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beetlejuicyy · 15 days

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Eraser | Ryomen Sukuna x reader

2. Wash Away

Summary: modern!Sukuna hasn't come to terms with the fact that you might not belong to him anymore (featuring a harmless Nanami cameo)

Warnings: gaslighting, toxicity, mentions of cheating

Word count: 2,789

Series masterlist: 1. Ultimatum 2. Wash Away 3. Only memories

Read on AO3

Notes: here's part two!! thank you for the love you showed for the first part, it means a lot. hope you enjoy

General Masterlist | Divider @rookthornesartistry

You checked your phone for the tenth time in the span of a minute. It had become unbearable to witness yourself desperately checking to see if Sukuna wrote you. Sure, you had ignored all his attempts to get in touch in the past few weeks. It didn't mean that you didn't enjoy knowing that he took his time to pester you with messages or take a break while driving between blackmailing some CEO for money and checking the status of the new cargo to call you five times in a row. Sukuna was persistent, if anything, and, as annoying as he was in his conviction that you still belonged to him, you found it incredibly satisfying to see him chasing after you.

However, since yesterday, the messages stopped pouring, your phone has gone silent, and your thoughts had turned your head into a mess. Did he give up on you already? Isn't that what you wished for, though?

"Thank you again for agreeing to meet." You said as the tall blond man came back to the table with your coffee. You argued that it was you who took him out so you would pay. Nonsense, he quickly dismissed you and remembered your usual order like it was yesterday.

"No need to thank me." He respectfully said, sitting down in front of you.

It was pouring outside, a quick summer storm that cooled off the heat of the previous days. It had started raining just after you met at the small café in your neighborhood.

You've known Nanami Kento since college. You graduated one year apart but you were part of the same friend group that ultimately didn't survive after graduation. However, you ended up working at the same company, until he resigned more than a year ago.

"How have you been?" He asked, taking a sip of his black, unsweetened coffee. Polite, as always, showing enough interest in your life while generally minding his own business, Nanami was the only coworker you ever really got along with.

"Fine, fine." Both of your hands were wrapped around the cold glass full of iced coffee. "Work is shit, like always." He nodded slightly, showing you that you had his full attention. "Actually this is why I wanted to talk to you."

Adjusting to life without Sukuna was hard. You've grown so used to his presence in your life that you stopped noticing how much of a difference he made. He would be in front of your house, one hour after you turned off your work laptop, to pick you up and go for dinner. On days when you worked from the office you would meet for lunch, occasionally, or he would drop by with takeout. On weekends you would go on longer rides by car or sometimes you would hop on the back of his motorbike and go to the seaside. He was filling most of your time and, after that dreadful night, you suddenly realized you had no idea how to exist on your own.

So you buried yourself in work.

Sukuna always hated it when you worked overtime. But now that no one was texting you to be ready, entertain you with riddles about the dress code and your new destination, you found it easier to spend half an hour more fixing some issues at work. Soon it turned into full hours. In two weeks, you ended up realizing that you hated your workplace. You hardly got along with any coworker, the tasks were piling by the hour, the pay started to seem too little for the effort you were putting in. In reality, nothing had changed. Only your perception, since you had no way to blow off steam anymore. Things were easier to tolerate when you knew that you would see your boyfriend.

"I want to quit. I can't stand it anymore." Your fingers were cold and wet because of the glass. "I know you work at the institute now. If there's any vacant position sometime, could you let me know?"

You felt bad for turning to Nanami, honestly to anyone, asking for things. However, you felt the desperate need for a change in your life. Or maybe you tried to cope with the lack of Sukuna's presence in your life by changing it completely.

"I mean, we have similar background, we graduated the same program."

You felt anxious asking for a favor, especially since you haven't seen him since he resigned and only kept in touch through few messages. So you started talking too much, justifying yourself, trying to get rid of the little voice inside your head that was saying you're a burden.

"I don't even want a recommendation or something, the thing is that I know these posts aren't usually public and someone with connections ends up getting it before the normal person can apply.” The more you tried to explain yourself, the guiltier you felt. Nanami, on the other hand, patiently waited for you to finish, not interrupting or dismissing your worries.

"Of course I'll help, y/n." He said as he leaned back in his chair.

"Thank you. And sorry."

"No need. We're friends." You smiled gratefully. You could always count on Nanami.

You continued to catch up with him while munching on some pastries. You almost forgot to check your phone as often. It felt nice to talk to one of your old friends, especially since you had locked yourself inside your room for the past two weeks. At some point, over the muffled voices of people and the generic song playing in the café you heard the sound of a motorbike engine hurring on the street. You mentally cursed at your heart for beating faster, immediately associating the sound with the image of your ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah, so apparently they have been hooking up the whole time and everyone found out during the team building. It's only rumors I've heard since I didn't go." You were telling Nanami the latest gossip about some coworkers when you noticed he wasn't paying attention to your story. His eyes were focused somewhere behind you. He muttered a quick excuse for ignoring you and you turned your head to see what he was looking at.

Goddamn it.

Sukuna was piercing you with his gaze as he walked in the small café, having girls follow his tall figure with their eyes as he passed by them with determined steps. His pink hair was a mess because of the helmet he just took off and he ran a hand through his longer strands to put them back in place. You rolled your eyes when you met his gaze, clearly annoyed by what was about to happen. Somehow, coming to a small neighborhood café just to make a scene while looking unbearably attractive was easier than saying ‘I'm sorry’.

Sukuna hated when you rolled your eyes at him. Coincidentally, he found it very arousing. Being a brat was one of your specialties but it seemed that now you were testing his limits a little too much. You turned back to Nanami in an attempt to reassure him you could handle this on your own but Sukuna was already by your table before you could finish your sentence.

"You've proved your point. Let's go home." He said, looking down at you. He had his hands in his leather jacket's pockets, exuding a very laid back attitude, reinforced by the calmness of his voice. He was talking to you as if you were a toddler.

The fluttering feeling in your stomach at the sight of his handsome face, which you hadn't seen in over two weeks, was crushed by the curious and longing eyes of every girl in that damned café scanning your ex from head to toe. The mix of anger and disgust you first felt when you first saw that dreadful video had come back to every fiber of your body and you clenched your fist so tight that your nails were digging stinging holes in your palm.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Your voice almost screeched while trying to contain your vexation.

"Y/n, I'm not playing this game anymore." He said as his large hand found the nape of your bared neck, your hair up in a high ponytail. The touch of his fingers on your skin sent bolts of excitement in your whole body, straight between your legs, and you had to rub your thighs together on the chair to brush the feeling away. Nanami sat up, ready to say something in your defense, but you had already slapped Sukuna's hand away and sat up yourself. He looked down at your smaller body with an irritated expression, the tattoos on his face making him seem even more dangerous than he actually was.

"Sorry, Kento-kun. I'll be back in five." You excused yourself with a smile before making your way out, your shoulder brushing harshly against Sukuna's chest on your way. He followed you out, and you knew all those girls' eyes were on his every move. The thought drove you insane.

"Kento-kun, huh?" Sukuna mocked you when you finally stopped under the roof in the empty inner garden of the café. Usually it was full of customers but now the rain was washing over the empty white metal tables and chairs with soothing tapping sounds. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pockets but you quickly whined in annoyance.

"Don't. I hate the smell.”

Both his eyebrows raised in a perfect mix of surprise and irritation, almost like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. You never bothered to mention this aspect whenever your eyes would follow him longingly from the bed as he would light up a cigarette after fucking you rough, one finger playing with your lower lip. He chose to dismiss the thought as his head lowered so his eyes could look directly into yours, one hand placed at the side of your head against the wall. The smell of rain combined with his familiar and comforting perfume had your knees weaken while you tried to challenge his inquiring eyes.

“It took you two weeks to find a new personality?” His look was intimidating. You weakly tried to push him away pressing your hands against his chest but he didn’t even flinch. He sneered at your false effort, enjoying the warm feeling of your hands still lingering over the fabric of his white t-shirt.

“Why are you here, S’kuna?” You asked. Every time you imagined seeing him again you hoped to express your anger coherently, determined to let every single speck of negative emotion out of your system. You wanted to yell at him, hit him, make him understand the ruckus raising inside your heart because of him. But now all you could do was look at him with pleading eyes, almost begging him to tell you what you wanted to hear, what would finally allow you to forget everything and let yourself fall in his arms again.

“I came to stop you from embarrassing yourself.” You rolled your eyes again, pushing him with more force this time. He was still unmoved. You crossed your arms under your chest, unintentionally pushing at your breasts. He could notice the slight movement at the edge of his field of view, without taking his eyes off yours. He loved that baby blue fitted t-shirt of yours, with lace around the generous cleavage. And you wore it to see Kento-kun. The way you said that man’s name echoed in Sukuna’s brain and the thought altogether made him lose his mind.

“No, you are embarrassing me.” You spat back. You couldn’t believe you really expected him to give you what you what you wanted so easily.

“Half the city knows you’re my woman.” His other hand grabbed you by the arm, as if trying to shake you out of your stubbornness. Or keep you there, so you wouldn’t leave his side, no matter if you wanted to.

“We broke up, do you need a public statement for that?” It was painful even to you to say those words. You never thought you had officially broken up, not as long as you still hoped Sukuna would get over himself and admit that he was wrong, that he would never do that again. Because he loved you. But you let those venomous words out of your mouth in an attempt to see him feel only a fraction of the hurt you were containing in your heart.

