#and i thought i was just neutral towards it

[pit-and-the-pen]

Unrequited Love

A/N: I had to get to the airport to return a rental car like 5 hours early so I’m so sorry for the pure amount that I’ve been posting today but as a socially awkward girly, if I’m on my own phone then for sure no one is going to talk to me.

Anywho here is some angsty angst about day court!reader and Azriel.

Part 2: Here Alt Ending: Here

Forgive any typos I wrote this on my phone.

Warnings: none

WC-1.4K

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My blood was boiling beneath my skin. Azriel has been complaining for the better part of an hour about Rhys gag order regarding Elain. I was trying not to roll my eyes as I had reached my wits end with his lamenting.

“I just don’t understand why he needs to meddle in this. I get she’s Feyre's sister but he doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. “I just can’t help but think that sometimes the cauldron gets it wrong.”

His words were spoken so plainly. Anger wanes for a second as I swear I could feel my heart break inside my chest. The words seemed to echo in my head Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. I almost would have rather had him carve out my heart with truth teller.

“What do you think?” He asks me and I sit reeling over his words. I can’t think of anything to say to him. The comforting words I would normally have for him can’t get past the anger starting to cloud my vision. So I simply shrug, avoiding the question. Desperately trying to change the subject.

“So this new book I’m reading…”

“Oh c’mon.” He interrupts me. “I know you have something to say. And I trust your advice more than anyone else. There isn’t anyone else I would rather talk to about this.” His eyes softened as he looked towards me. Instead of melting under his gaze like I normally do, red bites at the edge of my vision.

“I think you should leave her the hel alone.” My tone is not gentle. He freezes.

“What?”

“She has a mate already. And regardless of if you think the cauldron got it right. Lucien is the one mated to Elain,” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “And Lucien is a wonderful male who has been through a lot of shit. He deserves someone as sweet as Elain, if she ever comes around. You should stop meddling.”

His mouth opens, when no words come out, he closes it again. You see the muscles in his jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.

“What has gotten into you? When did you become Lucien’s spokesperson?” He spits at me. His face starts to get closer to mine as he leans over the table, slowly starting to rise to his feet.

The sane part of me is telling me to stand down. That one of the most powerful warriors in all of Prythian was starting to get angry at me. My mate was starting to get mad at me. But I would not cave under his intimidation.

“I became his spokesperson when you showed no respect for him. Or for Elain.” I noticed I was starting to get to my feet. “What about what she wants? She doesn’t owe you anything more than she owes Lucien. Rhys told you to stay away from a girl you feel entitled to and now you want to mope like a petulant teenager. Grow up Azriel.” He flinches before something stoney sets in his eyes.

“At least I’ve actually told her how I felt. What about you?” My stomach drops into my knees. “Sitting and pining over the same person for a century.”

“You knew?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper. This was not happening. I should have left when I had the chance.

“It’s not like you tried to hide it. I thought at some point you would get the hint that it wasn’t going to happen but yet there you always were trailing behind me like a sad little puppy.”

My hands on the table started to glow faintly. My anger was finally breaking through the surface.

“You asshole. You stupid Illyrian bastard.” The smirk that graced his face fell instantly. “After everything that I’ve done for you, you want to use my feelings for you as some fucking weapon against me.”

Even I was surprised at the venom in my words but I was on a roll. “I sat by for five hundred years. I sat by as you pined over Mor, someone I consider my sister. I felt that bond go unreturned.” He completely froze at my words. Words I have never spoken out loud to anyone.

“Wait-“

“No. You get to hear this shadowslinger.” I pressed my finger to his chest and he stepped back like I had hit him. A small part of me wishes I had. But this. This right here is why Rhys kept me around. I didn’t need to throw a punch to put someone on their knees.

“I followed you around like a lost puppy and you loved it. Every second of it. I was stupid enough at some point to believe that it was because you felt it too. And I couldn’t get away from those feelings,could get away from you. Every time I tried I would damn near drive myself crazy and then you would smile or say some funny joke and I was right back to where I started.” I willed the slight shake in my voice to disappear. “You just wanted to feel important because the one you truly loved wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Took other males into her bed, but not you right? So why not go for the next available thing. Me. Who cares if I got hurt? Who cares that I still fucking loved you through all of it? Not you clearly. You played me like a fucking fiddle and I played my part well.”

When I finally looked back up at his face I saw nothing but a shell of the male that stood in front of me. Even his shadows had retreated from his side. Looking down I realized they were sitting at my feet. I pushed down the glimmer of something I didn’t have time to think about at the sight.

“Please. Just stop.” He pleaded.

“Why? Because it hurts to hear? Fuck you. “And you think that didn’t hurt me too?” I watched him pale. “You didn’t think it killed me to feel that empty weight in my chest every time I looked at you. Everyday that I waited and wished that you would feel that stupid bond I’ve had to live with for the last two centuries.”

He gasped at my words cutting me off

“You never told me about that. I just thought it was… I don’t know… I thought it was a crush like how I felt with Mor”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “I shouldn’t have had to! The whole point is that you feel it too. Bonds aren’t supposed to be one sided but for some gods unknown reason, you didn’t,” I felt the anger really starting to boil over.

“Every time I heard you rambling on and on about how perfect Mor was, about the females you took into your bed. I sat by all of it, for what? Three sisters for three brothers?!” I was screaming now, my hands shaking by my side

“What happens when she’s all fixed up too Azriel? When she feels this same thing I feel when she looks at Lucien. Onto the next one for me to hear about I guess . Always on the sidelines. Always the sweet face to come back to at the end of the day but never the one you want to be with.” I took a deep breath for the words about to come out of my mouth, steeling my nerves.

“I’m done. With this. With you. Fuck this entire gods damned city. I will not sit by and play second to whoever you deem worthy enough for the rest of my life.”

He held up his hand like he was going to reach up for me but the light that was glowing off my skin was warning enough.

“Where will you go?” Was all he had the nerve to say.

I let out a cold, twisted laugh. “Anywhere but here. Hel I could finally go home. Helion has

been asking me to come back for years now. All I know it will be somewhere where you can’t come and ruin another half a century of my life. Because that’s what you did. I wasted all this time on someone I knew wouldn’t love me. But I can agree with you on something, Azriel.” I paused long enough to see the hope in his eyes as he whispered “what?”

“That sometimes the cauldron does get it wrong.”

I walked out of that room with my head held high

#acomaf #acosf #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #acotar #acowar #azriel angst #azriels kinda dick in this one #I promise I love him but this popped into my head #azriel x reader #azriel x you #no happy ending #a court of thorns and roses #i make no apologies #well maybe a little

[mononijikayu]

night we met — ryomen sukuna.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

listen: the night we met by lord huron

note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~

FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.

This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.

As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.

You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.

Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.

You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.

Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.

Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.

Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.

This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.

As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”

You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”

Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”

You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.

Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.

“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”

“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."

Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”

Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”

IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.

The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.

Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.

It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.

As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.

Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.

As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.

The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.

“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.

“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”

You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.

The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”

Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.

There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.

As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”

You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.

The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.

Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.

With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.

As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.

Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.

The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.

Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.

You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.

"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."

The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."

Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.

"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.

"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”

“Uncle—”

“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt. 

"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."

Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.

"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."

Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires. 

"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”

“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”

“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”

“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.” 

Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”

"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”

Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."

You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.

As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.

You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.

Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts. 

"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."

As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features.  His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions. 

As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.

You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak. 

As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.

HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.

The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.

This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.

As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.

"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.

However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.

Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.

As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.

As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.

"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.

In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.

The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.

"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.

When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.

Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.

"I’ll give you one," you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.

You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was.  Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.

"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”

The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.

For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.

"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.

Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."

The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.

"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”

He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.

Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.

You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.

As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x oc #jjk x oc #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x oc #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x oc #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #ryoumen sukuna x reader #kayu writes ! ! !

[yanderes-galore]

Hello can I request a yandere concept between ennard (hope I spelled it right) with a reader who finds out the truth about them that they aren’t actually Micheal? It can be platonic or romantic I’m not good picking ( I hope you have a nice day btw!)

Sure! So sorry for the long wait, I hope it was worth it :(

Read this as a supplementary concept to this one

Yandere! Ennard with Darling realizing they aren't Michael

Supplementary Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Body horror, Disturbing descriptions, Clingy behavior, Isolation, Implied kidnapping, Blood, Vomit, Forced companionship.

Let's be honest, at a certain point you can tell when Michael isn't Michael.

As his friend, you know him.

