for each second he failed to spit something out. “I understand,” he said, eventually, marking the first full thought he’d managed to express since you finished restraining him. “Keep going.”

You didn’t move. “Is that how you’re going to talk to me?”

A dry swallow, a moment of hesitation. A demon’s pride was a difficult thing to put aside, even for a demon like Diavolo. “Please.”

If he’d been anyone else, you would’ve made him grovel.

But, you could only ask so much from such a spoiled prince.

“Raise your head.”

No pet names, no dark humor, no purring or cooing or anything spared to soften the words. He obeyed, tilting his head back and letting you wrap the cord once around his neck once, because anything more than that would only spread the agony, make it that much easier to differentiate from the feeling of your weight against his back, dampen the awareness that it was your hands holding the end of his noose. You wanted him to know it was you. As you pulled the cord taut, you pictured him lying in his own bed hours later, blood washed away and wounds bandaged. After the adrenaline was gone, the excitement replaced with hollow exhaustion and the cold absence of affection, would he cry? Would the pain get to him first, or the misery of it all, the aching realization that what you were doing to him wasn’t something people did to those they loved? Would he curse your name, any heartbreak stifled by pure loathing for the person who left him in such a state of desperation? Would he hate you?

“It’s not the tightness that leads to suffocation – another common misconception. Your guys already knew that one, though.” Crossing both ends of the cords over one another, you cranked them tighter, then tighter again. Admittedly, this kind of thing wasn’t your strong-suit – you’d never been the type to rely on raw strength alone – but the sturdiness of the cord did most of the work for you, winding into itself and biting into his skin without cutting into what laid beneath it. Or, without cutting into yet, at least.

“It’s the pressure,” you said as you leaned over him properly, planting your knees in the plush of the down-stuffed mattress. “That’s the real trick - being able to apply enough force to crush the windpipe and cut off the lungs. From there, all you have to do is—” You paused, letting out a soft, strained groan as you pulled the cord ever-tighter. If you let go of the handles, it would’ve held its shape, but it felt cruel to be so impersonal. “—sit back and watch.”

There was a whimper by way of response, more pleading than pained. His mouth fell open, something that could’ve been generously interpreted as the beginning of a word falling past his lips, but you took mercy on him, clicking your tongue as you braced yourself for what came next. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.” And then, after a second of thought, “Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to hang to death, your highness?”

Even if he could answer, you wouldn’t have let him. You hauled him upward suddenly, letting the cord rise to the sensitive junction just underneath his chin and winding it farther, farther, until it made good on its threats and a thin cut formed across the curve of his throat, a twin laceration appearing on the other side a few seconds later. He struggled underneath you, attempting to maintain his composure and control his breathing until instinct took over and he was left gasping, sputtering, trying to force air back into the lungs you controlled, now. Despite yourself, the corners of your lips curled upward, a profound satisfaction flooding through your veins and momentarily blocking out what little rational thought remained. Diavolo was depraved, but this was your line of work, your field of expertise. You felt phantom hands on your shoulders, lips ghosting over the top of your head. You deserved to be happy, when you were doing so well at what you were meant to do. You deserved to take pride in a job well-done.

Struggling, struggling, then release. His shoulders dropped, his form going limp, and just as his eyes threatened to close and his mind gave out completely, you let go of the cord, letting it fall back to the base of his throat. It took a few more seconds to detangle, another to rub the lingering salt on your fingers into the new cuts on his neck. While he panted, drooled, made a mess of himself, you basked in your holy reverence, newly purified by the sacredness of your responsibilities. You remained there, in that state of simple contentedness, until Diavolo broke the silence.

“Is that—” A harsh breath, a fit of coughing. Your mind supplied the rest of his question automatically. Is that enough? Is it over, now?

You almost smiled, almost told him that it’d be over as soon as he decided that he couldn’t handle you, anymore, but he went on before you could, his tone playful despite the blood now seeping into his sheets. “Is that all?”

You felt something very heavy and very sharp fall into the pit of your stomach. “Of course not,” you said, because that’s what you were supposed to say. Because when they asked for more, you were supposed to give it to them.

Because, if he wanted more, you’d give it to him until he couldn’t stand the thought of ever letting you touch him again.

“We’re just getting started.”

You could get to the rose garden on your own, by now.

Lucifer and Barbatos were already seated in their usual places, both looking uncharacteristically relaxed. Barbatos’ smile got a little brighter as you approached, and after you’d slid into your designated seat, Lucifer greeted you with a clap of his hands, a lilt to his posture. “I assumed you and Diavolo would be arriving together.”

You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You’d learned quickly, within the first month of Diavolo’s proposal, that you’d been right to assume you wouldn’t be able to keep it yourselves for very long. Still, it surprised you just how quickly he told Lucifer and Barbatos about your little trysts. “He’s still cleaning up.”

Barbatos’ constant smile took on a teasing quirk. “What a heartless lover you are, to leave him alone in a state like that.”

“He knew I wasn’t the doting type going into this.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d never claimed that any part of your attention would be the loving kind, that whatever polite affection you showed to him when he dragged you out to upper-crust restaurants and diamond-studded nightclubs and parties with only the Devildom’s most elite in attendance wouldn’t extend to the time you spent alone together. Love was a pretense, not a necessity. You could only hope Diavolo was tender hearted enough to be hurt by your callousness. “You’re the babysitter, here. Shouldn’t you be the one patching him up?”

He moved to respond, but Lucifer was quick to cut in, leaning forward as he spoke. “Have you two already—” A coy smile, a vague gesture with a gloved hand. You weren’t sure what’d gotten into him. You’d never seen Lucifer or Barbatos so giddy, even if the extent of their excitement seemed to be a few probing questions and a new willingness to bare their teeth without snapping at your throat. “—well, I’m sure you know.”

You swallowed, dryly. The idea of sex hung over your relationship like a funeral shroud, weighing the heaviest when you stepped over the threshold and into whatever makeshift dungeon he’d chosen for the two of you that night, when he spared you a smile that meant he could only be expecting one thing. You didn’t want to know what would happen if he continued not to get it, but you didn’t want to sleep with him, either. You didn’t want to sleep with him. You didn’t want to give up that much of yourself, to fall that deeply into the den of vipers you couldn’t seem to claw your way out of. You knew, rationally, that you were already as tainted as you could possibly be, that Diavolo couldn’t possibly touch you in way that was worse than how you touched him, but your heart refused to give up on the idea that you weren’t beyond redemption, just yet.

Surprisingly, Barbatos came to your defense, although you couldn’t say he sounded very empathetic. “Keep your mind out of the gutter,” he said, in a way that implied that this was a subject they’d already discussed in-depth. “You know how hard it can be for fallen angels to adjust.”

“Not every fallen angel. It only took me a decade to make a name for myself.” He’d also made the choice to fall, but you thought better than to say that aloud. “It’s just a matter of getting a taste for it. Let them take the plunge now, before our little prince loses patience.”

You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as the weight of two hands settled on each of your shoulders, as you felt Diavolo press a kiss into your cheek. You bit back a grimace, but the contract was mercifully fleeting, gone as soon as Diavolo straightened his back and directed his attention to the rest of the table. “What am I supposed to be so impatience about, exactly?”

Lucifer was quick to change the topic. “I was starting to think that you’d forgotten about us.”

Rather than turn to Lucifer, his eyes fell back to you. You could feel his stare, awful and adoring, boring into you as he spoke.

“As if I could ever think of anything else.”

You found yourself undressed and barely conscious on a golden rug in front of a searing fireplace a few days later.

Your body felt lighter than it should’ve been. In hindsight, you’d had too much to drink to be around another person, let alone underneath one. You’d thought, foolishly, that another sip, another glass, another bottle of wine would help to settle your nerves, to make you seem like an easier conquest than Diavolo would’ve liked, but all it’d done was make you too easy to turn up – prey that’d already been left to bleed by some other conveniently absent predator. It might’ve been your own fault, for assuming Diavolo would show more courtesy to you than you’d ever shown to him. It might’ve been your own fault, for going out of your way to pretend you so genuinely couldn’t tell the difference between cruelty and love.

Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear. You could hear footsteps somewhere in the muddled distance, make out a song of a hum just above the soft crackling of the fireplace, and then, he was back, settling onto the mess of sheets and pillows beneath you, an overfull goblet in one hand and the other suddenly cupping your cheek. He wore nothing, save for the chokingly tight collar of silver chain you’d wrapped around his neck hours ago. You could remember holding a tether, feel the strip of leather biting into your palm, but you must’ve let go of it at some point. Whatever happened, it was gone now.

Drifting lower, you could see where your nails had cut into his chest, his back, his throat. You might’ve bitten him, too – you could taste something heavy and metallic on your tongue, but it would’ve been impossible to tell if it was his blood or your own. He’d made no attempt to hide your marks, to wash the remaining blood and slick and saliva off his skin. They were filthy creatures, demons. Filthy, and sinful, and undeserving. If you had your way, they’d be left to dwell in their vile hedonism for the rest of time, left alone to their self-indulgent wickedness until they all began to rot. Or, better yet, brought to some great altar built to celebrate their demise, their beating hearts carved out and offered up in repentance. You’d do the butchering yourself, if you had to.

You wanted to dip yourself in a vat of acid. You wanted to bathe in light. You wanted to scream and thrash as Diavolo took your hand, then your wrist, dragging you into a sitting position until you could you had to rely on your own unsteady posture to keep yourself up-right, but you didn’t, didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound as he brought the goblet up to your lips. Sacrament, you thought, as you swallowed down as much of the sweet wine as you could before he took that away from you too, replacing the goblet’s mouth with his own. You didn’t kiss back, didn’t throw yourself against him and beg for his love, his attention, but he pulled away with a satisfied hum. “I think this might be when you’re the most beautiful,” he sighed, cupping your cheek. “In my home, painted with my marks, silhouetted by the firelight…” He let his shoulders drop, and his tone took on a wistful lull. “It’s a breath-taking sight, and you don’t know how much relief it brings me to know that I’ll be the only person to ever see it.”

Your eyes fell to the rug, nearly gaudy in its splendor. You swore to yourself that, if you ever managed to get away from Diavolo, you’d never willingly lay your eyes on a single piece of gold again. “Does…” You started, then trailed off, bowing your head before going on. “Does it ever bother you, knowing I don’t feel the same way?”

You wanted to be more transparent, to say that would never love him, to make it clear that all you’d ever try to do was hurt him, but even to your loathing-addled mind, the words sounded too harsh, too cutting with too little to gain from choking them out of your sore throat and past your bruised lips. Then again, what you actually managed to say didn’t seem to hurt him enough – his smile only taking on a softer note as he leaned forward, letting his lips ghost over your forehead. “Sometimes,” he admitted, with less strain than you’d expected. Less strain than you’d known you were looking for, before he responded so easily. “But not often. Not at all, when I have you with me.” He paused, brightened. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to love me?”

He was better than you. He was stronger than you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at all.

You rarely said anything to Diavolo at all, anymore.

Not that he minded. It was the shape of you by his side that he liked, more than anything – the feeling of your eyes on him, the awareness that if you were on top of him, you couldn’t be anywhere else, with anyone else. He was kind enough to explain his obsession in more depth after you first summoned the courage to ask, to tell you about his possessive urges as you raked a barbed whip across his back, to recount the names of those he’d rather die than lose you to in gasped breaths while you forced his head into a vat of holy water. There was sex, sometimes, when you thought you could stomach it, when it seemed like your usual pastimes wouldn’t be enough to stop him from resorting to less mutual shows of affection. You were more distant on those days than most.

You were more distant today than you’d ever been before. It was almost like ascension, astral projection – you couldn’t recall ever feeling so totally disconnected, only vaguely aware of the gentle throbbing in your cunt, the heat dripping down the inside of your thighs, the feeling of Diavolo’s teeth burrowed into your shoulder. You’d been lax in your preparation, too strung-out to really care if he got away. His ankles were unrestrained, his wrists bound behind his back with little more than a length of bronze cord embedded with thorns, not unsimilar to those you’d find in his beloved garden. They were strong enough to cut into his skin, sturdy enough to tear when he thrashed, and if you were more yourself, you might’ve been able to admire the craftsmanship, the thought that must’ve gone into each and every pinprick of suffering. You weren’t, though, and you couldn’t really bring yourself to appreciate much of anything.

He was making those sounds, again. Even in the face of your vow of silence, he was so fucking noisy – always whimpering or whining or moaning unabashedly while you dragged the blade of your dagger up the length of his spine, dispassionately watching skin split open and hot, crimson blood trail down his arched back. There was a raspy groan, a pair of pointed canines lodged that much deeper into your flesh, then you felt his cock twitch inside of you, still hard despite your motionlessness. It’d been months since the last time he let you take someone else apart, make someone cry in agony without having to listen for something less wholesome playing underneath the surface. If it hadn’t been for the raised lash-marks across his chest and thighs, the feeling of his blood washing over your skin, you’d be tempted to think you were the one being tortured.

With a half-swallowed sigh, you rolled your hips against him, letting your eyes fall shut and total, absolute numbness wash over you in heavy waves. It would’ve been a valuable skill to have a few hundred years ago, when you were constantly being reprimanded by your higher-ups for not being able to remain as stoic as your fellow acolytes, for caring too much about the responsibilities they’d assigned to you minutes after you came into existence. It was hypocrisy, bold and shameless. No one batted an eye when Simeon exorcised a small army’s worth of demons, when Micheal took to the human world with plagues of locusts and rivers of blood, but you were punished for believing what you’d been told, for holding yourself too close to the holy light. For doing your job and doing it well.

Diavolo drifted, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in the side of your neck, to press himself so suffocatingly close to you. You felt the ghost of a hand on the small of your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as a softened voice whispered platitudes of family and forgiveness and virtue, as it offered hollow promises of prayer and purification and, worst of all, love. He said you’d be able to go home, one day, after your penance in the shadows, after you realized how lucky you were to serve in such a benevolent cause. He promised he would bring you home.

Diavolo tilted his head back, his dark eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’d gotten him underneath you, and something in the hollow, frigid depth of your chest cracked open. There was nothing graceful in the way you drew your knife back, nothing purposeful in the way you drove it into his chest. You pictured vital veins and arteries, listed off organs even a demon wouldn’t be able to live without, but all planning and precision was lost in favor of driving your blade into him with wild abandon, plunging your knife into anything you could reach and twisting – turning anything you touched to viscera. Tissue was torn to gory ribbons, muscle diced and shredded, his skin soon little more than a failing barrier between you and what you were trying so desperately to tear out of him. You bounced on his cock as you worked, ignoring the way it throbbed against the walls of your cunt as you dedicated yourself to your task. When your dagger had outlasted its usefulness, you dropped it and took to using your own wretched, unforgivable hands. You found the spines of his ribs easily, tore through them with only the slightest amount of strain. You only noticed Diavolo was moving when you started to push into his diaphragm, his arms straining against his restraints as he thrashed beneath you – trying to free himself, or knock you away, or do something that stopped you from getting what you wanted. From hurting him in a way he couldn’t get off on. From letting you ever return to the paradise you deserved, the paradise you were owed.

His teeth burrowed into your jugular. He wasn’t trying to mark you, anymore – he wanted to end you before you ended him, to survive longer than you planned to let him. It wasn’t enough, though. You swallowed down the pain, muttering prayers under your breath as you surged forward and taking hold of the pulsing muscle in his chest. You felt something hot and awful flood into your pussy – a bodily reflex, you figured, although you’d start to doubt that in the near-future – but ignored the filth flooding into your veins, forced yourself to focus on taking hold of his beating heart and tearing it free from its restraints, from its bondage. Cupped in your palms, you carried it out of your chest with all the love and all the care of a midwife bringing life into the world, and finally, finally, finally, Diavolo went limp underneath you, lips parted and form limp. You let out a sob of relief, dragging yourself away from his unmoving body and onto the cold, stone floor; your legs giving out seconds later and leaving you in a crumpled heap, as useless as you’d always been.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you brought Diavolo’s heart to your lips and swallowed it whole, its warmth lingering on your tongue for seconds. Then, you pulled your legs against your chest, buried your face in your knees, and started to cry.

You were allowed to dwell in your misery for one blissful, liberating second before that was brought to an end, too. “My love?”

You didn’t move. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was just another ghost sent to haunt you, another punishment for letting yourself think of anything but your orders, your responsibilities. When you heard metal snap, when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you only curled deeper into yourself, digging your nails into your thighs as something bloody and blasphemous settled beside you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to cry.” You wished you still had your wings, something to curl around yourself. You wished you could feel the sunlight again. “Was I not convincing enough? We can try again, if you’d like.”

You wished you could be anywhere but here. “Get away from me.”

“Having one of your little episodes again?” He worked a hand under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. His chest was still covered in blood, flecked with bits and pieces of himself, but you couldn’t make out a trace of the gaping wound you must have inflected onto him, couldn’t seem to put what you were looking at together with what you’d just done. It was a visible untruth your mind just couldn’t seem to make sense of, an unignorable mistake in the fabric of reality that no amount of staring could correct. Diavolo sighed wistfully, the noise heavy with tender affection, and his hands fell to your waist, hauling you onto his lap as he’d done so many times before.

You could still taste the bitter meat of his heart on your tongue, still feel the mass of muscle and sinew lodged in your throat, and yet, as your head settled against his chest, you were met with that tell-tale beating, as strong and as steady as it’d ever been. As if you hadn’t accomplished anything. As if you hadn’t done anything at all. “You’re a handful,” he said, pressing a shallow kiss into your temple. “But you’re mine.”

He dipped lower, moved to kiss you, but you weren’t willing to wait as long as it would’ve taken him to reach you. With jerky, erratic movements, you shifted onto your knees, strung your arms around his neck, forced your mouth against his before he could do the same to you. There was a startled sound, a tightened hold on your waist, but Diavolo melted into your sudden affection quickly enough. Your skin crawled, your thoughts spiraling, but you didn’t care. You weren’t sure you’d ever care about anything again.

You’d already been forced out of paradise, tainted beyond redemption and stripped of any hope of returning to the light.

The least you deserved was to enjoy your eternity in the darkness.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere obey me #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #yandere diavolo #diavolo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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sassypantsjaxon · 5 months

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Fuck it. UA instructors as...things the staff from my college have done, I guess?

Because it's been three and a half years since I graduated and I miss that place every single day

Principal Nezu

Principal Nezu has everybody's names, faces, and quirks memorized before the first day of school. This is never acknowledged.

(Recovery Girl also learns everybody pretty much right away, but she interacts with them a bit more directly than Nezu, so it doesn't seem quite as weird)

Somehow Nezu manages to both be so chill and yet have no chill.

