#Idk why I dig sadists

[qtboni]

Heyyy I love your writings so much I wanted to ask if maybe you could write a ghost x reader story with angst to fluff maybe where the reader gets tortured in front of him or gets kidnapped idk

╰﹒ 𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐀 !

PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Reader

C/W: fem!reader, angst to comfort, violent themes, kidnapped/captivity, restraints, choking/strangling, asphyxiation, death (minor), explicit words, inaccurate spanish dialogues, bit of canon divergence. w/c 3.4k

Ghost could only hear the ringing in his ears as a firm hand connected harshly in his head. "C'mon, pinche pendejo," A woman crouched in her knees infront of him, a snarky smile etched in her face. She looked like a predator waiting for her prey to break, and she had no intention of making it easy for him. "We were protecting a friend in the mountains. Someone attacked us there... Who?"

Valeria. Ghost concluded in his thought.

"Go fuck yourself." He grunted as a reply and averted his gaze elsewhere. It was clear he wasn't interested in giving out any information. His insulting statement made the woman's smirk to drop as an irritated expression took place.

"If I were you," Valeria replied, her thick accent sipping through. She snickered as she taunts him by tilting her head to the side, faking a pity expression. "I'd be careful with my words."

"Why would I, ya lil' fucker." Ghost hissed, his brows furrowing as he glared at her with a menacing expression. He tried to move his tied wrists and legs, but the rope was too tight. His frustrations boiled at the feeling of helplessness, the tight bonds threatening to cut off his circulation.

"Because?" She replied with a deep chuckle, her eyes gleaming with a malicious glint. In one swift motion, she grabbed him by his vest and forced him to look up at her. "I have your pequeña princesa right here." Her words were punctuated by a self-assured smirk, her expression daring him to defy her command. His muscles were tense, his hands curled into fists as he struggled against his bonds, the tight rope digging into his wrists and legs as he tried to break free.

'Princesa?' He thought, his mind racing to make sense of her word. But then it clicked.

You.

Ghost took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure in the face of her teasing. ’She's playing with me,’ He thought as he tried to keep a cool head, but her words and expressions were certainly having an effect on him. There was no way Valeria had caught you. He was sure you left with the team!

"So?" Valeria's voice brought him back to where he was. The woman infront of him smiled widely in a sadistic and disturbing manner, her eyes glinting with evil intent. "Tell me. Ask my question,"

"You're a fuckin' lunatic if you think I'll give up intel," He fought against his rising emotions, thinking to himself. She was just messing with his head for sure. But his heart beat at a frantic rhythm, each pulse hammering against his chest as he tried to maintain his composure. "Don't even fuckin' know what you're on about,"

Disappointed, Valeria clicked her tongue. But it was not out of annoyance, no. There was something sinister beneath her snobbish grin, as if she was toying with Ghost and was enjoying it. A series of sinister chuckling enveloped the dark lit room. He could see from the corner of his eyes that a leather roll was unwrapped in the table situated at the side, revealing a collection of various knives, razor blades, tiny tools that were nonetheless can convey damage to one's body.

"No?" Valeria turned away from him for a moment, locking eyes with one of her minions on her right. "Then, I suppose I have no other choice but have you believe me that I stick to my words, hm?"

"Fuck you," He spits even if his heart tightened with dread, thinking for the absolute worst. She's lying. You can't possibly be here. He watches as the woman turned back to him with the same wicked grin, gaze still piercing him like a dagger. "Sit comfortably, yeah?" She continued, speaking as if her decision was already made. She smirked as her words sunk in at Ghost, the thought of harm coming to someone else sending a chill down his spine. "You'll need it."

"I don't f-"

"Wanna know why, cariño?" She cuts him off with a mock, leaning even closer to him. She didn't give him a chance to reply back as her hands wrapped around his covered jaw, her touch causing the skin under to burn with a mental flare. Then she whispered into his ear, her words a slow and teasing drawl. "I'll torture her up real good, and make you... Well," She paused to consider for a moment, before a slow grin spread across her face. "You'll just have to see for yourself." A dark amusement flickered in her eyes, the thrill of his helplessness evident in her tone.

With a rough pat on his cheek, Valeria stood up, her expression serious and professional. "Tráela En," She ordered the men to her side, who immediately obeyed. With a quick glance back to Ghost, the men piled out of the room with Valeria, their footsteps echoing in the hallway outside.

With the men having left the room, Ghost thought of how he could try to escape the restraints that held him down. He wiggled his arms in an effort to free himself from the ropes, but they held firm. His eyes darted around the room frantically, his brain desperately working to develop a plan for escape.

Ghost tried to wriggle his tied up wrists free, but the ropes stubbornly held tight. He took in a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind in order to develop a strategy that could help him escape. He strained as he worked at loosening the ropes, his muscles straining under the effort, and still the bonds refused to budge. With every attempt to free himself, he was met with increasing levels of exhaustion. Time was his enemy here, the clock ticking steadily away. He continued to strain at the ropes, but still they refused to budge. His skin was growing damp with sweat, his breath heavy and raspy. He had to escape, he had to.

Ghost was too focused on freeing himself, his gaze glued to his bound hands, his thoughts locked in a desperate cycle. His focus on escaping the ropes made it impossible for him to notice Valeria entered, his heart racing as her presence suddenly became apparent.

"I was looking forward to this," a raspy voice purred. He snapped turned his head forward, his eyes snapping towards Valeria's boastful stance and... fuck, it's you. The familiar scarf, covered in dirt and dust. Its little ghost drawing, once vibrant and colorful, was now dull and worn, the image haunting him. Even the sound of the heart keychain strapped to your belt was enough to draw him out of his daze, the item bringing back a flood of memories of you.

This can't be.

—

"Yer fuckin crazy," A rough voice was heard amidst the throbbing pain present in your head as you were haphazardly thrown.

You winced as your body collided with what felt like cold asphalt, and tears of anguish welled up in your eyes. Despite the familiar voice you recognized, your covered vision made it difficult to make out anything. The sedatives forced upon you while in captivity made you dizzy and disoriented. As the sack was removed from your head, the full impact of your surroundings flooded your senses. The voices around you were loud and numerous causing white noise in your ears, their words indecipherable to you as your mind struggled to grasp your current situation.

"Don't fuckin' hurt her!"

A sharp yank on your hair jarred you out of your trance, forcing you to look up from the ground. The sound of your lieutenant calling out your name registered in your mind, forcing you to come back to reality. As your eyes met those of Ghost's frantic eyes behind his mask, your heart raced, your anxiety flaring up once again as you quickly assessed what was happening.

Valeria's grip on your hair grew tighter, a cruel and sadistic grin spreading across her lips as your pained gasp filled her with pleasure. "You were expecting someone else, weren't you?" She said to Ghost, her tone dripping with sarcasm and malice. She leaned in closer, her cruel glare inches from your face as she whispered into your ear with a mocking tone, "Too bad. Que te voy a matar." She chuckled, her breath tickling your ear as you winced in pain.

"Just give it up, Valeria," He gritted his teeth in anger. But she laughed, her voice echoing in the room as she turned to Ghost. She held his gaze for a moment, studying his expression. Then, she turned back to you, a cruel grin spreading across her lips. "Oh, you poor thing," she chuckled, her tone dripping with condescension. She softly carressed your scalp as if creating a faux sense of security. "Is this affecting you," She said to Ghost as she ran a finger down your cheek, the sharp pain of her nail digging into your flesh drawing a quick wince from you. "Or do you have anything else in your mind besides this?"

"Fuckin' leave her out of this." Ghost clenched his jaw, desperately trying not to show any more signs of weakness. He tried to stay composed as Valeria leaned in closer to you, her teasing smile growing bigger with every passing moment. He swore the nerves in his arms were bulging out of tense.

You winced at her touch, but you didn't dare to speak as your jaw locked and your muscles tense as you tried to ignore it. Valeria laughed again, moving a step back so she could face him again. "Oh, but I do love the way she look when she's in pain," she said, her tone playful as she studied your tears streaming down your face. "You really should have told me what I wanted to know." She chuckled, moving closer to you again, her hand moving in a gentle caress along his cheek. "It's okay, little sweetheart," she whispered, her voice full of deceiving sweetness.

She has a cruel glint in her eyes as she studied your expression. Her hand gently moved towards your cheek, then her nails started digging into your skin and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold in the cry of pain that was forming in your throat. "Speak, bitch," She spat on you, eyes narrowed with annoyance. You didn't respond, determined to close your mouth. Whatever this was, you're on your lieutenant's side. "No?"

It was only as Valeria let go of her grip on you that you realized how numb your muscles felt. Your legs felt like they were made of lead as you tried to scurry away, but the effects of the torture had left your body limp. Unable to move, unable to escape, you watched helplessly as Valeria went over to the side and grabbed something, the glinting object catching your eye.

You met Ghost's gaze and saw him return it, the terror evident in your expression as he silently implored you to try harder to escape. As if you were the one who has their limbs tied up. "How amusing," Valeria came up between you both, playfully swaying the sharp material in her hands. "It seems like our little friend is too strong-willed for our torture to affect her."

You weren't given the chance to react at all when the knife had already slit your arm. Everything went silent as the stinging sensation was too much to bear. You screamed out as the cold metal pulled out, leaving your blood to gush out of your flesh.

"You fuckin' bitch!" You heard Ghost yell out as he struggled in the chair, attempting to break free from its constraints. Your ears were greeted with the sound of the chair's loud creaks and groans. The noise seemed to echo through the room as he yanked against the ropes, his movements growing more frantic as the sounds turned into small shouts of effort. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Give me información, pendejo." was all Valeria stated.

As Ghost's struggles continued, your weak and fatigued body could barely muster the energy to keep your eyes open, let alone attempt to help him. He called out for your help with more desperation, his shouts growing louder and more frantic as the knife sliced at your bruised skin again and again.

"S-Stop!" Your body was paralyzed with fear, your mind paralyzed in shock, unable to process what it was witnessing. You wanted to run, to do anything to make it stop. But all you could do was watch, your tears falling down your cheeks. Your body had betrayed you. "Please..."

"Valeria!" Ghost shouted, no, he tried to call for her to stop when your body convulsed as another wave of sobbing washed over you. Two strong hands squeezed your throat, your breaths coming out in shallow gasps. You tried to comply, but the words coming out of your mouth were so slurred and incoherent, it was impossible to understand. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out, your mind and body exhausted from the pain and stress of Valeria's torture.

"Let go!" You choked out the words between the hands on your throat, your strength fading. You tried to pry her off but Valeria's grip only tightened, cutting off your air. As you struggled, she pressed her hand hard against your face.

"Shhh," she whispered, her voice a cruel taunt. Your vision was blurring as your eyes rolled back, a hand over your mouth stifling your desperate screams. Her voice felt far away, as if you were under water.

"Let... please... let go..." you managed to wheeze out desperately. As you fought against the darkness in your mind, your strength waning, you felt your awareness fading away. You felt as if you were floating, weightless and free all over despite the cold temperatures of the air around you. You felt peaceful, your senses fading and your consciousness slipping as you lost your grip on reality, slowly surrendering to the embrace of the void, your world fading away.

As you began to slip away, the world around you began to dissolve into a blur. It was all splotches of black, the darkness slowly consuming your senses. In your distorted vision, you saw something casting a shadow over you. It was hard to tell what it was, but you tried to focus your eyes on it, your irises dilating in recognition. The blurring slowly faded away, your senses sharpening as you glanced over Valeria's shoulder.

There, the person moved quickly, seizing Valeria's arms, yanking her away from you and tossing her aside. He turned to her with a fury in his eyes, ready to throw hands. The world came back to you with a sudden jolt, your lungs inhaling deeply as your eyes popped open. The colors of the room and the chill of the air on your skin became tangible as you registered the sharp pain of the ground beneath you.

With your eyes squinting, you see how she smirked at him, her gaze confident even as Ghost's body trembled with rage. He stepped forward, grabbing Valeria by the hair and twisting it, using his full strength to force her to the ground. He yanked her by the hair across the floor, his grip tight and unforgiving. His eyes filled with hate, his body trembling with anger, as he slammed her face-first into the floor.

"How dare you," he spat, his voice hoarse and raw. "How dare you lay your dirty hands on her!" Ghost's voice was thick with rage and loathing, his words pouring out in a torrent of fury. But Valeria smiled coolly, looking at him dead in the eyes as he continued to pull her across the floor. She didn't try to fight it, allowing herself to be dragged, but Ghost didn't let up. He didn't release his grip on her hair, even as her body bumped and dragged across the floor.

Ghost pulled Valeria forcefully against the wall, pinning her against it as he kept a firm grip on her hair. She tried to move, to squirm free from his grasp, but he didn't let her. She grabbed the knife that was tucked into her belt, the blade glinting in the light, and tried to stab him in the back. Ghost caught the movement in his peripheral vision, and he quickly grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm in a painful maneuver. The knife dropped from her hand as she let out a cry of pain, the blade falling to the floor with a soft thud.

Ghost looked down at Valeria, her expression twisted into a smirk as she glared up at him in defiance. In that moment, he felt his rage flare, his emotions taking over. Ghost brought his face right up to Valentina's, his expression filled with cold malice and hatred. "What?" He asked, his voice a harsh whisper. "Did you think I *wouldn't* finish you off?" He grabbed hold of her hair with both hands, his expression feral as he looked into her eyes.

Ghost twisted Valeria's arm sharply, and before she knew it, he had her in a chokehold. He tightened his grip, his face filled with rage as he looked into her eyes. She struggled desperately, trying to fight him off, but Ghost's strength was overwhelming. He held on tight, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter, his grip tightening with each breathe. She coughed and gasped for air, her eyes filling with a mixture of fear and regret. And then, a moment later, she was gone. The sound of her body hitting the floor broke the silence as Ghost released his grip, letting her fall to the ground. His heart pounded in his chest as he stood above Valeria's motionless body, his breath catching in his throat.

"Lt..." You managed to choke out as you cleared your throat, trying to get his attention to you. Your hands were shaking, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. He slowly turned to look at you, eyes filling with sudden concern. As the pain and anger disappeared, he was overcome by fear and anxiety, the thought of losing you too much to bear.

He rushed towards you, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no hesitation, his arms enveloping your body in a tight embrace. His embrace was tight and firm, his body pressed up against yours with his warmth radiating from him and his breath filling your ears. The adrenaline pumping through his body still, and you trembled in his arms, clinging to him for reassurance.

"We need to leave fast, love," He murmured, absentmindedly calling you a petname, as he took notice of the bruises and bleeding cuts marring your body. Without another word, he lifted you into his arms, your body limp and weak, and carried you. "Not for long before those suckers come here,"

You hummed as a reply, too tired to form words as you rested your head on his firm chest. You felt him adjusting you a bit when his hand came in contact with the cuts you had on your arm and you hissed, body curling up to comfort yourself. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice gentle. He stayed close to you, letting you lean into him as your body trembled. The fear began to fade, and you felt his warmth surround you, his arms a source of strength and comfort.

As Ghost, with you in his arms, walked outside, you were both silent. The cold air and the rustling of your clothing movements were the only sounds you heard, the sounds of the outside world muted and hazy. Ghost's grip around you was firm and protective, and you felt his body against yours as the cold air brushed back your hair. There were no words spoken between you, the air filled with silence and Ghost's gentle breathing, his warm presence beside you.

Suddenly, Ghost's voice filled your ears and it sent your heart fluttering. "Swear on my word," He gently whispered in the volume of what he should only hear. The heat of his embrace still radiating around you, his arms still wrapped around you, protecting you from the world. "I'll never let you get hurt again."

#he's the man #thank you for coming to my ted talk #👾 — [bonnie’s wk] #cod x reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #cod x you #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost angst #cod ghost #ghost x female reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #cod mw3 #cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost x you #cod simon riley

[ilovechuuyasm]

My random thoughts on how good ler Alastor would be were well received, so I wrote a fanfic based on that

This is a tickle fanfiction, If this is not your area of interest, don't read it! ^^

Ler!Alastor and Lee!Reader - He just wanted to make you smile

You were just having a bad day, everyone and everything was irritating you since the morning. Plus, Alastor went to a meeting of the rulers, so you were sitting in your room, reading (you don't have TV, I wonder why) and waiting for him to come back and improve your mood.

He appeared out of nowhere and hugged you, scaring you a little "Waah, one day you'll scare me to death!" you squeaked, he sat down next to you, slightly amused.

"Well, hello there, darling!" he greeted you, ignoring your earlier comment "Did something happen?" he tilted his head slightly, looking at your face.

"Nothing special... just a bad day" you murmured and you spread your hands, wanting some affection from him.

"Hm? You want a hug now?" He asked, watching you.

"Yes, please, I've been waiting for you all day" you whispered. Instead of doing it normally, Alastor teleported closer to you and hugged you gently.

"Now smile, sweetheart! You know you are not fully dressed without a smile!" he said enthusiastically. You sighed and smiled fakely for a moment, then returned to your dissatisfied face. "Oh, that's not nice.. " he said, he sounded disappointed, but at the same time you could hear a little teasing in his voice "I don't want my beloved one to look so sad" he added, placing his hand on your side and moving you closer to his embrace, smiling widely. You had a feeling that he was planning something and after a while your hunches were confirmed as you felt a small poke on your side.

"Nahh! Alastor!" you squeaked, trying to escape his embrace, but instead you felt Alastor's shadow (Idk, that black thing lmao) wrap around your body.

"Ohh, you are not going anywhere now, little fawn~" he said, wiggling his fingers in a distinctive way, knowing how it affects you "If you don't want to smile for me, I'll make you~" He announced and you noticed a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He knew you had a thing for tickling, you were the only person he didn't want to actually hurt, but a little torture never hurt anyone, right?

You giggled nervously, when you felt like your body was completely immobilized and you were at the mercy of the radio demon. "Al, I can smile for you now, you know?" you said, grinning at him, trying to defend yourself.

"Hmm" he looked at you, tilting his head, pretending to be thinking "Too lateee~" he hums and you felt his fingers attacking your exposed sides. He didn't even try to start gently or to tease you, he immediately started tickling you hard, and you immediately burst out laughing.

You started squirming as much as you could, which only encouraged him to continue. It's an amazing feeling when the victim wants to escape but is unable and has to endure everything Alastor wants to do to them, he loved it. His hands roamed over your body, looking for the most sensitive places so he could torture you a bit, while you laughed, struggling to take each breath as this demon wouldn't give you even a moment's rest.

"A-! Ahahah! Alahaha-!" you tried to say his name.

He leaned over you, continuing to tickle your stomach now "Enjoying yourself?" He whispered in his teasy tone.

"NOHOHO!" you squealed.