You've known his trauma and might have even been a childhood friend.

So when he disappears for a few days... and returns acting strange... you originally think maybe he's just sick or upset.

He doesn't seem to remember much about you... and while he looks like Michael for the most part...

It all feels too uncanny.

There's various issues going on that's described in the previous concept.

Multiple personalities, twitching, odd smells, purple skin, glowing eyes, mechanical whirring....

Ennard is unable to replicate Michael completely.

There's always something off.

It doesn't help that Ennard becomes obsessed... often stalking and visiting you in their tattered disguise.

Honestly, it won't take you long before you learn the truth.

You can figure it out yourself.

At first you had just been keeping an eye on Michael to make sure he was okay after his absence.

But now... as you notice the smell and uncanny nature... there's just no hiding it.

Ennard is aware of their time limit.

They just thought they'd have more time.

However, Ennard nearly freezes when you pull them aside.

They see the concern in your eyes, along with the fear when you're met with a glowing gaze.

"Michael... what's wrong?"

Ennard struggles with a response, doing their best to replicate Michael's speech once again.

"Nothing's wrong...?"

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

Ennard pauses at your sudden... assertive tone.

If they could sweat... they would.

"What do you mean?"

"You never went to the hospital to get checked, you don't seem right... and that smell! You smell like a... corpse."

Ennard twitches, making you jump a bit.

Corpse... you poor thing, too smart for your own good.

"... we thought we could enjoy you a little bit longer..."

"Michael" murmurs, looking saddened.

"We? What do you mean 'We'?"

"We aren't Michael... but we wish we were so we could stay."

Mechanical whirring echoes in the room as you notice Michael's purple skin tear.

You back up, nausea setting in as the smell gets worse.

Sickening snaps and rips echo in the room... blood pooling down and staining the... thing.

The sight makes you lurch over and vomit, the stress and smell squeezing your stomach in an uncomfortable vice.

Like some sort of stomach churning alien... Ennard emerges from the skin of your friend.

You nearly lose your stomach again as the mechanical beast stumbles forward... an amalgamated circus clown of robotic parts.

"We don't want to say goodbye..."

The robot murmurs sadly, stepping forward as you scramble to stay back.

"Maybe we don't have to...! Maybe you can stay...."

You go to try and leave, only for the mangle of parts to pounce.

Wires dig into your skin like claws... situating you in place like a trap.

Ennard's many mechanical eyes stare down at you.

They take in your scared expression and giggle.

"You're our friend now... we're so much better than Michael."

The robot coos towards you, grip tight and unrelenting.

"We'll be your friend forever... you just have to come with us."

You struggle the best you can, but the wires dig too deep.

"Your fear is funny... but don't be scared...."

You're walked towards the backdoor of your home, the robot giggling.

"We'll take you away... so It's just us and you! If you fight us..."

The robot hisses... turning you so you stare at their bloody face plates.

"We have other ways of keeping you with us forever..."

Your mind flashes to thoughts of Michael... and you learn it's better if you cooperate.

#yandere five nights at freddys #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf sister location #yandere ennard

[autumnywinter]

Hiii! <3 Could you perhaps write something with Reader cheating on yandere Jingyuan?

I hope this isn't ooc! I love writing for HSR characters but I don't do it often.

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

Tags: NSFW MDNI, cheating, spanking, patronizing behavior, light degradation, sex as punishment, gender neutral reader, implied kidnapping

You couldn't deny you felt shame. Jing Yuan was so sweet, so doting, but he could get so busy sometimes. You loved him, you truly did, but occasionally, it was too tempting to not hook up with someone else. Just a fling, that's all you wanted. Only enough attention to make up for the lack of his while he was on duty. You didn't expect anyone to get murdered over it.

Things were supposed to go out smoothly. Your husband would be gone for the weekend, so you'd have a one-night stand and sneak back home at midnight. You didn't bother hiding the hickeys since you didn't think he'd be home.

However...

"Welcome home, dear. Did you have fun?"

He was there when you walked in. He was lounging on the sofa, eyeing you as you came in, his figure relaxed with one leg crossed over the other. There was no anger on his face. On the contrary, he smiled and looked more content than he had been in a while. But you could see it.

The glimmer in his eyes, the dangerous red that clouded his pupils. He wasn't angry. He was furious.

You flinched, wanting to shrink away into your coat. How were you supposed to explain this? "I..." Your voice came out in a rasp, throat dry and tight. You swallowed down your fear and tried again. "Yes... I did."

Part of you was still foolishly hoping he didn't know about your disloyalty, that you were overthinking his mannerisms.

Perhaps he just happened to be home early because he wanted to see you, and not because he rightfully suspected anything. Maybe you could still cover this up.

He rose from his seat and came towards you. "Did you now?" His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest. Your hands shook as they hung by your sides. "Would you like to know what I did, honey?"

It wasn't a question. He didn't care if you did or didn't want to know. He was going to tell you anyway.

His face pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent, humming against your skin. "I followed you." His lips peppered your neck with kisses as his grip tightened. "I have lots of friends in the knights that patrol the area frequently. Imagine my heartbreak when I hear my darling spouse has been sneaking around. I didn't want to believe it, so I had to see for myself."

You trembled in his hold, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jing Yuan's tone was frighteningly even, but that only scared you more. You could feel him smiling against your skin. Forced and cold.

"When I saw you enter that man's house, I thought to myself: No, there must be an explanation for this. There's no way you would do such a thing." The more he talked, the more painful his grasp got. His nails dug into your side, threatening to puncture your skin. "So I waited outside for a while and sure enough, you came out a mess." His gaze became more narrowed, trailing down to the angry hickeys covering your skin.

"You stunk of alcohol and sweat, with all these nasty marks all over you. Even on your collarbone. Absolutely shameful."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Shh." Jing Yuan's lips covered your own in a deep kiss that tasted of wine. "You were lonely without me, right? You wanted attention. I understand. There's no need to apologize. I know I haven't been paying much attention to you, so it's natural for you to look elsewhere."

Despite his understanding words, you felt trapped. Jing Yuan kissed you again and again, tongue swiping against your lips. You didn't have a choice but to open your mouth and let him in, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth.

He usually took his sweet time tasting you, but this time, he was impatient and sloppy. You could only grip his arms, whimpering as he poured all of his pent-up anger into the kiss.

When he pulled away, your knees threatened to give out on you. His mouth remained close, the warmth of his breath grazing your lips.

"You'll just have to make it up to me." His hand slithered under your coat and slid it off, his fingers stroking the marks on your shoulders. "These look painful. I never knew you liked pain. But I guess I never knew you were a whore, either."

His words pierced you like daggers, tears spilling from your eyes as you choked back a sob. Jing Yuan's cold eyes softened at the sight, cooing at you.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. It hurts me too when you cheat." His fingers stroked your cheek, catching some of your tears and licking them off his fingers. "I'll take care of you now, okay? Let me be your husband again." He guided you into the bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. "I'm going to fuck all of him out of you, so when I'm done, you'll only remember me. And all the other men you've seen."

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled down your pants. You squealed as his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red mark that would surely bruise later.

His palm was ice cold on your hot skin, soothing the sting from the impact.

"I want to forgive you, but I'm not going to lie to myself. You hurt me. I'd never hurt you like that." He paused, feeling between your legs. "And now you're getting aroused by this? Maybe I really have been neglecting you." He stood up to unbuckle his belt. "Let me remind you what sex feels like with someone who loves you."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, watching him stroke himself. He looked down at you, an unsettling smile on his face.

"You know I love you, right?"

Jing Yuan climbed onto the bed, fingers tracing up your leg before pressing into your entrance. You whimpered as he eased them inside, not used to being stretched so suddenly. But he didn't care.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, moving his fingers in scissoring motions to spread you more. You couldn't stop squirming beneath him, struggling to adjust to his pace.

"Answer me," he demanded. His fingers curled inside you.

"I do! I-I do!"

He hummed and removed his fingers, staring down at his hand covered in your wetness. He admired the way his wedding ring glistened in the low lighting, but not for long.

His gaze lowered to your reddened, flustered face, making his cock twitch.

"Good. Because I really do love you." He lifted your hips up, guiding the tip of his cock to your hole. He pushed into you and watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate moans falling from your lips. Your walls wrapped around him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolutely wreck you.

So he did.

His hips snapped against yours at a rough pace, hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. But the way you cried his name was the best song to his ears.

If he weren't mad with jealousy and frustration, he would've taken a few seconds to grab his phone to record. But he needed to chase the image of that man out of your mind first.