Nezu once texted Mic to ask if he was available for a call about some program at school and when Mic didn't answer within 15 minutes because he was DRIVING Nezu just called him anyway and was like "is this a bad time? I can call you back :)" Like, no,no, We're both here now, let's have this conversation now. Go ahead

One time Nezu pulled the Big Three out of their classes and brought them into his office to sit them down like he was about to have a Big Serious Conversation, and then he just says "Do you think...it would be possible for you to visit the first year hero classes...and tell them about your experiences? :)" Mirio and Nejire are both going "yeah, sure", while thinking why did we have to get pulled out of class like this was something really important? Amajiki is hyperventilating.

Power loader

Power Loader is like some kind of cryptid.

He just shows up when things need to be fixed, fixes them, and then disappears again. He never says a word. Don't question it, just be grateful and let him stay in his hiding place

Random knowledge. Whenever the rest of the staff has some random question that no one else can answer. Ask Power Loader. He knows. He always know. Don't question that either, he's just one of those kind of people

Power loader and All Might are the only two teachers who were asked to come to UA instead of having to apply

Actually 13 falls somewhere inbetween applying and being asked to join the staff, because she kind of created her own job.

She just had a meeting with Nezu one day to be like "Your students need an Unforeseen Simulation Joint! Here's what that means and why you need it" And Nezu went "... :) You're hired!"

All Might

Toughest person anybody knows. Can not handle spicy food.

Everybody loves him. Anybody who doesn't isn't cut out for hero school. This is not bragging, it just happens to be true.

All Might once listed one of his credentials as BAMF. (Izuku absolutely lost it that day)

While discussing I Island with Izuku, All Might very casually stated "My ex husband lives there" as if that isn't an Absolute Bombshell to drop You can't just Say That and NOT ELABORATE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE AN EXHUSBAND!?!!???? (Izuku lost it even more that day)

Present Mic

Mic has a bad habit of talking a little too fast. Nobody's ever 100% sure what he said.

Also he swears. Like. A lot. Like, he would get in trouble as a student for swearing.

There is a drawer on Mic's desk that's labeled 'Present Mic's Top Secret Hiding Place' and anybody who notices it is just like ??? because it's clearly labeled and Not a Secret. But Mic is very scatter brained and will lose anything as soon as it leaves his eyesight. Having a specific place to put things help with that.

EraserMic

Married. But they don't really talk about it, and they don't act married in front of the students, so a lot of them don't realize it

It's actually surprising because they have pictures of them and their kids on their desks. All you have to do is go to the teacher's office. It's not a secret. It's right there.

There's a class for the second years on like, heroism and personal lives or something. Eraser and Mic get to teach part of that unit because they have experience being married heroes.

One year when Aizawa says that he's married to Mic one of the students asks him why

That same year, when Aizawa reveals that there is one teacher he will never be friends with (like, even more than all the other teachers), just because they have nothing in common other than working at UA, and the same student asks him if it's Mic

People assume Mic gets special treatment as Aizawa's husband. This is not true. If anything, he's more likely to get the short end of the stick and be asked to cover for Aizawa.

Eraser Head

Aizawa forgot that there was supposed to be a chaperone for the remedial licensing training and said he would probably be the one doing it. He was not. He sent Mic. Thus proving the previous statement true.

Bad at interpersonal relationships

Has a bad habit of mumbling. Students are never 100% sure what he said

At some point, the people around him start referring to doing anything overly rational as 'pulling an Aizawa'. Yeah. ...yeah...

#bnha #my hero academia #principal nezu #power loader #bnha 13 #all might #present mic #eraserhead #erasermic

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deadliestfishinthesea · 2 months

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Love always comes back (like a boomerang)

How you meet Captain Boomerang while working undercover for A.R.G.U.S. (and eventually fall for him)

Part 1.

Boomerang X Y/n

CW: swearing

2.600 words

You can also read this on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54019207/chapters/136749250

___________________________________________

“I am aware that you are already well informed of the system I have put into place. But I will warn you again, Dr. Y/n. These people are not your allies. If they see a chance to take the upper hand, they will take it, even at the cost of your life. I hope you keep that in mind if you are to get the chance of working with Colonel Flag on the field.“ Amanda Waller's everlastingly stern voice rang out trough the speakers. Y/n looked at the screen, directly into the woman's cold eyes.

“Yes, ma'am. Of course.“ Unwavering calm ran though her own voice, a skill she obtained with years of communicating with people in power.

“Good. You have been granted access to inmate 117-12-60. Direct contact isn't allowed.“ As if she'd want to be in any kind of direct contact with a dangerous convict.

“Copy that, ma'am.“ The woman disappreared from the screen and Y/n leaned back from the table where the laptop sat. She turned her head to her side, looking at Aaron Cash, one of the main guards around here. He offered her a derisive smile, nodding his head once.

“Ready to swim with the sharks?“

“From what I heard there's only one shark in here.“

Cash let out a short chuckle, crossing his arms in a way that seemed to convey his superior knowledge on the matter, but Y/n wasn't sold on that just yet.

“Oh he ain't the deadliest fish in this sea.“

_____

For the rather unimpressive amount of time she worked in the facility, Y/n had seen with her own eyes a good portion of prisoners be admitted into the so called shithole named Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. And if she was honest, she had to partially agree with the nickname – it definitely was a shithole, just more so for the inmates than it was for her.

One of the prisoners she witnessed being brought in was George 'Digger' Harkness himself, alias 'Captain Boomerang'. Whatever the case was, in this place he went by 'inmate 117-12-60' as stated in the official reports.

She distinctly remembers the man, restrained with metal clasps around his ankles and hands on something resembling a box cart that the guards used to manouver him around. He was unsuccessfully trying to set himself free, cursing at the guards the whole time.

“Piss off ya' fucken' mongrel!“ Colorful, she thought as she watched from a distance.

“Now that's some fresh meat. Had a bit of trouble finding this guy.“ Cash stood next to her with a smug expression on his face as he spoke.

“Get a dog up ya', ya' wristy-“ One of the guards grabbed him and the clasps opened, nearly sending him to the ground, „Ah, 'coff ya cunt!“

Y/n had a hard time understanding what he was saying from this distance. She frowned as she watched the scene unfold. Once inside the cell, a beep of the comms on the guard's chest could be heard, followed by a few words exchanged, and the laser beams on each side of the cell's entrance lit up, finally imprisoning Captain Boomerang.

She watched the convict with curious eyes the whole time she was leaving, and the last thing she remembers is him turning his head and looking directly at her before she fully turned around.

The memory ended then, and she was back in the present, listening to her and Cash's boots echo on the ground as they walked the halls. Once in front of the big metal doors, they opened with a loud clang and she squeezed her clipboard as they entered the penitentiary, spotting her targeted cell in the corner.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself of her task, glancing at her clipboard. Go in, talk to the inmate, see if he has potential for Waller's plan, get out.

“I think I'll be okay from now on.“ She told Cash with a turn on her head.

“You sure?“

“Yeah.“ She looked ahead at the cell. She needed to do this alone. With a shrug and a mutter of 'okays' and 'fines' Dixen left for the door, leaving her to walk alone towards the guard standing in front of the cell.

While walking she remembered that at this hour, most of the prisoners were sent out for yard time, so nearly every cell in the block was empty. But not Boomerang's. Y/n wasn't sure why he wasn't also outside, and she questioned if the rumors the guards were passing around were actually true. Apparently, a fight breaking out in the yard a couple of days ago resulted in three guards being dropped unconcious and Boomerang being sentanced to lockdown for the rest of the week. Given the place they were in, Y/n considered that an almost merciful punishment. She wondered if that really happened, or if her request for privacy had been granted so they held him back for her arrival.

The entrance to the cell was seethrough thanks to only the lasers acting as doors, but from her angle it didn't show Harkness yet. She approached the guard standing next to the entrance.

“You can go.“ An all access security card was already in her hand, hovering in front of his face.

“But-„

“I said go.“

He turned with hesitation, but didn't say anything as he walked away. When the guard was out of range, she looked at the cell, but still couldn't see Harkness. She had seen him before, though, even if only once. She stepped to the side, now facing the cell entrance, and Captain Boomerang himself.

Boomerang's back was turned to her, but when he heard the boots outside his cell finally walk up to him he turned around. She instinctively took note of his issued white t-shirt and orange sweats. His hands were in his pockets. He didn't say anything, just stared at her, which created an uncomfortable pit in her stomach that she hoped she hid well enough with her neutral gaze. He started walking right up to her and Y/n realised with every step she wasn't prepared as well as she'd thought. He was huge up close. Not only taller but much bulkier than she remembered. He was so close his body was nearly touching the lasers, and she started to wonder what would happen if he did touch them.

Even with his surprising proximity she didn't move, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe she was caught off guard and frozen, or she didn't want to seem intimidated by stepping back. He stared down at her with his eyebrows drawn in an almost captivating frown and his head cocked to the side in intrigue. Y/n quickly realized he was checking her out, comparing and assesing how much of a threat she was. Should she be offended if he didn't see her as one?

“George Harkness?“ She finally broke what felt like a minute long silence.

“Who's askin'?“ He spoke in a low tone, never breaking eye contact.

“My name is Y/n, I'm a licenced psychologist.“

“Yeah, I remember you. You were the sheila staring at me when I came in here.“

Her eyebrows raised, but she hid the slight embarassment she felt, “Yes. I was sent here to… evaluate some inmates by the request of the warden.“

“Ah, what? I send a couple assholes to medical and all of a sudden I'm qualified for a drongo?“ He scoffed.

“So you did cause a fight in the yard?“ It was true after all, and Y/n realised she could use it to her advantage.

“Oh, I'm not confessin' anythin' to ya, missy, but you're in the wrong spot. See, I ain't got a 'roo loose in the top paddock like some of these nutcases.“

“I don't think you're crazy. But I was sent here to prove it. If you want to be let out of lockdown you'll have to answer some of my questions.“

He leaned back and glanced around for a moment, “Then shouldn't these therapeutic sessions be done in uh… I don't know, not in the middle of a cell block?“

“Well, I'm afraid it's hard to provide a seaside view lounge on such short notice. We'll have to make due with what we have.“

“Aw, killer. I'm best relaxed when out of handcuffs. Well, most times, that is.“ He sneered. She tried her best to ignore his comment.

“My first question-“

“So they let you in this shithole with no security jus' for a questionaire?“, he squinted at her.

“I asked for a private conversation.“

„That's why you ordered ol' guard here to fuck off like you're his boss?“ Her eyes widened slightly at his words. Did he just figure out she wasn't here for that kind of evaluation? Maybe doing this without Cash by her side wasn't such a good idea.

Harkness saw the way she was caught off guard and chuckled low and taunting, “You aren't just some psychiatrist, are ya, love?“

“Psychologist.“

“Yeah, yeah, but what else?“

She sighed, “It doesn't matter what I am. What matters is if you want to-„

“I'll tell you what I want.“, he lowered his head to match her height, “I want out of here. And not just out this cell, out the whole place. An' if you can't do squat about that, then your questions won't be much help to ya', doc'.“

“You're right. I can't do that.“

Y/n was quiet for a moment.

“Well then, I guess we're done here.“ She spoke quietly.

“Yeah, we are.“ He nearly whispered.

Both of them were quiet for a few seconds, still looking at each other, but when she caught herself observing the loose strands of hair on his forehead she abruptly broke the silence.

“Thank you for your cooperation, George Harkness.“, her proffessional tone cleary got on his nerves, but he stayed quiet. He backed away from the lasers then, and she turned around to leave.

When the big doors opened again, Cash was waiting on the other side. He shot her a questioning look. She started walking down the hall.

“I need to make a report.“

____

“All in all, you have the upper hand. He is motivated to get out of here, by any cost, and if you grant him that hope I don't see how he wouldn't be willing to do your bitting.“

The woman on her laptop screen nodded approvingly, “Good work, Dr. Y/n. Your next evaluation will be with inmate 00-10-94, so called King Shark. He is the newest added member to our little circus.“ Waller went over some details about the shark, and as she was explaining Y/n looked over to the folder next to her. Captain Boomerang's records.

She knew they were all convicts, guilty of all kinds of crimes. She aimed her attention back to the screen, trying not to think about the conversation she had with Boomerang. It was all just standard procedure she had to follow to work with Rick Flag and the task force Waller wanted so damn much. Still, gathering information to find out whether they would risk suicide for freedom made her stomach turn a little. She knew about Waller's contingency plan, but she didn't know how exactly she planned to make the criminals do anything she wanted. It wouldn't be good enough if she just promised them shortened sentances, they would all escape the moment they stepped foot outside. Y/n could imagine just how far Waller would go to ensure that doesn't happen.

____

Less than a week later Harkness was let out of lockdown. Y/n spotted him outside during yard time when she was making her way from the north wing to the penitentiary. It was pretty cold out and there was a slight fog in the distance, thouh he was playing basketball. In shorts. He palyed with three other inmates, laughing at them whenever they missed their shot.

She looked to the fence, where an inmate was arguing with a security officer. Y/n approached the fence and a guard opened the entrance for her, letting her into the yard.

“Doctor.“

“Hey, Gary. What's with the First Amendment over there?“ she watched the argument between the officer and the inmate get more heated.

“Oh, that guy? We call him Rango. Just got him in a couple weeks ago.“

“Hard time adjusting to prison, it seems.“

Before she could reach the door to the building Rango punched the guard he was yelling at across the face, sending him stumbling backwards and nearly bumping into Y/n. It was as Rango went to take another punch which would've hit Y/n that Digger Harkness socked him across the jaw. Where did he come from? Digger landed another uppercut before Rango hit a right hook to his temple.

“Get him, Boomerang!“ she heard an inmate yell before a majority of them started cheering.

Y/n watched in disbelief as they went crashing into a table. Guards quickly ran up to pull Harknss off of the guy, yeling at both of the convicts in the process.

“Really, Harkness!? After you just got out?“

“Give him a break, man, he just really misses his cell!“

Y/n's eyes were on him the whole time as they dragged him away. Did he really just save her? He didn't have to. They both knew he was on thin ice since he fought those guards, now he was definitely up for lockdown again just because he saved her. Holy shit, she thought, he's up for lockdown because he saved her. She had to stop the guards.

After a short time she made her way over to the medical facility. There were a couple of officers standing in front of it and before she could go in one of them spoke up.

“Y/n!“

She turned to him, “Gary!“

“You okay?“

“Yes, I'm- Where's officer Ryan? I need to talk to him.“

“Uh, broken nose, he's in there. But be careful-“

“Thanks, I know.“ She was already opening the door to the building. When she found the room officer Ryan is supposed to be in she stepped in and walked past Boomerang. He was sat up in the adjustale hospital bed, tied to it with leather restraints around his ankles and wrists, and when he looked up at her surprise spread trough his features, but she didn't have time for that as she walked right by him.

Boomerang couldn't hear any voices coming from the other rooms, so he imagined she already left, but after some time she walked back into the room.

“Well, fuck me dead, if it it isn't miss pretend doctor?“

She rolled her eyes, stopping at the foot of the bed. She could look at him up close now and notice his black eye, along with a slight bruise on his jaw. He had a couple of stitches on his shoulder, and she could only guess there was more on his back.

“You look like shit.“

“Hah, then you clearly didn't see the other poor bastard. Oh, and you're welcome, love.“

“No, you're welcome. I talked to the guards, they should… shorten your lockdown.“

“Hey, fair suck of the sav, doc'.“

“What?“

“I saved you from a nasty bruise, but I did the paw patrol a favor too, ya know. That wanker Rango's been up their asses two weeks now. And all I get is a fifty percent isolation discount?“

“You broke a table. And I never said it was fifty percent.“

He groaned, his head falling back on the pillow. He looked at her, not moving his head, and to Y/n he looked like he was resting on a deckchair on a nice remote beach rather than recovering from a fight in a prison yard.

“Betcha wouldn't even untie me if I asked.“ He wriggled his hands around in his cuffs to emphasize his point.

“You're right.“

He looked at the ceiling in defeat, but his eyes found her again when she spoke up.

“But.. I did want to thank you.“

“Well, let's hear it, then.“

“You just did.“ she said as she walked out of the room.

#prison fight #romance #captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #ssktjl #dcu #dc comics #forbidden love #suicide squad kill the justice league

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yu-huuuu · 11 months

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𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘯 — 𝘮𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

[🌸] I literally wrote it after it occurred to me while eating pizza, pff-

characters: muichiro tokito;; some character mentions

genre: angst

warnings: gn!reader;; mentions of death (you die baby);; sPOILEEEEER-

-.-.-

You were going to condemn him if you told him.

"Y/N!" He begged you again, showing you once again how broken he was by this situation,“Please!, please! Tell me!, What did the demon look like that left you like this?”

You shuddered from the pain, or perhaps from his broken look. Your arms had been cut off, you were losing a lot of blood.

The demon responsible for your current state had left you like this when you decided to turn down his disgusting offer to become a demon.

The fight hadn't even lasted long enough to be considered a real fight, and yet that demon had fawned over your skills before leaving you like this.

Something took you out of your thoughts. It was the trembling sigh of your beloved partner, "My love... please- tell me, who was it”

Ah, 'my love', that was your nickname. That was what Muichiro had decided to call you when the only two present were the two of you.

“I-I…”, you could feel your warm tears falling down your now pale cheeks. If you told him the name of that demon, if you told him who it was... you would sentence your partner to death.

Because you knew that if he faced that demon, he would die.

Neither of you deserved this, especially Muichiro. It had only been several months since he regained his memory. And it had only been weeks since you and him became a couple.

It was just not fair.

You saw his eyes for what you knew would be the last time to appease the fear that was welling up in you. You had so many plans for your future, when this fight against the demons will end, you had so many plans for your future with Muichiro.

Dreams, hopes. Although a very deep part of you knew this would happen. But even so, you never gave up fighting. You were just too stubborn.

Something fell on your cheeks, it was your lover's tears, "Y/N..."

You knew it better than anyone. Muichiro was also in the same situation as you. He was also afraid.

The plans he had with you had also ended. It was when you realized that Muichiro Tokito was already doomed the moment he found you like this.

"Y/N, please... I can't- I can't live easy knowing that someone did this to you!". His voice broke as he spoke. His precious little eyes were crying like a waterfall before the mist appeared, and yet they were also filled with deep hatred.

A hate that was directed directly at the demon who was responsible for separating you from him. “...Y/N tell me, who was the demon”.

There was no way to save him. You could no longer dissuade him. Once you left this world, once you died, all of Muichiro's hopes, wishes, and life would also die.

Gathering the few forces you had left, you spoke, knowing that there would be no turning back.