Sukuna didn’t answer. He didn’t have any smart reply for that. He looked at you in silence, the only sound echoing between the two of you being the tapping of raindrops on the ground. He really did think you were simply acting like a brat, dismissing his efforts to talk only to have him chase you. Sukuna knew you loved that and, from time to time, you would push him away so you could see him make an effort to get to you. He never understood your reasons, but he entertained your caprices, enjoying the occasional taunting resembling a mouse and a cat constantly on the hunt. This time, it didn’t seem like a game anymore.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. You wouldn’t allow yourself, though, but your eyes would move from his eyes to his lips, his plump soft lips that you desperately wanted to bite on. You had left him speechless, with a helpless look on his face that only made you pity him. Pressing your lips together, you forced yourself to leave, since your knees were weaker by the minute and your arms were aching to be around his neck.

As you turned away, his hand gently fell down your arm, the tips of his fingers brushing over your bare skin, and he grabbed you by the wrist, keeping you in place.

“Give me another chance.” Sukuna almost begged. It was a pathetic sight, the tall muscular man, dressed in all black, with tattoos on his face, his whole presence imposing and intimidating, begging a woman like you to take him back. It almost made you give up. Almost.

“Give me one good reason.” You said, surprised by the composure of your voice in contrast to the hurricane of feelings in your heart.

“I miss you.” His eyebrows were raised in a pitiful plea.

“You’ll get used to it.” It wasn’t enough. You tried to break free from his grip but he held on your wrist as if it was the only thing allowing him to breathe.

“Don’t you miss me, y/n?” There it was. When his deep voice and mesmerizing eyes were failing to reach you he would retort to emotional blackmail. Of course you missed him, you cursed at yourself when you hesitated to answer, when the loud voice in your head was screaming to you that yes, you missed him, you missed him so much and your entire life felt pointless, that you hardly enjoyed anything since you last saw him, that you missed his comforting words and his safe arms and his handsome face.

“Someone is waiting for me.” You said as he let go of your wrist.

Sukuna watched as you turned your back to him, your long ponytail wiggling in the air with every step you took further away from him. He hated to see you go. Leaning against the wall, he lit up that cigarette only after you were out of his sight. It was such a peaceful rainy day when everything seemed to have slowed down, drenched in the humid air. His eyes were fixed on one small table for two in the corner of the garden, protected from the rain by a tall tree. It was your favorite spot, in your favorite café where he would find you reading sometimes, while sipping on iced tea. You always laughed at him whenever he would pick you up from there. His dark unapproachable figure made such a big contrast with the softness of the garden full of flowers. Sukuna always thought you fit so well there, like a goddess of the spring with your flowy skirts and your pretty round face.

He sighed, a thin cloud of smoke forming in the air as it blew out of his mouth. You were so different, almost opposites. This is why you worked so well together, you completed each other. He let his head fall back, resting against the wall, as he looked at the sky that was already starting to clear up. He wasn’t going to erase that tattoo off his skin just as he wasn’t going to allow you to erase him out of your life.

《previous 1. Ultimatum next》 Ascension |

True Form! Sukuna x Reader

tags: @siriuslyblackonback @rosaryia @st4r-s4r4 @depressiondiaries @sterzin @rowrowrowyourboat13

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna jjk #jujustu kaisen #sukuna imagine #sukuna angst #jjk

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saturdaynightspecialpresentation · 5 months

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Poor Things

First of all, Emma Stone’s performance is as good as everybody is saying. Stone takes a very difficult role that easily could have gone very, very wrong and makes it look like the most effortless thing in the world.

I have been looking at the reviews, good and bad, and I think that the minority of people who didn’t vibe with this movie had slightly skewed expectations.

Poor Things starts out at Tetsuo The Iron Man levels of fucked up, but by the end it has dropped to Edward Scissor hands levels of fucked up. This is probably plenty of weirdness for the average movie-goer, but true connoisseurs of mondo cinema should calibrate their expectations.

Second, apparently this is being talked up as a sort of feminist coming of age fable chronicling an everywoman’s sexual awakening and liberation, and it really isn’t that, and I think if you are hoping for that you’ll come away disappointed.

Better, I think, to look at it as an autistic coming of age fable and power fantasy, which I think it does a tremendous job at.

Very minor spoilers under the cut; really, this is more an essay about what I thought the film was about than a review, my review would be that it's somehow simultaneously a feel-good crowd-pleaser AND a movie where an adult woman with the brain of a toddler stabs the eyes out of a corpse with a scalpel and then plays with its penis (I wasn't kidding with the Tetsuo comparison)

Honestly now that I've actually written that out I have maybe underestimated how impressive it is that Yorgos Lanthimos made a movie where that happens on screen but somehow basically everybody loves the movie.

In terms of sex, we do watch Bella discover sex, but she very quickly comes to a conclusion about her relationship with it which never once changes throughout the rest of the movie:

She likes it, she likes it more with an attractive partner, she is utterly lacking in any kind of sexual jealousy, and she doesn't attach too much more to it than that.

This is an odd comparison, but Bella treats sex the way Joey did on Friends. A man acting this way is a sitcom cliche, but a woman acting the same way…

This is a film that is really, really not interested in the real-world consequences of this kind of sex; in fact, given that a pregnancy is the inciting incident of the film, it came off a little weird to me that the possibility of a pregnancy or STD was never really addressed (unless there was a line or two that I missed while I was in the bathroom).

For the most part, though, I was able to get past it by just thinking of it as a heightened world. The sets and settings are extremely artificial, and ultimately I figured, “Hey, if I can buy this kind of thing as harmless and fun in a sitcom, I can buy it in this other kind of heightened reality.

I will say, I don't think Bella is meant to be an every-woman, and that there's textual support for this in the film itself.

All of the women Bella deals with in some way question her approach to sex, making it clear, sometimes through explicit dialog, other times more reading between the lines, that her approach to sex is not for them.

If there’s any particularly feminist message in the film, it’s that when confronted with Bella’s bizarre approach to the world, none of the women get angry at her, and most of the men she meets do.

But Bella’s relationships with other women aren’t really the meat of the film, that’s more about her relationship with men, and particularly the way that they feel, deep in their bones, that they should have control over any woman that they have sex with.

Duncan Wedderburn, when he first discovers Bella and convinces her to go away with him, thinks he is tricking and seducing a beautiful naif who he can use and then discard when he tires of her. Their relationship disintegrates as it becomes clear that Bella hasn’t been tricked at all; she wanted exactly what he was able to give, a chance to sow her wild oats by having some no strings attached sex with an attractive, likable person in an exciting foreign city.

This makes Wedderburn increasingly unhappy and unhinged (He says at one point that he has become what he hates, a “grasping succubus”) much to Bella’s growing consternation. She has no idea why he can’t simply be happy having sex with her and otherwise letting her do what she wants, and he is so committed to a certain vision of gender roles that he can’t even begin to explain it, he can only lash out in frustration.

And that I think is the meatier part of the film; Bella doesn’t so much flout social expectations as she is simply totally unaware that they exist.

Honestly I think the character isn’t so much coded as autistic as she just is autistic. Bella is a woman who is basically totally unaware of social expectations and constantly taken aback to discover that they exist.

More than that, she has to figure out a way to work around the fact that many of the people who become most enraged by her are also so totally lacking in self-reflection, and view their social situation as so normal, so self-evidently obvious that they cannot explain to her why it is she has made them angry. They suddenly fly into rages that clearly perplex Bella and which they themselves don’t even bother to explain, because they regard their own ideas as self-evident.

Bella is an idealized autistic hero; personally as outlandish as she is I don’t really think the film expects us to take the side of anybody else, and I think there are some fairly subtle and accurate bits of autistic behavior on her part.

She responds to life as a kind of social experiment, attempting to parse out a set of logical rules and, especially in the latter parts of the movie, she often justifies her actions with a perfectly sensible internal logic that the emotional men in her life can’t parse out. Late in the film, when she and Wedderburn are destitute, she prostitutes herself for 30 francs, and with implacable logic, explains the two reasons that Wedderburn ought to be quite happy she has done so: First, her john was much worse at sex than Wedderburn, which ought to satisfy his ego, and second, they now have 30 francs and the potential to earn more.

Wedderburn does not appreciate her logical approach.

Another thing that strikes me as very true is that Bella has a very odd theory of mind for other people. There’s a scene where, traumatized by the unspeakable poverty and suffering she sees in Alexandria, she puts all of Wedderburn’s money in a box and rushes out to give it to the poor. Unfortunately the ship is leaving, but two port attendants tell her that they will be staying on the island, and would be happy to deliver a package. She tells them that she has a big box filled with money and they should give it to the island’s poor, and they agree to do so. Now, the film never tells us one way or another whether they keep their word; but Bella herself retains an iron certainty that they did exactly what she asked them to. Now, we know Bella understands what lying and deceit are, because we’ve seen her trick people before, like when she chloroforms McCandles to run away with Wedderburn. But it never once occurs to her that these sailors might do something similar. Call it paradoxical, but that kind of thinking is common in autistic people.