He reached around you and started rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, grunting against your skin. His touch sent you spiraling into an orgasm, juices gushing all over his cock.

Your tightening walls drove him towards his climax as well, and he came inside of you with a satisfied groan.

Your eyes were blown wide as you felt his cum fill you up. Jing Yuan panted above you, not having the energy to pull out yet. After a few seconds, he did, watching his seed spill out of you. His hips gave a few lazy thrusts into you as if trying to push it in deeper.

"You took me so well, sweetheart." He laid down next to you, bringing your shaking body close.

"Are you still mad at me?" You breathed in his scent.

He chuckled. "I'm no longer mad. In fact, I'm happy. You just confirmed my suspicions that you can't be trusted on your own."

You didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

He brought a hand to your neck, stroking the skin there. "You have a wild spirit. So it's only natural that I'd need to watch over you closely, right? So you don't wander off again. How can you cheat on me if I'm the only person you see?" He ignored your frightened expression and snuggled you close to him. "This is for the best. Everything I do is for you, Y/n."

#yandere #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #jing yuan #jing yuan smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #yandere x reader #obsessive love #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere fic

[nsftventurelovebot]

A/N: THIS HAD TO BE PUBLISHED LIKE RIGHT NOW BC I HEARD A NEW LINE TODAY AND IT ABSOLUTELY HAD TO DROP RIGHT FREAKING NOW. IT WAS TOO IMPORTANT.

Premise: Insecure!Reader tops for the first time ever because they wanted someone to feel as special as they made them feel. :•) Reader + Venture are AFAB but written neutrally other than that!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff! smut!

"So, what was all this about again?" Sloan asks, joining you on the couch.

You hold out a blindfold for them to wear.

"Just put it on!" You command out of embarrassment, shoving it towards them.

Off to a great start. Sarcasm.

"Alright, Bossy." They let out a laugh at your pitiful expression which only flustered you more.

They take it and place it around their eyes. "Okay, fine. Now what?"

"Be patient." You reply sternly.

You stand up and begin to undress yourself as quietly as possible. Afterwards you lightly toss away your discarded clothing to avoid making a mess.

"Don't peak. It's a surprise!"

A grin lights up their face– that same damn grin you fell in love with all that time ago.

Before revealing yourself you think back on everything one last time.

Dim the lights? Check.

Lingerie from last time? Check.

Everything else...?

You glance over at the bag sitting next to the couch.

Check.

You take a deep and quiet breath in before exhaling to calm your nerves.

"Are you still there or did you leave me here... Oh God, you're finally killing me aren't you? I knew it..." They joke, and it gets a stifled giggle out of you.

You delicately shake your head to stop any further encouragement of their silly behavior. If you were going to take charge tonight then you had to steel yourself. There was no more time left to waste, so you straightened your thin top and adjusted your garters to make sure everything looked as perfect as possible... within reason, that is.

No– you can't think like that. Not now. Not after how well they took care of you. There's no going back now! You gather all the confidence you can and kneel in front of their seated body. A rose colored blush begins to paint itself on your face.

"Okay. You can take it off now."

As soon as they can see again their hands fly up to their face. You've caught them completely off guard.

"Oh– I didn't expect that, actually–" They take a moment to peek through their fingers at the sight before them. "What's all this about?!"

"I thought a lot about what happened the other day, and I wanted to give back what you gave to me." You explained.

"Ah– you don't have to–"

You cut them off. "I want to do this. Unless you don't want me to."

"No! I mean yes– I want you to, but only if you want to do it–"

"I just said that I wanted to." You reassure them.

"Right..."

It was cute seeing them in shambles like this.

"Let me take care of you then."

"Okay. Just give me a minute."

Sloan leans forward on their arms and takes a sharp breath in. They run their hands through their hair and admire the sight of you before them.

"Sorry, I'll never get used to you like this."

They smile and cup your face before sticking their thumb inside your mouth. You gently swirl your tongue around it, sucking delicately before they pull it out.

"It's just so hot..."

The compliment has you glowing on the inside in more ways than one. Your heart beat picks up as they gently remove their hand from your face and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. They reach for the zipper of their pants before you put your hands on theirs to stop them.

"Allow me." You smile up at them.

Their hands fly back up to their face and a flustered noise sounded from their throat. This time they aren't peeking.

You undo the button of their pants to expose the zipper underneath. It's easy enough undressing them from there– you unzip the zipper and see the top of their happy trail disappearing underneath their boxers. You allow them to lift their hips enough to take off the layers of useless clothing preventing you from fully accessing them. They take off their shirt next, tossing it aside with the rest of their clothing.

A shy hand still covers their mouth in a poor attempt to remain calm.

Just as they had been admiring your presence, you couldn't help but admire theirs. Everything about them was simply breathtaking to you. The scars, the tattoos, the piercings, everything that made them– them. You loved them, every inch of them, and you were ready to show them that tonight, just as they had shown to you.

You place your hands on their knees and comfortingly rub the flushed skin of their thighs, feeling the toned muscle underneath.

"Whenever you're ready." You glance up at their covered face with a lust ridden smile.

"Okay–" They let out a nervous breath.

Sloan's legs finally part and you lean in between them, placing a kiss to their dripping heat before diving in to devour them. Their heavy breaths and moans of ecstasy gave you an indication of how well you were doing so far. However, you weren't prepared for their legs to clamp down on your head to keep it steady in place.

"Ah– fuck– sorry–"

Their legs loosen their grip before you readjust them around your head just as they had been placed before. You loved the effect you were having on them, and you wanted all the experiences that came with it. Your hastened pace does not relent as you draw out more wonderful sounds from them– moans, groans, breaths, swears, you name it.

"Trying my hardest not to crush your head like a watermelon right now..."

Cracking jokes at a time like this... you expected nothing less.

Just for doing that you focus on their piercing and lightly rolled the metal against your tongue before carefully sucking on it. This earns you an exceptionally loud moan of pure bliss as they drop your name multiple times.

"Fuck– I'm close..." Their statement sounds more like a plea.

While you were more than ready to watch their release, you weren't done with them just yet. You pull away and they instantly whimper, lock their legs shut and lean farther back into the couch to catch their breath.

"So, how'd I do?" You ask honestly, grabbing their shirt to dab their sweating face for them.

"You did great!" They hug your body close, and you pat their head affectionately.

"We're not done yet." You reach for the bag by the couch. "There's only one real problem though. I don't know how to put this thing on..." You shyly admit before pulling out the strap from your shared bedroom.

They innocently laugh before taking it from you, fitting it around your waist and adjusting it so it fits nicely around your hips.

"Come up here with me so you can be comfortable."

You do as your told and sit beside them, allowing them to lay you back on the couch before placing a pillow behind your head to keep your neck from going stiff.

"You've already done plenty. Let me take it from here."

I guess you couldn't argue with that.

You watch as Sloan carefully straddles your hips and aligns themself atop the strap before lowering themself without warning. The impact causes you to audibly yelp before they lift themself up again to relieve the pressure on your lower body.

"Sorry! I'll be gentle~"

You look up at them trying their hardest to ride you as delicately as they could manage. Truly, you felt that there was no other way to describe what was happening other than utterly dreamlike– they grasp your hand and hold it tightly as they continue their needy grinding up against your strapped hips. They kept their pace nice and slow, and you watch their rhythmic motions for minutes on end.

"I love you~" You can see them begin to lose themself as their back arches from repeated hits of their G spot. "Hah~ I love you, I love you..."

You squeeze their hand tight in response. "I love you, too. Now be good, and come for me." You ask them nicely.

"Ah~ [Y/N]... you're too good to me. I'm close~ I'm so close~"

They use their free hand to support themself on the couch. Between heavy breaths you can see them grow closer and closer to their end, and you wanted to be apart of every second of it.

"I want to see it on your face." You lovingly commanded, just as they had done to you, days before.

They look you in the eyes and grin.

The grin.

It's always the grin.

They collapse on top of your body and you throw your arms around them. Their breath is heavy and warm against your rosy blushed skin, and they begin to place kisses on you anywhere they can reach.

"My turn!"

The strap around your hips gets discarded on to the floor before they scoop you up for cuddles on the opposite side of the couch. You instantly melt into their touch and nuzzle their warm skin against yours.

"You did so well! I'm so proud of you!"

They place kisses all over your face. You giggle from the shower of affection. For a moment all is quiet between the two of you, allowing yourselves to recover from your lovemaking.