"Oh what a shame!" He answered "Because I'm not finished with you yet~" he made eye contact with you and started tickling your ribs more aggressively. Tears started to well up in your eyes from laughing, and the laughter became more and more hysterical. His smile widened "Could you scream a little bit louder for me~?"

You began to squirm and whimper as the sensation took over your entire body, you felt so vulnerable.

"ALASTORR! NYAHAHAHYAH!" you screamed, you felt Alastor dig his fingers into your knees and then your thighs. You wanted to kick your legs, but they were immobilized, so all you could do was continue laughing hysterically. He enjoyed your screams, they were a sign to him that he was taking good care of you "FUHUHUCK!" the curse left your mouth.

"Oh my, what a mess of words!" said Alastor "You shouldn't say that, you little fawn~" he hums, grabbing your ankle, you gained a second of respite.

"LEHEHEAVE ME ALOHOHONE!" you squealed when his finger ran over your foot.

"Didn't you tell me earlier that you've been waiting for me all day?" he asked, tickling your poor sole with two fingers now. You groaned in response and soon started laughing again. He knew you wouldn't answer him now, so he spoke again "Ohh, you are so adorable, how entertaining!" he started tickling you mercilessly again, quickly running his fingers along the entire length of your sole.

"AHAHALA-!" you cried "ALASTOOOR!"

"Aww, i could just eat you up!" he exclaimed, which sounded truly disturbing coming from him, he let go of your ankle and looked at you as you caught your breath "But I won't, because i still want you here with me HaHa!" Alastor said such weird things sometimes, and honestly that was one of the things you loved about him "Speaking of eating you~" He hiked up your shirt, which was unexpected, and leaned down, glaring at you. You let out a long, very high-pitched moan when he blew raspberry on your stomach. If that wasn't enough, his fluffy, long ears nuzzled your chin. You started giggling uncontrollably again. Very gently, he began to nibble the skin on your belly and sides, even though his teeth are quite sharp, he somehow managed to make it tickle mercilessly.

After a while, his hands were on your sides again and he tickled you so bad. Your screams and laughter filled the entire room, because it was so intense.

"NOHOHOH! STAHAHAP!" you yelped. You couldn't see what affected you more, his merciless fingers, the sweet raspberries amd nibbles on your belly or those ears! You felt so overwhelmed, and Alastor seemed happy with what he was doing.

When he finally took pity on your fate, stopped tickling you, he removed the shadow surrounding you and looked at you with a huge, satisfied smile. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes in exhaustion.

"I hate you.." you murmured.

"HaHa! I surely doubt it!" he answered and stroked your hair "You should appreciate how merciful I was anyway Hah!" his smile widened again.

"You are so creepy sometimes" you smirked slightly "But i guess, that's why i love you"

"I hope I managed to make you feel better" he said "Do you need anything, fawn?"

"Uhh, just water, but I can go get it myself"

"Then we can go together" Alastor decided, offering you his hand. You smiled at how quickly he could go from being cruel to being so sweet and you grabbed his hand.

You didn't expect that everyone would notice your red face and disheveled hair, but they did. Charlie was terrified that he had done something bad to you, but Angel Dust didn't forget to mention that from the screams he could tell that you two had a lot of fun. You didn't know if it would be more embarrassing to admit that Alastor was just tickling you or to let them think you were f*cking..

#tickle content #tword #tickle #tickle community #tickling #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel tickle #alastor tickle #ler!alastor #lee!reader #tickle fic

[themoonstarwarrior]

Well, I haven't seen the episode yet, but since it sounds like BloodMoon is refusing to be saved, imma go ahead and share the idea I mentioned to @twinanimatronics about how Sun could've possibly reached them.

Obviously BloodMoon wont sit still and listen so this scenario has Sun use star power to trap BM just like old moon did to him with Moon on standby to come in once the 5 minutes are up.

Basically, Sun asks them WHY they kill and hurt people and BM brings up the main three reasons: they enjoy it, they dont want to be a tool, and they hunger. Since literally none of the protags have actually asked, Sun would be surprised that theres more than the first reason and interrogate to get to the bottom of it. Cuz what Sun realizes is that BloodMoon doesnt have any deeper motives or desires because of their eternal hunger. Their ENTIRE existence has circled around violence to satisfy their hunger. They get used to satisfy their hunger. They enjoy the rip and tear because it stops the hunger.

They have always been a tool to the hunger.

So Sun offers the one thing that no one has: what if they get rid of the hunger?

BM is confused cuz all they've ever known is the hunger, and Sun has to dig the point home by explaining how they can keep killing but it'll come back, and probably stronger. They could kill everyone and everything but then the hunger will come back. And the only thing thatll be left to kill is each other.

And THAT freaks them out, because that is the only thing BloodMoon stands to lose is the brotherhood. (And while BM1 would probably race about lies and trickery, BM2 cant deny the logic)

So with BM actually realizing how their hunger endangers them, and Moon at this point just WAITING to finish them off, Sun lays down the ultimatum. Since no change of heart can happen if all they've ever known is hunger, Sun/Moon/Solar can try and remove it to and see if the twins can be rehabilitated, otherwise Moon ends them then and there.

And I love this idea so much!!! It addresses the REAL block that BM has that hasnt been brought up since that one episode where they kill the anime girl. We get to keep BloodMoon, since the creators went to the trouble of bringing them back and giving them a new model so it'd be a lil annoying if they just ended up killed again. It acknowledges how much BM has been used and brushed aside while admitting that there hasnt been much else to them. And you could have a whole rehabilitation arc, with everyone healing and BM given a real change and actual honesty, since god knows no one is gonna be mincing words. And I imagine their blood-hunger being removed ends up like the Ruin Virus a bit, where getting rid of it cuts down a LOT of the more sadistic urges. So the boys get a mostly-tamed but still-pretty-fucking-insane BloodMoon Twins that basically is just the feral crazy guy that hangs around Animal from Muppets lol and idk stays with Monty cuz hes more easygoing on the violent habits and they need to NOT be anywhere near the daycare.

And maybe I'll watch the episode and be alright with it, but it just sucks cuz this would work SO GOOD and I know the showrunners wouldn't do it. So now I've had to make this fucking long ass post and y'all hafta deal with it.

And maybe someday I'll write a drabble this and the other SAMS scenes I've imagined...

So yeah, sorry about the rambling and shit. I hate how emotionally involved I get with this show that I love. And I'll go ahead and tag @garbagechocolate out of obligation X)

#god this fucking show #thank you ceph for letting me rant earlier #apparently this needed to be released into the void so hopefully its not a bother to everyone #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #fnaf bloodmoon #sams bloodmoon #tsams bloodmoon #moonstar wont shut up

[quaritchsbunny]

Z-Dog/Zdinarsk as a Yandere (hc styled fic)

Wc: 4.9k (watch this flop because it’s so obnoxiously long idk why it just grew itself into a full blown pic)

Warning/Tags: yandere behavior, slightly toxic behavior, obsessive behavior, f!reader x zdog, medic! Reader, recom!reader, mature language, a bit graphic description of an injury including blood and flesh degredation, a bit of forced touch, i have no idea how actual injuries work please just go along for the purpose of fiction, zdog kinda being an asshole but she’s just been through it, unhealthy obsession, zdog is just in denial for half the fic, biting, enemies (kinda) to lovers?

A/N: My second fic ever and first time writing for a female character ahhh! I really don’t like the way I wrote this one but what can I say I really tried my best, I hope this is to your liking anon! Welcome to any comments and requests!

Extremity Scale : 3.5/5

Type of Yandere:  Obsessive, Worshipping (unknowingly), manipulative, slightly sadistic

- Zdinarsk is what others would call a heartless beauty

- Although masculine with her striking mohawk and exhibits of tattoos that spread like blooms throughout her newly blue body, the soldier had been endlessly pursued by RDA officials, scientists, comrades, male and female alike despite her cold attitude

- And one by one without a clench of her jaw on the monotonously sweet bubblegum she always seemed to be chewing, she had laughed callously before turning them away, mind focused solely on her occupation as a recom soldier

- On the battlefield, she was ruthless.

- Shots were fired without a second thought once she held her aim, and whether it was a gun, arrow, knife, or chain in her hands, her cold amber eyes didnt allow for a second of compassion before she made her kill.

- Zdog wasn’t afraid of pain, her many colored bold tattoos on various parts of her body displayed hours of needles that had penetrated her with ink, yet she adorned them like it was a part of her.

- It was all these qualities that made her a worthy comrade to officials and authorities like Quaritch and her trust recom team, valuing her professionalism, tolerance and bravery.

- Her cool exterior seemed to be impossible to break, it seemed to be part of her personality, even her closest comrades in the squad never saw her portray any emotion other than callous joy at the aspect of conquest or the neutrality she seemed to carry with her everywhere.

- Because she never saw a need to feel anything other than that, what was the point? Any other emotion wasn’t going to pay her, being soft or sympathetic like the RDA did for her cruelty when it was directed towards the natives. And damn a soul who bothered to try to entertain her romantically, that shit didn’t touch her heart or her body in the slightest, she stowed away the young part of herself that dreamed of connection with a person that can understand her and instead suited herself to a form in which she didn’t care for the affection of others.

- It was nothing more than a waste of time to her, Zdog had considered emotions to be consuming and useless, and when she wasnt out scouting with the recoms in the thickets of pandora, her little free time was easily passed in the thick leather sketchbook, her fingers thoughtlessly skimming over the thick sheets, nails digging in the cursed piece of charcoal (it was the closest thing to a pencil, the sick RDA officials only had office pens as an alternative) as thick lines formed into her next tattoo design

- As such, the only emotion Zdog really felt except for callousness and the joy of victory was minor annoyance.

- Annoyance towards anything that wasn’t needed, such as the resourceless parts of pandora, the tears of mourning that came with death, the lack of efficiency from any comrade, such things only wasted time and got in the way of the ultimate goal

- Which was why she particularly despised you.

- You were a recom too, but not a soldier

- You were a healer, just as you had been as a human, you had died healing the RDA soldiers that were wounded in the war between the navi and RDA

- And for whatever reason, the RDA had insisted on adding you onto the short list of people to recombinant for a new blue team on their return to Pandora, arguing that your healing skills were essential to survival

- Why did the scientists waste their time and resources putting you into a recombinant body, and then waste the fuel putting you in a cyro and shipping you all the way to pandora?

- Why were healers a thing anyways? Zdog’s scars always healed on their own, fuck the bandage or the cream. The only way to truly heal, as learned from multiple experiences Z-dog had, was to expose the damn bleeding scar to the air and let it bleed until it learned to close its own weeping mouth. The body has to heal eventually, it's why so many organs exist just to keep bood pumping.

- So the first time Zdog had unfortunately stumbled across a carnivorous plants in the thickets of the annoyingly damp forests of pandora, skillfully targeting her right bicep as it sank its teeth into the beloved inked arm of the unsuspecting soldier that was leaning across a tree, it was to both her and your misfortune that the colonel had sent her straight to you with commands of healing and treatment.

It was the first time you have received a patient since your arrival to the new RDA base, and your eyes widened when the outraged female was thrown into the ward, her upper right arm’s flesh seemingly curving inwards like the chunk of flesh was deflated from the bite.

“Colonel, I’m fine, a couple painkillers and it’ll be good as new” she barked, fangs bared as she tried to keep in her tears of both anger and physical pain, tearing through her like wildfire.

Colonel Quaritch only threw you a look of firm command as he commanded “do whatever you gotta do to get her arm good, and take your time, she’s not coming to missions for two weeks”, the colonel turned on his combat boots, leaving you alone with the hysterical soldier

Zdog whirled angrily, shocked and disoriented as she had never been off duty for that long. Reaching for the Colonel to come back before her head reeled from the fresh shots of pain up her raised arm, her blood dripping onto the bare silver floors of the ward.

You acted on instinct upon seeing the spurts of blood, rapidly bunching up gauze as you pressed into the wound, sitting her down on the bed.

Zdog hissed angrily, her body thrashing as her arm shook due to the huge amounts of loss of blood as she cussed incoherently, channeling her anger in attempt to stop you from wasting her time

“It’s people like you that make injuries worse, you don’t need to interfere, the body heals naturally, that’s the whole purpose for recombination, not that you would know, fucker who took on blue to do absolutely nothing”

“You’re right” you say calmly “the body heals naturally, just like how it was also that carnivorous plants nature to sink its teeth into your bare arm”

The glowering female soldier says nothing as she glares back, watching you as you unwrap the towers of gauze upon her wound.

You ignore her profanity and swiftly inspect the wound after pressurizing the opening to avoid amputation, the ink from her spilling out and blending with the dark blood as it swirled on her indigo skin.

Zdog cursed her heart as it beat rapidly, trying to look anywhere other than your knowing eyes that meticulously scanned her marks of injury, reassuring that her sweat and rapid shaking was from the physical shock and not the way your lips pursed together in expertise as you reached to grab disinfectant

Without warning, you poured the disinfectant on her wound after retracting as much blood as possible, the burn of the alcohol hurting almost more than the damn plant’s bite as it spilled into the marks, cleansing the indents from the vicious carnivorous plant

However the sear the disinfectant brought was a tickle compared to the rapid fire spreading amongst her heart, pumping blood rapidly at your firm touch on her arm and the whiff of sweet cherry she caught as your head whipped to place the disinfectant back on it’s shelf and disappeared behind a cabinet, digging through creams and bandages

Zdog had told herself it was only a natural reflex, her body trying to react to to pain as it sped it’s organs up, swallowing thickly as the your sweet scent left her surrounding, leaning forward from her resting position on the bed to catch it again

“What a medic, abandoning your patient like that”  Zdog scuffs, the popping of her bubblegum breaking the silence in the room

“Please lay back Miss Zdinarsk, rapid movement will cause more blood loss” you reply as you approach her again, her eyes immediately mellowing when your sweet scent invades her again

“No one calls me that anymore” she breathes out, biting back her huffs of pain as you press the q-tip of healing cream into the cleaned wound, circles rubbing along the raw flesh. “Z-dog, or Z works”

You nod, leaning back as you rest the q-tip on the silver tray as you reach for a bandage. “Well Z, luckily there's no signs of infection, I suggest regular icing to increase blood flow to the area and less intense use of that arm” you lay an ice bag by her non injured arm.

“For how long, this is the arm i shoot with, i’ve actually got shit to do”

“Depends on the speed of your muscle recovery, for humans though, it would be at least 3 weeks before you can do lifts with that arm again without permanent tissue damage” Your fingers worked nimbly, wrapping the bandage around her toned arm

Her relaxed form suddenly seemed riled up again as the words came out of your mouth, frown etching its way on her face as she growled. “I’ll be fucking damned”

“And because the bite had drawn your blood out of that part of your flesh, your tattoo ink had also leaked out with it, so that might be distorted, if not gone” the bandage was pressed with care before wrapped with another layer of gauze.

The cold buzz of the AC in the ward almost did nothing to combat the way her face heat up as your palm pressed the bandage in place with medical tape, before she remembered the proper emotion she was supposed to be feeling, rage, not whatever appreciation she was developing towards a person that only made her future work inconvenient by dramatifying the injury

“Listen Z, I’m only here to help, I know this is a frustrating situation, but the only thing you can do is to rest, and if there’s anything i can do to help in your recovery, please tell me” you say, your recited script towards angry patients such as her prepared as she kicks herself off the bed, stalking towards your form as you explain softly.

“Listen up miss nurse, I didn’t need this. I’ll be going out to the mission and I’ll be doing whatever I like with this arm that you only damaged more with your shit medical proceudure.” She growls angrily, the blood loss from the injury and your scent making her head spin with confusion. 

Why did she have the urge to pull you into her, to feel your sweet scent closer, what is this strange undertone to her anger?

You say nothing as her non-injured arm slams her first into the wall behind you, her bubblegum scent ghosting over you as she towered, tail swishing excitedly as her tone said exactly the opposite things

“I didn’t ask for this, the recombinant bodies heal faster and I don’t need your false pity, and maybe you’d know if you actually did anything other than sit in your pretty little ward, so i’m gonna fucking show you now”

What she did next shocked you, it hadn’t processed in your brain that her single hand had somehow made it to pin both of your arms above her and you were only able to see the flash of her mohawk as a warm spotch bubblegum was spat out. And before you even had time to squirm in response, you felt fangs sinking into your blue neck much similar to the way the carnivorous plant had done to her arm, but with surprising tenderness

Zdog had no idea what she was doing, no. She did. She was doing this to teach you a lesson, to demonstrate how the recombinant bodies worked as you clearly had no idea. She wasn’t doing this because of how much she indulged in the fluttering in her heart and stomach when she tasted the softness of your skin, the addictive feeling of your flesh on her tongue.

No blood was drawn, her saliva connecting her to the bright mark as she pulled away, still glaring at you as she inhaled sweet cherry rapidly, savoring the sweet taste of your flesh and laughing against your collarbone as she heard your cry. Damned the way her body relaxed like a cat as she retreated.

“And you’ll be paying for that tattoo that i lost” she said matter-of-factly, boots sliding across the floor as she slammed the door to the ward, leaving you dazed, confused, and the mark on your neck burning as her brown queue swished out of sight, the ice bag chunks rattling like her heart on the way out.

You couldn’t deny that you had enjoyed your little scuffle with her, you couldn’t help it, feeling the magnetic attraction the soldier exuded from her built form and confidence. And even if deep down you knew it was wrong, you’d be stupid to report it to anyone in the RDA, the recom team was basically the backbone of all the physical operations holding the establishment up, they wouldn’t hear a recombination nurse out if it meant the best to them

Zdog returned to her quarters, jaw empty of the bright pink bubblegum that frequented her mouth as she rolled her tongue around her teeth, trying to memorize the way your flesh felt around them.

In her mind, gnawed a voice, telling her to apologize to you, to see you again, to thank you

Her head reeled with swirling new emotions that she swore were useless as she layed on her bed pried open her sketchbook, trying to sketch an image of you, memorizing every feature before she realized her dominant arm was in too much pain.

She huffed frustratedly, before throwing her head back to her pillow, and icing her arm

Whenever she had been injured before, her comrades had laughed at her weakness, taking it as a chance to demote her position or belittle her for feeling pain, along with the fact that she had been a female, it had caused her to be pushed around.

But you? No “get over it”s or belittling laughs, just words of genuine advice as your fingers pressed gently into her wound, smoothing over the years of mistreatment she had received, and whether it was rehearsed from years of expertise as a medic or genuine care, your sweet cherry scent made it all too confusing to distinct.

Now all that filled her head is the sound of your sweet voice as it reassured her and your form in the white medic robes that softly pressed against her cargo vest.

Reminiscing, she lifted the ice bag, tracing the bandage where your delicate fingers had graced upon her arm, and a smile made its way upon her face unknowingly.