There’s also the scene where the self-professed cynic Harry Astley shows her the suffering in Alexandria; he admits, when he sees how terribly it has affected her, that he didn’t tell her simply because he thought it was the truth of the world, but that her attitude made him angry, and he wanted to hurt her. A very common part of the autistic coming of age is the slow realization that not everything people tell you is part of a dispassionate, scientific search for the truth.

There’s also a scene in a whorehouse in which Bella argues that it would make more sense to have the women decide who is to sleep with the johns, so that then the john could be more confident that the girl was attracted to him, which he must doubt if he chooses. You can tell I’m autistic because I immediately had the thought, “Well, but the johns would probably be worried that nobody would choose them.”

One of Bella’s fellow working girls instead tells her, “Some of them like the fact that we don’t have a choice”.

#poor things #movie review #autism #cw violence #I'm actually not sure what kind of content warning I should put for the corpse stabbing

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sausage-rolll · 2 months

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The amount of times I said something along the lines of "They would not fucking do/say that!" while watching the live action atla series is insane. It felt so weird to watch because the acting was pretty fantastic and the set design/costumes weren't bad for the most part either, but the writing and direction itself was painfully bad.

I think King Bumi is probably one of the worst offenders of being written completely ass backwards, which is a shame because the guy portraying him did a great job and I think he would have made a fantastic Bumi if the writing was better.

It feels like they missed the entire point of his character. They took his goofy/slightly mad front from the original show and dialled it up to 11 all the while completely ignoring all the nuance behind that front.

Bumi isn't just the mad king they portray him as in the live action, he's a mad genius. Despite his quirks, he's a fucking fantastic fighter and a brilliant ruler. Despite what you may believe from first impressions, it really does feel like he always knows what he's doing.

Even when he's being antagonistic towards the gang in the show, he's never actually putting them in significant danger. The crystals he trapped Katara and Sokka in were ultimately harmless and all the trials he gives Aang were more akin to games than anything. Even when he fights Aang in his episode he's very clearly not giving it his all, as seen when he single handily takes back his city from the fire nation during the eclipse and when he takes back Ba Sing Se with a small group during Sozins comet, when the opposing forces would have been at their most powerful. My point is that if he actually wanted to beat book 1 Aang, he could wipe the floor with him easily. But this version is fucking furious with Aang (wrongfully so this time around because he explicitly did not run away from his duties in the live action) And very much seems like he wants to cause Aang as much pain as possible, but can barely manage to land a hit on him when he's not pulling cheap tricks with the crystals.

I'm getting very side tracked but god damn it! This is the man Aang eventually decides to name one of his children after. Their friendship was so sweet and meaningful in the original. Bumi was such an interesting character in the original! And all of that meaning is lost here.

Ironically in an attempt to make Bumi's arc more dramatic and dark, they ended up making it significantly less interesting, along with also missing major parts of his character.

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #king bumi #aang #bumi

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queenof-curses · 6 months

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Owned

Miya Twins x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Miya twins have been watching and waiting. What happens when they finally catch you alone in the gym after practice?

Tags: Minors DNI! Explicit in all ways. D-P. Dub con. Yandere themes. Obsessive personalities. Ownership. Str8 up smut. No plot really. Mind break. Overstimulation. Please read tags! Fic located under the cut.

w.c.-2.1K

Masterlist

“So fucking pretty for us- isn’t she samu?”

“God- sh- she’s so tight…” the gray haired twin moaned.

You couldn’t give anything more than a soft whimper as you got lost in your own pleasures.

“That’s right baby- your ass is so fucking tight.” The blonde said.

You were smashed between the two brothers, with Osamu under you. He was currently buried to the hilt in your cunt, relishing the feeling of your warm walls gushing around him as you squeezed his cock tight. He softly thrusted upwards, languidly fucking into you from below as the more feral of the two brothers took control from behind.

Atsumu had you bent over his brother, holding your hands against your lower back with just one of his own. The other was holding your jaw- two fingers hooked into your mouth as he gagged you on his digits like a fishhook. He was always the rougher of the two, and he couldn't help himself as he used your body as his own personal toy.

Not able to get more than your own moans out, you were stuck in the position as the brothers ravished you. Atsumu buried himself into your ass, you could feel the way the thin layer between your ass and cunt stretched as the twins filled you with their cocks.

You felt so lost…yet so- full.

- -

It was just a moment ago you finished up your own volleyball practice, your last college season coming to a close soon. Emerging from the locker room, you noticed the twins cleaning up the gym. You offered your help, since it was shared space between the boys and girls team- but little did you know that you’d end up caught in the Miya’s trap.

At first it was a harmless conversation between the three of you- them inquiring about your intense practice schedule compared to their own. Soon the conversation turned into banter. Atsumu teased you about your love life- how volleyball was your entire life and left your boyfriend high and dry. You were quick to remind them that you didn’t have a boyfriend, that you hadn’t for a year or so now.

Of course they knew you didn’t have a boyfriend- it’s the answer they were looking for as Osamu moved in for the kill. Offering to rub your shoulders after noticing how tense you were after folding the net up.

In the end, you let them have their way with you. Giving in to their temptations as the siren twins lured you into their trap; slowly removing your clothes for a “deeper massage.” At that point you were undone; and when Atsumu leaned in for a kiss, you found that your previous hesitations flew out the window and you ultimately ended up opening your body to the brothers.

- -

“We’ve been waiting for this, baby… you were made just for us, ya know? …we’re never giving you up now.” Atsumu tells you from behind.

Each delicious drag of their cocks against your most sensitive parts sent you into overdrive. You were a mess between them. Osamu kept his eyes locked on yours, the deep pools of grey staring into your own as tears of pleasure blurred your vision.

“You’re doing so well for us, such a good girl,” he tells you as his hands take control of your hips. The tip of his swollen cock teases your womb, fucking up into you from below at a set pace. His grip was tight, no doubt leaving bruises as a reminder of their capabilities.

“Oh god, Samu- Please!” You beg.

“Shhhh, sweet girl, you’ll get your fill.” he hushes you. He drags your hips up and down his cock, your clit grinding into his pelvis and sending your mind reeling with every thrust.

Osamu feels you tighten around him, the clench of your tight heat being his undoing as he tilts his hips slightly. The action causes you to see stars as he pounds up into your g spot.

“Oh-fuck!” you scream, lost in ecstasy. You grip his shoulders, digging your nails into his chiseled arms as he rips your orgasm from you.

“That’s it Princess, cum for us- show us how good we make you feel,” Atsumu says from behind. He feels your asshole clamp down as you begin to finish around both their cocks.

Your vision goes white as you scream, coating Osamu’s cock in your finish. He takes the opportunity to bring your mouth to his. Warm lips take in your cries as his tongue plays with your own, swallowing each whimper and moan that left your being. Wet sounds filled the gymnasium as the three of you danced in bliss. After a moment you go limp in Osamu’s arms, having no choice but to take what the two gave you- an onslaught of pure ecstasy.

Osamu needed no further push as he planted his feet on the mats below your bodies. Gripping your hips tight, he thrusted up into your heat, sending shivers down your fucked-out body as he slammed into your cunt from down under.

“Shit-I’m close, this pussys just too fucking good. Want my cum, babe? Yeah- you fucking do, gonna bury my fucking cock deep in this pussy.” He tells you, words fumbled as he loses himself in your tight grip.

Atsumu lets his twin take the reins as he relishes the way your ass takes hold of his shaft- using the opportunity to admire the way the fat of your behind bounces with each thrust of his hips. The blonde was mesmerized by the way your body took his length, all the way down to the hilt as his balls slapped against the bit of skin separating his current territory from his brothers. He feels close to cumming himself, but he holds back- wanting to finish in your cunt just like his twin. The thought of him and brother’s cum mixed inside you made him groan.

They wanted to own you completely; tired of waiting on the sidelines for you to notice one of them, Atsumu was glad they took the risk today to try and catch you alone in the gym. It had been well worth the wait.

“Fuck, I’m- I’m cuming!” Osamu moans, pulling Atsumu from his dark mind.

You feel the heat of it before you register what was happening. Your mind is clouded in a lustful haze as you realize the gray haired twin was cumming inside of you, filling your deepest parts with his hot seed as he slowly thrusted his finish into your womb.

“O-Osamu,” you whimper, the sensitivity of your flesh high as his shaft begins to soften inside of you. He takes a moment to relish in your warmth before pulling out of your soaked hole, knowing his twin was eager for his turn.

“Shhh baby, you’re such a good girl…” he’s sure to comfort you, hearing your whimpers and soft cries- he knows how sensitive you are.

You cry out at his praise, relishing the way he reaches to caress your hair as the blonde twin slowly pulls out of your other abused hole.

Feeling Atsumu lift himself from your body, Osamu helps maneuver you. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but the twins treated you as if you were made of porcelain. Carefully, Osamu sits up and moves you to lay on top of his body. With your back to his front, you were now facing the blonde twin.

Resting with your full weight on Osamu, you feel his strong hands grip behind your knees and pull your legs up. You were practically seated in his lap with nowhere to go. He opens your core up towards his brother, who sits between your thighs and admires the way his twin’s cum drips out of your pussy.

You look down and realize how hard Astumu still was… his angry red tip leaking precum as you admired the veins that dance down his long shaft. He spares no second thought as he positions himself at your opening, pumping his fist up and down his shaft in anticipation.