“It was the upper moon one… Kokushibo…”

#kny #muichiro tokito #muichiro x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #tokito muichiro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #<3333 #kokushibo #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #kokushibo kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo x reader

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chaotic-banana-fish · 9 months

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ASH LYNX'S NAME

(I already posted this in my main account but thought it was a good idea to repost it here to get the blog going + it has some additions)

I love the possible significance of Ash's different names. He's named Aslan, which means dawn, by his mother, as a symbol for a bright and beautiful beginning, but then he changes it to Ash, which evokes images of death and endings. In the dawn the light is beautiful and soft, while Ash implies burning, perhaps even the burning of oneself.

When Ash reveals his name to be Aslan to Eiji along with its meaning he allows him to see that part of himself as well as allows himself to be that person for a while. With Eiji he doesn't need to burn or destroy, he can be a dawn, which is in a way a sort of rebirth. It's therefore, also symbolic that so many scenes between them occur at dawn or the sunset, as that's what Ash embodies when he's with him, like Max says "just a boy of 17 years". As he lets his guard down around Eiji and calls himself Aslan, he rises from the Ashes of his name like a Phoenix. I like to think this was also somewhat intentional given that his character was based on River *Phoenix*.

I also feel like this really ties into the symbolism of fire in banana fish as well, which in different instances serves as a medium for both destruction and rebirth. For example, Ash uses fire to burn Shorter's body along with the laboratory, and it also appears as a haunting image in the opening, with Ash staring directly into it. Fire however, is also what rids Ash of his past, as Max burns all photographs and evidence of it. His name is just like that as well, Ash implies destruction, yet also rebirth as a phoenix that can rise from the Ashes, perhaps also showcasing his capability for recovery, that despite what he might've thought he wasn't unsalvageable. This is also present in "RED" one of the outros, with the lyric "if I decide to burn (like ash) instead of fading out (like dawn)". Which once again shows the two sides of Ash and the way they're embodied in his names, as well as the idea that perhaps after all, he did have a choice, unlike the leopard from the story he tells Eiji. (Conversation which I may add, happens at dawn.)

Finally, in Garden of Light, Eiji puts up a picture of him in a gallery (it's one of him sat at the window, calm) and titles it "Dawn". Obviously this reflects the actual background of the picture, as well as his name in a subtle way. But with it he's also choosing to remember Ash for his gentleness and brightness rather than the burning violence his life ignited in him. Ash is remembered by who he really was, or rather who he should've been able to be. His real name however, Aslan, Eiji keeps for himself, a touch of light that only he'll ever know.

Aslan was a Dawn cut short, by a sun that came too soon, too cruel, now re-birthed and remembered, by the eyes that caught its light before it burned into Ash.

#banana fish #banana fish analysis #banana fish rant #ash lynx #ash lynx analysis #eiji okumura #aslan jade callenreese #shorter wong #yut lung lee #🍌🐟

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mamayan · 7 months

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I don't know how often we request for the Russian roulette,but I was hoping to request Geto and the numbers 3,76,60 and 95 the reader being older in her 30s and Geto being 27

Bang! … You’ve been shot!

Suguru Geto

tw: NSFW • Rough Sex • Overstimulation • Mild Angst • Possessive/Obsessive Themes • Fem! Reader

wc: 1033

You didn’t think about him as often anymore.

The underclassman which massacred an entire village overnight, his own family not spared either.

You don’t think about him like you used to.

The dark eyes of Suguru once haunting your dreams and life for years after that incident, questions going unanswered by the sweet boy who used to tease you despite being his senior. His smile radiant as he’d hide behind Satoru, your wrath unleashed as he whispered yet another filthy sentence directly into your ear.

You go about life in a mundane blur when you’re reminded of him. Eyes vacant and far elsewhere while the council chitters like rodents, occasionally pulled out by a silly expression flashed by Satoru if he happened to be present. You enjoyed those times when anyone was there to rid you of the uncomfortable sensation writhing in your chest when you recalled even his voice. The times when he used to use his tall stature against you, using you like an arm rest casually while he peaked over your shoulder to read a text message you’d be sending. “Who is that to? You never spend so long on a text you send to me,” he’d smile innocently under your baleful eyes, undeterred by your swatting hands. “You should change my contact, don’t girls use cute emoticons? Why is it only my name?” He’d use any excuse to touch you, crowd and wrap you up in his pace so seamlessly you’d miss how it even started.

The little touches soon swirled into full advances, his grip on your thigh as he swirled his tongue inside your mouth possessive. The time as horny teenagers when you just couldn’t keep your hands off one another.

Suguru was always a stubborn even then, you think, as the tug on your scalp brings you out of your thoughts. You don’t think like you used to.

“Hah—!” You don’t mean to cry out so loudly, body jolting from the shock of his harsh slap to your ass.

“Pay attention love, it’s rude to ignore me when I’m speaking,” he chides easily, hips never stopping at he fucks you at a cruel pace, your earlier releases dripping and drying on your inner thigh as you grip the sheets beneath you.

The man behind you, keeping you pinned and face first into the bed, hasn’t changed all that much since you were younger and more naive. He was always smart and calculating, every step like a chess battle he was determined to win.

“You’re really cute today, did you dress up just for me?” He’s referring to the lovely dress he’d torn off you, a gift from him no less, but you hadn’t actually expected to see him. Not after the weeks of silence which he likes to subject you to, but ultimately you prefer staying none the wiser of his movements and actions.

You clamp down on his cock as he reaches around you, gathering your slick up and rubbing it over your puffy nub while he continues to nail your deepest parts without mercy. “I missed you, did you miss me too?” He’s vile for playing with your heart like this, chest constricting painfully as tears leak down your cheeks. You answer despite it all, the pleasure and odd emotional pain mixing into something you have no name for but are clearly addicted to. “Y-yes, missed y-you ‘Sugu—!” You’re a mess of tears and drool as you feel another climax wash over you, face turned while he holds one hand in your hair to keep you pressed nicely below him.

“Hm, you’re cute even when you lie though.” He’s upset, you can tell from how rough he’s being with you, but you can do nothing about it.

“That’s okay my sweet little liar,” his chest touches your back, forcing you into an even deeper arch as he pounds into you. The lewd noises in the hotel room grow louder as you struggle to breathe through all the pleasure he’s subjecting you to. His hand doesn’t stop rubbing you even as you shatter, body jerking and attempting to escape from the overstimulation as he chuckles and pressed you down further. “S’too much—,” it’s a pathetic keen deep from within your throat as you’re made to take it, his thrusts only hitting deeper with how he’s got you pressed. His long hair tickles your cheek, eyes wet and blurry as you try to stay conscious.

“I think it’s not enough, don’t you? Since you keep slipping away if I fall asleep.” You couldn’t if you tried, he allows you to leave, but you can hear something dark in his tone now. His nails dig into your scalp, dragging your hair into his clutch and tugging painfully. He’s forcing your head further to the side and up so he can look at you, undeterred by your fucked out appearance as he sneers.

“You really like playing hard to get don’t you? Even in school you acted oblivious, but I’m not letting that slide anymore.”

“‘Sugu—!” Your squeal is soon muffled as he forces your face into the bedding, his angle changing so his tip painfully nails against your cervix.

“Since you won’t make a decision, I’ve made one for you.” You aren’t strong enough to sit up, body unwilling to listen as he assaults you with pure bliss and promise of another release. “I’m not letting you go anymore. You’ve worn even my patience out.” You’re delirious, his eyes drinking in your lax expression as his balls draw tight.

“No need to cry baby, you’ve got one more in you, cum again for me.” His husky voice is moaning right into your ear, fingers shifting to pinch your poor swollen clit, forcing you into a sharp climax as you soak his cock while he finishes just behind you.

“That’s it,” his teeth are grit, brows drawn tight as a sense of rightness washes over him, decision final now that he’s come to it. “So good for me,” but the opposite feeling consumes you, his kiss and hand gentle as he brushes the hair sticky with sweat off your forehead.

He’s not going to let you go anymore.

Post dividers/@cafekistune

#500 Event #Suguru Geto #Suguru Geto x reader #Suguru Geto smut #Suguru Geto x reader smut #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk Suguru smut

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mcl4r3n · 10 months

Text

(wait) they don't love you like i love you

Dando, 800w, Mature (for @landoisokay)

---

There is a mole, right there, on Lando’s left ear, and another, just below it.

There’s one to the left of his neck. Another, near his chin, hidden by his little patchy beard. Another, on his cheek. Another, by his nose.

They are guides for Daniel to press his lips to, and he’s always been good at following directions.

Lando’s body is mapped out with them, instructions on how best to make Lando feel good. Where to bite down on soft flesh so that Lando will close his eyes and sigh through his teeth.

His hips provide Daniel with the trail he needs to follow so that he can put his hands on hardened muscle, into the dip of skin that goes from smooth to rough, into the garden of hair where Lando’s cock lies thick and hard and hot.

“Daniel.” Lando’s voice is only a measure above a whisper. Daniel loves the way Lando says his name in bed. He’s heard it, over and over—angry, full of mirth, clipped, demanding. The way Lando says it when he’s nestled in Daniel’s comforter is his favorite. “You’re going too slow.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Daniel presses another kiss to Lando’s clavicle. He strokes Lando’s cock once, just to tease, before he brings his hand back to Lando’s nipple, takes it between thumb and forefinger, and pinches, sure and steady, while Lando’s back arches off the bed. “I wanna take my time with you.”

Lando’s cock leaks precum from that. Daniel loves to watch when it happens, loves the way Lando’s body responds to him.

There’s no music around them, just the low hum of the hotel room’s AC and their steady breathing. Daniel braces himself over Lando and steals a kiss that Lando readily gives up, tongue sliding against his, insistent and impatient. He moans into it, and Daniel swallows it with his next breath.

“Danny,” Lando whines, and this, of course, makes Daniel’s cock twitch against Lando’s thigh. It’s a conditioned response now, really. Lando whines, and Daniel gets hard.

“What do I do with you, hmm?” Daniel skates his tongue along Lando’s sternum. “Always so impatient.”

Lando is ruinous, to him. Ten years his junior, bright and fresh. A fucking spark.

Daniel’s tasted love before, held its shape and pressed him palms into it, but never like this, never packaged and presented like this. Lando’s hands claw at his back so that Daniel has no choice but to kiss him again, sucking on the tip of Lando’s tongue while he slots himself between spread legs.

He hasn’t said it, yet, is the thing. He hasn’t pulled the vocabulary from his brain just yet to be able to transmit that information across with his words. The year has been hard, their relationship only really still very much in its early days, even if it’s been seven months since Lando first kissed him, like a calf getting on its legs and finding its footing.

But Daniel loves him. Daniel spends days apart from him, and days near him, crossing paths on the paddock when he happens to be there for a race weekend, and they glance at each other over a sea of mechanics and the navy blues and papaya-oranges of teams he used to call home.

Lando hasn’t said it, either, not to him directly. But instead, Lando posts photos of himself wearing Daniel’s clothing, hats he knicked from his suitcase. Lando gets interviewed and says, “I had dinner with Daniel in Monaco,” and, “I love Daniel,” to a crowd of people.

But he’s never said it to his face. So Daniel waits, and bides his time. He isn’t in a hurry.

They move together, slowly, undemanding, despite Lando’s protests, and Daniel chases every kiss with another one. He strokes Lando to completion before he even gets a chance to fuck him, and then does so again, when he’s balls-deep inside of him, unhindered by any sort of latex, Lando’s strong legs locking behind his back to keep him in place.

There’s spunk that plasters their bellies together, after, having fallen asleep with their limbs pretzeled and bordering on uncomfortable. Daniel comes to, the sensation of fingers stroking through his curls coaxing him from slumber.

He props himself up on an elbow and wrinkles his nose, and Lando giggles, high-pitched and kind of grossed out, the way they have to unstick from each other like they’re caught in those adhesive rat trap sort of things.

The sun has set in Silverstone. Tomorrow, Lando has free practice, and Daniel will once again sit on the sidelines while twenty other men live out his dream. Except that he has testing the week later, and Lando’s staying to watch.

The timing comes to him then, while they’re sticky and sweaty and wrapped up in each other.

“I love you. I hope that’s okay.”

Lando smiles, eyes colored like deep moss, crinkling at the edges, mouth stretched so his cheeks bunch up. “Yeah,” Lando sighs. “Yeah, that’s quite alright, Danny.”

Daniel’s eyes find a mole to the right of Lando’s Adam’s apple. He kisses him there.

#dando #look ma i managed to not use the word 'know' once!#or 'think'!#writing things #did this to challenge myself with that chuck palahniuk writing thing #dr3 #ln4 #this is also for kay <3 #landoisokay

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rinbowaman · 1 year

Text

My Girlfriends Roommate - Chapter 10 (18+)

WARNING: Aggressive sexual nature, mental hesitancy regarding sexual act (all of the smut is consensual), heartbreak, mental and emotional turmoil, rough love, rough sex, and lots of internal monologue.

It's starting to get pretty descriptive but again, theres a lot of symbolism and poetic vibes with the chapters hence forth. Theres also going to be a slight breeding kink in the smut scene, it gets pretty rough. MINORS DNI, this is strictly for young adults 18+.

Still refraining from shifting at the sudden discovery, the only part of you that did move was when you jolted your eyes open at the shock of it. You didn’t look around, instead the moment your eyes opened your gaze remained on your phone sitting on the side table. The glare of the blackened screen was reflected from the light coming in through from the outside.

“Who made you cry?”

The sound of his voice was different. You never heard it like this; it was much deeper, yet a light pitch somehow was present. You shifted your face directly towards his, your eye lids remained heavy from crying, you stared back at Ethan as he stood beside the bed, looking extremely tall as he hovered over your laying state. His eyes were shiny, and they peered down at you in a piercing manner, yet they were soft as he communicated his expression to you. You felt his hand resting on your cheek as it did earlier at the frat house, and just like he did before he swiped his thumb, only this time it was sweeping away fresh tears.

For the first time, you engaged in a moment where the interaction between you both was the longest than it had ever been. It started when you answered his question.

“…S…Samuel.”

He nods. Still consoling your face with tender strokes, even though there was nothing left to swipe away. He continues the conversation as you remained laying still.

“Yeah…I know.” He continues speaking in that soft voice.

“…You saw it?…You read the email?” He nods in response.

“Why did you ask if you already knew?” You expressed deep confusion as you felt he tricked you into saying Samuel’s name, knowing full well of everything after reading the email.

“I wanted to hear what it sounded like when you said his name.” His gaze shifted down, staring at your bottom lip as if he was an appeasing artist admiring his work.

You were shocked that his response was anything but short and blunt as it had been in the past, but that wasn’t the only thing that surprised you. You wondered what the hell did he mean by his answer. There was only one way to find out, so you proceeded,

“Why?…”

“To see if I could understand how he felt whenever you said it.”

“….do you?” You ask in return, on the verge of crying as you feel the overwhelming built up of tears collecting in your ducts yet again.

“Mmmhm.” He nods along with his response.

Your calm expression remains unchanged, yet you feel the stinging of tears as they overflowed and blurred your vision once more, trailing down and leaving their mark on your face. His nod was paired with a very faint smirk that rooted itself to his expression as he stared directly into your eyes. A warm expression of comfort as if he was letting you know everything was going to be alright. All the while he relentlessly stroked you with his thumb. Then he carried the weight of the conversation as he continued;

“I think…that if I got to hear you say my name like that…I’d go mad too…knowing I wouldn’t be able to hear you.”

His thumb switches momentum as he paused from the slow strokes and begins grazing it over your slightly parted lips. You felt the slight lift and the sudden pressing of his thumb pad become heavier as he presses on the center of your bottom lip before lifting it, going back to gently grazing it as if he was gently wiping something off.

He sits on the bed next to your stomach, leaning in as he brings his face closer to yours, being mindful to not hit you with the extended bill of his hat. You didn’t change your position nor did you flinch as you felt the air flowing from his nostrils, grazing the tip of your nose. You didn’t move a single muscle. You couldn’t.

You still felt too drained and you were doubling the exhaustion as you went back and forth on trying to make sense out of what was going on. Your eyes still pinned to his face, your heart races as his thumb continued caressing your lips and he leaned his face just a hair closer to yours, hovered over it as you watched him peeking down at you from the shadow that casted over his face. He stared into your eyes intently as the smirk remained on his lips.

“I don’t have to be the only one to understand that type of rationality, Y/N…”

Confused by what he said, your lids felt heavier as they partially covered the iris of your eyes, condensing the tears as they appeared like diamond clusters beneath your setting lashes. Staring right back at him, your lips opened just a tad bit more upon feeling the instinctive reaction to responding, but nothing came out of your mouth. It remained just slightly open upon feeling the rubbing of his thumb. He admired your face as the look of desire, exhaustion, and recovered sadness adorned your face. You beseeched him to elaborate the meaning of the latter.

“I don’t…understand what you mean.” Your voice was broken but tranquil as you spoke in almost a whisper.

He breaks the connecting stare you both shared, but it was only for just a moment. You witnessed his pupils shift to your lips then right back up to your diamond eyes, locking back on the intense and strict eye contact. His smirk disappeared.

“You want me to show you?” Suddenly, you felt the slight pressure of his thumb pressing down on the center of your bottom lip once more, slightly harder than before.

Upon hearing his offer, you realized that Ethan had you figured out. He read you like an open book, or rather, that email. He knew you couldn’t let it go. “It” being Samuel. The girl. Their unborn child. Their future. Their past. The email. Your memories. His memories. “It” was all of that and so much more.

And here was Ethan, wanting to help you.

It went without saying, you somehow knew that his offer wasn’t to erase the pain. He wasn’t offering to take it all away either. He wasn’t offering to make it seem like it never had happened. That wasn’t the way he wanted to heal you.

You knew.

You knew when the tender cushion of comfort, intimacy, and passion in his voice carried you as he sets the tone of the atmosphere. Ethan spoke in a language that only you could understand. He knew. You both knew. He communicated to you with the beating of his heart, wanting nothing more than for you to feel safe again and get you to find your own hale. He wanted to guide you, knowing that you lost the melody, yet he could help bring back harmony into your life.

Allowing for you to explore new paths in life, he offers to build you roads, brick by brick. You knew that he wanted you to learn from the pain. To become stronger because of this pain. You knew that his dominating presence took it upon itself to kill off the dying flame, it was the moment he shut your phone screen to black, sealing Samuel’s email beneath it.

The dying flame you held on to was now gone forever. Instead, he ignites a new and stronger flame. You felt the sincerity in his actions; the way he deliberately puts you inside the den and wakes the demons. He did this by making you say Samuel’s name aloud as you lay in a pool of your tears. That was painful. And he knew it was.

As you were beginning to feel yourself being eaten alive, his true intentions are displayed when he refuses to flee. Instead, he stays back with you, offering to show you how to rule and conquer the monsters. You no longer feel like you’re alone.