A brilliant excuse to see you again creeped its way into her mind as she ripped off the bandage, admiring the way you had folded it intricately as she held it to her chest, her heart beating rapidly.

I need to see her again, I need to, and I will no matter what.

Deep down she knew it was not needed, but two weeks off with an injured arm called for routines out of the ordinary.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just do something useless for once, the anger would be just as time consuming as the weird feeling of attachment she felt near you.

She slept disturbingly well that night, the cloth held close to her chest as she dreamed of tied hair, marked necks, and sweet cherries.

Despite not having duty, the responsible soldier still awoke early to send off the colonel and the rest of the team, still holding back her complaints when the colonel shook her head, telling her she wouldn’t be any good with her shooting arm injured before he assigned her to stay at the base.

As soon as the recom helicopter lifted off into to pandora sky, she skipped excitedly to the mess hall, where breakfast was being served, cherry red gum popping in her mouth as she scanned the room for a particular blue medic

Her heart seems to sink stupidly when not a single other blue form was seen in the room, her jaw tightening around the cherry gum as the flavor seemed to taunt her

That’s right, this is what you deserve for being such a impulsive asshole, indulging yourself in emotions that waste more of your time, and wasting even more energy walking around to find her

You see the agile female’s tail swishing curiously from miles away, you approach her, squinting when you realize she doesn’t have her bandage from yesterday

Zdog’s jaw immediately falls slack when she smells it, her heart racing, reciting your name, as it sends her stepping back towards the source, almost knocking into your form.

“Back so soon?” You tilt your head towards her bare arm, scar breathing without the bandage

“Looking for you nurse, just needed another bandage, you didn’t anchor it enough and it fell off when I was sending the squad off earlier” Zdog says fluently, rehearsed words from her practiced scenarios ready for whatever response you have

You only raise your eyebrows, chuckling as you led her back to the ward. Not that you were really a faster walker by any chance, the soldier made a strong effort to take smaller strolls to admire your beautiful form from the back, the sweet swirls of tenderness and affection filling her as her heart pounded louder and louder as you sat her down to bandage her, almost 10 times as intense as the way it had felt yesterday

Correct to Zdog’s assumption, the scar had indeed healed a lot faster than you had expected, though her arm was still sore and healing, the wounds had closed up a lot faster than expected

You raise your eyebrows when you see that her scar has healed fast, leaning back as your eyes scan over it

She gulps almost nervously, voice coarse and low as she mumbles “what’re you lookin at, nurse, get on with it”

“Maybe you were right, recombinant bodies really do heal much faster, i doubt you really even need the bandage” you say hesitantly, as if questioning your own healing abilities

Zdog’s eyes widen as she reaches out for you, fingers around your arm as she tries to sound as threatening as possible, but her words coming out as pleas instead ``Nope. You’re a medic aren’t you? So do your job and bandage me, or else I can get you fired and on your way back to earth” she had plotted this with so much meticulous thought just to feel your fingers on her arm again! It surely can’t go to waste, she was gonna go out and find another carnivorous plant if she had to

You smile softly, chuckling and the sound goes straight through Zdog’s ears into her heart. 

What is this fluttering feeling? Why won’t it stop?

“Where’s this compliancy coming from, you barely let me do anything yesterday, Ms. I have shit to do with this arm” you sit down and twist the cap off the healing cream, grabbing another q tip

Zdog rolls her eyes naturally, although she cant help but open it faster when she feels the rub of the soothing cream on her arm, amber eyes trained on your experienced movements

“If I really wanted to get back, maybe I should heal in the right way so I can do shit faster” she muses, fingers tempted to run themselves down your delicate queue and spine that was exposed to her as you leaned to heal her

You blink, sighing as you reach for the gauze “I think you were right though, maybe these procedures are only damaging it more, maybe it needs to just breathe. Are you sure you need the bandage?”

Zdog nods rapidly, her bold neck tattoos becoming a blur of black and blue as she spits out, trying to keep up her shell up and ignore whatever was swirling in her heart an brain “What do you think? Does that arm look anywhere near healed to you? Do you want me to walk around unbandaged and get a worse injury?”

It wouldn’t hurt to just indulge in the useless things a little bit, processes that only really waste time if it’s with you. It wouldn’t hurt to just have it on if it meant your fingers would grace my arm everyday

“Plus, I’m sure the only reason the lil nasty’s recovered this fast is because of your speed and expertise in treating it yesterday, don’t question your skill” The sentence hopped out of Zdog’s mouth almost unknowingly, and she almost wanted to bash her head against the wall. What did she say that for? You didn’t need reassurance, reassurance was for people who didn’t know anything, people who needed others to walk them along

Before her thoughts become more self deprecating, your laugh echoes through the ward, the cold silver and white walls suddenly becoming welcoming as you shake your head, anchoring the gauze in palace on your arms

“Flattering, but I really mean it when I say I think you may have been right about recombinant bodies healing faster” you lift your neck, bearing the mark that was violently purple yesterday, faded to a shade of lavender with the fang indents like marks of violet.

Zdog swallows, feeling both guilty and in a weird way, proud when she sees the mark.

“Yeah about that, that’s my bad, I was pissed and out of my mind because I’ve never been told to stay off duty yesterday, being out all day in that damp jungle heated my blood, and I may have been tryna prove a point about recombinants but that was completely fucked up and unnecessary”

she looks down at her lap, 9 feet body suddenly feeling like she was a young human girl in the marines again, disappointing her sergeant for not being as strong and capable as they expected

You set down the gauze gently and lean down to peer at her, her downcasted gaze unable to see the slight blush on your face “I’m not gonna say it’s okay to bite a medic that was trying to treat you, but you’re lucky it was me, I didn’t mind it that much, and it really did prove a point that recombinant bodies heal faster”

Zdog nods quickly, happy as she detected no anger in your voice. “Never trying that again for sure though”

“The world’s medical field is in danger if that's what you act like to everyone who tries to treat you” you chortle

For the rest of the day, Z-Dog spent time helping you maintain the ward as an extended apology to her behavior yesterday as she continued to indulge in the honey like emotion that came with being near you

- Through the next week, the ward seems to grow warmer and more homey every time Z-Dog visits (though by the first four days, her arm was completely fine, she found excuses) unknowingly, Z-Dog began to sink in the feeling of the previously useless emotions, letting it consume her until she was wasted in love

- Without knowing it, morning visits for rebandaging had turned into long conversations where Z-Dog healed more than the injury of her arm, but burns and bruises of her childhood and life as a female soldier that was constantly undermined, you saw that her hard exterior seemed to be a essential part of her that she needed for protection

- And to be honest, Z-Dog didn’t think really about what she said to you or how she said it, words just flew out of her mouth as the soft feeling of trust and affection drifted over her, your understanding gaze and comforting words binding you together like a web

- The bonding had quickly grown into something wordlessly essential and romantic, things Z-Dog always used to qualify as a waste, but now just like her cold exterior, the soft moments where your hands interlaced as she talked to you about her past seemed just as natural.

- She was almost always in contact with you, physically, whether it was the ways her eyes followed your every move or the way her hand was always by your hip, shoulder, head, it became a constant

- She followed you everywhere in the guise of protection in return for you healing her and never let her eyes off you

- And even when you were busy or actually did have other RDA matters, they seem to come cancelled last minute on short notice (because even the officials knew not to mess with a injured recom soldier that was defending the organization), and you couldn’t just leave Z-Dog alone, her words always seemed to have a way of wrapping themselves against you

- “You’re gonna leave your injured patient waiting alone like that when she’s in pain needing medical attention? Wow, I thought you cared about me” 

- “You still owe me for the tattoo, yknow, so it might be less financially burdening in the future if you treat me well right now”

- There were many late nights where Z-Dog had opted to stay in your quarters instead of hers, arguing that she slept better and healed faster, her sketchbook filling up with doodles and intricate charcoal lines with details of you. Her beloved muse.

- Back in her own quarters, folded along her sketches of you were her past bandages, as well as hairbands she stole from you, keeping everything that you had touched or interacted with like a piece of magical artifact organized like a shrine upon her nightstand as she put them under her pillow, sleeping well to the thought of you.

- Two weeks had passed by and her arm was as good as new, as the two of you only grew closer and closer,  the romantic attraction was undeniable, your blue tails tangled together as her arms sneak around your waist while you you documented her healing progress at the ward

- Until one morning the cool, brazen female soldier was gone, leaving you alone and confused in your empty bed before you realized that her duty had begun again. The past weeks had been nothing but a vacation and relaxation for her, and now that she is back on duty you could certainly expect to never speak to her again. It was all probably just a sort of short term association with her

- The day passed in a sort of a weird haze for you, strolling around the base without the sight of your certain badass soldier you were infatuated with

The night after her first day on duty, rapid knocks sound at your ward door as you’re working overtime, trying to distract yourself from your attachment with Zdog. Distraught and confused, you rush out of your seat in your white robes as you open it and see the female soldier, bright as ever

“Oh? Come to visit after ditching me this morning?” You say, a bit salty as you step back, suddenly noticing a bandage on her upper arm again

Z-Dog only looks at you, pupils filled with affection and joy as she laughs “Actually, I need help with my arm again”

You blink back an eye roll, used to the intentional injuries she sometimes did to recieve more medical attention from you as you wordlessly sit her down on the bed like many nights before where you guys had laughed, cried, kissed, and loved as your nimble fingers unwrap her bandage.

The white gauze falls away and under the soft glow of your examination table light and your eyes are busy scanning for cuts, violet reds or blood, or dark bruises that you almost miss it at first

Black, bold, yet slick and elegant letters curve around her blue skin, replacing the faded and distorted tattoo that had once been there, thick and bold as the ink is fresh, you can almost still see the puncture of the needles that she so willingly sat through and for hours before she had rushed up to your door, the shock in your eyes blurs your vision until you focus in and make out the letters of your name, with a tiny, clumsy heart identical that you had doodled on her sketchbook nights ago next to it

“Z- what is this” You breath in awe

“Well, you were the person that helped my arm heal the fastest, and parts of my heart as well, so why not dedicate the new area of skin to you instead of redoing a boring old tattoo” She chuckles matter of factly, pulling you into her lap as you continue staring at in awe

“Oh Zdinarsk” You gasp, tears blurring your vision as you look at the huge bold letters

“You never paid me back for the one I lost though, so how about a deal” She looks up at you playfully, true unfiltered joy in her once callous eyes

“Be my girl? My personal nurse, hm?” She asks cooly, thumbs smoothing over your ears as if her own heart wasnt pounding through the heavy cargo vest she wore for duty

And when you nod happily as she pulls you into a kiss of many to come, she realizes in the moment that yes, love wasn’t entirely necessary, and neither was her tattoo, or opening up to you, or the feelings that overtook her when she held you to herself proudly the next day as she introduced you to the squad, arm still firm around your waist as if to mark you for herself

None of it was necessary, and yes, maybe she was wasting her time, her love, her emotions. But even love was nothing more than a waste of her time, she would gladly waste it all on you, over and over again.

#zdog #recom zdog #zdog x reader #avatar zdog #z dog x y/n #avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #atwow imagines #atwow x reader #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere avatar #female yandere #yandere zdog #zdog x female reader #female reader #avatar x female reader #recom squad #avatar recoms #recom!reader #quaritch #zdog headcanons #zdog fanfiction #zdinarsk #yandere recom #zdog x you #avatar 2009

[crossover-enthusiast]

first things first, obviously, the cult.

×××

lets go to skiddad first.

-

ok. so, lilas husband. my guess is that throughout the years, he has been raised into cults. i imagine he became rather rebellious of this, and tried to abandon that life.

though, became too caught up, and eventually tried to get lila involved, POSSIBLY resulting in his death from fear from lila that he'd try to involve skid. my guess is skiddad is the right hand man of eyes.

theres not much i can grab there, BUT i think its worth noting the mannequin and the spiders, and how theyre probably related to skiddad. the mannequin is seen moving and/or trying to prevent people from escaping or hurting lila (sm6, sm5 where bob tries to catch her)

but, thats all i really got for him.

×××

now, bob velseb

-

judging by this picture, i like to think bob came from a more wealthy family. though, this can just be him in a business meeting, or some other formal event.

my personal idea, is that he was raised in a wealthy family, and eventually left home to go venture outwards and find some quiet peace in wherever-the-fuck-sm-takes-place. small town n stuff.

there, he worked at boys & grillz, selling to kids all around town, and specifically lila. now, to me, its not exactly clear how or why bob got into cannibalism. from what i see, its not exactly a metaphor for anything (besides like, idk, the fact his name is a pun on beezlebub, gluttony) and my only guess can just be the cult. or he was just.. hungry LMFAO

but, what i find the most interesting, is that bob couldve been a family figure (or family friend) to lila. which could explain the theory i have, that lila is the one who caught bob and put him in jail in the first place. theyre close, and lila accidentally digging too deep or stumbling upon bobs secretive cannibalistic tendencies can explain why he went out to kill her (sm1). once thrown back in prison, having help of the cult, he escaped again and tried to hurt lila AND her child, but once again, failed. (and ended up getting fucking killed in the process)

also, i like to think that bob was.. probably found at a low point with his cannibalism, and given a chance out to join the cult. idk. he probably escaped on his own in sm1 though

his role does not seem clear to me, but i like to think he was skiddad's right hand man, and once he died, bob took his place. i mean, in my eyes, he must atleast be in some high authority.

×××

mr clown

-

not even gonna lie, not too much on this guy lmfao 😭😭

though, it is known very well that he kidnaps and kills kids (unlike frank, who most likely.. just holds them for ransom tbh.) as suggested in pelos doodles (obv theyre not usually canon, but i feel like.. this one kinda is)

hes most likely of high authority/ranking in the cult, but is then killed off by jack. oops! (jesus, jack has a streak of killing cult members.)

×××

eyes

-

my favorite one to explore so far, eyes. i love eyes, specifically because of the fact we know NOTHING of their ability and their reasoning of why they inhabit this earth. to me, theyre a parasitic alien. sent, or either just out of hunger to drain the planet. i like to think that they desire to grab the human race, and put it under their control. whether it be hatred, for sadistic fun, or just for their own satisfaction. maybe controlling humans factor into their feeding. who knows.

anyway, thats where the cult comes in. tricking and playing with humans, eventually getting skiddad to lead all these people along.

my idea of eyes powers, really comes down to this. this is only what we have seen throughout sm2-sm6

-stunning, dazing.

as seen to pump, kevin, hatzgang, and gregor.

-changing humans eye color when an inhumane presence is spotted or near.

this isnt tooo important, but i think it should be added. though, unknown why bobs eyes changed. could just be his relation to the cult.

-spectating through the stars

eyes is seen throughout the episodes looking out through the sky, this could be that they are fond of skid and pump, and want to see what danger they could be in. or, theyre just curious of the two little guys' lives.

-manipulation, brainwashingggg, hypnotizing?

this is kind of a stretch, but in the end credits, and in the end of the episode itself, gregor bows to eyes and most likely put under their control. end credits wise, gregor is seen with moloch, being held up while the cult is around them. gregor could be used as a tool to summon demons and eldritch creatures alike to help take over the planet. or wreck havoc. or whatever.

but other than that, thats my idea of eyes. thumbs up.... i wonder if they can die? otherwise everyones screwed lmfao

×××

john and JD (johns daughter)

-

johns daughter is teased through pictures and drawings. it is either thought she died in the housefire in sm4, or was kidnapped, and is currently being held hostage. i like the held hostage situation better, because it adds greater stakes.

we dont know much about her, but she seems to be a bubbly young girl, and john is grief-stricken once he loses her. also, i feel its implied that he is divorced.

my idea, is that multiple cult members helped with the operation, and kidnapped JD while she was sleeping.

see, this is good (on the cults end) for multiple reasons.

while it doesnt remove john off their trail, it does deteriorate him with the loss of his child. though, if anything this makes him more determind to stop the cult.

BUT, they burned the evidence too, he is now rather powerless unless he gains all his evidence back, which would take a while.

idk. i imagine the cult try to bargain with john. and why i think of this, is because of the little poster thats likely to be a spoiler/hint for future episodes.

i mean, long hair, tealish smoke.. it could be JD being possessed? and john having to pick and choose between getting off the cults ass, or having his daughter back (and alive). shrug. thats just my theory.

×××

ignacio

-

heavily implied to be with the cult, and implied to be the one who burned down the house, its also likely he called the cult on gregor.

also, if anything, ignacio seems to be of somewhat.. high ranking or authority. or in the medium range, as he was assigned to burn johns house down. he is the one of only cult member(s) that we know of alive. others include candy dealer, the thieves, and possibly gregor.

not much about him tbh. old ass man.

×××

gregor

-

not much with him either, but its likely hes brainwashed to be apart of the cult and help along with their goals and stuff.

×××

skid (and a little bit of lila)

-

now, this is awesome because theres a very clear tie to skid and the cult. especially with skiddad and stuff.

we know from sm2, that skid is immune to eye's stun/dazing, so this can easily lead us to the fact that skiddad was connected to the cult a little before skid was born.

also! i wanna make it super clear with how lila tries to erase skiddad from everything. countless photos torn apart (specifcally of skiddads face), even ones in the attic.

lila seems to be awfully protective of skid, fearful of the cult in its entirety, but also mournful of what her husband had become. and having to possibly murder him in fear and protection of her and her son being involved.

×××

the thieves and candy dealer

-

now, holy shit, i was NOT expecting the thieves to be apart of the cult, but it does make sense. my idea is that they were sent to rob lila's house specifically so that they could retrieve anything of skiddad and cult related stuff.

their failed attempts seem to be irking candy dealer, and he gives them a good warning before going away. tbh. these guys are silly dumb dumbs. i love them.

ALSOO, that spider. right. do you think that was skiddad trying to scare them away....

candy dealer, i have no idea what the fuck is going on with him, (besides him. like. being a drug dealer obviously) but hes definitely of good importance. its nice to see him ^_^

×××

the cult necklaces

-

i feel its worth mentioning these, as they seem like a bind to those in the cult.

i think me and @deadbatzz talked about this, but we had this idea that if anyone was bound to the cult (whether by necklace or just joining), theyd be like. sent into purgatory, no release from life, just frozen in this half dead and half alive state. yeah. (though, dexters another story, as he was like. possessed and then murder in their own body. AND not to mention the happy fella dolls, but those arent part of the cult.)

×××

closing, and one final theory.

-

i saw this a while back on a comment, and for the life of me i dont think i can find it. i know it was probably on a video that pelo didnt make, but related to spooky month.

the theory is, is that the cult is powered, or just has some significance with candy.

eyes is seen eating candy in sm2, and bob is seen stopping multiple times in sm5 to eat candy. while this could just be him having a sweet tooth, i like the idea of it being much more. he even gives up literal victims for candy.

woofh. but yeah, thats... all i kinda have? sorry jf this didnt help for anything of trying to figure out whats going on with lore, but it was fun to spill my knowledge.