Slowly, the blonde feeds his cock into your wet cunt. With yours and Osamu’s juices acting as lubricant, Atsumu was quick to resume the pace he had set on your ass- chasing after his own orgasm.

He buries himself balls deep inside of you immediately- the tip of his cock slamming the exact same spot his twin brother’s did moments ago.

You thrash in Osamu’s grip, another orgasm creeping up fast as his strength holds you in place to his sibling’s harsh thrusts. He holds you open for him, the blonde taking no more hesitation to bring his thumb up to your swollen clit. He fondles it slowly, the bundle of nerves pulsing and bringing a coil of heat to the pit of your stomach.

“I- I’m cuming, oh god!” you cry out to them, not able to hold the pressure any longer.

Your words make Astumu smirk, the blonde proud to see you break so quickly under his grasp.

The action on your clit was your ultimate undoing, you feel yourself clamp down on his member, a field of white flowing into your vision as you wet yourself and both brothers. You squirt hard, screaming in Osamu’s grip as you coat Atsumu’s cock with yourself.

Atsumu watches as you juices cover himself and Osamu, absolutely hypnotized by both the image and feeling of you wrapped around him. It was messy… nasty even- and he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fuck- that was so hot Princess, I’m close- you’re too fucking tight, ya know?” He tells you as he picks up the pace of his movements.

Osamu whispers praise into your ear, telling you what a good girl you are, that this is how you deserve to be taken- like this each and every day.

“From now on, you belong to us- Okay, Princess? Me n’ samu are gonna make sure you’re all taken care of from now on…” he tells you, voice ruff as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You moan in response as Atsumu gives a final thrust into your cunt, burying himself just as deep as his twin did moments ago. Emptying himself into you, he pulses his hips, ensuring his cum sticks to your deepest parts. If you got pregnant, he wanted to ensure it’d be his seed over his twin brothers.

He plugs you with his cock, keeping himself seated for a few moments as he relishes the way your warm cunt pulses around his shaft. He feels his balls tighten up against your opening, now empty and content.

“Oh fuuuuuuck,” Atsumu groans, finally removing his semi-hard cock. He admired how soaked he was, with not only his and your juices, but Osamu’s as well.

It was a sight to behold as he watched his brother release your legs from his tight grip, moving to a seated position with you upright and between his legs. Your knees fall apart, and Astumu catches the way your glistening cunt starts to leak the cum that was just buried deep inside of you.

“Ah ah ah- not on my watch,” he teases you and moves between your thighs.

The blonde twin reaches down, taking a swipe of cum and fingering it back inside of your cunt.

“Oh God, Sumu… it's too sensitive,” you cry out, attempting to move away. Osamu was quick though, holding you between the two of them with stern hands.

Your words don’t stop Atsumu’s actions though, and soon after it’s Osamu reaching from behind you to rub your little clit as his brother finger fucks you. It was embarrassing the way your pussy gushed; you were soaked and still wanted more... You could feel your cheeks heat at your compromised position, attempting to hide behind your hands.

Tears fill your eyes as you and Atsumu look at each other through the space of your fingers. He knew you wanted more- that you could handle both of them with whatever they gave you. This was their plan after all.

“This is how it’s gonna be, Princess. From now on…” Osamu whispers into your ear.

“You like one of us, you have to accept both of us. We’ll make you feel double good, baby”

Thanks for reading! :) Comments/Reblogs/Likes are all appreciated.

#miya twins x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu #miya atsumu #queenofcursesfanfic #haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #Yandere miya twins #miya twins #haikyuu #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader x atsumu #haikyuu x you

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iaure · 1 year

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𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟthe dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.

yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city. tw: general yandere/obsessive behaviour, ptsd, survivor's guilt, cyberstalking, mentions of suicide (though not the actual act of it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i intend for this to be multiple parts, as it's already become quite long before there was any real yandere behaviour. updating may be scattered due to work.

you met him in the aftermath.

♡ there was an online support group for survivors, and after you barely escaped with your life, you needed all the help you could get.

♡ most of the members were nice enough. there was a lot of comforting, a lot of 'it's not your fault' and a lot of just trying to cheer each other up.

♡ there was one member in particular that always, always responded to your posts and comments.

♡ the user didn't have an account; you always simply chalked it up to them being technologically illiterate, or maybe they were simply forgetful.

♡ perhaps that was a bit naïve; if they could always remember your posts, who were they to forget having an account?

♡ but that didn't matter. they always signed off the same way-with a single initial, K.

♡ maybe it was a bit sappy. but having someone in your corner felt nice, after everything.

♡ ultimately, they were harmless and sweet, so having them around in your little slice of the internet was fine. ♡ they always worked double-time to cheer you up.

maybe K was a bit jealous. ♡ when you would speak with other group members, K would like your responses.

♡ sometimes, though, they'd pitch in; ignoring the other user entirely and simply talking with you as though you were the one who started the conversation.

♡ you tried to ignore it. other members on the forum didn't say anything, so you assumed it wasn't too strange.

but then they started to become more intimate. ♡ they would bring up small things that felt too strange to be a coincidence.

♡ they'd recommend you relax by watching that show you just started, or snacking on some of your favourite food, or taking a nap because it 'seemed' you were working to hard.

♡ they were personal enough to make your stomach churn, but it was not enough that you weren't able to reason it away.

♡ they were still so sugary sweet as well, and despite the unnerving nature of their kindness, the support meant everything.

♡ in a forum where everyone is upset and needing help at once, having someone that focused on you was nice.

♡ because at the end of the day, when you went into your bed, there always felt like something was wrong.

♡ the room was too small. you thought of what you did in the city, what you didn't, who you didn't save and who you damned.

♡ the sheets were too warm. your window had a shadow over it. the closet, was it cracked open? did something move around when you weren't looking?

♡ part of you knew in your heart of hearts that it was simply Raccoon City scaring you like a ghost. because if it wasn't, then what was haunting you?

you needed to get out. so, you got a job.

♡ at first, it was hell on earth. just leaving your home was hard enough; but going outside for upwards of eight hours was horrifying.

♡ your manager and coworker, however, were kind. they knew what you had gone through, and didn't rush you. the regulars were sweet, giving short words of encouragement.

♡ maybe this wasn't so bad.

♡ courtesy of the little bakery you worked at now, you were fed. you were getting paid. you began getting more sunshine, cleaning up more, feeling more accomplished.

♡ you started to stop posting.

♡ you had other things to focus on, now. you were considering getting a pet; so you had to save up money.

♡ but after a week and a half of not going on the forum at all, you decide to make an update.

K had made an account.

♡ oh, they had made one; they had made it to send hundreds upon hundreds of pleas into your messages.

♡ 'please, you mean so much', they begged. 'talk to me!', they wept.

♡ maybe they assumed you had offed yourself. it was possible.

♡ you took a second to look through all of them, feeling warm at first. K was sweet and kind and so soft, apparently.

♡ but with every message, they seemed to take one inch closer to strange, to creepy, to outright alarming.

♡ "please don't do anything rash!"

♡ "you don't know how much you mean to me!"

♡ "i know it's hard, but hang on for me!"

♡ "i need to know you're okay!"

♡ "whatever it is, i can help, please just let me in"

♡ "is it that job? it's the job, right? they're working you to death"

♡ "please just respond!"

♡ the horror seemed to grow with every message, up until one from just an hour or two ago;

"i just love you too much, i think" ♡ something isn't right.

♡ ...

♡ maybe it's time that you blocked K.

♡ you blocked their account, knowing it probably wouldn't do much. if they knew about your job, then what else did they know about?

♡ but you didn't hear much after that. there was a day or two where you were scared to even go to work, but that's alright.

you have a new regular.

♡ he's very sweet, almost achingly so; whenever he came into the bakery, he seemed equal parts nervous and bashful. he always tipped exceedingly well, and his order usually was some sort of new health option the owner was trying out.

♡ he wasn't just nice, though; he was pretty as well. he had a cute chin and his hair seemed always soft, and he spoke offhand about how he liked to work out because of his job.

♡ He was always happy to talk, but knew to leave if there was a line and didn't stay any longer than he was wanted.

♡ you didn't even know his name for a good month; but he often took liberty dropping yours.

♡ when you asked how he knew, he had a bright flush on his face before admitting that he had asked your coworker.

♡ how sweet!

♡ you found his name was Leon S. Kennedy, who was self-dubbed as "rookie cop extraordinaire".

♡ he began to clearly go out of his way to come into the bakery, sometimes coming in after clear workouts with a gym bag over his shoulder and a tank top on. was visiting a bakery after a workout counterintuitive?

♡ absolutely.

♡ but you don't mind. it's nice, seeing a cute face coming into work. and it always feels like he's doing it just for you. quite the special creature you are!

♡ he held a constant enthusiasm to talk to you, and it's enough to make your heart ache.

♡ the kicker comes when, offhand, he mentions Raccoon City; how he had gone to the police department for his first day and ended up saving a woman and a young girl from the apocalypse.

♡ instantly, your heartstrings are pulled because oh god. someone who understands. someone who did more than you could, has done more.

♡ you finally begin to get closer to him of your own accord. once or twice, you've even hinted at being single.

♡ each time you did, Leon would freeze; big blue eyes staring right at you with a pink flush that would anyone crumble. he even shook a little, like a small dog, and each time you'd have to laugh.