"Thank you for the good time." They lightly ruffle your tangled hair.

"Anything for you." You smile up at them, watching them turn vermillion red all over again.

#🥴 #it's blizzard's fault for making them sound so eager ffs #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #venture overwatch #venture ow2 #venture x reader #venture x you #sloan cameron #sloane cameron

[femalefemur]

The Illusion of Freedom: Part One

part two

warnings: kidnapping, cannibalism, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 2.6k

A/N: This is the first part of this work, while there is no actual cannibalism in this part there are some allusions to it and there is actual cannibalism in this work overall. I have also tried to make reader as gender neutral as possible with no real defining features, so I hope they do actually come across as gender neutral.

The weather was cold, wind howling as rain poured down in heavy sheets outside, making the night seem even darker than usual. There were no stars in the sky that you could see, no shining beacon in the darkness that was slowly seeping in all around you. All you had were the torches that lined the walls of your chambers, sitting on the bed before two loud thumps on the heavy wooden door brought you to your feet. 

Two of the men you had become familiar with guided you out of your room, the skull adorning the taller one’s face no longer scaring you as it once had and the unusual hairstyle on the other becoming normal. It had been months since you had been here, months of being pampered and fawned over, months of preparing and now the night had finally arrived. Your eyes focused on the torches and candles that lined the hallways of the castle as you walked towards the ceremonial chamber. 

The castle was ancient and had stood there since civilisation had started. It had stood tall and proud since humankind had learned to carve stone to make structures, back when everyday people would still sacrifice to the Gods. It housed you now, not royalty of any kind but the castle didn’t care as it had not been built to house royalty, even if they had occasionally taken residence in it. No, it was built to house magic, forces that humans still didn’t fully understand even if they dabbled in the mystic arts. Forces that were neither good nor evil but forces that demanded rituals and sacrifices. The magic was why you had been taken from your life and brought here to your demise. 

You had been walking to the market, it was early morning and the dew was still settling on the grass as you walked past the few fields of your family’s farm. The walk to the market was a long one and you hadn’t been able to take the horse as he was needed for another errand, so there you were, walking at the crack of dawn to the market. All of this just so you could sell some milk and hopefully buy a cake from the baker as a special treat for your younger sibling’s birthday. That dream had gone down the drain when you were about halfway to town. The gentle clinking of the milk bottles in your bag had been your only companion as you’d softly hummed to yourself and kicked a small rock, wanting to see how far you could take it without losing it. You hadn’t noticed the shadows lurking in the woods that grew on the side of the road, hadn’t noticed the odd silence that came from them. There was not a single bird nor insect chirping to signal a new day, just complete and total silence emanating from the tall trees that had stood like guards beside the road since the beginning of time. It had come as a surprise at the very least when a leather gloved hand had covered your mouth and muffled any attempt of a scream. Your teeth had no effect on the large man as you managed to clamp down on his fingers while you kicked and flailed, your bag crashing onto the road and the milk bottles shattering. Your last thoughts were of how disappointed your younger sibling was going to be with no cake as you watched the milk seep through the bag and onto the dirt road.

When you awoke you had found yourself in a plush bed, the sun high in the sky and a hulking figure watching you intently from the one dark corner in your room where the sunlight did not reach. You’d stared wide eyed as the figure stepped forward, the skull on his face causing you to take a sharp breath and clutch the duvet. You were sure you had died on that road, that this was the afterlife and the reaper was here to collect. It had to be. Why else would you be in such comfort? As the figure stepped forward and you remained frozen in place, you had realised that no it was not in fact the reaper coming for your immortal soul but rather a man. A large and imposing man who stared at you with honey brown eyes that seemed to hold a reverence for you that you had never seen before in your life. His gaze had made you shudder almost uncomfortably as you stared back at the man, watching him as he approached you and placed a hand gently on top of yours, that were still gripping the duvet with enough strength to leave your knuckles aching. 

“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you” his voice was rough and deep as he spoke, like stones grinding against each other but it wasn’t unpleasant, rather the opposite. 

“Where am I?” Your tongue had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, words seemed difficult to form and you had realised that your head had a dull thumping ache to it.

“Home.” It was the only answer he had given before he’d picked up the glass of water on the bedside table and pushed it into your hands.

You had stared at the water for a moment before deciding there was no harm in drinking it. If it was drugged then at the very least you wouldn’t be awake for whatever this giant of a man had planned. Nothing happened though, the water had slid down your throat cold and calming as you’d greedily drank every last drop. A pleased smile had stretched across your captor’s face before he’d placed the glass down and hoisted you into his arms, carrying you out of the room as you’d stared in shock. 

“Where are you taking me?” it had come out a lot softer than you’d intended and you had mentally kicked yourself for sounding so weak.

“To meet the others,” he replied.

“The others?” You’d frowned in confusion as you looked at him.

The faint sound of people chattering had filled your ears the closer you’d got to the room at the end of the hall. Intrigue had filled your mind and you’d stared intently at the doors as if you were willing your ears to make the muffled words clearer and listen to the conversation that had been so raptly taking place. The man whose arms you were in had pushed the heavy door open with ease, and the chatter had immediately stopped as all eyes had fallen onto you. You’d watched as the three other men in the room stood, all of them tall, though not as tall as the man who held you in his arms, and all of them handsome, almost devastatingly so. 

“Well aren’t they bonnie?” the shortest of them had grinned as he’d approached you, his blue eyes sparkling like crystals. 

“What are you going to do to me?” you’d stared at them all and curled a little further into the man who was holding you. 

“Nothing little lamb, nothing yet” a gruff chuckle had come out of the man closest to you, a beard on his face and deep blue eyes like the ocean that sucked you in, threatening to drown you if you looked too long.

Your brow furrowed at his answer but you nodded slightly despite your confusion. You were safe, for now at least, and that was all that mattered. You could devise a way to escape in the time you had and hopefully be gone before they did whatever it was they had planned. 

You’d watched them warily for the next few days as you explored the castle looking for an escape. You’d learned their names over the meals you all shared. The man with the skull on his face was known as Ghost, the shortest was Soap, the prettiest man you had ever laid eyes on was Gaz and the man with the beard, their leader, was John. You didn’t know any of their real names besides John’s and you’d suspected that they’d prefer to keep it that way. They were mages you had also learned and they were quite powerful, this castle was their home or rather they were custodians to it for as long as they walked this earth. It was their sacred duty to care for the castle, to protect it, fight for it and feed it. In turn they were given access to knowledge beyond the average human’s comprehension, knowledge so powerful that it was kept under lock and key at the hands of those who had long since left this plane of existence. 

During your exploration you had been followed by Gaz, he was the most trusted John had assured you, waving off Soap as he stared at you with hungry eyes and an open maw. Still you had felt slight discomfort as the beautiful man followed you and pointed out the architecture or priceless works of art that seemed to move when you looked at them from the corner of your eye. His gaze was too sharp, too keen as he watched every move you made, every twitch of your fingers and every breath that expanded your lungs. You felt like prey being watched by a predator that was far too smart to let you know it had been tracking you. A predator that would rather befriend you and lure you into his gaping maw with honeyed words and gentle gazes. Rather than a predator that would corner you as you shook from terror and sink its teeth into you, as you suspect Soap would do, given the chance. 

“Do you like the castle?” Gaz had asked one afternoon as you’d climbed the spiralling stairs of one of the towers.

“It’s beautiful…yes…” you’d nodded as you’d stared out beyond the castle grounds, squinting against the sunlight only to see the vast forest that surrounded the castle.

Gaz had laughed at your baffled expression, giving you a knowing look as you both stood there and looked at each other. 

“There’s no escaping here little lamb” he’d grinned at you, teeth sharp and glinting in the sunlight for a split second before he schooled his expression.

You had just nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, staring out at the sea of trees and unfamiliar landscape. Even if you’d managed to leave the actual castle itself you’d never be able to exit the forest. It was too large, unnaturally so which made you suspect that there was magic at play in there. You would probably be found too quickly, which would be a mercy considering the other option would be to starve to death in the forest, or die from the unknown creatures that lurked in its depths. 