Feeling the compassion in his resolve, you nod your head, accepting his offer. His thumb applying a little bit more pressure to your lip, it was his way of telling you to use say it. Speaking with an air breathlessly voice, you say his name.

“Ethan..”

You watch him tilt his head slightly back, his eyes looked down at you in both a beautiful but eerie manner.

“Not that one. Not Ethan.” He shook his head just a hair.

Recalling the sound of Jakes voice at the party when he called out to him, you find yourself hesitating. Your nerves were on fire upon knowing that, the moment you say his birth name, he wasn’t going to stop. Unsure if you really wanted to put yourself in that position, yet the look he was giving you was irresistible and you reached the point of no return.

It was hard to make sense on how you knew this. You just did. You had this connection with him that you didn’t have with anyone else. Not even Samuel. Ethan felt it as well.

The lust in your eyes takes over, and you saw him savor the view of your face as his lips slightly part in hunger, pushing out slow breaths. They were barely steady, shaking as they were pushed out of his mouth, you heard him take a slight gulp at the breach of you giving in. His eyes pierced through yours, like lightening, as he shakes by the urge of desire, waiting on you.

With one single ounce of newfound courage, you prepared yourself. With a tranquil tone, you spoke out…

“Heeseung.”

Dear Samuel,

I read your letter in full. I read it several times in fact. I can’t even begin to tell you how I felt the moment I realized I lost you. From the moment I accepted you, the bond of our relationship allowed me to view you as something more than just a boy. You were the air, light, feel, taste, and sound; all the things that make life worth living for.

When I read your letter, you became the darkness that over casted my sight, leaving me blind. I can’t begin to explain the rollercoaster effect you put me through.

Heeseung closed the distance and engages in the most passionate and heated kiss; one that you never experienced before, not even with Samuel.

The sound of your lips smacking against each other stains the walls, shattering away the pillars of silence within the room. His hand cradles your jawline as his thumb gently grounds itself on your cheek; you feel him gently pulling your face to deepen the kiss, though it was already as deep as it possibly could be.

His tongue forces your lips to expand wider and he licks the inside of your mouth. You felt the slick and smoothness of the muscle as he massages every inch of you, flickering the roof of your mouth in between scooping your tongue with his.

Feeling his body shaking in vibrational waves, he tries to get a hold of himself and remain stable as the uncontrollable urge poisons his mind, body, and soul. You realize that, unlike yourself, this wasn’t a shorthand discovery of desire; this was something he long waited for.

Something that forced him to surrender to a timeline of torture as he was forced to render patience, anticipation, and faith, experiencing the transition of confusion, fear, joy, and desire from when he first met you.

Stealing a gasp from you as his body suddenly goes dense, his weight traps you below him; all your moans are swallowed and savored as they travel down his throat. Your shaking hands struggle to lift and grab on to his biceps as he leans further into you, making you feel weak and lightheaded from the intoxication of lust he was painting on you.

With the denseness of his weight on your chest mashing your delicate and perky breasts against the plate of your chest, he made it hard for you to breathe, causing you to shorten each breath as they emerge out against his assaulting tongue.

Lifting himself against his forearms, his fingers coiling the silky strands of your hair, each sloppy and intense kiss he subjected you into receiving caused the exchanging of saliva to foam and collect in the outer corners of your mouth. He was merciless as he did not permit you any breaks to catch your breath, instead, you laid taking in the pleasant abuse of his oral ambush.

Despite what you did and how you went about it, I figured you ought to know something. Something that I think you’ll learn from and will always remember…and hopefully teach your child someday, dearest Sammy.

With his hands placed on your inner thighs, without breaking the assault of his intense kiss, he pushes your legs apart and spread them open, stationing himself in between. His body welds into yours and once he was settled in, he shifts the placement of his hands. Reaching around each leg, he pulls them in around his waist, sealing his body to you.

Your eyes scared wide open as you realized that you crossed the threshold, there really was no turning back at this point. Whatever anxiety and fear you felt at the prospect of being a victim of his creativity, you became apprehensive at the thought of what he was going to do to you. You knew it was something you’ll be forced to confront and overcome, because nothing was going to stop him from claiming you all the way through.

Growing immensely nervous at the thought of being prey to his sexual emotion, a knot in your gut appeals you to back down. A sense of cold feet overrides you as timidness and hesitancy develops and that knot propels you to voice out while you still can and tell him to stop and leave. It urged you, almost convincing you to do so.

Almost…

Finally able to catch your breath, he takes a cyclic pause from kissing you, yet his lips remained attached with yours, leaving your breaths nowhere to travel but into his mouth. Sex, as you assumed, was something that you had always thought to be a mutually beautiful act between two people. The mutuality was present between you two, though barely hanging by a thread as you silently questioned if accepting his offer was a good idea.

It wasn’t because you didn’t trust him or thought he had intentions to commit serious harm to you, it wasn’t that at all. It was because the deliverance of his affection was nothing you had ever experienced or heard of. It was dominating, intimidating, and matched the ferocity of a raging beast.

Heeseung’s performance spoke to you. It told you of the times he secretly longed for you and how it all developed into an infatuation; an obsession of not just wanting to be with you, but to have you become a part of his body and entity. It was the thought and concept of being connected and stained internally by his mark, the driving force behind his passionate but aggressive treatment towards you.

Submitting to his demand in giving him every part of you, to include the air that you breathe, Heeseung felt that he should the same. With both your mouths remaining open and perfectly aligned, he spits. The sensation of the slightly cool ball of moisture landing on your tongue and dripping back to the depths of your throat made you jolt, along with a gasped moan of lust, confusion, displeasure, and stress escapes you as his dominance nearly brought you to scream.

When you and Samuel were dating, it was automatic that your guy’s relationship naturally signified unspoken vows of belonging. You belonged “with” him.

With Heeseung, there was no pairing sense of equality regarding the feeling of belonging. Instead, he made it clear that you belonged “to” him. You belonged to him no differently than the shine in his beady eyes did; the black strands of hair attached to his head, or the depth of his relaxed tone he spoke in. You belonged to him in the same sense that the sky is blue, and water is wet. There was no other logic and knowing that fact you didn’t feel compelled to fight it, you would lose miserably. Instead, you surrendered and allowed him to win by default. He continues victoriously.

You tore me apart. My heart bled and I became lost; you left it barely beating and you called me beautiful, but you abandoned me ugly. You’ll never understand the pain you inflicted and the number of tears I shed at your expense, all of them burned and trailed streaks of despair on my face for the world to see.

Because of you, I was on the path that you’re quite familiar with. The path to misery, anger, and Hell. And just like you, I too directed my torment using the finger of blame. I blamed you, and I wish I had left it that. In my shame, I willfully admit that while I not only blamed both you and her, I even started to blame your unborn child.

In the midst of the continued exhibition of Heeseung appreciating your body, you continued to suffer through the torment of his affection. He pulls the straps to your dress down over your shoulders; you feel the fitted material peeling off as he continues dragging it down, exposing your breasts, your stomach, and your hips. Once the fabric collected around your pelvis, you felt his weight lift away as he sits up on his knees and continues to remove your dress, sliding it off your legs. He was slick to drag your lace panties off along with it, leaving you vulnerable as you laid bare in every inch while he remained fully clothed. But not for long.

You commence your habit of wrapping your arms around your waist, only this time it wasn’t out of habit so much as it was to try and cover yourself. You don’t recall feeling this shy when you and Samuel had sex. But Heeseung is obviously a different type of man than Samuel was and would ever be. You breathed deeply upon witnessing the appeal of Heeseung as he removed each piece of clothing he had on.

His blazer, the muscle tee underneath, and the neat jeans; one by one he reached the same level of nudeness as his lean muscles could be seen reflecting the illuminating glare in the room. He semi leans onto you, hovering over your body as he leans against one arm. With his chest pressed against yours, he reaches up and removes his hat. For the first time since, you see Heeseung’s face in full view, it takes your breath away. His forehead partially exposed as the front pieces of his hair are slightly parted in the center.

He runs his fingers through the strands, pushing it back as he smirks, you watch as they fall back into place. A violent shutter attacks your body as you witness his eyes staring at you almost in a taunting manner, they were wide and almost jeering the way he took advantage of your surprised state. Had it not been for the tenderness of his touch, his passion, and the endearment you felt in his kiss, you would have succumbed to fear and horror as the look in his wide eyes carried a hint of sinisterness when he found enjoyment at the expression you held when seeing his face unhindered by shadow for once. Still, the look he had was unsettling and you couldn’t help but react by replacing your surprised look with a fearful one as you shook your head slightly, bidding him to not look at you the way he did, like a wild animal ready to pounce on its prey.

Upon seeing the apprehensive fear on your face, he chuckles, reaching up as he strokes your face and kisses you gently.

His arms were decorated with strong veins, he propped himself on both arms and took a moment to appreciate the view of your body, the glow of your skin, the hair draping over your shoulders and breasts, and the delicate arms that failed to provide cover. He could see everything. Feeling the need to satiate his hunger, his body relays to you of his desire to feed when you felt the impact of his groin pressing against you.

But Sammy, this is the part I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart; I understand. I now understand why you did what you did.

Why you felt empty. I understand why you felt liberated from the pain once you felt her embrace. I truly do understand. Now that I have been in your shoes, I know what it’s like to lose and suffer the consequences of that loss. But more importantly, I understand why you chose her. Why you gave into her.

It was true love wasn’t it?

After suffering for as long as you did, and finding someone that healed you only, you realized that what you felt with me wasn’t love at all. Not love like felt with her. With her, it felt magical, unreal, and powerful.

Much like the initial feel of his fingertips, his body was cold as you felt his chest mashing against yours, his weight yet again sinks into you. Once you melted into each other, the cool temperature of his skin becomes warm and even softer. You let out a soft moan against his mouth as you embraced it.

Noticing your reaction, it stirred something inside him, but not entirely in your favor. The tip of his nose pressed up against yours, the scent of his cologne makes you dizzy with euphoria, his hands explore your body as they massage your waist, appreciating the curves of your sculpture and the feminine appeal you were born with.

His hand taps your waist, signaling you to arch your back, no longer questioning on going further, you do so exactly as he bids you. His arms reach around your waistline, and he swallows you whole as you nearly disappear into his large frame upon receiving his embrace.

You brace yourself as its finally happening and if you hadn’t been deeply attached to him in the encasement of his arms, your nerves would have convinced you to run far away.

He re-initiates the kisses as his reach tightens, forcing you to exaggerate the arch in your back. In a sudden manner your body elevates away from the mattress as you feel the strength of his power pull you up. You hastily grab his upper arms as you feel the sudden rush of being suspended, your heart feeling sore after feeling his hard muscles flexing as he lifts you.

Stabilizing himself on his knees, the momentum of his upper body fully elevates you in mid-air, his arms tightly wrapped around your lower back and waist, and he positions himself trapping you between his mighty frame up against the tall headboard. The stiffness of his member pressing and rubbing against your inner thigh triggers you to wrap your legs around him.

Completely different from the touch of his cold fingers, the foreskin of his length is warm and soft. You lean and roll your head back at the sensation of it, decorating the wood of the board with your hair. This was the first moment of the night that you felt less anxious; though he was still performing as an aggressive lover, you were beginning to yearn more after experiencing the touch of it.

Your hands that remained planted on his biceps begin to stroke them in a subtle manner and your fingers gently tap his skin. Knowing that you were apprehensive since the moment he entered the room, albeit also storing knowledge that you were on the edge of telling him to stop, he smirks as he shoves his face in the corner of your neck. A small, very faint, whispering chuckle shakes its way through his teeth and you feel the vibration from his delight while also feeling the skin of his smile forming against your throat.

Samuel, I understand. I am not angry with you. Just as I caused our torment, you caused mine; however, much like the woman who taught you how to accept and overcome pain, I too fell from your grace and strayed into the arms of someone who did the same.

Someone who guides me to not only accept the sadness of it, but showed me where to find the beauty of that pain and how to learn the meaning behind it.

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charmwasjess · 2 months

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25 for Sifo, please 😁

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Oh Ingata, you've unknowingly asked me to present my thesis on my favorite topic and I love you for it. (Okay, this could have been a two sentence answer, but it's me.) So I wrote you an essay on Sifo-Dyas, but I'm putting it below a cut to save everyone from my rambles on Sifo in the old EU and the greater meaning of his doom-ass storyline.

Apparently, I once casually mused to readalong back in the day (exactly how long ago? No need to worry about that!) that Sifo-Dyas must have been a pretty nice guy, what with him putting up with Dooku all those years. Oh sweet summer child. If only I knew then how long I would spend thinking about this idiot and their dynamic.

Back then, he was on my mind simply because of Dooku. In Luceno’s Labyrinth of Evil, Yoda takes some time to describe in length Dooku and Sifo-Dyas’s close friendship, “bound by the unifying Force,” and speculates what Sifo-Dyas knew about the lead-up to Dooku’s fall. That he was desperately worried about Dooku, that he thought Qui-Gon’s death was a breaking point for him, that Dooku might have been actively hunting down his killer's Master to fuck shit up, and this was about to be A Big Problem for Everyone.

All of this was very interesting, especially back then, when Dooku was not a popular character and depictions of him having meaningful, positive connections in the Jedi Order were few and far between. I want to be careful here, because I’m not calling the EU/Legends bad - Dark Rendezvous has some of the most beautiful Dooku character work I’ve ever read. But compare, say, Jude Watson’s Qui-Gon in Legends Legacy of the Jedi outright calling Dooku “too cold to love,” as a Master, versus examples from new canon, where Dooku repeatedly and effusively praises his Padawans, casts their relationship as mutually loving, and even offers to get drunk and cry it out over Rael’s dead Padawan. Those present really different pictures. So Sifo-Dyas stood out to me right off the bat as unusual for being close with Dooku: a meaningful connection for a character who, at that point, didn't have meaningful connections.

As for my impressions now, I think I have a soft spot in general for characters who seem to exist simply to die in a tragic, unescapable way, sacrificed to the narrative or for other character’s growth. In a way, Sifo-Dyas’s story is still certainly both of those.

But he’s so much more. He walks into Dooku: Jedi Lost as this vivid, funny, weird, fearless, chaotic good goofball of a character. Sith Dooku is breathlessly, affectionately describing him to Asajj Ventress (of all people) within the first few seconds of his own life story. That's crazy?! "I was born, I went to the Temple, oh, I MET THIS INCREDIBLE PERSON." Sifo-Dyas's first scene in the damn book is to make a silly little song about Dooku’s name and then telling him to "tell it to your face"?! And we’re not supposed to love him?!

I could go on. But here’s the heart of it for me with the character. The penultimate scene in Dooku: Jedi Lost, comes when he and Dooku are estranged, having been for years over what seems implied as a breakdown over an escalating series of visions that cast Dooku at the center of a world-shattering conflict. Yet, when Dooku comes to Sifo-Dyas for help, one last desperate get-the-gang-back-together, he won’t deny him. When Dooku suggests what Sifo-Dyas literally describes as “insane, the worst plan I’ve ever heard” (I’m quoting directly here), his answer is, again, directly quoting: “I’m in.” He never stopped saying that to Dooku. For all their ultimate ruin, it's sort of beautiful.

That’s the impression that stands out the most strongly - not tragic doom or narrative foil - but the aspects of bravery and loyalty to the character. Someone who would have spent his whole life having visions about someone ending the world, and still show up for that person, and later, still come to them with their own problems. It seems very, very likely - he outright says it during a vision in the cursed book – that he knows Dooku is the person who will make all the futures converge into the one terrible timeline. But EVEN THEN, Sifo-Dyas would rather bring hundreds of thousands of lives into existence than take out Dooku. And whether you read that as friendship or something more, at the end of the day, it’s love.

#Of course this is all based on my reading of the supplemental canon and others might have different readings #And I’m not arguing that the clones were a great idea either #But it’s like Sifo-Dyas got told you have to go back in time and kill Hilter but guess what Hilter is your best friend #and he’s like no I’ll do some batshit crazy third thing because I’m the embodiment of living chaos #sifo dyas #star wars meta #dooku jedi lost

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kakyoinswifey · 2 years

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I had the concept of time travel thanks to my friend's fic @needy-self-ship-jjba, go read it too<3 i hope this went out as good as hers. oh, and yes. i was sleepy and that's why the end is so abrupt.

BACK TO YOU — KUJO JOTARO x FEM!READER

He had only been distracted for a second. One damn second, and suddenly everything went black. Dark. Lonely.

Perhaps it was because his mind really wasn't responding as it should. He could only remember the last time he had seen you, involved in an argument like those that became more and more often. Jotaro hated fighting with you with all his might. Especially when, now, with all his responsibilities, he could spend so little time with you. The work of Marine Biologist, his studies, the thesis, the search for the stands users, the arrow, being a father and a husband... It was all overwhelming him so much, and he knew you were too. You had your own dreams and goals to fulfill, and despite having your little joy embodied in a 6-year-old girl with green eyes and black hair, you also felt the tiredness of loneliness. You didn't blame him for his absence, you understood the reasons, but you simply wanted more of your husband for yourself.

And talking with tiredness and exhaustion was not a good idea. Unfortunately, you two found out from experience.

His eyes became less heavy when he managed to discover a distant light, so he opened them to contemplate the new panorama of the last fight. The booth user did not seem to be very aware of his stand's capacity, it looked like he had been hit by the arrow recently and that was generally good for Kujo. Except for this one little simply thing.

The first thing his aquamarine eyes met was your innocent and (E/C) gaze.

"Good fucking grief. What did I do now?" He thought. At first he thought he had been irrationally transported home. But there was something curious. This woman in front of him was not his wife. Not yet.

He remembered it perfectly well. How your hair looked when he met you, how your face still showed that you were a teenager despite turning 17, the clothes you wore and the style you had at that age.

"Sorry, are you okay?" You asked him, not understanding what a man lying on the sidewalk was doing. Even now, knowing your fully mature voice, it felt strange to hear again. It was like meeting you again. His hand unconsciously traveled to his hat, adjusting it to process what was happening. "Yes." His voice sounded dry. Rough, how you didn't like being talked to. "I guess I lost consciousness for a moment."This time his voice was kinder, and the sparkle in his eyes made you forget his first response.

"It's strange for someone younger to say it, but you should be careful... Sir. Sorry to ask, have we met?" It was strange hearing you call him 'sir', I was very used to your voice muttering his nickname or saying his own name. 'Jotaro' would be his favorite word only if you were the one saying it. "Jojo, I missed you so much" or "Jolyne and I are happy to see you again, Jotaro".

He even missed hearing you scold him for not taking more care of himself. "I've told you more than once not to drink coffee this late, Kujo."