Oh my god dude this is fucking sick!!!! I love everything about this! I don't really have much except

Eyes/the cult having a thing with candy?? That... makes far more sense than it should, especially now that we know the CANDY Dealer is part of the cult. I like this a lot

Also the thing with Bob. The idea of him coming from a wealthy family is honestly really interesting, especially with how his house is in such a state of disrepair in Tender Treats

Him being a father figure to Lila is honestly the most gut punching, because like?? Imagine learning this man you looked up to for years is a serial killer! AND IS NOW TRYING TO KILL YOU!!!

Genuinely I want to know what the fuck happened with Gregor at the end, bc according to the ARG hub he went "missing". Apparently he wasn't even in the town for that long anyway, so like??

Just. A lot to think about.

ALSO I was thinking of them using John's daughter as a bargaining chip!! That makes too much sense! Though tbh I just don't want her to be dead-

#Spooky Month #Skiddad #Lila #Bob #Ignacio #Skid #Thin Thief #Fat Thief #The Candy Dealer #Hope #Theory #Analysis #Fave #I like this a lot

[propertyofkylar]

i just had the horniest thought about kylar while at class and wanted to scream at (with) someone and u immediately came to mind as a notorious kylar luver…. sorry if this is out of left field or doesn’t tickle ur fancy btw i just thought you’d enjoy it 😭 you can delete this ask if u dislike it!!

t/cw: high!jealousy kylar thoughts, kylar’s canon-typical breeding kink and kidnapping, asphyxiation, sadism, noncon, brief allusion to objectification (pc being compared to a sex doll), implied but not executed somno? i can’t really explain it hshdhdhshdhh and here u go!

so you know how it’s canon that, while kylar loves pc and would do anything for them, he doesn’t want to hurt them right? even if they confess to him that they’re a masochist. but the thing is that he’s not above violence when push comes to shove. he’s proved this through his behavior numerous times like when pc doesn’t let him drag them into an alleyway at high jealousy like he pulls out the knife and everything - “you’ll like me,” / “i’ll make you”…. god that’s so hot

at high jealousy it’s so easy for him to resort to violence and kidnapping just to keep pc near him and i can’t help but think that sex with him at his most volatile and vulnerable would be so. Sexy. he would hurt you, just so you’d feel even a fraction of the pain he felt when he saw you with other people… i can imagine for someone like kylar seeing pc with anyone else that harbors any more redeeming quality than he does, his jealousy goes through the roof and it gives him a legitimate physical ache in his heart.

also, it depends if you’re into it or not, but idk why i can’t imagine kylar having a thing for cutting pc or marking them with a knife, i just think he worships their body too much to scar it so brutishly; but he’d definitely mark them in other ways and leave an imprint on their body somehow — but i digress.

sex with him at high jealousy is just hell tbh. Like he deliberately makes it difficult for you, not just to cum, but to literally breathe or do anything at all,,,,,, like i’m just vibrating at a frequency imperceptible to human eye thinking about him making pc suck and choke on his cock and his little bandaged hands coming down to pinch their nose and cut off their airflow so they can’t even breathe in anything else but purely him, so they can feel the heavy weight of his hefty cock resting on their tongue in its entirety, shoved all the way down their throat and bulging through their skin. he ignores the spit and drool trailing down the corners of their lips, ignores the way their body flails and their hands grip his thighs, digging their nails in. the pain of their blunt/sharp nails cutting into his weak bones can’t even compare to what he felt seeing pc with another love interest, all lovey dovey when all those expressions should be his to see and his only.

just before you think you’re about to fall unconscious, he lets go of you and allows you to breathe. but then when you breathe enough that you don’t think you’re seconds away from passing out anymore, he yanks you right back on his cock and the cycle begins anew. Like as much as he would like it if you would be a little more obedient, it would feel too much like using a sex doll if you were to just be unconscious while he rapidly fucked into u… filling u up with his kids… you wouldn’t even realize it… oughhh i’m ill…….

This got longer than j intended but like … yes. Yes. Sadist kylar but not because he gets off on that he just wants u to understand his feelings in his own twisted way of conveying it.

bro…this is just…i….*dies**dies**dies*

im salivating. this is perfect. thank you for this gift you gave granted me this day i love u

#dol #im in Heaven #sadist kylar……..yuuuuum

[liauditore]

cleo/martyn for shipping bingo?

original

when i say criminally underrated i mean CRIMINALLY underrated ok. unhinged rambling under the cut

like every fictional character and real person in the world is marina and the diamonds oh no coded but these two are literally this song so much im gonna throw up

One track mind, one track heart If I fail, I'll fall apart Maybe it is all a test 'Cause, I feel like I'm the worst So I always act like I'm the best

they mirror each other so perfectly. they're both deeply insecure people who desperately want to be strong for themselves and those around them, but they dig their own graves doing that by refusing to be vulnerable and only pushing people close to them away.

in my mind they both see the worst parts of themselves in the other person because they're so similar internally, despite having wildly different personalities.

I know exactly what I want and who I want to be I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy Oh! Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no, oh!

they both have an ego and a malice that gets them antagonized by the rest of the server which is 100% their fault, and they both pretend they don't care when really both of them yearn for someone, Anyone to see how much they're hurting (but they'd never admit to it).

You type out your bias on me it’s all nitpicks and paying no mind to be so sadistic They pin on the thorns make her maleficent In bloom the rose made a perfect fit He drowns out the crowd that throws a burdened fit They blow up the sound regardless to admit They’re stabbing a knife and quote without a wit “Bet it’s no strife, no it’s just the tip”

(^telecaster b-boy lyrics cus that song changed my life but also it reminds me of them)

Just.. that one clip of Cleo admitting she's a rubbish fighter and saying that she would only drag Martyn down to which Martyn immediately responds that he doesn't care and thinks she's great company. Or any number of the times Martyn offers some dumb surface-level act of servitude towards Cleo because he doesn't know how to just be vulnerable and admit he wants some form of acknowledgement.

They keep testing the waters with eachother but one always backs out when it starts getting too real. They both just want love but their egos won't let them admit it.

Cleo has this magical ability to divorce men she's never dated and I love her for it.

OFC all this aside they're also just both so losercore and dumb and divorced and martyn being The Most Pathetic Man Ever with trying to court cleo is hilarious to watch and also bdubs ships them and I agree with everything bdubs says.

also uh i think ren should join them in the middle idk

#asks #ask games #trafficshipping #zombiewood #when i said ESSAY i meant ESSAY #also both of them are asuka this makes sense in my head #shaking them shaking them shaking them #theres a salvageable relationship in there somewhere i can sense it

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

about my sadistic medic ask, please continue if you'd want to! I have so much thoughts about him tenderly sinking the needle in and pushing out the sedatives and seeing the subject slowly getting more number and falling asleep, all while he'd giggle and coo and take care of them with that horribly sweet fake sympathy of his. Or him just digging inside patient's stomach cavity, taking out the organs and praising them for such amazing donor potencial and complimenting the color of the organs. All done with more than enthusiastic consent of course. I had scarring interactions with doctors and hospitals so idk how much this was the reason I developed this kind of kink but uh yeah

RAAHHHH omg this is sooo... today I was watching the new Evie Lupine video abt "taboo kinks" (iirc she talks abt bloodplay, electroplay, medfet, watersports, and branding) and that just got me in a Huge medical mood all day. I'm not someone who's had particularly traumatic experiences with doctors or hospitals but I do know that that motivates a ton of people for this kind of thing. Recontextualizing something traumatic or even just unpleasant as something consensual and fun and cathartic is the basis of soooo much kink, it's why I was a mentally ill socially ostracized child who grew up into an adult who acts like a dog on the internet. ANYWAY umm Medic tf2 sadism yesyesyes... he is definitely a sadist in a distinctly Non-sexual way, basically every tf2 guy is, but I think when it is sexual for him it's based not only in the recipient's pain but in the fact that they enjoy it. Yknow, masochism! It's really the only time he has such a pleasant and affectionate bedside manner, especially if it's a more surgical, scientific thing that elevates his partner's status from mere patient to experiment. He's so fun I need to be smothered in his boobs while he takes out too much of my blood on purpose so I get eepy (I asked him to do this)

#ask #anon #medic #mick dicks #gore

[ticklish-n-stuff]

uwaa please do something with lee!Hiyori 🙏

The hyena's revenge

Haha there's no need to beg, just asking nicely is good enough for me~

This is based around the Jun hyena scout story where Hiyori and the others are teasing him for his role, idk that scene cracks me up XD

Merry Christmas~!

___________________________________________

Hiyori x Jun (interpret as you wish)

Lee: Hiyori

Ler: Jun

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

"Pfft- Hahaha...".

"Ohiisan, how long are you going to keep laughing? It's pissing me off...".

"Ehehe- I'm not laughing Jun, I'm listening seriously!" Hiyori tried to muster up a serious face, but a smile still crept out his lips.

"Yes, I've been listening to you seriously as well. Jun's role as a hyena sounds good" said Nagisa, causing Hiyori to lose it and burst out laughing.

"Don't laugh out loud like that! Dammit!".

"Sorry sorry- But your reaction to my teasing is always so good~" Hiyori couldn't help but keep chuckling at him. His comment made Jun blush a bit, rolling his eyes in annoyance. It looked like Hiyori wasn't planning to stop teasing him anytime soon, so... why not return the favor?

"If you want to laugh so damn badly then here!" Jun lost no time digging his fingers into Hiyori's sides, causing him to squeal and fold on himself.

"wahaHAIT! JUN YOU BRAHAT STAP THAHAHAT!" poor Hiyori went crumbling down to the ground, Jun following him with ease, now opting to dig his thumbs into his hipbones.

"No no, you brought this onto yourself!" Jun's angry glare slowly softened up to a more teasy smirk, having fun in this situation even if the goal was to punish his partner.

Nagisa took a step back, watching the scene in amusement. Not wanting to interrupt their fun.

I'm pretty sure Hiyori's loud bouts of laughter could be heard all across the CosPro building. I wouldn't be surprised if someone filed a noise complaint.

The greenette would twist and turn, throwing his head back as he laughed all hysterically "AHAHAHA! J-JUN STOHOHOP!".

"Hmm..." Jun pretended to think for as he halted his fingers for a moment, allowing Hiyori to catch his breath. He then looked down at him with a sinister grin "Maybe I'll stop... if you beg me to~" and just like that he went back to squeezing repeatedly at his partners hips, chuckling along as Hiyori fell back into hysterics.

"WAHH! N-NEHEHEVER!" of course begging for mercy was hard for Hiyori, he felt like it would hurt his pride after all. And that's exactly why Jun went with that approach. It was nice doing the teasing for a change.

"Suit yourself then~" Jun then abruptly changed to squeezing down at Hiyori's kneecaps, causing him to somehow squeal even louder as he kicked his legs out like a silly 'lil puppy.

It didn't take much after for Hiyori to crack "WAIT! WAIT-! OKAHAHAY! I GIVE! I GIHIHIVE-!" poor Hiyori wheezed through his laughter, his face fully bright red all the way down to his neck. Even his eyes were starting to get sparkly from the tears forming.

"Oh? Is that so? Mm... I'm not fully convinced~" Jun then softly traced along his kneecaps, he wasn't a complete sadist after all. Hiyori would try to catch his breath but would end up hiccuping and giggling all over again.

"Ahahahaha! P-plehehease, mercy!!!".

Jun cringed a bit at Hiyori's shriek, slowing his fingers to a complete stop. Hiyori quickly gasped for breath, sucking as much air as he could through his leftover giggles.

"That should teach you to stop teasing me...".

"Oho please, don't act like you don't like it~" Hiyori sent him a playful wink as he slowly got up to his feet, causing Jun to let out a flustered groan.

___________________________________________

Jun really can't catch a break from all the teasing, someone save that poor boy lol

Also I wrote this in like an hour and didn't proofread sooooo... you've been warned XD

#enstars #ensemble stars #tickle fic #enstars tickle #enstars tickle fic #ensemble stars tickle #ensemble stars tickle fic #hiyori tomoe #jun sazanami #lee!hiyori #ler!jun

[knee-stockings]

I finished listening to Alice Isn’t Dead seasons 1 and 2 (excited to listen to 3) and I have Thoughts and Ramblings

Overall it’s an interesting and engaging time!! Really enjoying it. Kinda want a shirt that says Thistle or Praxis on it. (Spoilers under the cut)

I’m enjoying digging into the conspiracy behind it all, hoping that season 3 has the answers I crave. (Idk what the name was of the woman who was hunting Keisha so I’m calling her Coyote) I like the villain vibes that Coyote gives off, the way that she wanted Keisha to discover some horrible truths so she could watch her soul get crushed before killing her. Playing with her food like a sadistic predator. But very very relieved that Alice showed up to save the day. I’m fully expecting season 3 to start with the duo running away and realizing that now the govt is probably on their tails.

Speaking of which, I can’t wait to learn what’s in it for the govt. Learning that Bay Creek and Thistle were two sides of the same coin that’s being flipped by the govt was wild…but also kinda made sense. That question that Coyote prompted Keisha to ask: “who benefits?” That’s stuck in my head. I guess the govt benefits, but what could be in it for them?? Staging a fake war between Bay Creek and Thistle and giving both sides resources and funding while pretending they’re enemies?? What could they gain…?

Random thoughts about episodes: I liked the episode narrated by both Keisha and Coyote, where sometimes their words would converge. That was so cool. Also I keep thinking about the episode with the black ship, where people who are too curious about it disappear and then reappear on that ship, a little different. The way Keisha reacted to it was so interesting. Instead of continuing to investigate the mystery of the black ship, she just “that mystery is going to be a story that doesn’t involve me.” Fascinating. It feels like the opposite of main character syndrome—instead of thinking that everything’s about you always, you realize that sometimes you’re fated to be a background character. Sometimes you’ll walk away from a mystery without a satisfying conclusion where everything’s wrapped up nicely. No explanation, no resolution. Sometimes you’ll watch that black ship break in half and sink without ever finding out the truth about it. And that’s okay.

I’m kinda hoping that the Thistle people *don’t* turn out to be the result of human experimentation. Maybe they’re from an alternate dimension, maybe they’re the manifestation of human fears of the unknown, maybe they’re unexplainable and just appeared one day out of the blue, but I’m just hoping they’re not human experiments done by the govt. idk why but that would be immensely disappointing to me. Like…it would be veering towards sci-fi instead of supernatural, if that makes sense. Anyway

I’m kinda hoping that the Thistle people *don’t* turn out to be the result of human experimentation. Maybe they’re from an alternate dimension, maybe they’re the manifestation of human fears of the unknown, maybe they’re unexplainable and just appeared one day out of the blue, but I’m just hoping they’re not human experiments done by the govt. idk why but that would be immensely disappointing to me. Like…it would be veering towards sci-fi instead of supernatural, if that makes sense. Anyway

#ignore me #mimi reviews #alice isn’t dead #pls no spoilers #I will prob finish listening today tbh #also hoping that using :readmore: on mobile will work #I can’t find another way to do a read more on mobile anymore???? #this podcast is doing wonders for my work time boredom

[iwannawritelots]

The Ball

Originally written August 2022

Masterlist

Genre: um… idk

Ship(s): Cinna/Asmodeus (kind of. They aren’t romantically involved yet)

Characters Active: Cinna, Mammon, Satan (briefly), Leviathan (briefly), Lucifer, Solomon

Timeline: 151022-A (and 151022-B)

Trigger/content warnings: threats (taken directly from lesson 8), trauma/anxiety-induced panic attack, allusion to casual sex between Asmodeus and Cinna towards the end

Headcanons/notes from the author: Cinna and Asmodeus’ relationship is definitely the rockiest of all their boyfriends just because of how it started out. Also made Cinna anxious about confessing to Simeon and Barbatos later on because of the impression it could make lmao.

Brief Blurb: The ball during the castle retreat in lesson 8, as in Cinna’s timeline.

Cinna’s anxiety instantly heightened when guests from across the Devildom appeared out of thin air. They only half understood Diavolo’s well wishes as they gazed down at their clothes, feeling underdressed. “Yo, Cinna…” They looked to Mammon, who was clearly flustered as he tried to excuse his way into dancing with them.

“Mammon, why not just admit that you want to dance with Cinna?” Satan asked, a smirk spreading across his face.

“You’re such a loser! And a total—!”

“I’d love to dance with Mammon,” Cinna interrupted, clamping their teeth down to avoid lashing out at Leviathan. “He’s my guardian demon, after all.” They watched Mammon’s eyes light up and giggled, holding out their hand to him.

Just as Mammon was about to take it, Lucifer did so instead. “Cinna, come dance with me. Now.”

The enby tensed, mouth refusing to open and eyes wide. “Lucifer, that ain’t fair! I got them first!”

Ignoring Mammon, Lucifer pulled Cinna elsewhere. “Do you know how to dance?” They nodded, still unable to will themself to speak. “Wonderful. Then I don’t have to bother explaining things.”

He assumed the leading position, instantly making Cinna’s skin crawl when he laid one of his hands on their waist. A sadistic smirk spread across his face at their trembling form. The hand he had stolen from Mammon remained held as Cinna unsurely put their spare one on his shoulder. He knew they were uncomfortable with him; it would make threatening them easy.

“In general, there are all sorts of reasons why one might ask someone to dance.” Lucifer lead their steps, watching Cinna’s face as he kept his voice just loud enough for them to hear over the ambience. “For example, they might be interested in them, they might want to touch them,” he watched them visibly cringe at him perhaps having such motivation, “or they might simply be doing it out of politeness.”

Cinna nodded, averting their gaze from his face to anywhere else. They knew he was listing things that were not aligned with his own intentions. “M-Mmhm…”

“Or it could be because they want to have a private conversation.” Lucifer stole a glance sideways to warn Mammon to stay put, then began to dig his fingertips into Cinna’s side when they attempted to squirm away. “Look at me when I speak with you.”

They did so, entire body violently shaking. His face was too close. He was speaking too much like him…

“What is it you are plotting with Asmodeus?”

Cinna felt their blood run cold, head grow loud… What did he think they were doing? What did he know? Why was he so close to their face? Is he going to scream at them?

Lucifer took their silence as a confession, and a dark chuckle escaped his lips. “I respect my brothers' freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you've become threat to either Diavolo or us…” he brought his face ever closer, making tears spout from Cinna’s eyes and roll down their cheeks, “… then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Cinna could tell his grip tightening on their hand, causing sharp, but grounding, pain. Still, they attempted to thrash, beginning to hyperventilate when he insisted on keeping them in his hold. “S-Stop…”

“Oi, what the hell are ya doin’?” Mammon butted in, resting a hand on Cinna’s shoulder. “You’re gonna hurt ‘em.”