So you had accepted your fate, like an animal awaiting its slaughter at the hands of those who had raised it with love, fed it when it was hungry and sheltered it when it was cold. You were never told what exactly would happen to you, but from the snippets of conversations you’d overheard, you had gathered it was some kind of ritual and you were to be the sacrifice. You’d spent that day sitting in whatever sunlight you could find, desperate to soak in the warmth and hoping it would rid your mind of what you had heard. Gaz was by your side as usual as you stared up at the clouds and watched the shapes they made. Your mind drifted back to laying in the fields with your siblings and pointing at the clouds that were shaped like rabbits and cows. You had all laughed when you had spotted one shaped like the mean goose on a neighbouring farm, who would chase you if you so much as walked past their fence. Its toothed beak nipping at your heels as you ran as fast as you could to escape the tiny devil and reach your destination. 

Gaz had watched you intently as you both sat on the warm stone of the castle steps, his eyes glinting in the sunlight and making them seem like deep pools of amber that you could swim in forever. You’d stared back at him after a while of feeling his gaze on you, turning as he’d pointed out a cloud that looked like a horse. A small smile had graced your lips as you nodded and in turn pointed out one that looked like a house with a puffing chimney. That was how you had spent that afternoon, in the company of a man who was one of your captors but had also become a friend, or as close to a friend as you could have in this strange place. It had brought you some happiness and distracted you from the words you had overheard earlier. You had talked with Gaz for the rest of the afternoon as you both watched the clouds and pointed out interesting shapes to each other until the sun had finally set and you were ushered back inside, warmed from its rays. That night at dinner the others had picked up on your lightened mood. Soap had hounded you about what happened to make you change, at least until John had finally told him to leave you alone. You and Gaz had exchanged a look before laughing, all while Soap had looked between the two of you curiously.

The following days passed much the same, spending it with Gaz as you two talked, he’d ask about your family and you’d share all the details of your upbringing. In turn you had asked about his family but all you had gotten was a shrug and a wave of his hand as he told you that mages rarely ever knew their families, if they even had one to begin with. His words had piqued your curiosity but you’d decided not to push the man as you saw the glint of darkness behind his eyes as he had talked. Eventually Soap and Ghost joined you and Gaz, Ghost holding back Soap any time he got too close or pressed you too much for details of your life. 

You had settled into a semblance of a routine, you would wake up, make yourself presentable, adorning yourself in the fine silks and hand embroidered garments that lined your closet, have breakfast and then spend your day with the three men who now seemed to be permanently glued to your side. Most days you would have a picnic on the grounds with the other three, a plush blanket laid out under the giant oak tree and enough food to feed an army. You would laze in the warm air and watch the sunlight dance on the blanket as it filtered through the leaves of the tree. The three of you would often spend far longer than just lunch sitting on the blanket, either talking or in more recent days, the men would read you stories of far away lands and battles of old. This would last until you all decided it was time for an afternoon nap, a decision that was never discussed but rather occurred naturally as you each slowly fell asleep together on the blanket, huddled against each other in a snug pile. On days when you all had too much energy you would chase each other, running through the garden and the intricate maze as you all laughed and pushed against each other. This would last until the sun had set and you were forced to go inside. Blanket in hand as you all cleaned up before dinner, one of two meals where you would actually see and converse with John. After dinner you would retire to your chambers and the others would follow John to who knows where. You suspected they’d gone to hone their craft and read from texts that were transcribed in now long dead languages, to gain knowledge from those beyond the veil.

#cannibalism #tw cannibalism #reader fic #task force 141 #taskforce 141 #cod #x reader #141 x reader #reader insert #reader insert fic #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #gaz #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 14 Chapter 14 | secret syllabus⌟

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The day had bled into another, the memory of your encounter with Todoroki a distant thought as you focused on the familiar routine of navigating the bustling halls of U.A. Lunch beckoned, and you clutched the brown paper bag of goodness—courtesy of a grumbled-but-appreciated offering from Bakugo—closer to your chest.

Just as you were about to turn the corner leading to the cafeteria, a deep, gravelly voice boomed from behind. "Akuma-san, a word please."

You whirled around, spotting Blood Vlad, his imposing figure filling the doorway, holding something to the side of him. A flicker of surprise danced across your features before settling into a mask of polite neutrality. "Kan-sensei," you greeted with a respectful nod.

"There's been a slight change in your schedule," he began, his crimson eyes studying you with an intensity that could make lesser students squirm. "Principal Nezu, with the unanimous support of the faculty, has extended an invitation for you to join Class 1-A at U.S.J. today."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Unforeseen Simulation Joint arc you'd devoured in textbooks? You couldn't help but be curious. "U.S.J.?" you echoed, allowing a touch of confusion to lace your voice.

Blood Vlad grunted in response. "Given your exceptional performance during class activities and your consistent lead over your peers, it's been deemed beneficial for you to observe Class 1-A during their training exercise. Consider it a... crash course in advanced hero work."

A slow smile spread across your face. Observing Class 1-A, the cream of the crop students at U.A.? This wasn't just an observation session; it was a golden opportunity to glean valuable intel on their strengths, weaknesses, and, most importantly, their Quirks.

Information you could then use to your advantage—to elevate your position within U.A.

"I understand, Kan-sensei. Thank you for informing me."

Blood Vlad gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He lifted up the object he held—it was a sleek black suitcase. "Here," he rumbled, tossing the suitcase towards you with surprising agility. "Your hero costume. Get changed and report to the class. There, someone from 1-A should take you to the others, where Aizawa-sensei will brief you further."

You caught the suitcase effortlessly, the weight reassuring in your hand. "Understood," you responded, a single, clipped word that held a promise of silent understanding.

With a final, assessing glance, Blood Vlad turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone with the weight of unexpected opportunity and the promise of a thrilling afternoon at U.S.J.

You tucked the hero costume case under your arm and decided to swing back by the classroom to drop off your uneaten lunch before heading to change. As you approached the classroom door, the murmur of hushed conversation filtered through the thin barrier.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by the sight of nine of your classmates, a mix of familiar and less familiar faces, clustered around your usual desk.

Monoma shot up like a rocket the second his eyes landed on you. His wide, cheesy grin could rival All Might's in its enthusiasm. "President!" he crowed, his voice cutting through the hushed conversations.

The other eight turned towards you, their surprise mirroring Monoma's initial reaction. Tetsutetsu, gave a hearty laugh. "Akuma-san! Is everything fine from your... um... feminine emergencies? You nearly missed lunch! Good thing we waited for you," he boomed, his voice lacking any real malice.

"I appreciate you all's generosity, Tetsu-kun," you replied smoothly, keeping your voice vague as you internally tsked.

You knew someone—or rather, several someones—would be lingering for you despite dipping out of class ten minutes prior with the well-worn excuse of feminine issues. You just hadn't expected quite so many, or for them to be so persistent and actually wait for your return.

Monoma, ever the pest, was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, his persistent grin plastered on his face. "Whoa, what's that?" he blurted out, pointing an accusing finger at the hero costume case you held.

Tetsu's earlier question about your extended restroom break was clearly forgotten.

Kendo, your fiery-haired vice president, shot him a withering look. "Monoma, manners," she hissed under her breath, teal eyes blazing in irritation.

You, however, didn't mind the interruption. This was a perfect opportunity to further cultivate your air of mystery. A slight smile played on your lips as you lifted the case a few inches, the sleek black surface catching the light. "It's my hero outfit," you replied nonchalantly. 

The moment the case left your side, the classroom erupted in a flurry of excited chatter. Tsuburaba whistled appreciatively. "Whoa, looks intense, Akuma-san! What'd you get, a jetpack with it or something?"

A chorus of questions and comments filled the air. "How'd you get it so soon?" chirped Tsunotori, the girl with tall, pale tan horns, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Maybe it's super cute!" squealed Tokage, the dark, moss-green-haired student, bouncing on her toes.

Monoma scoffed. "Nah, definitely not cute. Probably something hot, right? Like a high-tech bodysuit that hugs and enhances her bo—"

Kendo, clearly exasperated, reached over and smacked Monoma on the back of the neck with a resounding thwack. "Monoma! Manners!" she hissed through gritted teeth once again.

Monoma yelped, rubbing his sore neck with a pout. "Jeez, Kendo, what was that for?"

Ignoring him completely, Kendo bowed towards you in apology. "I'm terribly sorry about Monoma, Akuma-san. He can be a bit too much sometimes."

You raised a hand, silencing the classroom with a single gesture. A satisfied smirk played on your lips as the chatter died down instantly. You liked it; they obeyed your command without you even needing to resort to your 'Quirk'. It spoke volumes about the hierarchy you'd established in Class 1-B.