♡ it snaps him back to reality, and the conversation carries on.

but things are quiet on the eastern front.

♡ you haven't heard much from K since you blocked them. it's only natural, considering the steps taking. but sometimes, you wonder if K is still watching, what K really knew.

♡ maybe they were just an excellent guesser.

♡ but they've since gone silent. account or no, they're not saying anything anymore, and there's some semblance of peace.

♡ but you're still uneasy. something is still wrong.

♡ ...

♡ was your bed always this warm when you wake up?

#yandere leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil #yandere x reader #yandere resident evil x reader #˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ palabras muertas #divagaciones (per)

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autism-alley · 3 months

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hi originally posted this at the end of a long thread of back and forth, here’s the og post if you want full context but i feel like this needs to be its own post especially bc i keep seeing this argument being made—the argument that the kids (in this case it was annabeth) SHOULD just know the monsters are monsters and who they are and how to defeat them before ever encountering them, that it’s a problem if they don’t.

the problem is not if 12 year olds should recognize a trap when they see one, even if they’re smart 12 year olds, and if that’s realistic. that is entirely beside the point.

the problem is rick riordan wrote a book series whose formula is bringing myths to the modern age and he’s not sticking true to that in the show—percy jackson and the olympians’ Shtick is taking these classic, ancient threats and giving them a new face. these traps work because these kids are not walking into a cave marked with Get Out and getting ambushed by monsters—the monsters are disguised as harmless mortal human beings, in harmless mortal human being places (for the most part) and i think we—and more importantly, the show—are all forgetting the mist, the magic involved here. it’s not just that medusa is a “creepy lady with her eyes covered” it’s that there is ancient magic at work here, magic that, like the systems of abuse pjo exists to criticize, has been evolving and continuing its malevolence for millennia. it’s formulaic, that’s the point. it’s the same trap you’ve learned about all your childhood, the same trap a thousand children before you learned all their childhoods, and still, it works. you fall into the trap. because that’s how generational abuse works. it’s a trap. it isn’t enough to learn monsters exist, what they look like from a second hand story that originated thousands of years ago. if you want to escape alive, you have to adapt as quickly as they do, recognize their face, and ultimately, beyond any individual trap, the game itself has to change. real, generational change.

so. the problem is rick riordan wrote a series with a formula for action that perfectly captures the overarching, systemic conflicts he was commentating on, and then threw that formula out in the show because it was “unrealistic”. i don’t give a damn about realism when it works to the detriment of the story. this is a story about generational abuse, yes, but it’s told through ‘a tale as old as time’ and that’s why it works so fucking well. and when it comes to basic storytelling, if your characters know the threat before they even walk in and you do practically nothing to then make up for the stakes you have removed, that’s a flaw. now you’ve lost the entertainment value for your audience, on top of also lessening your themes.

something else that is so. honestly soul-crushing as a writer and a creative, is that to me this is reflective of the way we are now afraid to tell earnest stories. stories where we care not for listening to the people who want to pick apart fictional, mythical, fantasy stories for not being “realistic” instead of aligning with our target audience who acknowledges reality is not what makes a story. think of your favorite movie, show, book, comic, what have you—has the reason for your favoritism ever been because it is the most reasonable, the most grounded, the most practical out of any you’ve seen? or is it because of the emotion? the way it speaks to you, to your life and the person you are? the journey it takes you on? is the percy jackson and the olympians book series so good because it’s inherently realistic?

the secret to storytelling is, very simply, focus on your story. everything else is secondary. if it’s written well, it doesn’t matter to me that the characters walk into a trap that, to the audience, is obviously a trap. because i can understand how the characters don’t know it, and how the story falls apart if the narrative just tells the characters it’s a trap from the jump. that’s what dramatic irony is—first used in greek tragedies! this is literally a tale as old as time in every sense except for the end—where it’s happy. and it’s not earned if we don’t first see, over and over, the status quo as a tragic trap.

it’s not about if annabeth (or the other kids) is “smart enough” to not walk into a trap, or about if she’s just too prideful to not walk into what she knows is a trap (or any reason that could apply to the other characters), it’s that annabeth, at the end of the day, is a character. she is a storytelling tool for the messages of the narrative. that doesn’t make her any lesser. in fact ignoring it reduces her, because it reduces what she represents. it’s about how rick riordan, or whoever else at disney, has fumbled the storytelling bag so ridiculously hard that they can’t take the simple, effective formula outlined from start to finish (by good ol 2009 rick himself) and adapt it to the screen without answering the most unimportant, derailing, anti-story questions.

#one of the ppl who reblogged the og post said whatever happened to suspension of disbelief and i could have kissed them on the mouth #yes exactly #this new age of audiences who praise ‘realism’ over good storytelling i hate u #‘content over cinema’ i hate u.#i’m not even a screenwriter but any writer can tell you #we’re talking foundations of the craft here #and the worst part is rick already succeeded in the books #if it ain’t broke don’t fix it #where along this path did he lose sight of everything he set out to say?#anyways this is its own post now go forth and do with it what u will #pjo #percy jackson #pjo show crit #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #annabeth chase #ris raves

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zzthekaiju · 29 days

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So, Godzilla X Mothra as a Monsterverse movie, hmm...

Well, I got a lot of replies to the big comic saying that they’d like to hear my pitch for a GxM movie. So, here you go!

The film should be, at its core, of the romance genre variety. For both the kaiju and the human sub-plots. The overarching theme should not only be the Monsterverse’s usual “natural balance” motif, but also that of loving one another despite our differences and flaws, or perhaps because of them.

After all, “If you love a person, you accept the total person. With all the defects. Because those defects are a part of the person.”

Obviously, Godzilla and Mothra are at the center of the kaiju side of the story. Big G is still patrolling for rogue titans while Mothra has made residence in Indonesia. Monarch returns with Madison Russell trying to prove her worth as a part of it. However, not only is her stubborn attitude grating on everyone, but her head is in a whirlwind because of Mothra’s newest ambassador: A good-natured and pacifistic young lady her age native to where the big bug titan lives. She and this newcomer (we’ll call her Lora for simplicity’s sake) are a mirror to Godzilla and Mothra. Also, Bernie and Trapper should return because there was NO way they weren’t having eyes for each other in the last movie.

As for our two kaiju, their relationship hits a snag when a new titan shows up with an uncanny resemblance to Mothra. And yes, this will be the Monsterverse’s answer to Battra (we’ll call him that here from now on). Battra is something of an older brother to Mothra, and the two have a very strong connection. Unfortunately, Battra’s way of handling protecting the Earth runs counter to how Godzilla does it (as in, wipe out human settlements and attack titans for the most minor of infractions), and Big G tries to handle it the only way he knows how (ie, beating him to death). But not only is Battra much stronger than he lets on (complete with an ability to control plant life), but Mothra intervenes on her ancestor’s side out of familial loyalty (she’s unaware of Battra killing people at this point), causing the king and queen to come to blows until she and Battra emerge victorious, driving Godzilla away.

This turns out to be a really bad move, as Battra is determined to wipe out humanity, believing them to be a scourge that Mothra foolishly trusted. Mothra doesn’t realize her mistake until Battra wipes out an entire village for the crime of being near a forest. She tries to stop him, but nearly gets killed before retreating.

Monarch’s main goal throughout the film is to reunite Godzilla and Mothra, requiring them to look high and low for clues to how this unique symbiotic relationship came to be. A major stop is the Hollow Earth Iwi tribe, which shows how the two met in the first place, and gives Jia a chance to enter the narrative. As time goes by, Madison and Lora’s relationship goes from “unstoppable force meets immovable object” to them finding common ground, and eventually falling in love. It’s them that enables Monarch to hatch a plan. With the help of Jia, and Madison’s mastery of the ORCA, they set Godzilla and Mothra up to meet again. Of course, they’re all rather surprised to see Godzilla so thoroughly heartbroken and ashamed of himself that he submits to her like any titan would to him. But as Jia translates Mothra’s thoughts, the insect Goddess and her king make up for each other’s faults.

Soon, it’s Godzilla and Mothra vs. Battra. But it’s not easy, as Battra has mastery over the elements, giving him an advantage over Godzilla by summoning giant plants to ensnare and attack him. Mothra gets in a lot of good hits, but in the end, it’s a combination attack from king and queen that destroys Battra’s wings, and reduces him to harmlessness. To show how much he trusts his queen, Godzilla allows him to live and Mothra to decide his fate. She ultimately has him confined to the same place she lives so that he has familial company. It ultimately ends with Godzilla and Mothra resting at the area where they first met, as Monarch watches from a safe distance with Madison and Lora sharing their first kiss. At least one person, probably Bernie, states that it’s the best double date ever.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

If anyone has other ideas/opinions, feel free to let me know!

#Ramblings #godzilla #kaiju #monsterverse #mothra #mothzilla #godzilla x kong: the new empire

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pokechbi · 9 months

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“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

WHEWWIEEE this one’s a bit different than my usual ones. Hope you all enjoy! 💗

As always, EVERY single interaction is so so greatly appreciated!!

- (Obsessive/Psychotic) König x fem reader

- 18+ MDNI !!!

- CW: blood, SH

- Not my usual smut, pt 2 with more smut is otw!