Despite how much he loved you and always had you in mind, it felt strange this time.

"I don't think so. The name's Jotaro, you can call me like that." The girl in front of him smiled confidently. You were so open and friendly even before meeting him, Jotaro just smiled at this younger version of you. "My name's (Y/N). Nice to meet you, Jotaro."

You extended your hand to him, small compared to his, so that he was fully incorporated. "What were you doing?" You asked worried. "It doesn't seem like fun to pass out out of the blue." Jotaro chuckled. Curious will be always a word to describe you.

"I'm a little tired, that's all." You looked directly into his eyes, almost reading him. It was something you did even in the present. "Your job? You don't look too old either, you shouldn't feel so overwhelmed. I'm a good listener, if you want to talk."

"I'm 28, I'm certainly older than you, brat." He said to annoy you, and he managed it without seeing your indignant eyes accusing him. "I was joking. I know how good you can be with people." Your gaze only sharpened. You were young, it was true, and perhaps naive too. But why did you feel comfortable talking to this man in front of you? There was something in your chest that felt calm upon seeing it. As if you have been waiting to meet him for a long time. "How?" You inquired. The man named Jotaro didn't seem to think much of it either. "I feel it."

Silence crept between you, but you didn't feel uncomfortable, it was time to let him tell you his problems. You really hoped that he would, but you started to think it over. Why would someone 11 years older than you tell a girl about their problems? And yet he spoke again.

"I can control my work. It's tiring, but I enjoy it. But it takes me away from the ones I love the most." His voice trailed off as he spoke the last words. It was embarrassing to admit it in front of you, when you were so young. It might even change your mind about marrying him in the future. "Who?" You asked again. Jotaro clenched the hand he had hidden a few seconds before in his pants pocket. "My wife. She and my daughter get the worst of my lack of time."

You felt bad listening to it. Your heart sank for a second at the thought of how this family must feel. "Have you discussed this with her?" Your tone was soft enough to force him to keep talking. Even if it wasn't your intention. "Yes. But even if we talk about it, I'm afraid that at some point she might feel so alone that she decides we should part. The only reason I can go on it's because I know she is waiting for me when I come back. Even when I'm not the best at saying what I feel, she knows that I love her. She is the only one who knows exactly how I feel, always. I can't imagine my life without her."

"You could tell her that. That perhaps you know too well that she understands your duties and that she knows you love her that you felt you didn't need to remind her, even if you were wrong. But it is true that everyone, at some point, needs to know that we are loved. Even if you don't spend much time with them, what little you can share, fill them with love. Actions are usually more important than words, but when you don't have time, both are just as valid."

Kujo loved you so much for that. Because you understood, even when you didn't know his true motives now, or if you knew in the future, you were the most understanding. He felt like an idiot for having minimized your feelings so recently.

"My wife is an amazing woman. She is so loving and understanding, even so smart when she talks to me, even if I don't deserve it." He was unconsciously talking about yourself at the time, but you were unaware of that.

"If I were ever to fall in love, I wish the man I married would talk about me like you talk about your wife." You confessed somewhat blushing, thinking out loud about your romantic nonsense. Jotaro smiled at the irony. "I'm sure he will."

A little beep scared you. It came from the watch on the man's hand. Silence crept in again and you counted the sounds. One, two, three, four. Four! Was it so late already?

"Oh, crap. My mom will kill me. I was supposed to be home half an hour ago!" You started to get alarmed. You made sure you had all your things with you and when you were completely sure, you smiled sheepishly at the man. Kujo smiled back at you. "I guess it's goodbye. It was nice meeting you, Jotaro." You said goodbye, stretching out your hand to him. The man smiled at your spontaneity and took your hand as well.

You just thought in your whirling head that maybe, if this was the last time you'd see him, you might as well say goodbye. You took a small jump—necessary, because of the difference in height, to give him a kiss on the cheek before running in the opposite direction. Jotaro smiled at how daring you were, even when you were just a 'brat'.

"What a day." You whispered when you reached his side, catching him off guard. "(Y/N)?" She whispered, turning to see you. Now yes, his wife was standing in front of him. The pretty gold ring adorned your ring finger, the latest haircut showed off your older and equally beautiful face. His wife was in front of him again. "Who else do you think just kicked this enemy's ass and saved you?" You said unironically. Your wide mouth was also one of your charms for him.

The brunette's big hands came up to your face before leaning completely on you. It was even your own scent that told him there was no one else for him. You were the only home for him, and he always wanted to show that that would never change, not even by distance.

"I love you. As long as you exist, I, Jotaro Kujo, will always have a place to go back to. Always."

#jjba x reader #jjba #jjba stardust crusaders #jotaro x reader #jotaro imagine #jotaro x you #jjba jotaro #jojo #jotaro part 4 #kujo jotaro #jotaro kujo #jotaro x y/n

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krystaldeath · 1 month

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Cult of The Lamb hc’s (part of me feels like I should wait till I play the game myself - or watch a full playthrough at least - before I “solidify” these but meh. For now at least these are how I see things):

* Kinda typical hc I feel like but Leshy is the youngest, then it’s Heket, Narinder, Kallamar, and then Shamura is the oldest.

* Idk what their ages would be chronologically wise but my personal hc’s for “biological” age are: Leshy (21), Heket (25), Narinder (27), Kallamar (32), and Shamura (40). I think Lamb is about 200 years chronologically but 28 “biologically” (I think it’s funny if they’re “older” than Narinder)

* I don’t have a name for them yet but my version of the Yellow Cat is a little bit fucked up actually. Like they seem chill and they kinda are? But they’ve got a body count. And no not the sex kind. Think of that one audio where the guy answers the body count with 30 and when it’s clarified that it’s about sex he’s like “Oh well I haven’t done that yet!” And the other persons like “WHAT DOES 30 MEAN THEN???”

* I need y’all to know I project onto The Lamb HARD. So yeah, they always wanted to be kind and sorta made it a big part of their personality. Unfortunately their world and circumstances just doesn’t allow for their kindness. They still try to be as kind as they can be, but it’s hard when you’re slowly ascending to godhood, especially into the god of death.

* Also Agender Lamb. They/Them and ONLY They/Them Lamb all the way. Demi ro & sex & pan. They’re a?ab (assigned ??? At birth; bc I can’t decide but if you MUST know I think they can shapeshift a bit now so. Maybe they forgot themself lol). Presents androgynously, leaning either way whenever they feel like it. They have a more masc voice though I think, like the ones people use in comic dubs a lot.

* Once I figure out how to draw (could stop it there I am Rusty) anthropomorphic animals it’s over for y’all (Translation: I will draw my self insert and The Lamb being kinda fucked up Besties)

* ((PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT MY SELF INSERT AND OTHER OC INSERTS I HAVE FOR THIS THE BRAIN ROT IS SO REAL))

* The cotl fandom is filled with queer people who’ve got some level of religious trauma, let me recommend a recent song I’ve been looping and imagining a cotl/narilamb animatic to: Collared by Vane Lily (look it up on YouTube to watch the fun mv first!) WARNING IT IS HIGHLY SUGGESTIVE

* I’ve been flip flopping a bit on what species she’d be but I have ideas for a follower love interest for Heket! At first I thought a bunny, then a bee, and currently feeling like a bat would be cute. Idk but I do see her as a warrior type who also likes to bake and do cutesy things too

* I think once the bishops become followers their injuries are worse but they can still “work” around them: Leshy can kinda see things if they’re up close. Heket can sorta speak but not fast and she’s got. Well not a sore throat bc. She doesn’t have one of those anymore. But something akin to that constantly. Kallamar can only hear loud things or if someone spoke into his ear directly (he only allows those in his polycule and his siblings (minus Narinder) to get that close). Shamura does get a bit lost in their own mind, and even when they’re more conscious their memory is spotty.

* Back to my Yellow Cat being a bit fucked up: They actually really liked the idea of chaos (though they hardly show it) so when they find out Leshy was the bishop of chaos instead of being scared or unnerved they’re like “*twirls hair (fur??)* ha ha ha, omg, really~?”

* *slaps the top of The Lamb, Leshy, and probably so many others don’t underestimate me* these bitches can fit so much adhd (+ autism probably) in them

* Probably (geez I use that word a lot huh?) got more hc’s, especially for other characters, but this is already pretty long so I’ll leave it here for now

#cult of the lamb #cotl headcanons #I would tag as narilamb or leshycat but I mean… I didn’t really get into either of them in this lol #my posts #cotl oc #kinda??? I mention my self insert and such #to entice you to ask about them: They’re a blonde long furred cat that has an extra set of arms that are bat arms #wanna know why? ask :3c #please

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starlitmark · 2 years

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Pairing: Newfie!Jaehyun x fem Basenji!reader

Genre/ Trope: fluff, angst, enemies (idiots) to loves, high school au

Rating: PG

Warnings: language, pet name (he calls the reader pup), aggression, mentions of heats/ruts, feeling overwhelmed, injuries, blood, infirmaries, kissing

Word Count: 8.7k

Hybridverse Masterlist || Newfie!Jae Masterlist

Spring Sophomore Year

“Fuck you Jung!” you yell when you get to the track, “It’s our turn on the field.”

Your blonde ears twitch angrily on your head glaring daggers into the back of the tall boy’s head. You have never gotten along with Jung Jaehyun, you’ve been classmates for years now. Not once have you ever enjoyed his presence. Especially now in high school, he’s become even more aggravating than he was before. You watch how his tail stops wagging and he turns around with a slight smirk on his face. His floppy brown ears frame his face as he looks down at you.

“Sorry, pup,” he says with a very condescending tone, “did I upset you? Why do you need it anyway? You guys run around the field on the track, no harm in us practicing for this weekend’s game.” he shrugs with a chuckle.

“I have girls who need to practice javelin and discus! They can’t do that if you’re stupid sweaty asses are running around kicking a ball.” you yell at him.

You may be much smaller than him, you being a Basenji and him being a Newfoundland, but that doesn’t stop you from standing up to the large dog hybrid. You step closer to him and poke your finger into his chest making him look down at you directly. He still just smirks at you and lets out a light chuckle.

“Sorry pup, it’s our day for the field.” he instigates further by petting your ears, but you smack his hand away.

“No, Jung, it’s not. You had the field on Monday. It hasn’t even been a week, it’s our day.”

Slowly one of his teammates walks up and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Jae, we could just go to the JV field for the day-”

“No Jungwoo, it’s okay,” he interrupts his friend, “let them run around while we practice. I’m sure it couldn’t hurt to have your field girls do some running with you, could it?”

You growl under your breath but eventually cave and walk away. Your ears are flat against your head in anger towards the larger hybrid. Your teammates look over at the soccer players and you watch how their reactions are extremely varied. You notice how one of your sprinters very clearly eyeing up one of the more muscular players. You’ve never understood why some of the older girls on your team ogle at them, sure you’re still 16, you haven’t presented yet, but you still don’t understand what they see in those boys. They’re dumb jocks who just think with the wrong heads. You don’t let him stay under your skin for too long though, you channel that energy into your practice.

One of your teammates, a snowhare, has always been known for her speed. It only makes sense with her being a hare, but even then she runs faster than any of the other bunnies or hares on the team. For a long while, you thought that she’d pursue track as a career. Then one day she told you that there were two reasons she wasn’t. The first is that she isn’t allowed to, as a hare, she’s seen as having advantages over human competitors. The second is that she has a high passion for science, specifically pharmaceutical sciences. That’s what she’s been planning to study for a while now and has no wish to change her mind. Not only is she an athlete and a science enthusiast, but she’s also a dancer. Her primary partner just so happens to be Jaehyun’s best friend too. It is absolutely the worst feeling going to her performances and having to see the horrible Newfoundland hybrid there too. You often spend time with her though, she’s one of your closest friends and you just have to tolerate seeing Jaehyun to support her.

“Hey,” you hear her catch up to you panting, “you seem out of it. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important, just still a little bitter about the dog on the field.”

She laughs slightly, “He’s not that bad! He watches me and Sicheng practice sometimes. He’s really a great person.”

“You don’t get it!” you groan, “Here, let’s sit on the bench for a little break and talk.”

She nods and you continue to run towards the area with benches. The moment you get there she tosses you your water bottle before grabbing her own and sitting beside you.

“So explain to me why Jaehyun is so horrible?” she asks with a laugh.

“You really don’t see what I do? He’s cocky as fuck, he’s rude as fuck, he’s just horrible!” you rant, “Don’t you see how he belittles us while we’re out here? Come on, it’s obvious. He tried to pet me today!”

She lets your rant while you take your break, though she doesn’t understand what you’re seeing she still listens. When you start to run again though she challenges you to a race just to see how good your endurance could be. Racing against her is the best way to test that and even get more of a workout in. Everything was going perfectly smooth until you heard a deep laugh resonating across the field. When you check to see what was happening you saw one of the younger runners sitting off to the side clearly flirting with one of the soccer boys. You see red. Stopping in your tracks you march onto the grass and right up to the goalie who just happens to be that insufferable Newfie hybrid.

“Um, could you go away?” he groans, not even looking at you.

“Tell your fucking teammate to get back on the field then and stop flirting with my sprinter.” you bite back.

Jaehyun nods toward the team manager who notices that he’s requesting a break. When the whistle blows he immediately takes his gloves off and throws them to the ground. He turns towards you and you can see the fire in his deep brown eyes. Though you do feel slightly intimidated by his stare, you don’t back down. You hold eye contact with him and stay standing there with eyes glaring holes in his skull. He grabs your arm and drags you towards the benches by the away bleachers where no one was. Both the soccer and track and field teams are sitting by the home bleachers.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he grits out.

“What am I playing at?” you scoff, “What are you playing at? You’re apparently so nice to everyone else so why the hell are you such an ass to me?”

He steps closer, his face hardly two inches from yours, “You annoy the living hell out of me. I’m nice to everyone, but you make it particularly hard to be nice to you. I would be nice if you weren’t so rude to me to start with.”

“What?” you question, slightly taken aback.

“You heard me, now fuck off and keep running little pup.” he smirks before leaving to take his break finally.

You stood there for a few moments processing what just happened. What he had just said to you. You weren’t the first one to be mean to him, he had started it, you don’t know when or what he did. You know he did though. You didn’t get much time to deeply think about it though, this was the last practice before the final match of the school year. You needed to get your head in the game and not let his comment hold you hostage.

You try so hard to not let his comment bother you, you can’t stop thinking about it. Sitting in your literature class the next day you can’t seem to focus on anything but what he had said to you. Were you mean to him to start with? Why would you do that though? He had to have started it all, he just had to have. When your teacher calls out your name you snap back into reality and try to figure out what he had just asked you. Panicked you look around for any classmate to give you a hint. Unfortunately, Jaehyun was the first to make eye contact with you. He chuckles slightly and pushes his hair out of his eyes, making his ears move back with his hair only for them to fall in his face again. You feel desperate for any help though right now, so you nudge the larger hybrid with your elbow. He glares at you but then sighs and starts speaking.

“I’ll answer for her.” he sighs.

You sigh out in relief not processing what he’s saying then either. You don’t process anything that anyone’s saying for a few moments until you hear your name called again.

“Since Jaehyun seems to be a great help to you, you two will be partnering for the final project.” your teacher comments before moving to the next topic.

You turn to the larger dog hybrid and glare through him. He returns a similar look to you but there’s an edge of something else you can’t quite pin. When the class ends you’re still thinking about his comment from the other day, and now also the slight glint of something else in the glare he sent you.

As you quickly walk down the hallway on the way to your next class you feel someone grab your shoulder and attempt to turn you. The moment you see who it is you’re ready to growl at him. You’ve already seen Jaehyun’s face enough today, you do every day having to share a majority of your classes with the insufferable brunette dog. Your ears point straight forward alert to your surroundings.

“What the fuck do you want, dog?” you growl at him.

“Your number.” he deadpans, you’re shocked by his statement, sighing he explains, “Look, he made us partners for the final project. If you want to do it and get a decent grade on it we need to have some sort of communication. I don’t want to talk to you, you don’t want to talk to me. At the end of the day though, we’re classmates, we need to communicate if we want to pass that project.”

“Fine, give me your phone.” you grumble, hating that you agreed with his logic. “We also have summer training the same week for the fall season. I guess I should be able to talk to you and try to come to some sort of agreement regarding the field.”

“Oh, pup,” he chuckles, “we both know you’re too stubborn to give up a day on your precious track.” You don’t respond, you just shove his phone into his chest with an offhanded comment that he needs to text you so you have his number too. Turning on your heel you quickly shuffle away towards your next class before you’re marked late. You can hear his horrible chuckle as you walk away clearly angered by his words.

The whole rest of the day you tap your pencil or fingers on a desk out of annoyance. You dread having to work on a literature project with the person you hate most. During your last class of the day, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You aren’t supposed to have phones out during class but this teacher also doesn’t care much. Reaching into your pocket you check what it is, you suppress another growl seeing the notification.

Unknown Number

|| Hey it’s Jaehyun. Come over to my place after school so we can work on the lit project.

You quickly change the contact name and respond to him.

You

|| Send me your address and I’ll come at like 3 or something.

Dickhead

|| Don’t worry about that, my older friends Doyoung and Taeyong drive. I’ll just tell them I need to take you with us.

You

|| Doyoung as in the bunny hybrid the grade above us and Taeyong as in that senior ragdoll hybrid? The ones who are dating?

Dickhead

|| They aren’t dating but yes those two. They’ll give you a ride with me. I doubt you want to ride the bus home just to walk to my place.

You

|| That’s suspiciously nice of you…

Dickhead

|| Accept it before I change my mind.

You groan and turn to where the Newfie is sitting across the room and nod at him. Though you hate the idea of spending more time than you need to with the other, you knew it had to happen for this last-minute project. You watch how a slightly smug smirk makes his way to his lips as he watches you nod at him. Immediately after he unlocks his phone again, you assume to text those older friends to tell them what’s happening. For the rest of the class, you sit there still very annoyed with the arrangements assigned to you. You knew that if you had presented your scent would be rather sour or bitter, whatever quality was the opposite of it normally. You hardly pay attention to the lesson, it was hardly worth it with the school year coming to a close within the next few weeks. As soon as the bell rings signaling the end of the academic day you get up ready to run out of the room. You would’ve made it out too if it wasn’t for a very broad body stepping in your way. You run face-first into their chest with an ‘oof’ before looking up to see Jaehyun again smirking at you.

“Did you forget I’m taking you home?” he questions lowly.

“No, I was just hoping to avoid you longer.” you huff, “I could’ve probably found you loitering around the school somewhere once everyone cleared out.”

“Yeah, okay pup, let’s go. Doyoung is waiting by the front lobby for us. Taeyong’s already in the car cooling it off.”