Lucifer’s eyes went wide when Mammon pried him off of Cinna. He watched his younger brother protectively hold Cinna to his chest and shield him with his wings. Clearly, Mammon had began to take his role as guardian of the human exchange student seriously. “I was merely reminding them of something.”

Not wanting to lose his temper, Mammon inhaled deeply, then released it and glanced at Cinna before shooting a glare at Lucifer. “Whatever. They wanted t’ dance with me, so it’s my turn. Song’s over.” He watched Lucifer leave, then carefully guided Cinna across the ballroom and out a door to the garden. “Cinna…?”

“I-I’m sorry…” they buried their face into his chest. “H-He just… it freaks me out…”

“O-Okay, slow down…” Mammon mumbled, carefully petting their hair. “Jus’ tell me what I can do to help.” Cinna shook their head and hid in him, hyperventilating and sobbing. At a loss, Mammon simply continued to pet them and keep watch for anyone that may attempt to disrupt them. “I… dunno what you were talkin’ about, but Lucifer was seriously in the wrong there, okay? Ya ain’t doin’ anything to be in trouble. I dunno what his problem is.”

Cinna nodded and buried themself deeper into him, or at least attempted to. There wasn’t really anything else their mind wanted but to be comforted. Thoughts were jumbled and out of order, memories from when they were younger mixing into the present… “S-Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, Cinna.” Mammon rubbed their shoulders. “Ya just gotta stop hyperventilating, okay? Slow down…”

Cinna attempted to do as he said, forcing their breathing to even out. “Th-Thank you…”

“What’s going on here…?” The two gazed at Solomon, who had wandered into the garden. “I was looking for Cinna, and Asmodeus said you two went out here.”

“Whaddya want, ya shady wizard?”

“Be nice, M-Mammon…” Cinna mumbled, closing their eyes for a moment before straightening up and rubbing their tears away. “He isn’t shady.”

Rolling his eyes, Mammon petted their hair for a moment before letting them go completely. “We’ll dance later. I’m pissed at Lucifer. Stay with Solomon.”

Cinna nodded and inhaled deeply. “Th-Thank you for dealing with me…”

“It ain’t a huge deal.” Mammon felt his face heat up, but quickly left the humans alone.

Slow and cautious, Solomon approached Cinna, as if they were a wounded animal. “I am assuming Lucifer did something.”

“It’s f-fine,” Cinna mumbled, wiping their face and attempting to calm themself down. Well aware of how stubborn the enby could be, Solomon nodded and kept his hands to himself. “F-Fucking Lucifer…”

“You may have pacts with demons, but you still lack the power to command them,” Solomon muttered, bringing his hand to his chin. “I should have began teaching you to do so sooner, it seems.”

Cinna simply made a weak nod. “Maybe…”

“How about this…” Solomon watched Cinna plop onto the ground and sit cross legged. “I can lend you my pact abilities for Asmodeus for six hours.”

“A-Asmodeus?”

Solomon chuckled and sat on a nearby rock. “Would that be a problem?”

“No!” Cinna snapped, then bit their lip. “I just… he and I… I just…”

“Yes?” Solomon raised an eyebrow at them. “Are you referring to why demons complain about his scent being all over you?”

Cinna’s face immediately heated up. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck no.” They gazed at Solomon with horror in their eyes. “You mean… everyone…”

“Everyone knows about Asmodeus’ new bedbug, yes.”

“Fuck.” Cinna rubbed their face and ran their fingers through their hair. “Fine. Give me six hours.”

reblog divider

#cinnaroll #cinna/asmodeus #asmodeus #mammon #obey me! one master to rule them all #fanfiction #darlingficsbycinna #iwannawritelots #timeline 151022-A

[romcomqueeen]

Okikagu is my new otp to obsess over just warning everyone

#I am also in love with okita sougo #Idk why I dig sadists #call me ayame sarutobi

[moonofiron]

I have been thinking about Gintoki since quite a while and the conclusion I have reached is that the goofier a man, the more intimate he can get.

Here's something I've never tried before. It starts with my perception of Gintoki's kinks and collapses into a narrative about how a particular kink will play out when he's with his female SO.

(I think what I have done here is called an "HC" but I am not sure. All HCs I've read are in bullet points and this is... not in bullet points. So idk... I'm just out here tryna get this fucking concept OFF MY CHEST.)

Anime: Gintama

Characters: Sakata Gintoki x whoever you imagine his female SO to be!

Genre: Smut, explicit sexual content, kinks 🥵

Rating: M

Synopsis: Gintoki melts at the sight of her in a plain white t-shirt and panties

Word Count: 2,386

Minors, click here.

I think, above all, Gintoki has a MASSIVE kink for going bareback. But it manifests itself a little differently for him. Internally, he absolutely refuses to cum anywhere else. But he's also super conscious of his partner's needs and will cum anywhere his babe wants him to. It delights him that she's so eager. Even though it leaves him feeling a little unsatisfied, it's not a big deal because he feels so strongly for her. He does love cumming deep in the back of his partner's throat because it feels so similar to what he thinks it would feel like cumming inside her.

It's a tricky kink to work with because under his lazy-bum facade, he actually has a super strong sense of responsibility. This is also why he refuses to have casual sex with just anyone. He's the kind who has a deeply intimate, committed, and long-term relationship with his partner.

His "kink" is a completely unsaid thing though. He will never explicitly talk about it. He loves dirty talk (anything goes, really) but this is one thing he will not say out loud. So, essentially, his partner will never hear him say stuff like "let daddy fill you up/I'm gonna cum inside you/ Daddy's gonna fill up that tight, pretty cunt".

No, he's not shy. Nor is he a prude. He's just a sucker for the quietness around the act of him filling up his partner. He digs the submission of a woman just taking him in fully, without making it into a "kink" or reducing the act to something they both occasionally get off on. He wants his woman to treat it as routine, ordinary, and natural. Almost like aftercare. Nobody says out loud that they want to be taken care of after a rough fuck. It's expected and unsaid. The unsaid but sure nature of filling up his partner is what makes it unbearably initmate for him.

He absolutely can not control the pleasure of being nestled inside her in his most tender, vulnerable, yet powerful moments. He breaks and lights up at the same damn time. His focus is sharp and only on the way her body reacts, not the words they share. He stares intently and deeply into her eyes when he cums inside her, making her flinch at the intensity he is capable of. It is in these moments she fully grasps what he means when he says he owns her.

If his partner does mention him cumming inside her, (eg: I want you to cum inside me/ fill me up Daddy) he will grind his teeth and cover her mouth instantly and harshly, maybe put a couple of fingers in her mouth so she can't speak. If he says something, it'll be along the lines of, "Just shut up and take it," as he thrusts harder and deeper.

He will twitch inside his partner, grow slightly bigger, and cum sooner than usual. Subtle but controlled cues like his grip on her hair getting harder will let her know that this is actually something he really digs.

The first few times his partner and he get down and dirty, he will do anything to please her and in turn, himself. He'll lazily make her sit on his face in the mornings, finger her a lot (anywhere, anytime), make her fool around with toys for him, ask her to rub herself while he stares intently and licks his lips, and let her suck his cock. He'll fuck her when he wants but it'll always be with a condom. He'll let her ride the brains out of him, too. But, always with a condom.

When he absolutely can not take it any longer (say, about 4 months into a relationship), he will break. He will break at the sight of her in plain white panties and a white t-shirt, doing her own thing.

He'll be sitting on his chair, behind the desk. He'll clear his throat to grab her attention. He'll beckon her with his thick finger and she'll think it's going to be their usual fucking and loving. She'll bite her lips and exaggerate the sway in her hips as she walks towards him. The performative nature of the sensual way she walks towards him will make her breathe slightly heavily and the first few baby spots of wetness will bloom in the crotch of her panties.

When she finally reaches him, a smirk will be playing on his lips and his eyes will look sleepy at first. He'll hold her waist lightly and look up at her. She'll look down at him, smiling, a coy finger in her mouth and her other hand on his shoulder.

She'll notice a difference in the way he handles her. She'll notice that he's looking at her with such greed that it's making her falter. She'll sense something is off and ask if everything is ok.

"Hmm," he'll say in a deep voice against her stomach.

He'll slowly turn her around and make her sit on his lap. She'll turn back to look at him wide eyed and smiling shyly. It usually takes a solid 12 minutes of kissing, biting, and frantic touching to get him this hard. She'll still be a little taken aback by Gintoki's seriousness. He's usually goofy and playful or an outright sadistic and sexy beast.

He'll open up his zipper and its cool metal will make her squirm. His warm and fat cock will spring out and she'll feel its sweaty stickiness against her lower back. She'll gasp at and throb for his unusual, unprovoked arousal and quickly reach for his desk-drawer where he stashes all the condoms. She'll take one out and start to open up the wrapper only to have Gintoki take the half-opened condom from her delicate hands in between his teeth and spit it out far into the corner of the room; his hands will never leave her waist.

Her eyes will widen again and she'll start to say something but Gintoki will tilt his head and give her a look that'll make her shiver and shut up. A mix of fear and anticipation will make her stomach drop. She'll be dripping by now and surprised at how less it takes for her to be utterly slick and ready for him.

She'll find it unbearably intimidating to look him in the eye and will turn her head, only the find herself reflected back at her in the mirror next to them. Her nipples will be hard through her t-shirt, her naked legs will be between Gintoki's clothed ones.

Gintoki will use just one of his fingers to slide her white panties to the side and position the tip of his cock at her wetness.

He'll slowly breathe into her ear "I'm going to fuck you raw and deep..."

He'll wait just a moment for her reaction before saying, "or not at all."

He'll put his hand around her chin and make her turn her head to look at him.

“And, you will stay shut about it the entire time, yeah?"

She'll nod her head ever so slightly with parted lips and then bite her lip nervously and unconsciously. She'll have already started moving against the tip of his cock, making it completely slick with her wetness. Her clit will be throbbing in an anticipation she has never felt with Gintoki.

Without another word, he'll thrust himself inside of her in one long and quick motion. A silk moan will escape her mouth; she's never actually felt his warmth inside of her.

He'll fuck her painfully slow; she'll feel his girth stretch her out inch by inch. The sloppy and messy sound of the base of his cock rubbing against her clit after every stroke will be loud and clear in the afternoon quiet; it won't be covered by the usual frantic slapping of his balls against her clit. He'll be holding on to her waist so she doesn't try to move and change the rhythm or speed.

“Do you feel it?”

"Yea.." she'll moan.

“Do you like what you hear?”

“uhum..” is all she'll manage to say. She usually has no issues keeping up with conversations and dirty talk but she'll find it extremely hard to keep up with this particular conversation.

"Let me look at you pinching your nipples."

She'll catch him looking at her in the mirror and will immediately get to work.

"Harder. Don't cheat."

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good girl."

She'll falter at this and her legs will buckle. She'll feel Gintoki's hands hold her as he'll get up from the chair. He'll sit on the floor right in front of the mirror, still buried deep inside of her.

He'll snake his hand around to her clit and rub her agonizingly slowly, all the while fucking her with slow and deep thrusts. His other hand will be on top of her hands cupping her breasts. Her head will be thrown back on his shoulder and her waist and hips will match Gintoki's movements and rhythm. Everytime she'll be about to cum, he'll kiss and nibble at her jaw and stop rubbing her clit, edging her for hours on that day.

They'll eventually stop moving. They'll be panting because they can't take this relentless teasing anymore. He'll pull out and stand up, pick her up in her arms and take her to the futon where he'll lay her on her back. She'll spread herself wide and thrust her hips forward, holding his gaze all the while.

Gintoki will lick his fingers and stroke her swollen clit a few times before he starts to fuck her hard and deep. But, he'll still maintain a slow and steady tempo. The moment she'll start arching her back, he'll pull out and grin at her. Every time he'll pull out, she'll see his cock twitching, aching to be back inside. She'll notice it's equally hard for him to be edging for so long. She'll smirk. Gintoki will narrow his eyes at her. How dare she.

He'll start fucking her again, painfully slow, waiting to strike at the right moment. The moment he feels her back arching again, he'll pull out again. But, this time, instead of grinning at her and waiting for her to stop writhing, he'll slap her clit hard and then immediately rub it hard and fast. She'll go into a frenzy of screams and moans and her entire body will shiver, she will pull him down towards her and wrap her legs around him, his hand still not relenting her clit.

When she'll be completely spent, swollen, and sweating, her hair stuck to her breasts and neck, Gintoki will turn her around. She'll arch her back a bit, just for him. He'll guide his cock in the tight folds of her thighs, straight into her beautiful cunt, and start to fuck her at a slow pace all over again. She'll moan deep into the pillow, her face will be flushed from all the work, and her hands will be trying to reach at the back for his thighs. Gintoki will lie on top of her as he fucks her from behind. The moment she'll feel his weight on her, his sweat on her back, she'll cum around him, gushing, and the noises will get sloppier and louder.

She'll groan his name out loud in the pillow and he'll have turned her to her side by then. He'll put her head on his arm, spooning her. He'll hold her leg up as he'll thrust deep inside of her from behind. He'll hold her chin and turn her face to his to look at her flushed face, her mouth shaped a perfect small o, her eyes closed, eyebrows raised, in a kind of pleasure she's never felt before.

"Open your eyes."

She'll fling open her eyes and find him looking at her with an expression that makes her weak in her knees. She'll buck and jerk as she'll feel him finally going slightly faster with harder and shorter strokes. She'll feel him twitching inside her and she'll clench tighter around him, never breaking from his electrifying gaze that tells her he owns her completely.

A wild guttural sound she's never heard will escape Gintoki's throat. He'll moan her name hard as she'll feel his warmth spreading inside of her in bursts. She'll move to kiss his petal like lips, only to be thrusted once again with such force that her eyes will widen with the suddeness of it. He'll ease out of her slowly, in short thursts, and once he's fully out, he'll lift her leg higher to get a better view of her cunt, messy and slick with his cum dripping out. He'll throb, and be unable to control himself, and give her one last deep and hard thrust again. She'll make a high-pitched squeak at the suddeness again.

He'll stay inside her for a while, throbbing still. He'll be too spent to move but he'll kiss her face and feel her sweaty body with his firm hands fervently.

They'll both fall asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms.

Gintoki will wake up before her. It'll be dinner time. She'll wake up to him by her side in a towel, wet and fresh from his bath. He'll be wiping her legs and thighs with a warm and wet cloth, and smiling while he watches her wake up. She'll start to say something but he'll cut her off and say, "Dinner's ready, doll." He'll kiss her jaw and then her forehead and leave the room.

She'll sit up in bed, her entire body will be aching. She'll notice a packet on the corner of the bed. She'll pick it up and see that it has a morning-after pill, a pregnancy test, and a follow-up appointment with her usual gynaecologist. She'll blush a deep a red when she sees a glass of water by her bed-side.

"When the fuck did he become so...un-lazy? Where has he been hiding this side of him?!" She'll say out loud in disbelief.

//

Afterthougts:

In the first few months, Gintoki will make a conscious effort to get accustomed to his partner's menstruation cycle. He'll make sure he knows the days she's least fertile so he can minimize the risk of her getting knocked up. If that's not intimate and hella caring idk what the fuck is.

#sakata gintoki #gintoki smut #fanfiction #fanfic #gintama #gintoki x tsukuyo #gintoki x reader #gintoki x otae #headcannons #het fic #intimacy #gintama headcanons #fanfica

[princesscallyie]

Got some rough designs down. Want to do what I did in this post with the Hopaz kids where I jot the designs down and give random info until I get the final characters finished. The designs could change especially the clothes and accessories. Anyway, I’m just really fascinated with the concept of counterpart or foil characters and that was my main goal. So if they’re giving “[hopaz kid] but opposite” then yeah. But they still have their own character and possibly share some traits as well.

So thoughts on the kids together. Overall they are supposed to represent more unity compared to the Hopaz kids so hence the similar color palette (I’m really digging all the purple!) which is ironic since they are a blended family. They can work together as a group way more efficiency than the Hopaz kids but they still have the typical sibling dynamics. It’s just when it’s time to do work for mother, they get it together. On to the random descriptions that I’m just spitting out.

First, it’s the evil zaddy character. Scorch’s son. I want him to ooze sex appeal, he has to be nasty idc. He probably has a poison saliva and licks his knifes before he stabs ppl, idk something hot like that. Probably has his mother’s manipulation skills and her cunningness. He definitely is a casanova type and leads women on for his own gain. Where Turq is more humble, he is absolutely not. He is the mama’s boy of the family since him and calypso have the most trauma (Will explain later). He probably pisses Turq off for fun and won’t leave him alone (so a tag team partner for Scent) I’m leaning towards bastard for him, but we’ll see. Calypso was married to the other fathers at one point. He has the largest flame like his daddy. Probably just as strong as he was too.

Next it’s the warrior princess chick. Daughter of Everest, a Jonhansen kingdom hunter. She is the “mewman passing” one. Yes, I’m making that a plot point. A major tomboy who Calypso tries really hard to push her to be a proper lady but fails miserably. She knows her daughter can be the fairest in the land if she would just behave for once! They definitely had a “ma, it’s just my hook!” fight at the table. She is a slob most likely and acts like she doesn’t have home training, but in that rare occasion she acts right, she can compete with Delphine in being a fair maiden worthy of suitors. She would definitely burp in Delphine’s face or something or try to trip her.

The bratty prodigy girl. Daughter of Typhoon (thanks for @doomface for the permission to use him, I always liked him but since I didn’t use the air nymphs like I wanted he kinda gone to waste until now). Okay so with song magic, I was thinking it’s has more support based abilities, but with her with the help of her aggressive father, she can play song magic that can kill you. Like maybe her violin shoots lightning out or something sick like that. So that’s why she’s considered a prodigy. I was kinda hinting at Aurora trying to figure out how to do it, but this little demon got her beat. Compared to Phyrus she has the middle child syndrome HEAVY. She’s a bit salty about being overshadowed. She’s polite and hardworking so definitely the opposite of him as well. Also I was not excepting her to have my favorite rough design but here she is…

Lastly, dark Victorian child. Son of a Waterfolk nobleman (I’m still thinking of a backstory it’s important though) Yeah, I’m gonna be changing up the design which is funny cause I kept changing up Vander’s too. Yeah, he’s the quiet but deadly one. Probably has some sick power. Sadistic, doesn’t have much emotion probably. He’s calypso’s fully Waterfolk baby to she’s quite partial to him but the eldest son is still her favorite cause her relationship with Scorch. He is probably the smartest one out of all them or just is more logical. Uhhh, he needs more work but I’m thinking he’s a vital part of how the family became successful cause the family wasn’t really well off until he came into the picture.