💗💗

Maybe it was your eyes. Everyone always told you that your eyes were the most expressive part of you. Or maybe it was your hair. The way it hung loosely around your shoulders, sinuously curly and sticking to your forehead when you sweat. Or was it your body? The way your clothes fit snugly against your curves, accentuating the parts of yourself you tried hiding the most. You didn’t know what it was about you that captivated him so badly. That made him like you. That made him utterly infatuated with you.

His failed attempts at subtlety rang through your mind at the end of your work days, your brain swirling with possibilities and hopeless, endless cycles of painful obsessions. His behavior was unhealthy. Obsessive. One of a stalker. But you found yourself thinking of him at night, your mind being your worst enemy. You knew he wasn’t right in the head. He wasn’t right at all. No one in his line of work could be. His hands were bathed in the blood of more men than you could ever comprehend. His mind was filled with constant thoughts of death, battle, fighting, killing. He was a beast of a man, physically and mentally incapable of compassion. In no way was he made for any kind of lasting relationship. And you knew that. Yet, as your fingers made their way between your legs at night, thoughts of him on the battlefield slashing, stabbing, shooting, strangling, penetrated your mind like a train in a tunnel too small.

You’d see him at least twice a week in the infirmary. You’d stitched his mysterious wounds countless times, your flesh burning with every feathery brush of your hands against his skin. Like a snail to salt. You knew it was wrong. You knew as a mandated reporter, you were legally required to report any suspicion of self harm. But you didn’t. And you felt as if you were betraying your very existence to cater to the psychotic needs of the man who you knew had a few screws missing for your own selfish desires. He never spoke much. Just sat there, looming over your small frame, causing your breathing to heave and your hands to tremor. He made you tense. You made him tense. The palpable tension between you just a ticking time bomb, ready to impale any passersby with the sharp shrapnel of his infatuation with you.

It seemed that every time he came to you, his wounds got worse. But they started small. Harmless. A gash in his porcelain flesh, just a few gauzes needed to stop the bleeding in order for it to heal itself. And as many times as you lied to yourself, thinking: maybe it was from training. Maybe he’d lost control of his knife, accidentally cutting himself or mishandling it. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew he had been purposely hurting himself. Just to see you. To you, it was charming. Fascinating. And it shouldn’t have been. Every cell in your body screamed for it not to get to you. But you saw his harming himself a certain kind of devotion to you. A showing of his ultimate loyalty to you, even though you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to each other outside of medical talk.

He’d been acting this way for months now. Too afraid to approach you with his feelings directly, but not afraid to leave you with constant, subtle reminders of his existence. The smell of him left on the sheet of the hospital bed. The boot scuffs on the floor, yet to be mopped up by housekeeping. The idea of him hurting himself just to come sit on the hard, too-small bed just to see you, conjured a feeling in you that made you nauseous. His behavior was sickening. It truly was. And you knew, with every visit how his wounds got worse, bloodier, deeper…it was only a matter of time.

He sat on the bed, staring down at you through his sniper hood with his arms limp at his sides as you worked on them. His gaze burned a hole through your head, searing any incoming distracting thoughts with thoughts of him. What he must have looked like under that mask. What his skin felt like. What kind of sounds he would make when he fucked. How dangerously big his cock was. And no matter how hard you fought those thoughts with every fiber of your being, the wetness between your legs was a telltale sign. He had you. He needed you. And like a moth to a lamp, you found yourself secretly chasing that high that plagued your senses every time he was near.

Your mind was hyper aware of his every move, every breath. The tension in the room constricts you, making you feel as if the air thickened with his very presence. Your skin burned with every graze of his, the hairs on your arms standing to attention. Before you even made it into the room, you knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking your every step until you made it into the room with him. And before you entered, the fuzz on your neck stood erect. Your gut sensing danger, a predator with nothing but sexually malicious intent awaiting your arrival.

This was your last straw. There had to be a way for this to end. For the never ending silent fight, the vicious cycle of wanting him, hating him, being disgusted by him, being turned on by his very stance. You were almost done stitching him, your gloves bathed in his dark, thick blood. He never so much as winced as you secured the sutures, dabbing the wound with disinfectant. You rolled back in your chair, tossing your gloves onto the rolling metal tray beside you. And as always, he hopped off the bed, looming over you with a steady foot and a half above you as you briefed him on how to clean his wound. But before he could hastily make his way back to his quarters to do God knows what, you absentmindedly grabbed his bicep. He tensed under your touch, never turning to meet your face. Your throat dries painfully as you try to speak, your delicate hands and freshly done nails begging to dig themselves into his scarred skin as he fucked you in a frenzy of predatory sexual hunger.

“König.” You manage to release. Your voice was practically a squeak, making you feel smaller under him than you already were. As if you needed to feed into his nauseating predatorial instinct even more. You cleared your throat, approaching him. With every step you took, his presence sucked away each and every atom of oxygen from you. A pitiless, dangerous black hole that threatened to drain the life from you with its bare hands.

“What are you doing to yourself?” You ask, your voice breaking and cracking. You hated showing him that you were weak. That you were ready to be pounced at, mercilessly eviscerated. And in all honesty, you liked that you were. It was shameful. The way he stood, unspeaking and nauseatingly smug at your worry made you want to drop to your knees and get yourself off on his boots while he watched you shamefully. You wanted him to humiliate you. To degrade every ounce of dignity in you and then more.

“I know this isn’t from training, sir.” You say, running your thumb gently over his fresh sutures. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth and tongue suddenly dry and coarse. You pressed into the matter further, just wanting to beat at his chest until he spoke. Hating him for forcing you to care about him. You were done with this game. The cat and mouse facade that masked the filthy desires swirling between the two of you. He turned to face you slowly, craning your neck to look at his eyes. The egoistic smile in his eyes, the one he made no effort to hide behind his mask.

“Little maus…” Although his voice was gentle, it still boomed through your eardrums. His German accent wet and thick on his tongue. You keep your grip on his arm, as if the feeling of your skin against his would keep your feet on the ground. “Can’t you see? I do it for you.” He lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to graze your cheek. “I bleed for you, schatz.” He stepped closer to you, speaking as if it were completely obvious that he sliced himself, made himself gush impossible amounts, just for you. And a part of you always knew. You were always aware, always aware how it turned you on that such a man would do such things for a woman like you.

He looked down at his arm, your grip tightening and fingertips pressing into his stitches. He lets out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as you absentmindedly dug your fingers into his gash. You stared at him, dumbfounded. You feel warmth pool under your fingertips, glancing down at his now bleeding flesh.

“Fuck! I-I’m so sorry. Let me get some-”

“Harder.” He reaches forward hastily, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your lips hang agape, your face growing hot and your breathing growing heavier. He pulls at your arm, bringing you towards him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, threatening to crush you in its walls. The concept of what he wanted you to do made you woozy, your stomach queasy with disgust. But a deep part of you was fascinated by it, a sleeping beauty kissed awake by the nauseatingly beautiful devotion he showed to you. To want to please you. To show you how ready he was to drop dead. Just for you. Even if it were by the woman he loved most.

You stare between his eyes, noticing how his gaze grew softer as you pressed your fingers into his bleeding flesh. He cried out, a disgusting mixture of pain and pleasure lacing his moans. You stepped closer to him, ignoring the feeling of his hot blood trickling down your wrist. You move your thumb around his stitches as you approach his chest, slowly running your hands up his muscles. You stopped below the hem of his mask, twirling it in your fingers. His hand shot up to your wrist, squeezing it with a force you could only describe as starved. Without words, he moves your hand to his stomach. You feel the muscles under his shirt flex as he guides your hand down his abdomen. You don’t think before you do it, but nothing in that moment could’ve stopped you from giving him exactly what he needed. He bled for you. Sliced himself wide open for you. He showed his devotion for you the only way he knew how. By shedding his own blood. Just for you.

You work on his belt buckle, the warm blood weeping from his arm now trickling down to your elbow. As you got his pants open, you noticed it. He was already hard. Practically throbbing for your touch. His breathing grew strained, his head dipping down. You felt a smile twitch on your lips. The world around you seemed to be gone, and it was only you and him in this distasteful moment. You, him, his twitching cock and his bleeding arm. As you took the tip of him into your hand, the warmth of his blood grew hotter as you pressed your thumb deeper into the gash. You stroke him, while simultaneously pushing your thumb forward, eliciting the pained and pleasured moans from the gigantic man before you.

You see him look down, your small hands seeming smaller in comparison to the length and thickness of his dick. He reaches an ungloved hand towards yours, wrapping his large hand over yours. He guides your strokes, the combined warmth of his length and blood traveling through your body and settling in your core. He continued using your hand to jerk himself as his body twitched and slumped, knees bending slightly. You smile, no longer trying to fight the disgusting feelings that plagued your mind. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. But you did. The nausea that rose from your stomach only fueled you more, squeezing his cock harder as he continued stroking himself with your hand.

“Harder, my love. Bitte, ich mache alles. Mach es härter.” (Please, I’ll do anything. Do it harder.) He breathed, his body jerking with painful bliss. You do as he asked, pressing your thumb into his weeping flesh harder. You weren’t concerned how much he was bleeding now, only getting him to come. This was an irreversible, irresponsible decision. You crossed a line with him, and a deep part of you knew. You fought the looming dread that threatened to ruin the moment. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And in some twisted, cruel way, you didn’t mind. It was dangerous. It was far beyond recovery. There was no way in hell he was letting you go without dying first. And your newfound sick, twisted desires catered to his very agenda.