“Stop calling me that.” you grit, “I’m not a pup.” “But aren’t you?” he questions, “You’re not exactly very big.” You growl lowly, “I’m a Basenji. I’m not meant to be as fucking huge as you are.”

You speed ahead of him despite not really knowing where you’re going. You vaguely know what Doyoung looks like, he’s a dutch rabbit, he has tall brown-grey ears on top of his head, his hair always remaining a deep inky color. When you see him though you also get grabbed by the Newfie hybrid behind you. You try to jerk your arm out of his grasp but it’s no use. You look up at the taller bunny and try to be amicable but it’s hard when Jaehyun has a death grip on your bicep.

“Jae let her go.” Doyoung sighs, “It’s nice to finally meet you. He talks a lot about you.”

“Huh?” you ask slightly baffled by his words.

“I do not!” Jaehyun fights back, shoving Doyoung slightly, “I only complain about her.”

Doyoung starts slowly walking away, “Whatever helps you sleep at night puppy. Come on, Yongie is waiting for us.” You chuckle slightly and lean toward Jaehyun, “You’re sure they’re not dating?”

“I’m sure. Taeyong is practically attached to his girlfriend at the hip.” he chuckles back.

You continue walking and think for a moment, that was the first positive interaction you’ve had with him. At least the first one as far as you can remember. It felt nice, it almost felt right to be kind and playful with him. The entire walk to the car you watch how Doyoung’s ears twitch in different directions subconsciously listening to all the sounds around him. When Jaehyun starts whining about the heat of late spring, Doyoung decides to chime in as well. It’s quickly evident that neither of them enjoys the heat very much. Jaehyun’s fur is far too thick on his ears and tail which in turn causes more sweat to pool on his legs and face from the extra layer of warmth on his skin. Doyoung just doesn’t enjoy it because he’s freshly presented and hates how he can smell everything around him so clearly and wants nothing to do with it. He also whines about how it being bunny mating season doesn’t help.

By the time you reach the car, you’re laughing and smiling with the two boys. You see a much more petite framed kitty hybrid in the driver’s seat happily soaking in the sun’s rays through the windshield. Doyoung rounds the car and plops himself in the front passenger seat. He quickly greets his kitty friend and they start talking about their days.

“Bag.” Jaehyun states.

“Bag?” you question.

“Give me your bag. I’ll put it in the trunk for you.” he clarifies.

“Oh, um, thanks.” you respond unsurely, “Here, just be careful my laptop is in there.”

“Mhm, I wasn’t planning on throwing it, don’t worry. You can take whatever side you want. I don’t care either way.”

Nodding at him you climb into the seat behind Doyoung and introduce yourself to Taeyong. He has soft grey and white ears on his head. They twitch slightly, though you don’t know what it means you can assume that it’s something good. The bright smile that rests on his lips only solidifies the idea of him being happy right now.

“You know, Jaehyun likes you a lot more than he lets on.” Taeyong comments offhandedly.

“He hates me.” you correct.

“He doesn’t,” Doyoung adds, “he really likes you a lot.”

Before you can ask any more questions Jaehyun climbs into the car and says hi to his oldest friend. Taeyong immediately meets his hello with a warning that he better not shed on the car. In reality, though, Taeyong should be the one worrying about shedding the most, especially with his pale-colored fur. The ride to Jaehyun’s home was actually enjoyable. With the windows down, and the breeze hitting your face you couldn’t have been more comfortable.

You’ve never really minded the heat but both Doyoung and Jaehyun insisted that the windows be put down when there was perfectly functional air conditioning in the car. Taeyong whined about it at first saying he’d rather have the AC on and enjoy the sun coming through the windows. The first few minutes were slightly awkward, especially since you didn’t personally know the older two hybrids in the car.

They didn’t seem to mind your presence though, they seemed to enjoy it. Though your mind did still wander to what they had said to you before Jaehyun joined you in the back seat. What did they mean by him liking you a lot more than he lets on? He treats you like an enemy, there was no way that you could ever think of him liking you, even in the slightest. You stay in your thoughts for the whole drive to Jaehyun’s home. You aren’t broken from your thoughts until you feel someone nudge you. Shaking your thoughts off you look to your left and see Jaehyun with a seemingly content smile resting on his lips.

“Come on. I promise my parents don’t bite.” he jokes lightly before climbing out of the car and grabbing your bags.

Doyoung turns around in his seat and looks at you for a moment, “Don’t let his competitive feistiness cover for what he feels. We’ve known him for years, we know how he is.”

You simply nod and get out of the car, you see how Jaehyun’s tail wags while walking towards his front door. Somehow you find a smile growing on your face watching him. Maybe this won’t be as bad as you assumed it to be. Still, you keep that facade of hatred over your emotions to be safe rather than sorry. You take note of a car sitting in the driveway, a rather nice one at that. Then finally after you finish surveying your surroundings your eyes fall back on Jaehyun, he’s waiting for you. His smile still resting on his face, only wider than before. You walk rather quickly to catch up to him before speaking.

“Why do those two take you home if someone’s here?” “Hmm?” he then notices how you gesture towards the car, “Oh, dad normally isn’t home this early. Normally he stays late at work. Mom doesn’t get home for another hour or two though depending on how traffic is.”

You nod in response, “Also, do you not drive yet?”

He shakes his head, his floppy brown ears swaying back and forth with the motion, “I turned sixteen in February but I still only have my permit. I’ll get my license on my seventeenth birthday.” he pauses for a second, “Actually no, my parents always go out on my birthday, I’ll probably get it the day after or something.”

He gently pushes the door open and steps inside. His home is actually rather comforting, you can smell the mixture of his parents’ scents in the home. Though, his father’s is much stronger, which makes sense considering that he’s home. The first visual thing you take in is the pictures of them all over the walls. Approaching one you notice it’s from his kindergarten graduation. A soft smile creeps up onto your face seeing it. His ears are clearly far too large for his body still, his smile is over-exaggerated and shows off the empty gap where a front tooth should be. His dad, you notice, is a German Sheppard while his mom is a Newfie like him. Moving down the hall you find more pictures like this each one of them you can feel the love and happiness radiating. The one that captures you the longest though is one that was done by a professional photographer. It looks to be around the time of early middle school, maybe sixth grade, his parents are throwing leaves around him and you can practically hear the giggles coming from the young Jaehyun in the picture. It’s something you can’t help but feel comforted by.

“Hey, I need to go talk to my dad for a minute, the kitchen is right through that archway if you want any snacks or a drink.” he offers, his dimples showing when he smiles again.

You nod and watch him disappear up the stairs, you continue to wander through the living room area for a while, amused by looking at all the family pictures. It’s clear that Jae is an only child, it seems that he’s also one of the only younger ones in the extended family too. There was one boy in the pictures you did vaguely recognize but you didn’t think too hard about it. All you noted was that you had definitely seen those spotted ears before somewhere.

“You enjoy looking at all my family photos?” you hear a deeper voice behind you.

You jump slightly and turn around to see Jaehyun descending the stairs, “Just admiring the effort put into decorating around here.” “Mom really prides herself on decorating and making it comfortable in here. She always jokes that it’s her omega urges… kinda grosses me out but I know she does love making it homey and safe here for me.” he laughs lightly, “Dad said it’s cool to work in my room.” “Huh?” you question slightly shocked that he had offered that.

“My computer is up there. We’ll need to do research and stuff, I don’t want to overwork your laptop. I took your bag up when I went to go talk to him, I hope that was okay.”

“Oh, um, yeah, we can do that.”

He hums slightly and turns around to walk back towards the stairs, this time you follow. You can see that his mom does love making this place feel comfortable. Not a single place seemed bland, everything was made to feel safe no matter if it was a space on the wall or if it was a house plant sitting on a small table in the hallway. You chuckle under your breath slightly as you pass by a rather awkward school photo hanging on the wall. It’s clearly from before he hit his growth spurt or started playing soccer. He looks rather scrawny and shy in that picture but still, it’s charming somehow.

“And here’s my room.” he announces rather unceremoniously.

He throws the door open and immediately moves to flop belly first onto his bed. You tentatively step into the room and again take in your surroundings. His bed was pushed against the middle of the far wall, to the left of it you take note of his dresser and closet, and to the right is where his computer is set up. A few energy drink cans sit on the desk there seemingly empty. On the opposing wall, his work desk is set up and a textbook lies open there. You walk toward the desk and notice that it’s a child development textbook, college level.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask taking a seat in his desk chair.

“That seems a little friendly to me but go for it.” he responds, turning his head towards you to show he’s listening.

“You said your parents go out on your birthday every year. Why do they just leave you here, on your birthday of all days? It seems a little cruel.”

“Oh, my birthday is Valentine’s Day, when I was little they would spend it with me, and my grandparents would come too. When I got older though they decided that we can just have an early dinner and then they would go out for their date.” he lets out a sigh, you can tell he isn’t keen on the plan his parents had chosen.

“That’s not right,” he picks his head up and tilts it in confusion, “It’s not. Yeah, you’re born on Valentine’s Day but you’re still their child, you should come before any dates they want to have.”

He chuckles lightly and rolls onto his side, “You know, for hating me, you sure are trying to make me feel better.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” he gestures for you to continue, “I was going to add that I see why you’re so insufferably competitive, your dad’s a German Sheppard but that’s off-topic.”

“Is that it?”

“It makes sense,” you scoff, “anyway let’s work on this project.”

“Do you even know what topic we’re doing?”

You feel your ears move back in slight embarrassment, you had no idea what the project was on. That nauseating smirk grows on his face knowing that you didn’t know what was happening. He moves to sit up crossed legs in the center of his bed, head still tilted as if he’s completely innocent. You have half the mind to walk out of the house and all the way home because of his snarky attitude. He finally does explain what it’s on and though you aren’t thrilled with the topic you both know you need to do it to pass the course.

He gestures for you to come to sit beside him on the bed. Though you hate the idea of sitting within five feet of him you do need to have him look at your laptop when you’re doing initial research. As you begin researching your topic you hardly notice how time passes. You do notice other habits of Jaehyun’s. You’ll never say it out loud but many of the habits you find rather adorable. He has a specific habit of playing with the tips of his puppy ears when he’s frustrated or focused. When you called him out on it he explained that it’s been a habit for years that he couldn’t seem to break. He also chews on his lip when he’s trying to find the right words to say or write down. Again, you’ll never admit how attractive you find it.

By the time you finally look away from your small laptop screen you notice that it’s dark out. You also become aware of your surroundings again, you can now smell that his mom is physically in the house. You also note that it smells like she or his dad is cooking something. You let out a sigh thinking about the fact that you have to walk home, both your parents are working night shifts this week in preparation for their research team fieldwork. Jaehyun’s eyes are on you but for a few moments, you don’t look back at him.

“You okay? You look like you��re thinking about a lot.”

“No, just planning my walk home. My parents aren’t home tonight.”

Just as Jaehyun was about to respond you can hear his mom calling upstairs for him to come down for dinner. From the sound of it, you don’t think that his dad told her that you’re here too. He gives you a tight-lipped smile and asks you to come down to dinner with him. He claimed it would be cruel if he didn’t offer you food with how long you’ve been here. When you reach the kitchen you see a rather beautiful woman with ears just like Jaehyun’s leaned over the stove making sure the last of the food was cooked properly. The brunette canine walks up to her placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Hi mom,” he smiles sweetly, “I don’t think dad told you. I have a guest.”

She gasps and immediately turns around and gives you one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen, “Oh, your girlfriend?”

You blush hotly, “No, we’re just partners for a project.”

She hums in response.

“I know that hum,” Jaehyun comments grabbing plates out of a cabinet, “What are you not saying?”

“Nothing, just a mother’s instincts.”

Jaehyun doesn’t push further and continues setting the table quietly. You have no idea what to do or where to stand so you just awkwardly stand by the doorway with your hands clasped together in front of you. You swear that Jaehyun’s mom has a sense for your emotions, it would make sense with her being an omega, it’s just foreign to you. With both your parents being betas you never truly got the nurturing effects that kids with omega parents get. She walks towards you and takes your hands in hers. Her smile lines show near her eyes but still hardly give away her age. She doesn’t say anything but guides you over to the fridge.

“What would you like to drink, dear?” she offers gently.

“Oh, just water, I need to stay healthy for the summer training coming up.” you respond.

“You’re an athlete too? Jae why didn’t you say anything?”

He just shrugs and moves the food over to the table. You explain to her what sport you participate in and that you’re actually training the same week as Jaehyun this year. She continues to ask questions about it all and about school. You know she’s probing slightly trying to figure out something but you don’t let it bother you. After all, you’re a random girl in her house hanging out with her only child. Dinner is rather pleasant, his dad does eventually come down. It amused you seeing his mom chastise his dad for being too deep into work and not eating properly. You can see a lot of both of them in Jaehyun. He’s definitely nurturing like his mom, you see how he is towards his teammates. He definitely gets his determination and work ethic from his dad. You’ve only met him this one time but you can tell he’s a very hard-working man.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” his dad starts, “are your parents coming to get you?” “Oh, um-”

“I was going to ask if we could take her back home.” Jaehyun interrupts before shoving a spoonful of food in his mouth.

“I guess I can do that!” his mom responds, “Are you staying much later?”

“We need to do more work on the project.”

“Wow, your voice got so deep all of a sudden.” his mom sarcastically comments.

You giggle lightly, “He is right, we wanted to finish the outline tonight. It won’t be long though, we only have a page left to do.”

You explained after that both your parents were working and they immediately understood. Neither of them wanted you walking home in the dark, especially with you not having your phone on you. You finished the meal not long after and helped Jaehyun wash the dishes though his parents insisted that you didn’t need to do anything. You nearly killed him when he put a handful of bubbles on your ears. He quickly apologized and wiped them off with a dish towel though. He just found it adorable how you acted when you got mad at him.

After cleaning you returned to his room and worked on your project. You didn’t process how tired you were though. You moved so your back was rested against his headboard and pillows making it much more comfortable for you to work. He joined you not long after whining that he couldn’t see what you were working on. You knew you were a little tired but you must’ve overestimated your ability to still work. You feel your head fall to the side onto Jaehyun’s shoulder but you can’t be bothered to move. You aren’t sure when you fell asleep or for how long but when you wake up the first thing you hear is his voice. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet though.

“It’s not anything mom, she was tired and I didn’t want to be rude and wake her up.”

“Jae, you know I know. You two are very much like how dad and I were at your age… just minus the fake hate.” she pokes. “Mom, it’s nothing.” he insists, “I still need to do this last bullet point before we leave anyway.”

Now you decide to start shifting around against his arm. You feel him tense under your movement but doesn’t purposely wake you up. Finally, opening your eyes you look up at him. He looks like he froze at that moment. You just sit up and look at the laptop screen as if nothing happened.

“You got a lot done!” you enthuse, “Thanks for letting me sleep, you could’ve woken me up and sent me home.”

“It’s, um, it’s nothing. I just need to write this last bullet point and then mom said she can take you home.”

You hum a reply back and begin reading everything over. You don’t think about the close distance between you two, maybe it’s exhaustion maybe it’s something else but you don’t address it.

August before Junior Year

The end of the school year came and went, you actually were invited to the graduation ceremony this year. Over the past month, with Taeyong and Doyoung giving you rides to Jaehyun’s home, you had grown rather close and Taeyong wanted you to come to the ceremony. Doyoung cried but he’ll never admit it. You’ll never tell Taeyong how his bunny best friend sobbed and babbled about how his older friend was going to uni and was going to be too busy to hang out.

Summer training started slowly, the week of straight practice starts tomorrow. As of the past month or so it’s only been practices two or three times a week for a few hours. You did, however, notice that Jaehyun has been missing from practices for the past week. Not that you were keeping track. You debated asking that upperclassman Jungwoo if he knew. Jungwoo was co-captain this season and seems to be thriving in that position. You could also text the Newfie hybrid but that seems like it would be crossing a line. Sure you did that massive project together and you went to his house every day through May and the beginning of June but that doesn’t make you friends.

Before your thoughts could run too far from you hear a familiar voice you haven’t heard in a few days. It’s Jaehyun, he smells different though. You notice how his teammates crowd him, Jungwoo tries to diffuse it though, and tells them that he needs to catch the other captain up.

“You seem distracted.” your snowhare friend says while nudging you.

“Hmm? Oh, no it’s just weird how Jaehyun disappears for a week and then comes back as if nothing happened.”

She chuckles, “You notice something I don’t? He seems the same to me, the only difference is that he built a little extra muscle over the summer training sessions.”

“I smell… macadamia nuts.” you say trying to pin where it’s coming from.

She just brushes off your comment as if it’s nothing and lets you know that the other track and field athletes got all the field equipment needed. You nod but are still fixated on trying to find where that foreign scent is coming from. Today was a prep day to make sure you had a starting headcount for people and an inventory of the equipment you have. For the majority of the day, the scent fills your nose, it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else though. It doesn’t help that today the soccer team is using the field to do their inventory and headcount, again without your knowledge. Your eyes keep wandering over to Jaehyun, you can pin why they do but it happens. It’s not until a few of the soccer boys come walking over, Jaehyun among those boys. As they approach the scent gets stronger but again no one else seems to notice besides you. You shake your head trying to brush it off and continue counting the discuses and separating them by weight. Your hare friend snickers beside you and you give her a confused look.

“Don’t look now but it looks like your mortal enemy is walking this way.” she comments, then turns back to separate the standard javelins from the lightweight ones.

You groan but do notice that they have a trajectory that leads directly to you. Instead of addressing it, you choose to go about your business and continue doing inventory. Still the closer they draw the stronger the nutty scent becomes. You nearly lose count of the discuses as the scent grows impossibly stronger. Then a shadow covers you. Looking up from your seat on the track you see Jaehyun towering over you.

“It’s you!” you exclaim.

“Huh?” the Newfie replies, “I was going to come over here and see if you guys need or wanted help, we’re done doing everything we need to do here.”

You don’t respond, you just stare at the larger dog hybrid for a few moments silently.

“Hello, pup, you there?” he teases.

“It’s you, you’re the one who smells like macadamia nuts.”

“That would be my scent, yes.”

“Learn how to use a scent blocker when you’re around me.” you hiss.

“I, um, hate to break it to you, but I can hardly smell him.” You glare at her slightly, “You can’t smell that pungent nut smell? Whatever, no we don’t want your help.”

“You were so nice to me a few weeks ago, what happened?” he questioned, he almost sounded hurt.

“It’s training season.”

He turns around and leaves, you finish up the rest of the inventory rather quickly after and send everyone home. Your friend drives you home and you start to feel a little feverish, you blame it on the summer heat. You couldn’t get sick right now with a week of training laying right ahead of you. The moment you arrive at your home she yells that she’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning to ensure that you would be on time.