That’s all I got for now. Full profile pics and descriptions will come out… eventually…

#wip #future au #calypso’s children

[hoe-imaginess]

a helping hand (or two) | dabi

Dabi x fem!Reader

summary: Dabi is suffering from an aphrodisiac quirk. Now he’s got a dick that just won’t quit, and you have to take care of it.

word count: 10.4k

contains: almost dub-con, handies, bjs, dick riding, dirty talk, slight violence, a very stubborn Dabi who has to be restrained 

a/n: self-indulgent & vaguely crack-ish. my idea of an aphrodisiac includes an overload of the five senses bc...idk I wanted to play w/ descriptive prose. my kink is describing Dabi’s horniness in paragraphs ok. meaty intro before the smut, hang in there

⤰⤰⤰

Dabi entertained the alley-dweller’s angry outbursts with sadistic patience. The man yelled at him, threatened him, boasted of all the ways in which he was going to make Dabi suffer for attacking and underestimating him—

Then, finally having decided that the fodder was no longer amusing him, the flame-user extended a glowing palm in preparation to finish the job. 

When you read the intention in Dabi’s movement, you fidgeted where you stood and calculated the risk of opposing him. 

“You can’t just keep burning everyone you don’t like,” you said, calculations made, deciding that you might as well attempt to be a voice of reason while you were paired up with him on this job. 

It was a voice he happily ignored. The white-hot glare of his palm smoldered into the bursting blue of his flames as they lit up his fingers.  

“Says who?” 

Trash was trash. If you couldn’t see that, then oh well. Folly on your part for thinking the tedious task of recruiting didn’t require this sort of disposal; what better to do with underwhelming candidates than permanently remove them from the talent pool? You shouldn’t have tagged along if you weren’t prepared for his methods. 

When the alley-villain realized that Dabi’s patience for his empty, arrogant threats had been spent, his dirt-stained face colored with fear, and his wild eyes darted in every direction of the alley to seek refuge from the imminent flames. He started to plead—which Dabi found grimly amusing given that the man had been spouting insults about his patchwork skin just moments before—then he shrank back against the alley wall, sinking to the ground in fear.

“The more bodies you leave the easier it will be for the police to track us.” You’d taken to your persuasions again, fruitless though you knew it was. 

“And?”

“And you’ll be compromising the entire League.”

“If all you’re gonna do is complain then you don’t have to tag along, ya know.” He spared a glance your way, with that drolly exasperated look on his face he always gave when he felt you were speaking out of turn. 

But his diverted attention proved costly: the alley-dweller suddenly went berserk, and was rushing at him with a final, rogue desperation to escape. 

The charge, surprisingly swift as it was, was also uncalculated, and Dabi narrowly side-stepped to avoid a blow. With an indignant sneer, he rounded his hand and kindled his flames anew: no more games, it was time to kill. But before he could retaliate, the lunatic was on him again, barreling toward him. 

Though fatally seared by the sudden discharge of flame that Dabi released, the derelict’s bulk was still sufficient to topple into Dabi and throw him off balance. He might have fallen from the impact if not for the way the man gave a wailing, pained shriek and threw himself away from the flames. 

Torched and agonized as the man was, his mounted attack hadn’t been a complete failure: though Dabi’s flames had mostly protected him, there was an unmistakable sensation of damage in him which left him suddenly rigid with alarm. 

Had he been wounded?

He looked down at himself, saw no injuries from which the bodily distress might have been roused. After a few moments the distress was gone, and he decided it was just adrenaline. Then, there returned the enervated frustration. 

“Trash,” he muttered indignantly, glaring at the steaming heap of the man, who’d stumbled over a litter of aluminum trash bins and capsized with them onto the ground. He wasn’t moving. But he was still whole, and not the pile of burning ash he could have been, should have been, now, after that little effrontery—

Your arm was on him before he could pursue the murderous thoughts. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, inspecting him carefully. 

Instantly and fiercely, he shrugged away from your touch. 

“Fine,” he grunted out, straightening and stiffening his limbs to convince himself of it. But that odd feeling was still there, burgeoning slowly at the sight of the man’s body fuming on the ground, at your own body standing so close to him. “If you hadn’t been running your damn mouth—”

“Sorry,” you conceded, more concerned with his demeanor than with defending yourself. In all likelihood he didn’t even realize how ruffled he looked. “Did he… are you hurt?”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted firmly. 

While you stared at him in doubtful concern, an energetic heat crept up his spine. Slow, like an insect bite bringing its stinging warmth to a crawl over his skin, skin both scarred and unscarred alike. 

There was a smell, then, when he took his shallow breaths: something sweet, like lingering perfume, or fragrant incense—

Fairly quickly he realized the smell was coming from you, and glared at you in puzzled indignation, like the fact that this scent was yours and that he could smell it now—why could he smell it so profusely now, when he hadn’t before? What the hell?—was somehow offensive. Worst of all it smelled damn good. Had you always smelled that good?

“...What is it?” you asked carefully, not quite able to place the look on his face, but considerably unnerved by it, nonetheless. “Dabi…?”

Your voice—it held such particular tones that he hadn’t before noticed until now, as though he’d been deaf to what you really sounded like; how sleek and enticing your words were when they came out of your pretty mouth. 

Oh, and your mouth: lips parted fretfully in preparation for another concerned inquiry on his well-being, objectively innocent but suddenly, and infuriatingly, looking very much like they were tempting him for a kiss. 

Then when your pink tongue came to wet your lips in anxious trepidation, that too he saw as a maddeningly teasing gesture that made his hands feel hot. Then it was his feet; then his whole body. 

He began to fidget where he stood. 

Then, at the sudden onset of warmth in his head, he slid over to the alley wall, a splayed hand against the brick keeping his balance while he hung his dizzy head low. 

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself woozily. 

“Dabi?” You went to inspect him cautiously. You couldn’t see his expression through the curtain of black that had fallen over his face, but you knew something was amiss. “Are you okay?” you asked again. 

“I’m fine,” he huffed out, and you’d been oblivious to his hoarse breathing up until the moment you stopped in front of him. 

“Dabi,” you begged his attention now that his eyes had closed shut, his features pinched. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes, dizzied by the heat, began to play tricks on him. Even behind the closed lids he saw sparks flying, and swirls of white-hot passion dancing.

When the heat in him turned to a near-burning sensation, he opened his eyes and stared down at his body. Was his quirk activated? he thought confusedly. Or was the heat that licked his skin just a hallucination: flames that failed to consume him wholly? What the hell was happening? What was this—

The heat finally centered—mortifyingly—between his legs, and what had been confusion before was now full-blown bafflement. 

“Dabi,” you were saying again. 

The sound of your voice inflamed him not in aggravation, but something else. 

“You don’t look good,” you said. The way his breath had thinned to long, rough pants put anxiety in you. “...I’ll call Kurogiri.” You fished your phone from your pocket with the intention of doing so. 

A grunt was his response; he couldn’t coherently pick his words. Then, the anticipation of your voice again, on the phone, speaking in those tones and that sweet melody, made him shudder.

“No,” he muttered. 

You looked at him, the phone to your ear, the line ringing. “What?” 

“Don’t,” was all he could say, lower this time, almost in a growl. 

“But Dabi, you—”

Suddenly, at the thought of hearing your voice for even another second, the fire overtook him. 

First he slapped the phone from your grip. Its screen broke against the pavement and the voice that answered the call—too late, you thought fleetingly—stuttered on the line. Then he slammed you against the wall. 

Winded and bewildered, it took you several seconds to find your bearings. In that time he’d pressed against you, his breath so hot and so angry that it flushed perspiration over your skin. 

Gaping, your lips trembled. “Dabi, what—” 

“Shut up,” he seethed quietly, teeth baring. 

You recognized the wild look of violence on his face, but the lust in his hazy eyes wasn’t anticipated. Nor was the erection you felt pressing against your leg. You stared wide-eyed as the sinking realization came over you.

In desperation you pushed at him; he pushed back, corralling you against the wall even harder. 

The air was knocked out of your lungs, and with it, a dying protest, “Wait—”

He clamped a too-warm hand over your mouth, and pressed his face against yours. His forehead on your own felt feverish and sweaty; his eyes, like blue-burned coals, pierced into yours. You could smell the heat smoldering off of him. 

He loosed a shaky, unhinged breath. “Shut. Up.” 

Unthinking, your hand tugged at the one on your mouth, inadvertently digging into his staples. But his wild passion lent him a worrisome insensitivity to the hurt, and his other hand was going for your waist, squeezing into your shirt and wrenching you impossibly closer against him. 

The pain which erupted from his compromised staples only fanned the flames of his arousal. He didn’t know why. Of course he fucking didn’t. He didn’t even know why his body was moving the way it was: rutting against you, seeking friction for his aching dick. 

His mouth went to your neck but applied no kisses or intimate caresses; he just pressed against the skin and breathed in pants. He put his free hand to your breast, the movement not a calculated one, more like he was seeking leverage to his imbalance. The stuttering beat of your heart was palpable under his palm. 

"Fuck,” he sputtered out angrily, disoriented, and dug his fingers into your chest. You moaned behind his palm, both in shock and pleasure. 

All he needed to hear was the latter. 

The sound made him hiss a low and dangerous curse, and when he peeked his head back up, his pulsing eyes shone with something beyond just lust now: pure hunger. 

Just as he moved his hand away from your mouth with the intent of crashing his own against you in a bruising kiss, there was a sound behind him. 

In the back of his mind he recognized it: Warp Gate. 

Kurogiri, and possibly someone else, had answered your call for aid. 

Dabi utterly ignored it. 

It had nothing to do with him. 

He was only concerned with the heat. All he felt was the heat; all he saw was your lips: parted in dumbfoundment, dry, and begging to be wetted by his tongue–

There was a commotion, and then an angry voice that Dabi distantly recognized as Shigaraki’s. 

Then a blow to the back of his head took everything away.

⤰

A subtle transformation had overtaken his body by the time he woke. 

No longer was the heat excruciating, but it was still there, nevertheless: a curling medium beneath his skin which he felt the instant consciousness came back to him. With it, the dizzy ache in his head and the haze in his eyes. Then, finally: his limbs refusing to move when he tried to stretch them. 

At once he realized he was back in the bar, confined in a chair, with people gawking at him from all sides. 

He blinked his vision back to clarity, then scowled. “The hell?”

“Do you remember anything, Dabi?” That was Kurogiri somewhere to his left. Looking, Dabi confirmed his usual station behind the bar. 

Delaying an answer, the flame-user glanced around. Not all of the League was there, he saw. Besides Kurogiri, only Shigaraki and you were audience to the spectacle. 

You tried to avoid his harsh eyes when they landed on you, when they flitted across your features as if in an elaborate struggle to put pieces of a disoriented puzzle together. Solved, apparently, as his memory came back, his confused scowl worked into a realizing frown. 

“Shit,” he muttered in annoyance. 

Shuffling uncomfortably in the chair, he surmised it was rope binding his wrists behind his back, and his ankles to the chair legs. But the movement also brought attention to the hot pressure in his gut. 

Or at the least, he thought that’s where it was—until he glanced down and realized that despite the abatement of the wild heat, his erection still peeked proudly underneath his jeans.

Now he was scowling again. 

“What the hell,” he spat out, and suddenly, with his frustration flourishing, the heat was returning in slow order. 

He cursed under his breath. He looked up and glared at the first onlooker he set his eyes upon: Kurogiri. 

“Get me out of this shit.”

“I can’t do that,” the man replied regrettably. “When I came to retrieve you from the scene we had no choice except to put you down when you refused to listen. Given the nature of the quirk that you’ve been struck with, we have to take precautions until we know it’s out of your system.”

Dabi listened with steely suspicion. “What quirk?”

“An aphrodisiac—” You almost bit your tongue once you’d started, because the quick and fierce glance he gave you suggested he wasn’t entirely happy with you, and even less happy to hear your voice. 

“It’s an aphrodisiac quirk,” you stated, more calmly now. 

Dabi blinked, brows knotting in concentration. Spoken plainly that way, it seemed absurd, stupid. 

He scoffed dryly. “You’re joking.” 

“Really fucked up this time, didn’t you?” came Shigaraki from a spot at the bar, his arms crossed. “Serves you right, searching the alleys for trash. I told you to stop doing that shit.”

“Fuck off,” Dabi spat. “How was I supposed to know the guy’d have such a stupid fuckin’…” 

Dabi tsked and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair again. The bitterness he felt for his confinement was quickly gaining, and so was the returning arousal. A sweltering, uncomfortable warmth on his skin made him hyperaware of his flushed face, and he could practically feel the sweat teeming on his unscarred flesh. 

“I’m serious,” he muttered, glaring at Shigaraki. “Get me out of this.”

“So you can go ape shit again? No. It’s disgusting.” 

“I’m not gonna do shit, relax.”

Dabi was aware then that focus was being pulled in the room, pulled directly to you: the victim of his unbidden arousal.

With a roll of his eyes, he huffed a frustrated breath and gave you what might have passed for an apology, if he’d even bothered looking at you. “My bad, and all that.”

Shigaraki’s arrogant snort derailed whatever amendment you might have transpired to make. 

“You’re lucky the guy was still alive when we got there—barely,” your leader went on. “Told us a bit about what to expect from you in the next few hours though, once we promised we’d let him go.”

Dabi gave him a flat look of doubt. 

Shigaraki scoffed. “Didn’t keep that promise, obviously.” Then he was scowling behind Father. “I don’t like having to clean up your messes. Shouldn’t have to finish off your fodder for you. You can’t even do that right, can you?”

Dabi’s frustration was in full bloom now, despite reason persuading him against it; he’d gathered enough at this point—at the expense of his own body—to know that agitation of any kind would feed the quirk’s effects. 

Heat pooled low in his stomach when he demanded again, “Let me out of this shit right now or I’m gonna get mad.”

“Supposed to be a 24-hour thing unless you take care of it, to put it plainly,” Shigaraki responded.

“I assumed as much. So get me outta this shit and I’ll fuck off for a while.”

“Nah. Don’t need you going and causing a scene somewhere because you don’t know how to keep your pants on.”

You could feel the conflagration of tension in the room. Maybe it was Dabi’s quirk, maybe it was the alley-dweller’s mixing with it, making it dangerously palpable. Regardless, Shigaraki’s snark seemed to bring Dabi’s attention back to his body, to the insufferable bulge between his legs that demanded relief.

“This is stupid,” he declared bitterly, and tugged on the knots tied at his wrists, the throbbing heat in his lower-half lending itself to his quirk as it activated in licking flames along his arms. He was tired of this shit. He lost his temper all at once. “You’re damn crazy if you think I’m just gonna sit here—”

Then there was blue flame torching the back of the chair, blackening the rope which bound him and making the tethers frail enough to tear apart under a strong tug. He was freeing himself. 

From there, it all happened relatively swiftly. 

As he went to work on the binds at his feet with newly liberated arms, Shigaraki was in a conniption of angry protests, and Kurogiri fluttered nervously between taking action or remaining an onlooker. 

Then there was you, probably the least equipped to do much of anything to alleviate the situation, but nevertheless skipping to your feet the moment the chaos ensued. There was arguing, cursing, insults—then your voice, attempting to wedge some conciliatory reason into the room.

It did the exact opposite. 

Dabi had apparently forgotten of the trigger in your voice that sent his body into a frenzy. When you spoke up, your voice just loud enough to cut above the rest of the uproar, his aspiration to free himself tapered off as his sharp eyes honed in on you. 

His arousal came back with a vengeance; in his pants, his dick twitched angrily for relief, and that frenzy took over his thought process again. 

His flames burned the rope at his feet and he came at you, so close, so very close, not knowing why he was doing it but only that he needed to touch you—

You were frozen on the spot. But Shigaraki was reaching for something along the bar, and Dabi’s world went black again soon after. 

⤰

When he woke this time, his rope bonds had been replaced for something cold and metallic, something stronger to withstand the vehemence of his flames. Even the chair to which he was bound had been swapped for something sturdier than wood.

“You fuckin’ serious?” he spat out, even before his vision had centered. He knew where he was, and why he was there. No need for context clues. 

“You gave us no other choice,” Kurogiri amended carefully, the black vapors that composed him flitting about anxiously. 

“Told you that you’d lose it,” Shigaraki said, anger having replaced all his snarky tones of condescension from before. “You’re like a damn animal.”

Dabi hissed and put his head back, feeling the soreness at his nape from consecutive blows. If he weren’t so presently occupied with the curl of heat welcoming him afresh, he might have simmered on the idea of burning his relatively recent—but entirely disagreeable—boss to a crisp when this was over. 

Then for the first time Dabi realized you were absent, and glanced around as if in search of you. Good, he thought, when he confirmed that you were missing. You just... complicated things. 

“I’m fine now,” he insisted, as placidly as possible as if to give stock to his lie. The respite had done nothing for the arousal harassing him; the longer it having gone unsatiated, even in unconsciousness, making it all the more demanding. 

Mellowing his urgency to a non-existent degree was almost impossible, however. Dabi knew the way the soles of his shoes twisted and flattened restlessly into the ground below was anything but inconspicuous. 

“Just warp me outta here, Kurogiri,” he implored. 

“No,” Shigaraki answered. “Shut up. Consider this a lesson. No more rummaging for allies in shithole parts of town. This is what happens when you go dumpster-diving for recruits.”

“You want me to burn this place down?” Dabi threatened, testing the strength of his bonds. A flicker of blue teased along his jawline. “‘Cause I got no problem doing that.”

Shigaraki shrugged. “Sure. You’ll just burn up with it, since you’ve got no way out of that chair.”

He knew it was true, and worked his jaw. “For all you know the damn guy was lyin’,” he said as a final act of contempt, and gave his leader a leery, side-long glare. “And this shit might not go away on its own.”

“Guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” 

Dabi sneered. Foiled, but regardlessly frustrated by the truth of it, he put his head back with an angry sigh and resigned himself to an attempted calm. 

⤰

You’d lingered in the bar’s back rooms for the better part of an hour before emerging. 

Shigaraki had instructed you to make yourself scarce, but you were drafted to stay by some guilty—and admittedly curious—sentiment. 

It was awfully unfair, you agreed, to keep Dabi chained up like he was—even in spite of the danger he posed under the quirk’s influence. But you must have overlooked that danger when you decided to slip into the main room where he was being held, long after you had been assured that Kurogiri and Shigaraki were gone. 

His back to the door, Dabi didn’t glance over his shoulder at the sound of your footsteps. It seemed he was sour enough not to offer greeting, and preferred to be left alone in his turmoil. 

He especially didn’t want your company, which he made clear by way of a harsh frown when you came into his peripheral. 