"Thank you, Kendo-san," you replied politely, acknowledging her apology. "It's quite alright. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a hero costume to change into." You gave a curt nod and turned towards the door, a thrill coursing through you.

This unexpected invitation to U.S.J. was shaping up to be far more interesting than you could have ever anticipated.

With a quick stride, you made your way to the nearest restroom, eager to slip into your hero costume. Inside a private stall, you carefully removed your school uniform, anticipation building with each rustle of fabric.

Unzipping the sleek black case, you revealed your hero costume in all its glory. Quickly donning it, you stood back to a moment to admire your outfit in the mirror.

Your blouse, a pale aqua, was crisp and neatly buttoned, giving you a professional yet relaxed vibe. The black tie knotted firmly around your collar added a touch of seriousness to your look. Over your blouse, a fitted black blazer hugged your form, its sharp lines mirroring your newfound determination.

You'd paired this with classic black trousers, which complemented your frame with a comfortable, tailored fit. The pants ended just above brown leather shoes, polished to a high shine.

With your hands casually tucked into your pockets, you exuded a confident, ready-for-business air, softened by the whimsical hint of the forest green backdrop that adorned the inside of the blazer. It wasn't camouflage, exactly, but rather a subtle artistic flourish that hinted at a hidden power lurking beneath the surface.

Satisfied, you exited the restroom, ready to rejoin your classmates. As you walked back into your classroom, the murmurs started again. This time, however, they weren't filled with questions about your absence, but with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

A blur of movement zipped towards you. It was Fukidashi, the boy with the comic book head, bouncing excitedly. With a burst of energy, his head transformed into a flashing white speech bubble that read "Whoop! Whoop!" in bold letters, accompanied by a pair of clapping hands.

Behind Fukidashi shuffled Komori, a short girl with honey-brown hair curved inwards in a mushroom-shaped bob. Her usual shy demeanor was amplified by the situation, her cheeks dusted a soft pink.

She nervously twirled an end of her bob as she approached you, her voice barely a whisper. "A-Akuma-san," she stammered, "it... it looks really good on you. Very well-suited." She couldn't quite meet your gaze, quickly rushing off to hide behind Tetsutetsu, her face burning red.

Monoma attempted to maintain his usual bravado, his gaze, however, lingered a beat too long on your figure, a faint blush creeping up his neck despite his crossed arms. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "Alright, alright," he scoffed, "So you got your hero costume early. Big deal. Why'd they give it to you anyway?"

You tilted your head slightly, casting a playful glance up at him through your lashes. A slow, teasing smile played on your plump lips as they stretched into a half-smirk. "Do you really want to know, Monoma-kun?~" you purred, your voice dripping with a deliberate sweetness.

The effect was instantaneous. Monoma's blush deepened several shades, and a flustered look crossed his face. It wasn't just him; several other classmates found themselves inexplicably flustered by your sudden display of playful charm. You couldn't help but internally smirk.

With a playful lilt in your voice, you replied, "Well, let's just say I wanted something practical. Something that wouldn't attract undue attention while working undercover amongst civilians."

This, of course, was a carefully constructed lie.

The truth was, the familiar lines of the suit were a subtle comfort, a reminder of your past life at Public Safety. But that was a secret you found no use in revealing.

"Now, as for the gadgets and upgrades," you gestured towards the subtle metallic accents lining the blazer, "there's extreme heat resistance for those sonic-based Quirks, and..." you trailed off dramatically, allowing a hint of mystery to linger. "Let's just say there are a few other surprises built in. Let's keep them under wraps for now, shall we?" The implication of hidden power was clear, and your classmates leaned in, captivated.

Tetsutestu let out a whistle, rushing over with eyes sparkling. "Whoa, that's sounds so manly, Akuma-san! Always gotta be prepared!"

Even Monoma, despite his embarrassment, managed to grumble a begrudging compliment, "I guess, you do look good. Not that I care or anything..." A faint blush still lingered on his cheeks, betraying his attempt at indifference.

The rest of the class chimed in, showering you with compliments on both the practicality and sleek design of your costume.

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the door startled everyone into silence.

The door creaked open to reveal a young man standing impeccably in the doorway. He was relatively tall and muscular, with a wide frame and short dark blue hair neatly flattened and parted on the right. His most striking features, however, were his calves.

Incredibly thick and shaped like automobile engines, six silver exhaust pipes protruded from each leg in columns of three. This, you knew from Bakugo, was the Quirk 'Engine' that granted him incredible speed and kicking power. 

"Excuse me," the young man began, his voice polite and formal. "My name is Iida, and I'm here from 1-A to escort an 'Akuma Y/N' to the U.S.J. meet-up-point. The bus is preparing to leave shortly."

An awkward silence filled the room. Your classmates exchanged glances, unsure how to react to the sudden arrival of a student from the prestigious Class 1-A.

Monoma, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, took a step closer to you, his usual sneer plastered on his face. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. A fancy 1-A student here grace us with his presence. Think you can just waltz in here and snatch our precious president away, huh?"

You cut him off before he could unleash another tirade. A gentle giggle escaped your lips, the sound light and carefree. "Monoma-kun," you said, your voice laced with a hint of playful reprimand, "that's no way to treat a guest, especially a hero-to-be like Iida-kun." 

Mentally, you silently applauded Iida for his stoicism. Despite the tense atmosphere and Monoma's childish behavior, he remained calm and collected, a true mark of a leader.

Kendo, sensing the potential for escalation, wasted no time in delivering her own brand of justice. With a swift movement, she karate-chopped Monoma in the back of the neck. The blow, though not malicious, was more effective than the last two. Monoma yelped and crumpled to the floor, instantly silenced.

"Monoma deserved that," Kendo muttered under her breath, sending a reassuring smile your way. "Please excuse him once again, Akuma-san."

You waved her off. "No worries at all, Kendo-san. It seems we all have a bit of fire in us, wouldn't you agree?" With a final flourish, you rose to your feet, smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles of your blazer. Turning to your gathered classmates, you gave a small bow. "I'll be back shortly, everyone. Until then, keep up the excellent work."

Your gaze then settled on Kendo, your fiery-haired vice president. You placed a soft smile onto your lips as you met her eyes, tilting your head in a gesture of quiet confidence. Walking forward, you reached out and gently grasped both of her hands between yours. Your touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cool exterior you often presented.

"Kendo-san," you began, your voice dropping to a low murmur, "I'm counting on you to keep everyone in line while I'm gone. You're the voice of reason here, and I know they'll listen to you." A playful glint entered your eyes. "Especially Monoma-kun. See if you can keep him from causing too much trouble."

Kendo's eyes widened momentarily, a harsh blush creeping up her cheeks. You couldn't help but find her flustered expression humorous.

Once again, here was someone reduced to a blushing mess by you from merely a simple touch and a few honeyed words.

"O-of course, Akuma-san," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I, uh... I won't let you down." Her long orange hair, usually tied back in a high ponytail, seemed to frizz slightly at the ends, betraying her underlying anxiety.

"I know you won't." Turning your attention back to Iida, you offered a polite smile. "Thank you for coming to fetch me, Iida-kun. I'm ready to go whenever you are."

As you began walking side-by-side with Iida, a memory flickered in the back of your mind. You recalled seeing him a few times around U.A., his distinctive blue hair and engine calves making him hard to miss, especially since he'd always hung Midoriya and some rosy-cheeked girl.

Filing that information away for later, you decided it would be beneficial to have a rule-follower like Iida on your good side. With a casual smile, you turned to him. "By the way, Iida-kun," you began casually, offering your hand for a shake, "allow me to formally introduce myself. Akuma Y/N, Class 1-B president, at your service."

Iida seemed momentarily surprised. Perhaps he'd expected you to maintain the same aloof demeanor your other classmates had displayed earlier. But as you offered your hand and a friendly smile, you could visibly see his demeanor relax a bit.

A hint of blush crept up his cheeks as he let out a short, embarrassed chuckle. "Ah, well, yes," he stammered, taking your hand with a light shake. "Of course I know who you are. Midoriya and, well, Bakugo-kun, have mentioned you a few times. It's a pleasure to properly meet you, Akuma-san. Iida Tenya, Class 1-A president, at your service as well."

You chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Also, please forgive the... enthusiasm of my classmates earlier. They tend to get a little carried away, especially when it comes to showing off Class B's best." You flashed him a wry smile. "Being class president isn't always sunshine and rainbows, is it?"