You hardly touch your food that night at dinner, starting to feel more feverish as the night went on. Still, you prep everything you need for the next day to avoid any rushing first thing in the morning. Laying in bed that night you toss and turn the entire time. Jaehyun’s scent is still in the forefront of your mind. The heat coursing through your body was becoming unbearable. Then it hits you, you’re presenting.

“Are you ready?” your friend asks through the phone at just past 7:30.

“I don’t think I can come to practice.” you admit.

“What I’m coming over, you’re talking nonsense.”

You don’t know how long it takes her to get to your house, your sense of time and reality is warped. When you look towards your door and see it opening though you see her long ears peeking in. She stumbles back for a second.

“Well, you presented.” she says still trying to adjust to the strong scent of vanilla.

“Yeah,” you whine, “I’m not in any condition to practice.”

“I’ll cover the captain duties this week, and I’ll email you the practice schedule so you have it for when this is all done.”

You simply groan, nod, and roll back over hoping the pain and fever would subside soon. The only things you could focus on were the pain you were feeling and the thought of Jaehyun’s scent. You couldn’t figure out why you were so enticed by his scent. You were starting to think that he triggered your presentation with his. You don’t know if he’s officially a beta or an alpha but what you do know is that you want to be completely surrounded by his scent more than anything right now.

You had presented as an omega, the only reason that shocked you was because you have two beta parents. You had expected to be a beta too. Your scent was near enough to a beta that you could pass for one, at least until your curves set in more. You had looked letter for letter at the routines and practice you missed because of that week of pain. You knew you had a lot of catching up to do and it wasn’t going to be fun.

You had decided to get to the track early to get a few laps in before the actual practice started. To your dismay though, Jaehyun was there too. He was practicing penalty kicks, you knew he needed to work on those. He’s never been the best at them. When his scent hits your nostrils you feel like you might collapse. You blame it on being newly presented and being overly sensitive to scents around you. He sees you, smiles, and waves before going back to what he was doing. You don’t know how to reciprocate the sentiment without seeming weird or different. As you walk toward a bench to put your bag down you receive a text

Dickhead

|| You okay? You missed the entire camp last week…

You

|| Yeah, just got sick.

Dickhead

|| I don’t think you were sick… you presented. I can smell your vanilla.

You try to control your reaction to his message, it almost felt lewd in a way seeing him say that. You still can’t keep your scent from changing with every mood you had, your mom said that would come with time. Right now it was nightmarish though, everyone knew exactly how you were feeling just by being near your scent. Now, you knew Jaehyun could smell your slight embarrassment. He smiles again, and you watch him walk toward you. His curly brown ears bounced with each step. Subconsciously your tail starts wagging, you don’t know why. What was there to be so happy about? The knowledge that Jaehyun knew what you were going through last week? His smile stays plastered on his face even when he’s standing toe to toe with you. Looking up at him you don’t know where to focus. Then a sudden rush of calm runs through you. You knew Jaehyun just released pheromones, you don’t care though, they made you calm again.

“I never said vanilla was a bad thing.”

“Huh?”

“I like it.”

“And I like the macadamia nuts, it’s very nice.” you gasp and cover your mouth realizing what you just said.

Jaehyun smiles brightly at you, taking your chin in his hand, “I think we both know what’s happening.”

“I’m just overwhelmed with scents right now, I feel like I can smell everyone within a ten-mile radius.”

He sighs and pulls you into a hug, you’re completely surrounded by his scent, “We’re mates.”

“We’re what?” you ask muffled into his collarbone, “How do you know?”

“I knew before we presented. Also, not to be cocky but I’m pretty sure I triggered your presentation. My mom works for a medical team as their hybrid specialist. When you didn’t show up last Monday and then your friend mentioned you wouldn’t be here all week I asked her.”

“What exactly?” you ask again, with no intentions of leaving his embrace.

“I asked if mates could trigger each other’s cycles or presentations. She said yes but it’s only with really strongly bonded mates, regardless of what their relationship is at the time.”

You don’t say anything for a while, you just stand there in the heat of summer hugging him. In your mind, it’s not an option to break the hug. You’re so sensitive to everything still and Jaehyun’s scent is keeping all of that away right now. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand up to touch your ears. The last time he tried this you nearly bit his hand off, now, you melt into the touch and let him pet you. The sweet moment doesn’t last though, internally you blare with an alarm and break out of his hold. You jump back and cross your arms over your body.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” his voice filled with panic, his long tail curled between his legs.

“How do I know you’re not just messing with me?”

“Why would I mess with you about something as serious as being mates?”

“I still don’t like you Jaehyun, I need to go warm up. Goodbye.”

And with that, you walked to the opposite end of the benches and started stretching. The moment that everyone else arrived you started running as if your life depended on it. For the first time since your freshman year, you surpassed your snowhare friend and leave her in the dust. She tried for at least an hour to get it out of you. You just played it off as the leftovers of presenting. Your nose was still filled with an overload of scents, you could smell your friend’s gingerbread scent, it was nice but you just wanted to not smell anything at all right now.

Still, Jaehyun’s lovely macadamia nut scent flooded your senses. You’re so distracted with your thoughts you don’t process anything around you. The only thing you could focus on, other than Jaehyun, was the flurry of thoughts; what Jaehyun had just suggested to you, what both Doyoung and Taeyong had said to you the first day you met them, the implications that his mom had implied later that same night, the way you still find comfort in the memory of falling asleep on Jaehyun’s shoulder. All of it, it was too much.

You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, you had a vague knowledge that the soccer team was doing drills on the field the track surrounded. They were getting the new recruits ready for the fall season. You’re on the brink of tears while running when a soccer ball comes flying toward you. You don’t have the time to avoid it. It hits you directly in the head causing you to tumble forward onto the asphalt. Your knees and hands are all scraped up and bleeding. The only thing you want right now is Jaehyun. You hate him, but you know he can comfort you. You sit there on the track for a moment just staring down at your hands and knees. A moment later you’re lifted and in someone’s lap. It’s Jaehyun’s you don’t need to look at him to know it. The gentle pheromones he’s letting out lull you into a state of calm again rather than panic.

Without thinking you reach up one of your injured hands and start playing with one of his fluffy brown ears. He hums slightly and lets you, if it gives you comfort that’s all he cares about right now. “You’re okay, pup. I got you.” he says in a soothing tone, “Let’s take you to the infirmary and get cleaned up.”

You just nod against his chest and let him hold you like that. You’re vulnerable, you had always been known to hate Jaehyun and now here you are being held by him like a child. Even when he stands to let his coach and yours know that he would take you to get cleaned and bandaged, you try to communicate that you can walk and he is having none of that. He insists that he can carry you and you shouldn’t have to walk while injured.

The walk there is quiet. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with questions and conversation when you’re not completely present. You don’t say a word because you’re still far too lost in your mind. You arrive at the infirmary and still, you don’t say a word. He gathers the material to clean out your wounds, silently. He takes your hands in his and cleans them thoroughly before putting large bandaids on each heel of your hand. Finally, against his better judgment, he knew he needed to ask you at least this one thing.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“Hmm, I don’t like you because you don’t like me.” you say in a soft tone.

He hums in acknowledgment as he presses an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to your knee, and you hiss at the feeling. “I never said I didn’t like you. When we were in middle school I might’ve taken my teasing too far and made you think that though. If I’m being honest, I really like you. I kept up this back and forth with you for so long because I didn’t know how to approach you without getting my head bit off.” he confesses

Hearing that made you come back to the present moment fully, “Jae,”

“Yeah, pup?” he asks, looking up at you from where he sat on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, you lean down and press your lips against his. You hold his face with your bandaged hands hoping to hold him in the kiss longer. He smiles against your lips and kisses you back softly. Though you want to keep kissing him longer he pulls away. Tilting your head you ask a silent question. He chuckles when he notices how your one ear flops to the side with your movement.

“I would absolutely love to kiss you again, but I am trying to clean out your cuts. I don’t want you hurting more than you need to.”

“Fine,” you playfully sigh, “only if you promise to kiss the cuts better later. They were your fault.”

“How were they my fault?” he asks with an exaggerated sigh, “You know I will though.”

“You’re distracting, and it was your teammate that kicked that ball.”

He huffs slightly, his tail smacking the floor for extra effect, “Keyword: teammate. It wasn’t me that kicked that ball, not my fault.”

You smile, down at him as he tediously removes and pebbles that got stuck in your skin and dab it clean with the alcohol cotton balls. Your hands still throb slightly trying to recuperate from the shock of falling. You don’t mind though and reach your hands into his hair tussling the wavy hair and scratching the base of his ears. His tail immediately reacts and starts wagging.

“Thank you.” he says, lip caught between his teeth in focus.

“For petting you?”

“For loving me back.”

“If you just spoke up sooner we could’ve been dating for a long time now.” you tease.

“It’s not my fault you’re fucking scary.”

You gasp in fake shock and he beams at you again as he discards the trash. He immediately returns and scoops you up into his arms hugging you tight to his body. Your tail wags violently behind you, the curled bit hitting against your lower back. You can feel the happiness radiating off of him as he hugs you. You hope he can feel the same coming from you. As he places you back down on the ground he places a wet kiss on your cheek. You make a noise of disgust wiping his saliva off your face and onto his t-shirt.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, pup.” he giggles, placing a soft peck on your lips.

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goddesssin111 · 2 years

Text

THE WRITINGS OF EDWARD ART

It Is All About You

"Man must firmly come to believe that reality lies within him and not without. Although others have bodies, a life of their own, their reality is rooted in you, ends in you, as yours ends in God. - Neville

It is always about you. Not about anyone else in your reality. You wound and you heal. This should give you ease that it is all about you. There is no one that has to lifted up other than yourself. The SP not messaging you back, is about you. The world not shaping itself to what you think it ought to be, is about you. How the world treats you, is about you. You are NOT the assumptions you hold for the sole reason that you can change them. If you could not change your assumptions, then fine, you are them, but you can. You must see every single thought you have as an assumption, and must allow yourself to have a new assumption. There is nothing you need to seek, the world shapes from you There is no one you must seek or force, only repentance. Repentance is a change of attitude. Understand this. The moment you understand it is only your own assumptions that need to be changed, When I came the realization that I must leave the outside alone, just as it is, and only change my assumptions, once I actually realized this, that is when my world started to change. It will always be a battle unless you realize that the world is within you. You may not like what you created but..

"Happy is he, who does not punish himself for what he has allowed." - Romans 14:22

Never punish you or anyone, only repent and believe your Good News, this will only result in happiness.

"I no longer try to control people directly. I focus on my great self image and it does everything for me without me needing of managing my thoughts of people or even my gf. The influence is always about you focusing on you and changing you. And its about doing this from a state of power not because you need someone."

I love this quote because it embodies what I have been trying to say on my posts. It is all about you. You focus solely on your own attitudes and not on another's. I have never meet a confident person who spends their day wondering what other people are thinking. I have never met someone filled with gratitude, complain all day. Here are questions you must ask when you hear the voice in your head make a new assumption: Do you ignore it? Do you come up with reasons why it is not true? Why do you not allow yourself to accept it? If people only respond to your assumptions, which means nobody is withholding anything from you, aren't you the only one holding yourself in bondage? If you can accept this, can't you free yourself also? Isn't it the imagination the power that creates poverty and riches, despair and joy? If you have that power within you, what are you creating? These are the questions all of us must ask. In finding these answers we take responsibility for everything that is happening within and we learn to master our assumptions.

I AM

Man was given the the greatest gift which is God, the I AM. God was not ashamed of you when we gave himself to you. A peacock does not feel ashamed for being a peacock. Does it not prove this to you by walking with its chest out and its head high? When it proudly displays its tail which is its glory? Likewise do not feel ashamed of being Man. Man owns everything within himself, walk knowing this. Is God not the ultimate judge? Yet, God looked at you and fell in love with you. God's glory is you, the image of God. Your glory is what you create in your life using the name of I AM which is your image, your reflection. Like the peacock, proudly display your glory by attaching everything lovely to I AM. I AM which is Love itself is asking to you to trust him that you are who you want to be now. It is love for there is no fear in I AM for I AM is the present tense. We are I AM and I AM is everything. So we do not look to the opinions of others to see if we are loved, for we are love itself. When you imagine you buy the pearl and the cost is everything you own. You surrender everything to the feet of I AM. So you do not wonder nor worry anything when you imagine. You surrender your beliefs of what is possible. You surrender your reasoning. You surrender the labels you have given yourself. You surrender all the labels others have given you. You surrender what you think are and aren’t worthy of. You surrender your concepts of time. You surrender where you are physically. You surrender the old man. You surrender everything and solely believe in I AM. I AM is not wondering "I hope I will be it." I AM is a present fact feeling of Being. I AM is the only thing reflecting in your world

State Of Fulfilled Desire

Stop desiring and live in a State of Fulfilled Desire!

When you are going in your day desiring, you are living in State of unfulfilled desire. When you go your day desiring you are living as though nothing can be given to you. When you go your day desiring you are denying yourself! Instead, just try it for today, live as though all your desires are met! That they all are fulfilled. Do you realize how much ease that would bring you? You will now walk as though you are a God. We want to stop desiring! Not because desiring is evil, but because you are Fulfilled! You will have a want in your day, could be anything, are you going to let stay a want? Or are you going to use your imagination wisely and achieve that want? Think about it! Consciousness is the only reality. Meditate on this daily. Understand it is consciousness pushed out. So, if you desire daily in consciousness the outer world will reject you. Instead, come today and eat without a cost

(Isaiah 55:1). Live today simply knowing your desires are fulfilled. See them fulfilled if you'd like but know they are. You will notcie your posture lengthening. You will breath with more ease. These are EFFECTS.

Neville would walk as though his desires are fulfilled.

"Somewhere within this realm of imagination there is a mood, a feeling of the wish fulfilled which, if appropriated, means success to you." - Neville

Once you appropriate the feeling, know it is fulfilled. And walk now in that light. No more desiring. If you become frightened by looking to the outside, come back within and know it is fulfilled. My yoke is easy and my burden is light (Matt 11:30).

Imagination's ways are to put you at ease. Imagination is supposed to be used to achieve the feeling that your desire is fulfilled.

“Should you tomorrow or in the interval between now, this night, and you do it, and the fulfillment of it, should one little doubt enter your mind, do this just remember “But I experienced it, I experienced ownership, so I don’t care if at this very moment something denies it, I experienced it!” - Neville

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bastetwastaken · 9 months

Text

Another ficlet request, this one came through discord from my wonderful friend Angel (@vixxxfiction). She wanted number 23. ""Don't give me space. That's the last thing I want with you." and her only additional request? Puzzle bois, feels, maybe post Orichalcos.

My heart.

So here you go my love, some light angst, but let's be honest, you know me too well and this is mostly fluff and good times <3 <3

........

He walked through the empty halls, footsteps echoing in the endless space around him. At one time he’d been scared of these halls, terrified to find out if they did indeed hide a dark secret, but now?

Now he knew these halls held secrets, that each door may hide a trap, but he no longer feared this space.

He could never fear the heart of one he cared so much for.

Speaking of the one he cared for, the spirit was strangely absent.

Usually when Yugi came wandering into his soul room the other met him soon after, eager to help him navigate the labyrinth within, always worried that Yugi would stumble into a place he couldn’t get out of or something which Yami wasn’t aware of lurked in an ever changing maze.

He sighed quietly.

Yami wasn’t hiding from him, he knew that. He’d be able to feel it if he was, but all he felt right now was…nervousness? Dread?

It was tough to put a single name to the feelings he could sense.

Maybe there wasn't a single word for what he felt right now.

With a sigh he turned down another seemingly endless hallway. After another few minutes of walking he stopped.

There had to be an easier way for him to find his other self.

He closed his eyes and called out, he willed Yami to let him find him, yet nothing happened.

He sighed again.

Maybe he should give up and wait for Yami to come to him? No. He couldn't do that, he'd be waiting for hours, maybe even days.

He was eager to see the spirit again after being separated for so long, he wanted to check he was okay, see how he was doing and maybe even spend some time together doing….other things.

He shook his head, thinking of that wouldn't help him find Yami.

An idea suddenly came to him and he smiled. Perhaps he could feel where the spirit was within the puzzle in the same way he could sense when he stepped out of it.

A look down the endless hall told him it wouldn't hurt to try at least.

So he closed his eyes, but instead of calling to Yami directly, he focused on sensing him.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there but he felt it. Just a subtle thing, one direction felt…warmer than the others and he opened his eyes, trusting his gut feeling and following the warmth.

The labyrinth of hallways twisted and turned, but Yugi walked with purpose. He was confident now that he could find Yami.

That confidence was rewarded when he came to a familiar looking door.

In the puzzle nowhere was truly familiar, the maze changed so often, rooms re-situated themselves at will, yet this room…this door, never changed.

He reached out, running his fingers over the hieroglyphs carved on the smooth metal. He should ask Yami what they said some day, but not now.

Yugi knew Yami was on the other side of this door, could already see him reclining on the throne which seemed ever present in this room, a thoughtful look on his face which would transform into one of happiness once he saw him.

The door swung open slowly and he was pleased to find he was right in almost everything he thought.

He stepped confidently into the room, but instead of greeting him with a smile as usual, Yami turned his face away from him, looking toward the floor, hands moved restlessly against the arms of the throne.

"Yugi." Yami's voice lacked its usual warmth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He frowned.

“I came to find you.” He said simply. “You’ve been avoiding me since…” He didn’t finish that sentence, they both knew what he wanted to say and he wasn’t sure either of them were ready to hear those words.

Since I gave up my soul to save yours, since we duelled each other, since you saved me from that strange place…

“I’ve not been avoiding you.” Yami said softly. “I only thought you might want some…space. A break from me…”

He took another step forward, a frown on his face at the words he heard. As if he could ever want that.

“Yami-”

“I thought some space might help, and so I have been giving you that.” Yami added, still not looking at him and that only served to increase his frustration.

“Don’t give me space.” He said sharply. Yami looked up at him, shock clear on his face and he softened his voice. “That’s the last thing I want with you.”

Yami’s face softened too, his expression turned from one of shock to one of surprise, then a small smile graced soft features and he laughed quietly.

“Forgive me.” Yami said softly. “I've never been the best at reading others' emotions…I did not realise.”

“You know, you could always…ask me how I feel?” He teased, taking another few steps forward toward the spirit. “I’d be happy to tell you.”

“Oh?” Yami gave him a shy smile, then he shifted, leaning back on the throne, a confident smirk creeping onto his lips. “Well then, how do you feel right now?”