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…” His hand painfully squeezed yours, your fingers incapable of moving under his grip. You felt his cock twitch as you continued digging your thumb into his wound, the warmth of his blood bathing one hand, while the heat of his hot cum wetly coated the other. He lets out a string of moans and whines, his grip weakening over your hand. He breathes heavily into the air, your thumb releasing from his flesh. You let go of his cock, both your hands coated in the liquids that came from his soul. In some gruesome, macabre way, you enjoyed it. Loved it, even. The newfound feelings swirled through your mind and made your lips curl into absentminded grin.

The sound of his belt buckle seemed to bring you back down to earth, causing you to rush to the sink and throw the faucet on. You washed your hands, looking down at your arm, now coated in blood. All of your feelings hit you all at once, feeling a strong nausea bubble in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were heaving into the sink, your knees wobbly and threatening to give out under you. You didn’t know why you threw up. You’d seen all kinds of gore, been covered in blood countless times. But this was something else. Something damaging. The looming dread growing darker over your head. You hear König shuffle, approaching you from behind. You feel his large hand caress your back, a soft gesture that did nothing to comfort you from the cold, dark things you’d just done.

“I’m afraid I’ll need some new stitches, dear.” He says, a smile evident in his voice. You nodded your head, feeling airy as you stood up from the sink. You didn’t know what you would do now, the clarity hitting you like a truck. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. You sat him down again, resuturing his wound.

“This cannot happen again, König.” You say sternly, hastily finishing his stitches and cleaning his arm with disinfectant. You stand from your chair, hands on your hips as you pace the room. He stood from the bed, walking over to you. Before you could squeak another word out, his hands were cupping both of your cheeks, your neck craning up to meet his gaze.

“It can…and it will, schatz.” He says, a soft tremor in his voice. And in an effort to combat your fears of him, he swiftly throws the mask off of his head, hishelmet clattering to the floor. You look at him, lips parted. His strong jaw was lined with a dirty blonde stubble, his lips perfectly shaped balanced with the rest of his face. His nose sat crookedly between his eyes, permanently misshapen from breaking it so many times. His eyes, strong and grey, bored into your soul as if he was looking into every possible detail there was to know about you. He dipped his head down, pulling your face towards his as he crashed his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as he forces you to keep your lips stuck to his.

He parts from the kiss, looking between your eyes with a deceivingly soft gaze. He leaves you in a stupor as he bends to pick his mask up off the floor, slipping his helmet on over his head. You stand dumbfounded, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to handle your newfound feelings.

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

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somecunttookmyurl · 12 days

Note

Hey, you recently mentioned somewhere about how growing pains aren't really a thing the way we think of them in the tags about a post about taking kids' pain seriously. And i've been sitting on that ever since, as someone who had severe 'growing pains' growing up that'd take me out for days but was told to stick it out. Thing is, they never went away and despite hitting 30 soon I regularly google something like 'growing pain in 20s' with some regularity.

I've finally bit the bullet, done the doctor marathon, ended up at a rheumathologist and was like 'idk i've had pain my entire life i was told it was normal'. (Didn't go over well, but how could it have.) Despite him then noting hypermobility he's adamant hsd or heds aren't worth looking into. And now i'm sat here like. Well, was it ever growing pains?

Could you talk more about what you meant with the growing pains? My mind is not letting it go

'growing pains' is something doctors say to dismiss pain in teens and children a lot.

the fact is, yes, some children get pains that are temporary and ultimately harmless and not at all related to growing in fact we don't know why it happens

the other fact is it tends to be limited to the ages of approximately 3 to 11, yet doctors use it to dismiss pain in teenagers - who still do a lot of growing often very quickly (especially boys).

it affects mostly if not exclusively the legs (notably calves and shins) and worsens following physical activity. yet doctors will often use it to handwave away any and all musculoskeletal pain

so yes there is a type of pain children (but not really teens) can experience in their lower legs. but not a) the rest of the body b) long-lasting c) bad all the time and d) it has nothing to do with actually growing

and frankly given we "don't know" why it happens at all i'd bet decent money there actually is a cause for whatever pain happened even if it was temporary. like doing the three-legged race wrong.

edit: sorry skipped over the hypermobile part. for some people (i hate them personally) hypermobility is not painful. for most people it IS. this is for the simple fact that your ligaments and tendons (connective tissue) are too stretchy so they aren't holding your joints in place as well as they should. so you know what has to pick up your slack? your larger muscles. you know what is built for movement and not 24-7 activation to keep you assembled? your muscles. they're doing something they're not supposed to have to do, and they're doing it all the time and they are fucking tired. unfortunately (i have hypermobile EDS and didnt get diagnosed until i was 28) there is no "cure" for this. the only treatments are stabilisation - physical therapy to try and build up the smaller stabilising muscles and support garments or things like k-tape to take the load off the bigger muscles by providing external support. also massage and heat to relieve the tension and tiredness.

#that's what i mean by 'growing' 'pains' aren't really a thing #they certainly weren't why i could barely walk at the age of 16 having not grown a single fucking milimetre since the age of 13 #and they aren't why your back hurts. and they aren't why your shoulders hurt

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vampyrsm · 2 years

Text

'as above, so below' demon king bakugou katsuki x reader

synopsis: what more could the king of hell want than having ultimate control over everyone who descends into his domain? well, there is just one thing. he wants the silly little girl who thought demons were a joke.

warnings: summoning, mentions of animal hearts (it's brief), female reader, monsterfucking, dubcon to be safe, mind breaking(?) reader is a virgin, rough sex, shibari, size difference, corruption kink, blood, marking, hair pulling, squirting, multiple creampies.

word count: 6174.

The sting against your flesh was nothing, it didn't surmount the bubbling fear in your stomach at the current situation you were in. The rope that was snug around your thighs and calves felt like it was fire rubbing against you whenever you tried to shift, just to ease up the pain enough to let you a moment of reprise in this newfound Hell.

You were utterly, and entirely fucked.

But you asked for this, didn't you?

You're the reason the man stood at the end of the bed filled with expensive silks was here. You just hadn't thought that this was quite how it would go, your friends had said it wasn't even meant to work—so just how did you manage to summon the most powerful of demons? The Demon King no less.

It was meant to be a harmless evening, something your friends had passed off to you as a 'joke'. They said that it wasn't real, that demons don't exist but it was all part of the thrill that something might just crawl out of the darkness in the dead of night. All of them had said nothing had ever happened to them, that the names were too hard to pronounce anyway or that they didn't even do the ritual right.

So just why did you do everything down to the letter? Why did you go out of your way to get your hands on a pig heart, they didn't even sell them in local stores. You shouldn't have even done it in the first place, it was a disgusting practice you realised when you had laid it all out in front of you. The lit candles, the blood that had been smeared on your clean wooden floors in what must be some sort of ancient language because it didn't look like anything but symbols and runes to you. Then the heart sat in the dish, thankfully you didn't have to do much to it other than just offering it up, but still having it sitting there made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

This was ridiculous. You thought as you painted the same symbols and runes along your thighs, down your arms and finally directly on top of your stomach. The blood was slimy and cold, and the fucking smell was rancid. You were going to bitch about this to your friends the second you got this shit off of you, they were clearly messing with you—why else would they get a person to rub blood on their skin?

Of course, nothing happened straight away, you hadn't expected it to but that bit of disappointment in the back of your mind was loud. You at least expected a tiny bit of a scare, maybe something would touch your hair or whisper in your ear but nothing. You spent the next 45 minutes cleaning up your apartment, running the washcloth over your body to rid yourself of the now sticky blood.

And you were content with the fact nothing happened, maybe it was for the better than you somehow fucked up the ritual. You shuddered at the thought of if it wasn't all a lie, just what could be lurking in the deep dark? You didn't want to find out, and so you resigned yourself to just shutting off for the night and heading to bed.

That was the plan of course as you opened your bedroom door, eyes on your phone screen until it felt like you walked directly into a thick wall of heat. Had you left the heating on? No, you didn't need it on today so just what—

You froze on the spot, eyes locked onto the man who was standing directly in front of your wardrobe's full body mirror. If you could even call him a man, that is. He had thick black wings that were more akin to that of a bat's wings, and he was fucking big. You could tell from the way his head was slightly ducked down to stop himself from hitting the ceiling that he was well over 7 feet, at the minimum. The longer you stared, the more details you started to take in.

With only just the small bedside table lamp giving him an amber glow, you could still see that his skin was a glistening tanned colour and he was beyond ripped. His muscles were tensed, large shoulders hunched and biceps bulging as he heaved in heavy strong breaths through his nose. Finally, you looked up at his face, he wasn't what you were expecting when you'd describe a demon. You always envisioned them as creepy little things that had disfigured features or an extra eye, or something. But this man, demon, was the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on.

Jaw sharper than any knife as he tensed it, his lips were turned down in a deep frown with his upper lip threatening to rise up like a snarling dog the longer you stared him down like a deer in headlights. A flick of something to the side of his head had you instantly looking at his ears, they were long and pointed but covered in fur, like cow ears. Heavy hoops adorned them both and jingled when they flicked again in what must be annoyance, and finally, you settled on the thick black horns that were most definitely bovine-like, large and pointed upwards, even those had metal rings dangling from them.