The dam broke. Iida, a wellspring of pent-up frustration finally unleashed, launched into a tirade about the struggles of student leadership. He spoke of overzealous classmates, mountains of hero-work on top of general education, and the constant pressure to maintain perfection.

You listened patiently, interjecting with understanding nods and sympathetic sighs. It wasn't hard to play the part of the eager listener, and Iida, starved for an outlet, poured out his woes.

As the conversation flowed, your eyes subtly began to glow a soft yellow. A faint, almost imperceptible sheen flickered over his eyes behind the glasses. He was under your subtle influence.

With this control in mind, you skillfully shifted the conversation. "Speaking of pressure," you began, your voice laced with feigned curiosity, "I can only imagine the expectations placed on Class 1-A. All those top heroes coming out of your class..." You trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Iida, caught in your gentle manipulation, readily took the bait. His frustration momentarily forgotten, he puffed out his chest slightly, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "Yes, well, the pressure is immense," he declared, his voice taking on a more animated tone. "We have to constantly strive for excellence, to uphold the legacy of our predecessors. It's not for the faint of heart, that's for sure."

You leaned in slightly, feigning intense interest. "Tell me more," you urged, your voice barely a whisper. "What are some of the challenges you face? The unspoken expectations? Perhaps some of the Quirks your classmates possess..." You planted the seed of information-sharing subtly, watering it with your carefully constructed persona.

Iida, basking in your newfound attentiveness, readily complied. He launched into a detailed explanation of Class 1-A's rigorous training regimen, the immense pressure to succeed, and even dropped a few names of his classmates and their Quirks; his info a little more detailed than Bakugo's recount from the first day a couple of weeks ago.

You absorbed this information eagerly, filing it away for future use.

Just as you both rounded the corner to the bus, the yellow glow in your eyes faded away. With an innocent smile, you ended the connection, confident that you'd gleaned all you needed for now.

Pushing your control too hard could backfire; a dazed and confused Iida would be a red flag in a school crawling with heroes. No, subtlety was key.

You had taken the first bite out of the apple of Class 1-A's secrets, and you were hungry for more.

***usj arc slowly approaching...

#‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-knownoevil ml #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #knownoevil #yanderes #quirks #superheros #villains #league of villains #bnha quirks #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #class 1a #class 1b #makima chainsaw man #makima csm #makima reader #evil #control devil #isekai #isekai'd reader #reader is evil #reader x character #reader insert #mha x you #kirishima x reader #bnha various x reader #bnha yandere #evil series

[kai-teaa]

i just saw a zosan meme/art and i think it made me realize that i dont actually like zosan,,,,,

#like it was never an 'omg otp♡♡' type of ship for me #and i thought i was just neutral towards it #but that meme was the final nail in the coffin of a bunch of questioning ive been doing lately #ive been doing a lot of blocking zosan artists on twt lately bc they just kept getting more annoying #even tho nothing has changed in the community rly so i was like hmmmm maybe i dont like zosan....

[shirogane-oushirou]

[cw mentions of ableism. talking / venting about the sharing vs non-sharing shit (i do not lean towards supporting one "side" over the other); starts out relatively neutral-toned but i start to sound frustrated part way through. i also have a more personal ramble at the very end that has a separate cw list. it's also long... don't feel obligated to read. i just needed to say things and be Done with it.]

man. i'm ready for all of the sharing vs non-sharing back and forths to stop.

to be clear: this isn't some "i'm above this argument" thing. on the contrary; i completely see where both "sides" are coming from! i simply mean it shouldn't be so difficult for a select few shit-stirrers to Get that selfshipping is a personal thing, and we should be able to ship in whatever way makes us most comfortable.

if someone is non-sharing, they should be allowed to create those boundaries without being harassed or called "immature" or "delusional" by sharing people. beyond how supremely ableist that is, nobody has the right to say they can't view their f/os in a certain way, no matter if other people don't understand those feelings.

if someone is sharing, they should be allowed to share their feelings for a character openly with other sharing people without being sent hate from non-sharing people who think they're "loose" or who want to be their f/o's "one and only". shaming people for being open to sharing is fucked from multiple "sexual / romantic purity" and "anti poly-[sexual / romantic / platonic] relationships" angles, and nobody has the right to claim sole and total ownership over a character they did not make.

and yet, every couple of weeks, we get posts from a vocal minority making a huge fuss over "the other side", when it's just a vocal minority FROM that other side ALSO making a fuss. and then those vague posts leave their intended orbit and cause more mis-worded posts and misunderstandings and off-the-cuff bigoted statements, and the cycle starts again.

we should theoretically be able to respect each other while focusing that energy on, oh i dunno, chasing harassers out of the community? getting selfshippers who aren't part of a specific marginalized group to help selfshippers from that group when they're harassed, maybe?? especially when the sharing vs non-sharing Thing very often coincides with bigotry; people who are harassing others tend to not just stop at being petty or mean, they make it personal.

and -- not as important but a nice little bonus -- i would think that working towards a community that's more safe for everyone in it would also "coincidentally" (/s) get rid of the shit-stirrers, whether because they were kicked out or because they realized what they were doing and grew as people.

---

[cw ableism, vague death ideation, non-physical self harm mention]

i was originally gonna put this bit in the tags, but i think i should put it under the cut bc it's a little personal + it got too long.

also, i try to stay in my lane and not discuss details about delusions or how to approach them -- i've only experienced them a couple of times, so i'm not going to claim to know much about them -- so if i've overstepped, PLEASE let me know and i'll edit or remove anything i've misspoken about.

but coming from someone who went too deep into selfshipping in the past and worries about the mental health of people who do: It's None Of Your Business!!

delusions aren't morally "bad" or "wrong". holding deep feelings abt a character isn't inherently delusion-based and also isn't morally "bad" or "wrong". and neither of those is the same as -- speaking from experience (above content warnings come into play here) -- being obsessed with a character to the point that you self-isolate and emotionally self harm because you wish so badly that the character was real and you believe there isn't a point to life if you'll never meet that character... and this is also not inherently delusion-based and ALSO not morally "bad" or "wrong".

these separate things -- delusions, deep feelings, and unhealthy obsession -- CAN intersect but just as often don't. none are immoral, and all are deserving of being approached with compassion and respect, in whatever way is most appropriate.

negative, harmful ACTIONS that some people take in these states are worth bringing up to them when it's safe to do so, depending on the details of their situation, but the states themselves don't have any moral weight. ie, if someone's harassing others for sharing their f/o because they're in a dark, obsessive place, that is a morally negative ACTION, not a morally negative mental state. they need to take responsibility for harm they've CAUSED, not for what they're experiencing internally.

but if you're calling people "immature" or "delusional" as an insult, something tells me you're not really considering that! whether through malice or just a lack of compassion, you don't see worth in how another person approaches this community.

you aren't better for thinking of a character a certain way, and neither is the person you're being ableist towards. if no harm is being done to you or others, you're just being a dick for the sake of being a dick. listen to other people, learn, and do better.

if you think someone is genuinely in a bad mental place because of selfshipping (wrt isolating and self harm), approach them as another human being. meet them where they're at. don't patronize them, don't call them "delusional", treat them like someone who has their own thoughts and values.

they may want help, or they may not, and you have to respect them for their choice no matter what YOU think is right. there is no truly right way to approach someone who's in a dark place, but you can at least avoid saying things that FOR SURE will make them feel talked down to, belittled, or shamed. if they aren't ready now, maybe they will be ready for help in the future, and shutting them down will make them less likely to seek that help.

(i was also going to put THIS in the tags but i should probably put it here: when i say 'learn and change' i mean it as a positive. people have the capacity to learn and grow and become better; if you've said something in all of this that can be read as harmful... consider why it's harmful and why you said it.

you aren't the same person you were a year ago. 5yrs ago. 10yrs ago. you have grown and you will continue to grow. but if you can be more aware of it and grow more purposefully and consciously? all the better.)

#i'm worried this doesn't come across well in my writing bc the second half is very personal #but i am wholly neutral towards sharers and non-sharers. the last bit is just because my personal struggle #is based in specific things said by specific people. in this recent round of Bullshit i've only seen these comments coming #from one 'side' but i can also imagine people from either 'side' saying it for a multitude of reasons. so. this is for them too. #ALSO as a forewarning so nobody can claim otherwise: i'm not going to block anyone who interacts w this in earnest... #but i have a quick block reflex for anyone who's clearly just being a dick. 👍🏻 #📌 [ my posts. ] #💭 [ my thoughts. ] #ableism - #death ideation - #self harm - #<- the last two are only at the very bottom in a section with separate content warnings. #vent -

[pespillo]

the problem of wittebane fans is that much like philip did they focus on every action of philip´s childhood and young adulthood and forget the elephant in the room of a gap of 400 years of things he personally pushed upon almost, everyone, around him ,grimwalker demon and collector alike , like sometimes grief is utterly unsatisfying and leaves you without closure and everyone gets literally sick of you and then they stomp you to death because youre still wondering if theres a human out there whos gonna pity your ass , and then theres nobody. the world isnt gonna stop for you.