He laughed, taking those final few steps which left him stood directly in front of Yami, a strange feeling always overcame him when he saw his other self here in this room. He felt as if he should kneel, as if he wasn’t supposed to be acting in such a familiar way.

This room reminded him that the man before him was once a Pharaoh, once ruled an entire kingdom and had the adoration and respect of many- a gentle hand against his arm brought him out of his thoughts.

“I guess I’m feeling a lot of things right now.” He said softly. “But one feeling is a little louder than the rest.”

“And which is that?” Yami asked, the hand on his arm slid down to take his hand.

“Hmm…which word best fits?” He said, turning his hand to intertwine his fingers with Yami’s. “I guess I could go with happiness…no…love?” He smiled, lifting one leg so he could rest his knee on the throne next to Yamis thigh. “Love, of course but I think it might be a little stronger than that…adoration?”

Yami laughed, his free hand moved to rest on the back of his thigh, encouraging him to keep moving forward and he did just that, lifting his other leg and kneeling on the throne, stradling Yami’s lap.

“Yep, I’m gonna go with adoration.” He said decisively.

“I’m glad I asked.” Yami said happily, hands moving to grip his hips and pull him closer and he sat down, settling in Yami’s lap properly. “I adore you too.”

“I know.” He said with a smile.

Yami laughed, sitting up, leaning closer to him so their lips brushed together teasingly. “I never quite know how to express just how I feel about you.”

Yugi released Yami's hand and slid his arms around the spirits shoulders, smiling as his eyes moved down to Yami's lips.

“You could start by kissing me.” Yugi said with a laugh which was cut short by Yami’s lips against his.

He sighed happily and deepened the kiss, hands moving to Yami’s hair and pulling him closer, content to lose himself for a little while. It seemed that Yami had other ideas though when he broke the kiss, leaning back in the throne and looking up at him with a small smile.

“So you don’t want space?” Yami asked.

“I never want space when it comes to you.” He said honestly. "We've both been through some really big things these past few weeks- don't argue with me." He stopped abruptly, his hand moving to cover Yami's mouth.

"We've both been through it recently." He continued. "I want you to know that when I was…away…" he said the word quietly, Yami dropped his eyes from his. "I didn't really have a grasp on reality. I wasn't sure what was real and what was a strange dream…but you, you lived it all. You know what happened."

He moved his hand away from Yamis mouth, trusting him to speak now.

"Yeah…" Yami sighed softly.

"Are you okay?" He asked gently, hand cupping Yamis cheek. "You can be honest with me."

Yami looked back at him, his eyes so unsure. Yugi could see the uncertainty in them and he wanted to say more, but he also wanted Yami to talk.

"I think I will be." Yami said with a small smile. "I was…when you left me I…I've never known a feeling like it…"

He nodded. Yami didn't need to know that Jou had told him how Yami reacted, how he was in those first few hours after his soul was taken… how he cried and screamed and fell to his knees, he he barely spoke to any of them for the rest of the night, how…withdrawn he became, how obsessed he was with getting Yugi back and how he swore to do whatever it took to do that.

At first he'd been shocked to hear it but then he realised…he'd do exactly the same.

"I understand." He said.

"I never want to feel that again." Yami whispered. The hands against Yugis hips gripped hard, bordering on painful but he didn't mind. "I swear to you, I will never let you go ever again."

He smiled gently, thumb brushing against Yamis cheek as he looked back into determined eyes.

"I know." He said softly.

"I mean it." Yami said urgently. "From this moment forward I'll do anything you ask of me. I'll keep you safe, I'll protect you…I never want to lose you again."

"I never want to lose you either." He said.

His words were loaded, they both knew that there would come a day where they would be seperated but until then…

"Wait…You'll do anything I ask?" He said, his voice light.

"Anything." Yami whispered.

"Well…" He leaned forward, chewing his lip as he felt Yami's hands slide up his back. "I might just test that right now."

"You're more than welcome to." Yami said softly, a smile on soft lips.

He laughed happily, pressing their lips together once more and falling into the arms of the man he loved more than anything.

......

Fancy a little something writing? Drop me an ask ^.^ You can find the post with prompts and a little extra info on here- Link

#puzzleshipping #atem #yugi mutou #fanfic #ygo dm #fluffy and sweet #writer asks

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lemonduckisnowawake · 9 days

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Against my better judgment, I'm posting a concept short story of vampire-christian (2.6k words. Gloriously unedited) I wrote literally yesterday because I think I'm hilarious. Here it is on WordPress if that's easier for some of you.

Actually, while I'm here, as I put on WordPress, ShamelessPlugin time of this kofi. NOT to give me money, by the way, but because I want to support a friend going on a short term missions trip (once that goal is reached, I'll refund the kofi, unless you specify not to). You can help them by sending me a kofi with a prompt or, if you prefer, donating directly to them here or reblogging the donation post I made here.

Anyway! What do I mean by concept short? It means probably not gonna remain canon-canon but it's something I write as basically an exposition dump to establish setting and possible dynamic with minimal narrative meat. So here you go. I love the attention but why must you kill my notes whenever I log on?

The problem with grabbing your blood in the hours no one else did—which is to say, in the burning daylight of afternoon, first day of the week—was that, sometimes, you would run into unexpected difficulties.

It wasn’t anything new to Armaros that the day’s fresh shipment of blood hadn’t arrived yet when he graced the building with his presence. After all, most humans and a good number of supernaturals did their work in the day, so there was no reason to deliver the shipment of fresh blood to the Vida en Bolsa building too early. Especially when most of the creatures who needed it came in after the sun set.

What was new, however, was that this was the time he’d had to wait with the only other person being the new receptionist.

Right now, she was scratching away at a notebook and typing something on the computer behind the reception desk in the small waiting room. It was what she was doing every time he came to Vida en Bolsa, which was every week.

Usually, their interaction would go something like:

“Hello…I’m here to receive my donation…”

“Good afternoon! Good to see you again, Armaros! Yep, your shipment of blood should be here, maybe being unloaded into the fridge, but name and DNI number?”

Short response here.

“Perfect! Just wait here and I’ll go grab it for you!”

He would mutter a thanks, give her the bag where he could carry his blood subtly, and watch as she skirted around the half-circle reception desk and ran to the door opposite far left of the entrance. Then, she’d come back and hand him the bag now heavy with a week’s worth of blood bags.

She’d mutter a cheery, “God bless you!” like it didn’t make Armaros flinch every time, and that would be it.

That was a good routine. Armaros wished that routine could always be kept.

But alas, this was Spain. And even after five-hundred years, the virtue of punctuality was one that they still sorely failed to improve on—maybe it had been a more punctual culture when he was still technically alive, but years in the present had made the far past fade somewhat.

Nevertheless, typical Spanish lateness had been the cause of the apologetic, “Looks like they’ll be late again with today’s shipment” from the receptionist.

Speaking of, actually, Armaros assumed that Chae-ryeong was a receptionist. Or maybe distributer to the beneficiaries would be the right word for it? She seemed to do quite a few other things, if the forms on her computer were anything to go by.

The problem was, every time he walked past the building—which was often, even when not stopping for blood—he would see her form sat at the desk. Daylight or twilight, she was just…there.

Armaros wondered if she ever slept or ate or took breaks. The woman had bags under her eyes as permanent as her half-smile. The hair Armaros assumed was supposedly to be the typical straight, black, and strong East Asian hair was always in a frizzy (and more often than not, greasy) mess. And truth be told, whenever he spoke with her, the scent of her blood seemed to sometimes lack the distinct iron quality that most healthy blood should possess, which wouldn’t be that alarming—anemia signs otherwise—except that she was specifically working at Vida en Bolsa.

Personality wise, Chae-ryeong was the perfect receptionist. Appearance wise, she looked like she’d been run over by one of the delivery trucks he sometimes spotted in the parking lot.

“Hm…” Chae-ryeong suddenly broke the silence.

Five-hundredish years of life had still not trained Armaros to not flinch at the sound of another human voice. Especially when the owner of the voice was looking at him looking at her.

He blinked back, fighting not to break his stare.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Armaros questioned her.

…why did I start a conversation? he yelled internally. Curse me…no. I’m already cursed. I can’t bless me either—wait, she’s saying something.

He could have just pretended to be asleep or something.

Chae-ryeong, still wearing her usual half-smile, shook her head. “No, not technically,” he caught her saying. “I was just wondering at you staring at me, but maybe you were just bored like I was?”

Well, yes. He was bored. But boring was good. Boring was silent and peaceful and—wait, why was she bored?

“…aren’t you working on something though?” he asked her, briefly eyeing the laptop next to her covered in a weird assortment of stickers.

“Well, yes…but it is rather boring,” Chae-ryeong easily replied, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s just some work for another thing I’m doing, anyway. So why were you staring at me? Or were you just bored?”

“I, uh…” Armaros stammered, trying to follow the gunshots of conversation. “I’m not bored? I was just…wondering if you ever slept, since I walk around the neighbourhood a lot and always see you at your desk.”

…that wasn’t rude to say, right?

“Ha! Come on. I’m twenty-four!” Chae-ryeong scoffed, grinning at Armaros. “Uh. I think. BUT ANYWAY! I still have, like, a year left before my brain starts deteriorating. Who needs sleep when you’re young!?”

Armaros wanted to argue that he was five centuries old and still very much needed sleep. But he was the vampire awake in broad daylight—the time he should be sleeping in. Plus, he didn’t know much about human biology now, so…

His mouth didn’t seem to agree with his brain, as he found himself muttering, “Uh…I don’t think that’s how it—never mind.”

“Nah, it’ll be great,” Chae-ryeong assured him. “But yeah…come to think about it, I do work an absurd amount of hours here, don’t I?”

The expectant eye she was giving Armaros withered him a little bit as he felt himself forced to continue the conversation. “Um…how come you work that long?”

Chae-ryeong huffed. “Well, my parents are friends of the managers of this branch of Vida en Bolsa. And after their last few receptionists quit on them, I offered to take the positions until they found someone...s new. It’s great. I can do my master’s homework, be surrounded by blood, talk with vampires that sometimes want to eat me, serve God in some form of ministry, and earn money. Lots of it, too, given how I’m working almost all the shifts.”

“That sounds…unhealthy,” Armaros commented, at loss at what to say.

Was that rude? Judging someone he barely knew?

“Oh, it absolutely is! But if I ever need a blood transfusion, at least I’ll be in good hands with the medics here!” was her cheerful reply.

It was then when Chae-ryeong shut her laptop.

Armaros wanted to die, except he was already dead. Her shutting her laptop means she’s invested in this conversation. Send help, he cried internally.

“That’s…not really what I meant—hey, are you anemic?” he suddenly asked, catching a whiff of her scent with his enhanced senses. “Oh, uh. I ask because you always smell slightly less…metallic than most people.”

The woman rested her arms on the desk, tapping her fingers and wheeling her chair slightly back and forth, attention all on him. “Ooh…so vampires can smell that. Some of the others who come in the night shift tell me that too, but yeah, I am.”

“Doesn’t that make working here…unsafe? Hungry vampires can be…” he trailed off, forgetting the word he wanted to use to express the state of hungry vampires. He sunk deeper in his chair, knowing he should just stand and make the short trek to one of the chairs nearer to the reception desk but…not wanting to.

Well, Chae-ryeong seemed comfortable where she was as well, atrocious posture and all. And she didn’t seem to mind their distance either as she bobbed her head. “Yep! But who ever said ministry was safe?”

“Erm…”

Armaros didn’t really get it, but Christians—Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant, whatever other thing there was these days that believed in the triune God and the cross and resurrection thing—they were a weird lot. After all, they were the first group to establish a blood donation system for the supernaturals who needed it despite their entire nature being lethal to his kind.

“Well…if it works for you, I guess,” he passively answered back.

“It does! I usually can take short naps during the slow hours. Most of the vampires already know me now and are nice enough to wake me up if I oversleep,” Chae-ryeong blissfully blabbered on.

“Can you even oversleep in your current lifestyle?” Armaros asked doubtfully.

“Yep! I usually get four good hours, but sometimes I overshoot to seven or eight from morning till afternoon!”

“…I see.”

“What about you? You’re pretty much the only Monday daylight regular,” Chae-ryeong offered him a question, something Armaros really hadn’t needed. “I mean, you say you see me when you stroll around, but I also see you a lot out in the sun. Isn’t that unsafe?”

“Yes…it is,” Armaros said, struggling to explain. “But…I enjoy taking walks…especially to stores. They’re never open in the night.”

“Ah…right. Why don’t you move to the nearby city, then?” Chae-ryeong suggested. Armaros noticed her head still bobbing slightly from earlier. “Places like Valencia have most of their establishments open at night for the nocturnal supernaturals. Smaller cities like ours don’t have lots of those, though I think we have a good number of them! I know the center has almost all the stores and the major groceries open in the twilight hours, at least.”

“…well, it’s not something that appealed to me.”

“Makes sense to me!” Chae-ryeong accepted easily.

They lapsed into silence, with Armaros aware that Chae-ryeong was looking at him, as if desperately wanting to ask a question. Sometimes, he wished he hadn’t become more aware of social cues…

“Sorry. I’m not great with conversations,” he said. “But…do you want to ask something?”

Chae-ryeong perked up, at least as much as one could without changing the permanent expression on their face. “Actually, yeah! But it might be rude…most of the vampires I’ve asked weren’t really willing to answer…or even let me ask when I mentioned it pertained to Christianity. Can I ask it anyway?”

No???

“Sure…this is a mission, after all.”

Why was he this way?

Well, she seemed happy at the allowance? Maybe? Again. Hard to tell.

“To be honest, I just kind of am curious about how the whole Christianity thing and vampires works. I know vampires stay away from churches and the whole lot because, well, it literally hurts their very being. But like…I don’t know. A vampire classmate and friend of mine were talking and she’s always wondered how things would have gone if she’d lived during the time of Christ and had bit Him, capital H.”

…I’m having hearing issues, right? Armaros told himself. There was no way the receptionist had just—

He straightened, if only to lean forward and ask the woman, “Sorry?”

“…it’s a weird question, isn’t it?” Chae-ryeong acknowledged. And if she wasn’t wearing her polite half-smile, it would have sounded apologetic, but she was wearing it and the acknowledgment sounded too…nonchalant?

“I, uh…no. I’m really asking,” Armaros said, just to save himself the trouble of trying to admit anything.

“Oh, then my question was about—well, I don’t know if you believe in God, actually. But Christian items still hurt you, right? So…say you do. What would have happened if you had bitten Jesus Christ while He lived and drunk His holy blood.”

…huh.

This was a bit of a belated observation, but the new receptionist—new being relative given that she’d already been here for nearly two months—was insane, wasn’t she?

“I, uh…well.”

Chae-ryeong nodded in understanding. “Yeah. That’s about the response of the other vampires willing to consider the question.”

She didn’t seem disappointed, either. If anything, she looked resigned. And Armaros dearly wanted to ask, “Resigned to what?! What are you resigned to?! What kind of crazy question is that, woman? I just want my week’s worth of blood, please! Please don’t make me change to a 42-days shipment order!”

But he didn’t say any of that because he knew better.

Rather, Armaros did his best to sit back properly and meet Chae-ryeong’s curious dark eyes, glinting in the summer evening sunlight with…something expectant, maybe? With that, he found his mouth opening without his permission again.

“Well, most vampires believe in God. The ones who don’t, uh…don’t really end up living that long, to be honest. Some out of spite, others because they don’t really…take precautions for their safety. Some are still alive, I mean,” Armaros explained, feeling more and more self-conscious and doing his best not to pray (lethal idea) for the blood delivery truck to come already.

“The thing is, we don’t have…faith in God, you know? That might kill us, after all,” Armaros explained. His smile wasn’t too strained, was it? “So we just…I mean. I’ve never thought of that question? Maybe it would have killed us? I mean, I’m pretty sure a true Christian’s blood is lethal to us, so—”

“Wait, what?” Chae-ryeong interrupted him, her smile dropping for the first time in the conversation.

The change in expression was enough to throw Armaros into silence.

She didn’t seem to mind, as she continued. “What was that about Christians’ blood being lethal to a vampire?”

The question was enough to prompt the vampire to speak again, stammering out, “Uh…oh. Um. Yeah. Cause…I think it’s some theological principle?” He honestly knew even less about it.

A lightbulb seemed to light up over Chae-ryeong’s head, or maybe that was the setting sun—hang on, didn’t that mean it was nearly 9PM?

Armaros subtly tried to glance at the big owl-shaped clock on the wall in the reception area, which did confirm his suspicion that he’d been here almost an hour and a half.

“Well, huh…I guess now I know why that threat worked,” he thought he heard Chae-ryeong mutter to herself.

That…definitely didn’t sound like it was meant to be said aloud, so he simply decided to let it go.

“Hello?” another voice startled them out of their musings.

They both turned to the speaker, a woman who looked to be in her late thirties—brown hair, Mediterranean complexion, healthy blood, maybe recently sick, also carrying a clipboard.

Chae-ryeong’s smile immediately returned as she waved out her greeting. “Hi, Sandra! How are you?”

The woman smiled at Chae-ryeong, slightly false but not unkindly. “Very tired. Sorry about the delivery being so late today. Do you want some help unloading it?”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. I hope you can go home to rest.”

“I know I will!”

“And now, don’t worry about unloading. Carla, Leo, and Adele are already taking care of it, see?”

Three pairs of gazes turned outside to see an older woman and two youths in their twenties starting to unload crates from the white and red truck parked just in front of the entrance. One of the women—Adele, Armaros recognized from her dirty blonde hair—waved when she spotted their gazes.

Armaros just stared ahead, like he hadn’t seen them.

Honestly, he didn’t think he could take any more interaction at this point. Thank…not God. But thank goodness that he could now move on from this evening.

“Armaros, do you want your blood delivery now?” Chae-ryeong’s voice interrupted his relief.

He tensed again and nodded. “Thanks, yes.”

#well #if you reached the end of this 2.6k exposition dump i applaud you #and thank you sincerely too!#i like to complain about attention because it gives me a heart attack every time and as a rule i dislike it #but i would be silly to not be grateful for genuine positive interactions that i get to see on the notes #by the way....you all ARE free to take this concept and run away with it you know?#like i am pretty sure it is not an original idea #but yes #lemon duck quacks #for the words!#and on the missions trip support....if friend does give me permission to post their gofundme i might just make a tumblr post for it #and if any of you would like to be tagged to signal boost it let me know :p #again....i feel SO AWKWARD ABOUT ASKING FOR SUPPORT...even if its not for me #that actually helps #also to specify on the short story more.....i'm still not writing an actual short short story series for this #unless og post reaches 10k notes #or unless enough people press upon me with their sincerity (and i have genuine time for it) because i am so easy sometimes #lemon duck tales

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