He tsked and readjusted uncomfortably in his seat at your arrival. “The hell do you want?”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Never been better,” he muttered. 

You were aware of how he avoided your gaze, and couldn’t know whether it was in an effort to stave off the arousal your presence had so viciously wrought before, or because he simply didn’t appreciate your company. The latter seemed just as likely as the first, though neither stopped you from taking a seat in one of the room’s couches so you could sit across at him. 

Your eyes were trained on his face, on the agitation creased into his expression. It was almost indecipherable under his otherwise cold demeanor. Clearly, the quirk was still in effect. If his tried composure wasn’t enough, there was a subtle tent in his pants that hadn’t gone away, not since its first appearance hours ago, you imagined. 

You didn’t realize you were ogling until he noticed. He tsked. 

“Take a picture,” he offered spitefully, immediately dissuading your eyes away from him. 

“Sorry,” you let slip, embarrassment flushing your cheeks, and in response he only lulled his head back again and shut his eyes. 

All was silent for a while, and might have remained thereby, if not for the way that the curt apology brought back the weight of guilt you’d felt to see his sorry state. 

“And I’m sorry for bringing you back here,” you spoke up. “Or at least, sorry that I called the others. I didn’t realize you’d be held up like this–”

“Stop talking,” he muttered. 

Mouth opening, then closing again, you almost swallowed down your next words. But again, they refused to stay unspoken. 

“I wouldn’t have called them,” you insisted, “if you didn’t—if you didn’t come after me like that. I was confused.”

No response. Only another uncomfortable shuffle in the chair while his eyes remained shut and his mouth a thin line. 

They’d put his hands in a sort of metallic sleeve since you last saw him, to discourage any more pyromania, you guessed. Though they weren’t visible, you could see how his arms shifted, how his tendons worked, and could imagine his fingers flitting anxiously inside the restraints. 

“Is… me being here making it worse?” you chanced to ask. 

He scoffed, and finally gave you his attention. “What?” Then, fully understanding your train of thought, rolled his eyes, and resigned them shut again while he relaxed into the chair. “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that dumb look you got on your face all the time isn’t exactly alluring.”

You frowned, and it was almost with cross touchiness that you argued, “But you came after me—”

“I’m guessin’ the point of the quirk is to make anything look fuckable.  So don’t flatter yourself.”

Despite all your caution, you couldn’t help but give the man a sour look. “You’re rude.”

He shrugged, the movement impeded considerably by his restraints. “Whatever. Anyways, you just gonna sit there and watch me? I’m not exactly in the mood for company.” He moved in his seat again, fighting the heat between his legs the best he could. “Unless you’re gettin’ off on my suffering and what not. Kinda twisted of you, if you ask me. Didn’t peg you as the type.”

“That’s not it,” you insisted quickly. “I just wanted to…well—”

“To what? Check in on me? Nice of you. But you can fuck off now.” 

A sudden twitch in his legs took the tension from the repartee. You looked down at the limb as he did. 

The burning heat in his veins took away practically all control he had of his extremities, rallied them into unconscious servants of the damn quirk until they were twitching, then relaxing, then twitching again.

You noticed this, too, and though his efforts to conceal the struggle were commendable, they left you in a state of shame, as if it were you bound in the chair with your arousal on display. Seeing someone so normally composed as he was in such a state was distressing, and admittedly, absorbing.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and let your rampant thoughts form to words. “Will it go away if you…”

“If I what?” Then once understanding, the smallest of smirks twisted his scarred lips. “Rub one out? How the hell am I supposed to know?”

You ignored the heat that dropped down your spine to hear him say it so unabashedly. “I don’t have the key to your locks,” you explained. “So I couldn’t let you out even if I wanted to.”

He gave no response, just looked away from you again. 

And here now was the adrenaline pulsing nonsense out of you, making you think crazy and debauched thoughts that would in any other situation be put down immediately by rationale. 

“But…”

He glanced at you when you tapered off. “But?”

Your silence annoyed him, now that he was interested. Before he could hound you to continue, you sputtered out your proposal:

“Do you want me to do something about it?”

He looked at you, an eyebrow raised, as if demanding clarification. But you had a resolute feeling that he was toying with you by choosing silence. 

“You know what I mean,” you asserted. 

The blank, cold stare you received in kind made you wonder if he actually did know what you meant. Maybe he didn’t understand—

“No,” he then said. 

The defeat you felt was utterly uncalled for, you knew. But you felt it anyways: a wash of humiliation plummeting down your body and swelling up again in frustration. 

But you let it be, knowing anything more you had to say would probably earn you tenfold embarrassment. 

Twenty minutes must have passed—though he wasn’t counting, and he wasn’t so sure that the affliction in his body wasn’t twisting his sense of time—each entailing another dredge of painful heat in his groin that worsened the longer his arousal went unattended to.

All the fail safes he’d practiced in his adolescence to ward off unwanted arousals were utterly useless now. He might as well have been on cloud nine when he filled his head with repulsive concepts: the smell of antiseptic, the smell of fish—fucking disgusting fish—even images of roadkill and dead bodies, putrefying and blackened. 

The thoughts themselves were off-putting, as promised, but it wasn’t thoughts at all that fueled his libido: it was a completely physical and natural arousal. 

Even shuffling his legs around, as meager of friction as it gave, made his hips inch forward in search of more when the fabric of his jeans teased his hard cock. It was fucking humiliating. 

He looked at you. You were too occupied searching the floor for an answer to your anxieties to notice the way he studied you.

You weren’t bad looking, he decided. Not that he’d ever really thought of you that way before. Not thoroughly, anyways. In this little group of delinquents he’d surrounded himself with—a grand mistake on his part, he thought, especially during times like these—you were the only fuel he had for his imagination on nights he needed to let off some steam. 

There was no intimacy behind it, no real passion for you that extended beyond the time from when he shoved a hand into his jeans, to when he was cleaning thick ropes of cum from his knuckles afterwards. 

You were only ever given credence in his brain then, when he was giving his cock hard and angry tugs to the thought of you on your knees for him, or against a wall with his hand curled around your throat, and sometimes bent over his knee while he spanked your ass raw (a more recent daydream now, ever since that time a few weeks ago when you’d bent down in front of him to pick something up off the floor).

Suddenly aware of an alarming change in his body, he paused his thoughts to immerse himself back into his too-hot skin again. 

He felt a wetness against his swollen cock, and after squirming covertly, frowned, realizing with loathing that the stickiness chafing his briefs was pre-cum. 

He stubbornly decided that it was just an inevitable response to his body’s raging war with arousal, and not—not at all—because he’d been thinking of you. 

Letting his body endure until his pants were dampened with pre-cum was an unwanted solution. Or even worse, until the sensitivity in his cock went haywire and even the tiniest of movements might make him cream his pants. 

A frustrated breath whistled out from his nose and he grit his teeth. Goddamnit. This was fucking stupid. 

“Fuck,” he said aloud, shaking his head as if to condemn the words he was about to say, knowing how they would haunt his ego later, “Fine. Come here.”

You glanced up, and, unable to fulfill the request with your mind suddenly racing, simply stared. 

That insipid look of failed registry on your face irritated him, and he scowled. “Are you deaf?”

“You want me to—” A sweep of your eyes down to his crotch elucidated what you were too hesitant to say. 

“You offered,” he reminded you, and decided that in order to make this even a fraction less humiliating, he’d need to emphasize your culpability. “Kinda been thinking it’s your fault, anyways. If you hadn’t been such a dumbass back there I would’ve finished the guy off like I wanted to. But you were too busy spouting your nitpicky bullshit.”

There was a guilty look on your face now, like you’d been considering the accusation in your own time. Now having it confirmed, you were more susceptible to the reasoning, and even more willing to rectify yourself. 

Still, you struggled to swallow down hesitation. “You’re sure that you want me to—”

“You’re gonna start pissin’ me off if you get all shy,” he said, trying as hard as his dancing nerves would allow to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

Since yielding to the ludicrous idea, his body had apparently taken up a premature celebration at the thought of your hands on him. His balls were tight and his dick was throbbing hard enough to make his legs tense with each pulse. 

“I just want to make sure,” you insisted. “I mean, if you really–”

“I’ll make it easy for you then. Either get over here, or piss off.”

He was relieved, pleased, and somewhat amused when the hesitation left you and you obeyed. When you came to stand idly in front of him, he glanced up, watching your confusion. 

Your eyes flicked from his face to his crotch, where the dim light of the room caught the curve of his hard dick pressing against his jeans. 

“You gonna stare at it all day?” he asked. 

You looked at him. “What do you want me to do?”

“When you offered to do something about it I assumed you already had some ideas. You need me to give you an instruction manual?” 

Your silence frustrated him again, and he tsked, glancing away from you as the reality of what you two were doing finally set in. 

“Take it out,” he muttered. 

So you did, reaching numbly down and carefully undoing his pants. The bulge that awaited underneath his jeans gave you pause. You stared at it, and a shot of adrenaline pumped through you when it twitched in his briefs, as if feeling your eyes ogling it and begging you to give it attention.

You tried to clear your conscience. This was Dabi, Dabi who treated you with such disregard that you sometimes wondered if he even knew your name; Dabi, who was letting you even breathe next to him without trying to scorch you.

A trickling, somewhat fatally comedic thought entered your mind: was he going to light you ablaze the second you touched him? Or maybe after, once you’d relieved him, as a way to permanently silence you against ever speaking a word of this to anyone?

Shivering at the morbidity of your own creation, you reached for his briefs and pulled them down carefully until his cockhead showed itself, pink-hued and shiny with an excess amount of pre-cum. 

You worked a hand underneath the briefs instead of exposing him completely, thinking he might want some semblance of modesty during this. Your convictions were rattled from their mounts when your fingers wrapped gently around the tip of his cock and gave a firm squeeze. 

In response: silence. 

You’d thought with how viciously his arousal had seemed to harangue him that he might give a stronger reaction: a moan, a sigh, a grunt, maybe even an audible breath. 

He just stared at you, looking as utterly bored as he usually did.

Then your fingers decided to retreat, and the sound you’d been displeased to be robbed of came finally as a frustrated grunt when your grip left him. 

“Seriously?” he huffed, staring at you. The irritation left its first but considerable split in his composure. The rest was quickly chipping away. He couldn’t pretend to be aloof about this for much longer. “You got cold feet now?”

“That’s not it.”

“What then? Never seen one before?”

“I don't know… how you want it,” you explained. 

“The hell does that mean?”

“Do you want me to use my hands?” you clarified hesitantly. “Or…” 

The little huff of derisive laughter that fell from his open lips made an eerie picture of his otherwise blank face. 

“Or what?” he taunted. “You got something else in mind? You been dyin’ for a taste of it or something–”

“No,” you finished, and that flustered look of anger on your face was pissing him off again, instead of amusing him like it might have under another context.

“So then cut the shit and do whatever.”

With a frown you went to your knees, unwilling to get further embroiled. 

When you started to stroke him, more pre-cum squeezed from the tip in generous pumps. You didn’t bother asking him how hard or fast he wanted it—you started hastily, hand gliding quickly over his cock, urgently enough that pre-cum eased the motion and made wet, sharp sounds with every stroke. 

His knee twitched like he’d been checked for reflex, which you took as encouragement to keep going despite his loyalty to silence. 

The veins along his dick pulsed needily and you swore you could feel the throb under your palm. The throb became more palpable as time went on. You thought you were doing well. But apparently not. 

“Harder,” he muttered, not a minute after you’d started. 

You glanced up at him. He wasn’t looking at you, but instead had shut his eyes in concentration. It looked to you as though he was trying to find the pleasure in your pace—which was apparently too soft for his likings. 

You did as instructed, nevertheless: you tightened your grip a fraction, fingers curling and making your strokes face slightly more resistance as they worked more pre-cum from the red tip. 

Another twitch in his leg, then a deep exhale that ended in a shiver; you saw his toned stomach shudder with the motion beneath his clothes, and fleetingly considered inching his shirt up a bit more out curiosity: how far did the burnt skin go down his body?

But then he was grunting, and breathing more stiffly than before. You thought that was another sign of a job well done, when his eyes peeled open and looked down upon you with such emphasized frustration that you realized you were not, in fact, meeting his standards. 

“Harder,” he demanded again, more rigidly this time. Despite the command, your hand slowed. For that, he frowned at you. “Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that. I like it rough.”

A flush of humiliation put purpose back into your rigid fingers, and you were moving your hand again, albeit slowly as you tested the new grip, this time with such purposeful pressure that you were tugging his dick now more than stroking it. 

“I thought it might hurt,” you started meekly.

“It doesn’t. Keep going.” 

You did, picking up speed again. The adrenaline put some more initiative into you, and you made a purposeful attempt to drag your thumb down hard on his swollen cock with every jerk of your hand. 

A croaky hum from his throat brought your attention to his face; his eyes watched your hand stroking him with fuzzy scrutiny. 

“Yeah,” he breathed thinly, his eyes fluttering closed again, finally satisfied. “Just like that.” 

That made your chest tight with excitement and your legs fidget beneath you. Your own arousal was wetting the inside of your thighs by now, but you were able to ignore it momentarily in favor of serving his.

At some point his hips stuttered up to start meeting your hand, but in a much slower rhythm than you were stroking; lazy pumps up into your grip. Every synchronic motion when you jerked up and his hips rolled down, there was an amazing tightness on the head of his cock that made his breath catch every time. 

You decided on using both hands (he was big, unexpectedly big, so much so that it was staggering and you decided you would think about that later when he wasn’t filling your palms so generously) and started twisting your grip in time with your strokes. It was then he finally loosed a low and breathy groan. 

Then his hips were pumping into your hands roughly, fucking himself in slow but hard thrusts—so hard that you had to steel yourself and tighten your grip to keep from getting bucked off. 

Another low moan from his throat. “Shit…” Then, when a surge of confidence urged you to quickly run your tongue along the head of his dick, his breath caught in a hard grunt.

“Shit,” he hissed out, and spread his thighs wider, pushing them up eagerly in demand that you give him more. 

To the best of your ability you tried, spreading your tongue underneath the head and rapidly swiping it back and forth. That got his hips stuttering, and his body jolting in its confines. 

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck.... Just like that.”

Without prompting your lips came into the fold, closing tightly around the tip and sucking in time with the hands that fisted his cock until you were lavishing every inch of him in some way. 

The feeling alone was ridiculously good, but watching you made his jaw go slack and mouth open as he panted. Maybe it was just the stupid quirk making him delirious, but you looked a hell of a lot hotter doing this than what his fantasies had led him to believe. Fuck. You weren’t half bad. 

A particularly hard thrust into your mouth had one of your hands slipping loose, and his next thrust, unimpeded by the length of one your fists around him, shoved his dick to the tight heat at the back of your throat.

He grunted hard, “Fucking shit—” Then arched up quickly, jumping at the opportunity to sink his cock deeper. 

Without a pause to steady yourself you had little choice but to oblige, and his cockhead shoved in, cramming itself against your hot tongue, pumping farther back inch by inch. 

The hand still jerking him off covered what your throat was too inexperienced to swallow down, and the rhythm of your tight mouth and vice-like hand made him moan deeply. 

But it might have been too much, and a strength lent to him by the quirk’s desperation made his hips lift off the chair forcibly, driving his cockhead to the very back of your throat until you were sputtering and choking. 

“Fuck.” It made him dizzy with pleasure, and he shut his eyes to keep them from rolling as he frantically pumped his hips upwards to get you gagging on him again. “Yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck–”

But then you were pulling off completely with a gasping breath.

His eyes opened, wild with exasperation. “The hell–”

You coughed wetly and started to plead, “Don’t choke me–” 

“Fine—fine. Hurry the hell up.” His hips jutted up impatiently in search of your mouth again, his swelling cock bouncing and twitching urgently. “Put that fuckin’ mouth back on it right now—” 

You obeyed, and his hips shuddered down into the chair, following the motion of your lips as they tightened over his length—only to start thrusting up into the hot and wet cavern again once his cockhead hit the roof of your mouth. 

It was like a fire had been kindled underneath him and was rapidly boiling all his thoughts to a vapor. It was stupidly good, so damn hot and tight and wet he couldn’t remember a mouth on his cock ever feeling this amazing. He wished his hands were free so he could fist them into your hair, so he could push you down more, get you gagging and sputtering on his cock. 

His eyes squeezed shut, face flexing with occasional twitches. His lips pulled back into a desperate grimace and long, shaky breaths whistled out through his clenched teeth. 

With his vision released of the sight of you on your knees, his mind was free to give the hot wetness on his cock another name, and he instead imagined that it was your pussy he was shoving into, gripping him nice and tight. 

He felt his quirk stirring underneath the pleasure; every vein in his body warmed at the mere thought of shoving into you raw, and until that very moment he hadn’t itched to break through his constraints like he did now, hadn’t wanted to be free of them so he could wrestle you to the floor and fuck you like he needed to. 

You were doing something particularly creative with your tongue on the underside of his cock, and a full body shudder brought him back to present. He watched you in your task: your eyes were shut tight in concentration, your brows furrowed as you struggled to accept his dick while it rammed against the back of your throat. Even your hand’s grip on his cock was a little tighter, he noticed appreciatively. 

It would have been fucking fantastic: a real goddamn sight to see that he might have honestly applauded you for later—if he wasn’t suddenly so absurdly enraptured with his fantasies. 

Dabi wanted more. Something deeper and hotter, something to bury his cock into and relish the velvety grip, something he could ravage and fuck away the ache in his body—

The thought of pounding his dick inside of you suddenly encompassed all other thought; it wasn’t a notion his frenzied mind would let remain as a fantasy. He wanted nothing else. Your mouth on his cock, your throat curdling around him, choking on him in a way that made his legs shake...

It was all insufficient now. He needed to be inside of you. As soon as fucking possible. 

“Shit,” he spat out. It was a curse different from the others, not breathed on arousal, but frustration. 

You looked up at him, and read him to be just as disgruntled as he sounded. 

“This ain’t doin’ it,” he said, and slowed his thrusting hips, which was a more hard-fought task to complete than he imagined; he may have been getting greedy with his fantasies, but his cock was still more than happy to use your mouth as a warm sleeve.

When you slipped off, you must have been giving him one of those dumb looks he hated, because he frowned. 

“You hear me?”

You nodded, licking the wetness from your lips as you caught your breath. You were lightheaded. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, and you swore you would smell the smoky salt of his skin on you for days. But now there was more? 

The heat pooling in your thighs demanded your attention again, and you fidgeted on your sore knees. “Well... what do you want me to do–”

“Sit on it.”

You gawked at him. “Sit on it?” 

That got him smirking just a little, his tongue peeking out to wet dried lips as he slowly panted. He cocked his head. 

“Worried it won’t fit?”