#also . sorry but a bias towards white tragedy is literally inevitable. it is ingrained in everyone to have a pang of pity at people like hi #him* #because hes fascinating and so many ppl see traits of themselves in him. perfectionist and overachieving #but youre missing out on literally everyone elses stories n how. similar they are to his in the first place #and you just dont talk abt it because you thought the wittebanes were going to be The Big Deal #but they werent what they chalked up to be. they leave you with some sort of taste in your mouth. like you been wronged #but you werent really. you really werent . you can project many messed up traumas n complexes on everyone else #youre just kind of scared of doing so because they are supposed to be the Better Guys #but they are as tragic. messy. strange and complicated. #edit: unrebloggable because im too paranoid i already had ppl jumping on me for neutral responses

[arikad0]

I will never shut up about Cloud and Tifa's relationship in FF7R btw. like I'm not gonna lie they are probably one of the most well written and developed fictional couples I have ever seen. they just feel like a couple you would find in real life. it's insane how good of a job FF7R is doing with them

#again i thought they were cute in the og but i was overall pretty neutral towards them #mostly because most of their development came in the second half of the og game #but they've been getting a crazy amount of development in ff7r and i just. AGH. they're so sweet together

[leaf-in-a-flower-garden]

It's a crime that there aren't any angst fics about how Daleth's mask shattered. Like, they've been depicted having a shattered mask before the Eden Explosion so clearly something happened before that.

But here's the thing, the only Ancestors in Sky that have any kind of broken mask are either in/were in a literal War or in a post apocalyptic scenario. SO, HOW, WHEN, WHY AND HOW AGAIN DId Daleth's mask shatter, not just chip off or something, that s**t be shattered! I wanna see people write about the absolute PTSD this dude has, cause they do! Who wouldn't have PTSD after what Any of the Elders have been through???

#anyways #sorry for he rants #just wish Daleth got more thought put towards them by the fandom #cause it would be so cool #and sad lol #i do alreafy have a hc on how and why it happened but i wanna hear other people's thoughts #sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky: cotl #skyblr #sky elders #daleth #isle elder #sky theory #anyway #reblog or just say your theories under rhis please #im begging you #lol #masculine terms in gender neutral context

[theshadowrealmitself]

Was thinking about how one of the reasons why Humans would be so unsettled by Vulcans claiming they don’t have emotions (because I’m constantly trying to make the fact that Vulcan and Earth aren’t best friends which they fucking should be make sense in my head) is because one of the reasons why a Human wouldn’t feel emotions is because of depression, they’d just feel that numbness at times

And that really gave me pause, because I think about that a lot, but a new thought came from it, what would,,, how would.. what does.,.. what the fuck does depression feel like for a Vulcan

Like if there are Vulcans full on purging their emotions then it makes sense to assume that that wouldn’t want to make them kill themselves, so that’s probably not what depression feels like for them, so what does it feel like??

#suicide mention tw #although the topic is mainly on depression #swear I’m not thinking bad thoughts #this actually came to be because I was thinking of a made up job in my head #cause you know how like Jim is usually getting in trouble with admirals but some of them seem to have it out for him? #I was thinking about a situation happening where Jim’s captaincy is in trouble because of accusations from one of the admirals #I have that one specific a hole in my head can’t remember his name #so they bring in an independent neutral third party to investigate it #and it’s a human who does a fantastic fucking job at keeping their own emotions out of it and having no bias towards the situation #I guess you could say they’re a detective but it doesn’t quite fit what I’m thinking #sort of a mix of lawyer and detective I guess but they’re not on anyone’s side their job is to just get as much facts as they can #and present them #videos chats etc #they interview everyone #have them take quizzes #just scrounge up as many details as possible #anyways #thinking about them and everyone being shocked at how neutral they are #even the Vulcans are impressed #and I was thinking about the Vulcans trying to talk to them after someone loses control of their emotions thinking the human is going to #agree with them #but they don’t #yes they seem emotionless but it’s because they’re at their job and people rely on them being factual #they would never wish to actually have no emotion #anyways that eventually led to this post #Star Trek #humans #Vulcans #also yeah I’m also constantly trying to figure out why Vulcans and humans wouldn’t be besties

[rosecreates]

Raven and Astarion are basically just "Charlatan to Charlatan communication" without either realizing it because neither of them are very open about their pasts at first and in the scenario where Astarion enacts his simple plan on Raven he has no idea he is breaking Rule 0: Don't try to con another conman (or conwoman in this case).

Raven knows exactly what he's doing but she just doesn't tell him she knows until later because the game is fun.

Both of them thought this would stay a game but then they both catch feelings lmao. Absolute losers (affectionate).

#{oc ramblings} #{oc: raven} #ive been thinking more about raven with astarion because like i have major astarion brainrot ofc but like #they're real similar in several ways and i initially thought that would be their downfall as a couple but like whilst it still could be #they both are very capable of immense character development that can have it not end badly #raven already has all kinds of seeds for becoming better and i can imagine astarion would like...not intentionally push her toward that but #see he would encourage her to continue being her chaotic neutral self but i dont think he'd stay silent when he realizes shes being abused #like she keeps her past close to her chest and constantly is like 'oh drow society is just like this its fine' but everyone around her def- #is like '...you know that doesnt mean its ok you got treated the way you were treated right???' #raven wasnt sexually abused like astarion. but she did have to claw her way from the bottom to where she is. she knows extremely well she- #got lucky. and shes continued getting lucky. she's had several attempts on her life and she knows her fate is in her adoptive mom's hands #her adoptive mom could throw her out at any time. kill her even. she acts arrogant and full of herself but she knows the fragile- #foundation she stands on as part of house mizzrym. she already has dealt with lots of judgement from others. jealousy from others #her position is unstable and its also why shes real desperate to cling onto it because if she fucks up she's screwed no matter how talented #she may be. and that sort of thing isnt good for her. the constant worry about losing everything she has if she screws up. #she worked her butt off and still works her butt off to stay where she is but it can all not matter if her adoptive mother decides she's- #not worth shit anymore. even if she's killed countless of her adoptive siblings. even if she passed a test of lolth. #though she's also probably looking for a more stable position in drow society which i think her companion quest will feature her- #being offered the chance for a more stable position. im not sure what position. i originally considered the chosen of lolth but eh #maybe lolth tasked her with murdering her adoptive mother (akordia is her name) to overtake her position? #akordia possibly being the like right-hand woman of the current matron mother (her sister). i dunno. #god i wish drow lore was more centralized NBJFGNKBGF #maybe i'll rewrite the position that raven is in again to make it where she just serves house mizzrym #just. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[davidtennantpussytulpa]

being chubby means there are wars going on in my mind every single day with millions of soldiers dying

#the fact it makes me feel like i am immediately eliminated as someone to be romantically or sexually interested in for most of the world #and like. if its true that someone wouldnt like me for my weight then i wouldnt want them either but like. oh god. oh my fucking god #i do want to lose some weight just bc i have a lot of clothes i got recently that i like that i want to fit into again #and its not even much that i would need to lose. but even the thought of moving towards being skinny is terrifying i would never want to do #that. like the thought that someone could like me as a skinny person and think i was ugly if they had met me a year earlier and i wouldnt #even know is HORRIFYING. #its like. ive moved past the outward fatphobia of our world a lot. i dont really care about how my body looks im pretty neutral about it for #the most part and im happy that ive gotten to thaf point #but the fact that the way i look is a MAJOR part of how other people interact with me is so scary. and makes me so sad #just like jo march. it doesnt really matter how much work youve done on becoming someone strong and smart and secure and having people you #love platonically. at a certain point having no romantic love makes you feel lonely #and a little worthless. like oh someone has to know me really well before ever being interested in me as more than a friend nice to know i #inspire no feelings of attraction in the people i am interested in because of the body i inhabit. awesome 👍🏻 #ugh. its whatever. its just a lot of contradictory shit i think about a lot and hate thinking about so much