Your body surged with wild ambition. “That’s not it, but—”

“Bet you’re nice and tight, but you can work it in. I’d offer to stretch you open a little, but my hands are tied.” He flexed his fingers and arms in his binds for show, then grinned to see how flustered his words made you. “Besides, looked like you were enjoyin’ yourself. I’m sure you’re wet enough.”

God why couldn’t he shut up and let you think for a second? The teasing was horribly nauseating; his voice even worse, spoken with his smirk seeped into it. You realized the very sound of it would probably make you shiver now in all the wrong ways after this, even in casual conversation. 

“I… don’t have condoms,” you said by way of reply. 

He shrugged, the gesture lacking his usual languor now that he’d been worked up without release. “Me neither. They’re annoying.” 

He noticed you were frowning at him, and scoffed. “What, not on the pill?” He didn’t wait for a response; maybe that was the heat making him forgo on better judgment. “Well, guess it’s a good thing they got me pinned down, then. You’re free to pull off when I’m about to bust.”

The way in which he spoke it made your stomach queasy, and the first true lick of doubt ruined your mood as you stood up. “Fine. Just… tell me before you’re about to.”

He grunted in response, inwardly absorbed with impatience. 

You took off your bottoms and pushed your panties—yes, very wet, you confirmed—down, then hiked a leg over and climbed somewhat clumsily onto the chair.  

Only when you’d awkwardly positioned yourself over him did you notice that his eyes were fixated down below, where your hands steadily worked his dick against you. A raspy sigh passed his lips, and it was then you noticed his body teeming with eager spasms. 

Awkwardly, you sank down onto him, staring between you two the whole time and watching his thick length press tightly inside. 

The binds on his feet jabbed sharply against his ankles as they shuffled for leverage, desperate to rut up into the tight heat that welcomed him—but your legs resting on his thighs kept the movement to nothing but shallow thrusts. 

Whatever this fucking quirk was had a ridiculous effect on his sensitivity. You felt good—fucking amazing, even—though he couldn’t decide if that was just the quirk deluding him into thinking your cunt was the best he’d ever had, or if it really was: if you really were just that fucking incredible. 

Normally he would have managed that with stilled hips and practiced control; just sat back and enjoyed the ride. But shit it took a monumental effort not to fuck up into you, especially with how damn... slow you were going. 

Your pussy was gripping him so nicely, and that tight look on your face as you seated yourself onto his lap, accepting him fully and staggering from the size of him, was thrilling. But when you finally started to move your hips, you were going about it so cautiously, so boringly, that his patience all but thinned in a matter of seconds. 

“Could you go any slower?” he muttered. 

The words guilted you. “I thought it might… hurt?” you explained.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not in pain, dumbass. I need to cum. Which ain’t gonna happen if you keep this up.” He shuffled his legs, widening them so he could better press up into you. The pressure made him grunt, and you shiver. “C’mon, you were putting on a real good show before. Ride me like you mean it. I know you can.”

And there it was again, the words and the voice that threw repose out the window and made you all the more eager to see this through. 

With arms linked around his neck you started to roll your hips. He didn’t seem to mind the contact, helpful as it was in balancing yourself on his lap. 

You weren’t entirely surprised when the first sighs and grunts came from your own lips. Every time you thought a new angle of your hips or a quick thrust of his own had finally hit that one pleasurable spot inside, you would sink down harder on his cock and gasp when his thickness dragged over another. 

It made you go faster, turned the fluid rolling of your hips into quick grinding, then finally when you’d adjusted to his size, a steady bouncing on his cock. 

“Fuck yes...” he muttered, then moaned low, licking his lips; that was what he needed, feeling you sink down over and over, lifting yourself a little higher each time then dropping so hastily that his hips started jutting up to meet you. 

“Shit.” Lolling his head back he breathed heavily, deeply. “Ah shit...”

It encouraged you to circle your hips with every motion, which garnered a throaty growl in response. A string of curses under his breath accompanied it, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, keeping careful of his staples, and moaned along with him. 

Only when you started getting noisier did you think of anything except what you two were doing: what if Shigaraki or Kurogiri were to come back now? What if any of the others decided to waltz in? 

You bit your lip to keep your next few moans low, but you swore Dabi must have had a sixth sense for your timidity, and didn’t at all appreciate the way you were holding back. 

He shifted his hips on the chair in a precise motion, and suddenly his cockhead shoved against the right spot over and over again as you bounced on top of him. All your logical thoughts were fucked into the back burner immediately.

All you could hear was your own panting and the slap of your thighs against his. He would give his heedy approval in an occasional growl or moan, rasping it against your ear. It made you shiver uncontrollably. 

You lost rhythm soon enough and took to grinding again, the chair scraping along the floor beneath you. His thick cock drove you crazy, until you were panting and moaning and whining. If that wasn’t enough to signal an orgasm, he could feel it, could feel your pussy gripping him in a desperate flutter. 

“Oi,” he got your attention, turning his head, his breath thin at your cheek, “You serious? Are you actually gonna–”

And you did, legs stretching and contracting, tightening around his thighs as you came hard. He cursed and dipped his head low when you squeezed around him, panting through the ridiculously good pressure on his cock. 

Your body jerked and shivered in any way it could, anything to expel the white-hot pleasure that shot up your spine and then back down again. You couldn’t breathe, shaking on top of him so violently he was sure you were going to keel over at any second and start convulsing on the floor. 

“Hey shithead,” he snapped after he’d let your shivers die down. Using what little leverage his tied legs allowed him, he pushed his shoes off the floor, bouncing you impatiently in his lap and jarring you back to awareness. You gasped in hypersensitivity, his cock digging against you.

“I’m flattered you like my dick that much,” he went on, your body languid and slouched against him. The heat was nearing again; his cock twitched miserably inside of you, desperate for release and so damn close to getting it. “But you’re not the one in need of attention here, in case you forgot. Keep it up. I’m close.” 

With a moan you pushed yourself up, sucking in breaths of renewal through parted lips. Legs tensing and aching, you tried your best to grind on him again, but the task left you oversensitive. 

He needed to finish, you reminded yourself. He needed to cum, like he’d said. You were sure, so blissfully sure you might be rewarded with more of his unhinged reactions that you forced your muscles to be ignorant to their ache, and started to ride him in earnest.

That was when you noticed it: the heat wracking you wasn’t just your own, it was his. His skin too hot, too hot to be normal, furnace-warm to the touch. 

You lifted your head from his shoulder and peered over at him. His eyes were screwed shut, his lips pulled back into a tense snarl. Perspiration dewed on the portions of his untainted skin, dampened his brows and fell in droplets along his temple. 

You felt his body heating rapidly against yours—the clothes keeping your skin apart might as well have been paper-thin. His chest, rising desperately with heavy pants, was concerningly feverish. He felt it too. 

Fuck, he thought. Not fucking now. 

“Damn it—” he sputtered out, body going suddenly rigid, craning his neck away from you. “Move,” he warned you.

“What—”

“Move your damn head—”

Just as you did, your eyes stretched in shock as flames broke out from his jawline. Their angry blue reflected threateningly in your eyes, made you come to a shivering slow on his cock as the dry heat blistered out over your skin. 

The fire was out in a second, forcefully extinguished with his frustrated grunt; smoke puttered out from beneath his staples instead. He breathed out an angry sigh from the effort of combating his own quirk.

You hesitated to put your hand out and touch him, hovering over his face. “Dabi, your skin—”

“Shut up it’s fine,” he breathed raggedly, turning his head away from you. When was the last time that had happened? Fuck. He made himself believe it was just the quirk. Just the quirk. And not you. Not because you felt so fucking good. 

His legs jolted up in desperation to make you move on top of him. “Don’t you fuckin’ stop—shit—I’m almost there—”

You didn’t know whether to be frightened or exhilarated by the display of fire, but you were moving again regardless, bouncing on his lap for all you were worth until your legs were begging for mercy and your lungs ached. 

He sucked in tight breaths through his teeth, then exhaled them as gravelly moans. You pressed against him, arms wrapped about his frame, ignoring his sweltering skin and abandoning any fear that his quirk might disobey his control again. You bit your lip and whined excitedly when you felt him bow his head against your shoulder and pant heavily against the clothed skin there. 

The heat was fucking blinding now. And it was loud: a numbing and seductive beat in his chest that made his heart stutter to keep up. Every slam of your hips down onto him, and every one of his thrusts up into you in turn, made the heat louder, ache more, and burn.

“Now,” he grit out against your ear, body seizing in warning. In his enclosed binds, his fingers clenched into fists, so hard that the joints popped in protest.  

A whine in your throat was the response. You were ignorant to much else except the wetness making a mess of your thighs, of his searing skin against you and his belt buckle digging harshly into your legs. 

“Right now,” he sputtered hurriedly, hips rising from the seat. All he could do was shove up into you once, violent and hard, digging his way as deep as he could as his balls went tight and fiery pleasure raced up his body. “Right fuckin’ now move, I’m gonna—goddamnit… fuck!” 

He wasn’t prepared for the way you slammed your hips down as you came again with a cry. He stiffened hard, body bowing down into yours as much as the restraints allowed, shoving his face into your neck.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped out, “fuck—” You shivered wildly around him and in an instant he was cumming hard, legs jolting in their restraints, shaking under your thighs. 

“Fuck!” he shouted again, the exclamation muffled against your skin. “Motherfucker—fuck—” His voice puttered off into a series of strained, frantic groans. Unthinking and delirious on pleasure, he closed his mouth around the soft flesh of your neck and bit hard. 

You gasped, tried to wriggle free, but his hips were desperately snapping up into you, effectively throwing off your balance. 

Your hips hadn’t stopped their determination either. They had a mind of their own, rutting fast to squeeze him dry. All the while, he growled hotly against your skin, teeth leaving deep marks, sucking blemishes into the flesh despite all restraint that told him otherwise. 

After the last, hard spurts inside of you, he sank back into the chair, utterly wasted. Little spasms harassed his body and made him shiver weakly. Only his mouth persevered, teeth still digging into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

The pleasure ebbed into raw sensation, and you could feel the marks his incisors left in you, the heated metal of his staples singeing you.

“Dabi,” you stuttered out, a shaky hand coming to push at his forehead in protest. 

It shook him back to reality. He brought his dizzy head back to look at you through hooded eyes, then down at the wound he’d left on your neck. 

Shit, he thought fleetingly, but not very regrettably. That was gonna bruise. 

He put his head back against the chair and heaved, shutting his eyes to dispel the lightheadedness. 

“Told you... to get off,” he muttered. 

You knew it was a mistake you would dwell on later, but you could barely move now, let alone think. 

When you shifted your legs, wanting to move and put some blood back into your limbs, it set off a chain reaction of oversensitive-pleasure; dwindling sparks went off inside you and you shuddered, making him jerk and grunt in tandem. 

“Don’t move,” he chided, his head still bent to the ceiling. “Just gimme a minute... Fuck...” he breathed. “You fuckin’...” He shook his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you’d been the one to give it to him.

Then he thought: he wouldn’t need to conjure up fantasies of you anymore when he was getting himself off. He could go by memory now. 

Once he’d regained partial composure, he shifted, glad to find his dick was going limp—fucking finally—inside of you. 

“You got a way to take care of that?” he asked, leaning back and looking down at the wet mess between both your thighs. 

You blinked, hazy. “What?”

“I’m not tryna knock you up just ‘cause you’re too horny to listen,” he said disdainfully. “You on the pill? Gotta get one of those morning-afters otherwise–”

“It’s fine.” You nodded. “Don’t worry.”

It was easier said than done, he thought to himself sourly. But he was having trouble thinking of much else besides how fucking fantastic it was to feel the arousal leaving him in blissful waves.

He took a heavy breath. “Now get off and get me outta this shit.”

“But you might still be…” You wriggled a little on top of him, felt him soft inside of you. It was uncomfortable, but even if you’d wanted to move, your muscles were spent. “What if you’re still… ”

“Still what? Still horny? Bet you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

You wouldn’t let the comment fluster you, and obeyed as a way to prove him wrong, slowly lifting yourself off of him. The ache of your insides as he slipped out was raw and hot and wet, but unmistakably satisfying.

“Let me out,” he demanded again. “Now.”

“I told you I don’t have the key.”

He sighed in frustration, blinking sweat from his eyes. “Then go get Kurogiri. Go get someone. And at least be nice enough to cover me up. Don’t want my dick hanging out.”

It was shiny, wet, and red from stimulation. When you went to tuck it back in his pants, it twitched.

“Oi, clean it first,” he snapped.

You glanced around. “With?”

“Whatever the hell’s lying around. Shirt, rag, your mouth.” He scoffed when you put on a frown. “Don’t give me that look. This is your mess on my dick, ya know.”

With barely contained insolence you went down shakily on your knees, ready to go about the particularly humiliating task, when he laughed dryly under his breath. 

“You’re a real slut,” he muttered, looking down on you with a cheeky smirk, “aren’t you?”

That guaranteed your spite, and you stood up just as quickly as you’d gone down, then nudged his still-messy dick into his pants and zipped them closed. 

“Oi, oi—” The wetness squished uncomfortably underneath the fabric and he shifted awkwardly, glaring at you. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“You’ll be fine,” you muttered, turning away from him in search of your clothes, hiding an indulgent smile. 

As you redressed, he sneered and pulled at his bindings. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Or what?” 

You were too exhausted to wrangle with his temper, or your own self-preservation; you knew it was a dangerous game to tease him. But you couldn’t help it. Your mind was foggy, your body teeming with giddy pleasure. Not to mention, you were free. He wasn’t. And that was remarkably funny. 

Now he was scowling. “You little shit. Letting it all go to your head now, huh?” When you didn’t answer, when he caught a flash of your teasing smile, his frustration started to run rampant. “Not gonna be so funny when I’m out of this shit—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

In response, he just glowered, and despite the front you were trying to put up, it threw an excited shiver down your spine. You were perilously tempted to egg him on, but decided against it.

You pulled your shoes back on and breathed, looking at him with something that resembled soft smugness. “I’ll go find Kurogiri.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ better,” he muttered under his breath, keeping his critical eye-contact with you up until the very moment you disappeared out of his line of vision. 

When he heard your footsteps finally dwindle down an adjacent hall, he let out a long-suffering sigh and tilted his head back. “Fuck.”

The quirk had gone, the heat and arousal with it. 

But what hadn’t gone were the thoughts of you. 

Angry thoughts, confusing thoughts, and most of all, intriguing thoughts.

#dabi x reader #dabi imagines #bnha x reader #dabi

[anischa22]

Meet the Prince! Clavis Lelouch 🐆

After Luke, here's the next suitor :

The 3rd Prince of Rhodolite Kingdom, member of Chevalieris Faction. His route will be released this fall!

Arm of coat : Leopard

First impression of him : he do remind me of Mitsuhide ... I'm sure many player will like him!

His voice actor is Kenji Nojima. known to voice Mamoru Chiba (Sailor Moon .... Wait, really? Tuxedo man?), Kita Shinsuke (Haikyuu!), Albedo (Genshin Impact) and many more

Eggplant Prince. Always with a mysterious (or dangereous?) smile. He's quite charming and very confident about that, so he's sure all girls will fall for him. Then when MC rejected him, Clavis immediately does anything to make MC 'fall in love' with him lol. The harder MC refused, the more excited Clavis tried 🤣

Clavis was first introduced as Chevalier's closest person. Where there is Chevalier, there is Clavis. Then is Clavis an admirer of his brother? ... Haha turned out to be the opposite! Everyone knows that Clavis hates Chevalier, including Chevalier himself. So Clavis will do anything to beat his amazing brother including by always being Chevalier's side. But other than that reason, Clavis likes Chevalier's unconventional thinking and the chaos after that. Furthermore, Clavis is allowed to do whatever methods he wants when Chevalier tells him to do something. So ofc Clavis love by being Chevalier's side 😂

Then, Clavis known for his fondness for pleasure & entertainment. The fun that Clavis is referring to is not the unusual one, but set a trap that causes chaos such as throwing banana peels, digging holes in the garden, throwing pies, releasing rats in castles, sending threatening letters and many more! His mischief is so random!🤣 And the target is random too. Make Sariel's headache increase three times than the normal 🤣 Predictably Clavis will make a mess if he gets bored or things are too calm lol. Luckily, his prank didn't get people killed (and maybe that's the reason why no one took hard with Clavis prank and they got used to it).

One more thing that stands out from Clavis is his gentleman nature. He behaves like an ideal prince very well that makes anyone forget that the third prince is a living chaos. In some situations it will be shown that Clavis being kind to MC by encouraging her (and to be honest I melted for him!). Later it's known that everything Clavis does (ofc most of them are pure mischief) has a good reason. Makes no one will be able to hate this prince

Sadly, Clavis is still very mysterious. What we all know are the 3 things above. Is he really a gentleman in a mischiefs mask or vice versa? No one knows what's in Clavis's mind. Sometimes i feel sad when see Clavis being kind, but others think maybe Clavis is up to something. I mean, what if Clavis really cares? Poor baby eggplant Clavis

Clavis is not recommended to anyone who doesn't like mischief guy, more or less same as Mitsuhide. Maybe you can't stand Clavis with MC as if he just toying with MC. But he has the same popularity potential as Mitsuhide. Really can't wait for his route!

Btw, I'm just remembered that Clavis often appear in important events! Idk, its just like ..... something tense happened, then suddenly Clavis -with a big smile- appeared and helping the suitor! So many times he appears nowhere that I was not surprised anymore and just shouted "yeay! Clavis save the day!"🤣 He's also the prince who often visits MC's when she's not Belle anymore

I'm sure people who appear the most on his route later will be Chevalier and Jin. But of course we can't expect Chevalier to talk about Clavis' past, so this must be Jin's job to explain Clavis condition to us😂 or maybe Sariel, who have mutual hate with Clavis (and maybe Sariel can take big part there as a possible route that will be released after Clavis)

Clavis sees his other sibling as cute bro or... his toy. But because most of his siblings are immune to his pranks, then he's aiming to another people, nobleman, maids, servant, knight, citizen or enemy. Usally the one who fall for Clavis's prank the most is Yves (poor Yves), even though he would rather annoy Chevalier but since Chevalier is too strong, Clavis is looking for a new target, and he's found the MC!

Ah! Clavis, together with Jin and Nokto, known as 'Lady-killer Princes'. If Jin likes big boobs, then Clavis prefer woman thighs *cough*

Since I only have eight Clavis expressions, i will give you one of Clavis card that I have! No, it's not that I was aiming for Clavis card, I'm just too lucky to always get Clavis every time i gacha 😅

Here, Prince Clavis Lelouch already waiting for you ...

Next will be the sadistic bureaucrats, Sariel!

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri clavis #clavis lelouch #cybird #ikemen series