The second you met his eyes, your stomach dipped and twisted like it would on a rollercoaster. The red was unnatural, shining brighter than any fire you had seen, carrying the same heat as the sun when it's high in the sky on a summer afternoon. His lip finally curled up in a snarl, a low rumbling growl that bubbled in his throat and perfectly displayed the sharp fangs in his mouth.

"Done fucking starin'?" his voice was like ash, smokey and raspy yet deep it had a subtle shiver sliding up your spine. It matched his appearance perfectly, like every aspect of him had been hand-sculpted by the Gods. Perhaps he was. "Of course, the one person who manages to do the ritual right is too scared to fuckin' speak."

You blink finally, wiping the sweat from the palms of your hands against your sweatpants before you speak. "You're real?" is all your brain can ask in the current situation, and the way his eyebrows dipped in a frown and lip covering up his fangs once again tells you it was a stupid question. "I mean, you didn't show up for anyone else."

"Because they were all fuckin' idiots and didn't do it right," he finally shifts, and it feels like gravity moves with him like you're being drawn into his eyes the longer he holds eye contact with you. "You, however, little innocent you did everything right. Didn't you?" and suddenly he's in your space, the heat coming off of him in waves is unbearable and suffocating but you can't find the energy to move away from him.

"Why is that? What exactly did you wish to gain from summoning someone like me?" this close you can see his own eyes scanning over your face, along your hair and down the front of your body. His eyes linger on the exact places you had recently painted in blood as if he can still somehow see it.

"Speak." A command. A snarling one at that, it shakes you from the spot and has you blinking away the tears you hadn't even realised had started to clump against your eyelashes.

"I-I," you start, throat parched from the searing heat of the demonic figure who's now fully leering over you, head tilted down so the shadows shroud his face. "I don't know, I didn't think anything would happen!"

His eyebrow arches a little, whilst his head tilts as if he's fully surveying you. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" his tone is demeaning, lecturing you as if you were being scolded by an adult who had caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you wrote my name right along here..." his hand raises, a clawed finger dragging along your stomach before it dips down to press lightly against your womb.

The searing heat of his hand disappears just as quickly as it appeared, his hands dropping to his sides as he straightens up to his entire height—the best he can in this room, anyway. "I'll ask just one more time, what did you want from me?" you want to look away from his eyes, but they were like glowing coals against the shadows of his features.

Your silence clearly isn't what he wants to hear as he breathes in a deep breath through his nose, eyes rolling in annoyance before he abruptly turns away from you, you notice something whipping and lashing behind him as he walks, had he always had a tail? You realise he's heading back towards the mirror he had once come from. Is that how he got in here in the first place? You had heard of rumours about it being a bad thing to have mirrors angled towards your bed, a gateway or something.

But just as he reaches the mirror, he freezes on the spot when something sweet hits his nose. It's a rare kind of sweetness, not one he'd often get to indulge in because it usually bared heavy consequences on his behalf if he were to let his greed take over. But something is cementing him to the spot, and his ears flicker again causing the small hoops to jingle with the slight movement.

He's glancing over his shoulder briefly to see the muscles in your thighs tensing, squeezing as if to alleviate something and then the smell hits him again.

Oh.

So he was right in assuming you'd summoned him for that exact reason, he figures you just didn't bank on him being the King of Demons. What a shame, he grins as he turns back on his heel to look at you fully.

...And that's just how you ended up in a room that didn't quite look like yours anymore, the walls were draped in expensive yet old-looking fabrics, dark reds and blacks that seemed to ebb and flow despite there being no breeze. The soft bed beneath you was much bigger than any bed you had ever owned, was this all a hallucination? It sure didn't feel like one when a clawed finger hooked against the black rope that had been tied around your thighs pinning your calves to your thighs.

He was clearly impressed by his own handiwork with the way he kept running his fingers along it, putting a small amount of pressure against your thighs to make you hiss out at the aching pain in your calves but he knew it wasn't hurting you, not entirely. Not when he had you kneeling before him in said bound position, completely bare and dripping for him.

He looks even more sinful in the new light of the room, your lamps replaced by candles, the flickering orange somehow making his eyes brighter and that much more dangerous. His skin is shining, you realise, the sweat sticking to his bare chest and the column of his throat. You're completely fixated on every part of him, allowing him to pull you into this fantasy when he finally leans forward and pinches at your nipples that were already sore and red from his earlier ministrations.

In truth, Katsuki hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you. You smelled so pure, so ripe and ready for the picking and it had been centuries since he was allowed someone who hadn't been tainted in one way or another. He wanted to devour you whole, suck your very essence out of your body until you were quivering and shrieking for him to stop, and then begging for him to take you finally. He wants to lock you away in his own dungeon for the rest of eternity.

"Ready to admit just how fuckin' desperate you are yet?" he taunts, sharp claw stroking down along your sternum and then slowly back up until he hooks his index finger under your chin, forcing your head back to meet his gaze. "C'mon.. it won't be so bad if you just admit to it, tell me how bad you want it."

You do want to, you want to cave to him so badly but this game of cat and mouse has the throb between your legs intensifying. You know you're needy just from the way you clench around nothing when he spreads your legs just a little more to put the strain on your bound form but you can see the impressive bulge in his tight black slacks, the thick outline telling you just how badly he wants you in return.

Clearly, however, he is much stronger in will than you as you moan, breathy and downright needy when his fingers slip back down your body and rest between your legs. He was hardly touching you but the heat that seemed to move around him like an aura felt the same as if his hands were on you directly, and he could tell you were struggling to hold yourself in place. Stopping yourself from lowering yourself despite the ropes digging into your skin and grinding your wet heat against his palm.

He had you right where he needed you, on the precipice ready to fall directly into his clutches. So with a delicate tap of his index finger against your clit, your entire body jolted forward at the sudden stimulation. You figured it might've been a one-time tap, to mess with you, to make you admit all your sins to him but it was as if he were in a trance himself. His fingers move against your slick warmth, long fingers dipping in slightly before dragging back up to your clit to draw lazy but firm circles against it.

The low groan that came from his throat rumbled up through his chest, "Just say it, and I'll give it all to you."

You couldn't do this anymore, you couldn't hold out in hopes that he'd get bored. You figured he's a man with an infinite amount of time and just as much patience when it comes to getting what he wants.

"Please," you whisper, you're worried he might've not heard you when he remains silent. So you tilt your head up to look at him, certain you look every bit the mess he's made of you but you can see his nostrils are flared, eyes honed in on your lips. Waiting. "I can't wait anymore, please, I need you."

His eyes flick up to your own, and that feeling in your stomach is back as it flips and drops dramatically. Yet this time you don't feel the fear crawling up your spine telling you to run when he starts to crowd into your space, large wings behind his back spreading wide so all you could focus on was him. A large hand splays itself against your chest, carefully forcing you onto your back with your bound legs forced apart to expose yourself to the warmth that is Katsuki Bakugou as he lowers himself between your legs.

"Again," he growls, fangs peeking from beneath his lip as he tries to suppress a snarl. You figure it's not out of anger but rather frustration that he's still having to hold back.

His lips are just above your own, the closest you had been to him all night and it's intoxicating. Having a man so beautiful, a demon so powerful, asking you to tell him just how badly you want him. "Please," it's firmer this time, a little louder than a whisper. "Katsuki, I need you–" is all you manage to say.

The animalistic growl that rips through him shakes the four-post bed you're on, the way his given name rolls off of your tongue is what adds fuel to the fire in his gut. His lips are on yours in an instant, large canines pinching hard against your bottom lip until he draws blood. The kiss is messy, blood and spit mixing as he practically tries to devour you through the kiss alone, a large hand around your jaw to hold you in place whilst he got his fill.

When he parted from your lips you had to take in gasping breaths, with him this close it was like you were on fire beneath him which did nothing to help the aching need between your legs that was pressed snuggly against the heavy outline of his cock in his slacks, certainly leaving a mess behind on the pristine material. Suddenly he leans back on his knees, the space in front of you cold and empty.

Something in you makes you whimper at the loss, and his ears twitch at the sound, twisting and turning until they were pointed in your direction to take in your sounds. "What's wrong? You that much of a slut you can't wait a few more seconds?" and he grins when the same whine bubbles in your throat. His hands slip down to the belt of his slacks, the metal of the belt buckle clicking catching your attention immediately.

He tugs on the belt once and it slides out smoothly, the leather of the belt hitting the floor before he's unzipping his slacks to slip them down and off to reveal the black boxers that were tight on his thighs, and even tighter around the cock you could now see had a thick vein running on the underside of it, a darker wet spot near the waistband from the pre he'd been leaking all evening in anticipation of finally having you.

Despite your better judgement, you reach out a hand and half expect him to grab at it and burn you for daring to touch him out of turn but instead he lets your fingers brush against it. From the way you drag your fingers downwards a little too hard, he can tell you've never been this close to a dick before and that little fact has his tail lashing out viciously behind him in excitement.

"Can I?" your question catches him off-guard, his eyes look up at your own and for the first time you see something more than the hard glare, instead he looks rather... dazed, softened molten lava red eyes that take in the doe-eyed look you're giving him. You're so painfully innocent it has his cock twitching, he wants to ruin you.

"Be my guest," he offers, hands moving away from the waistband of his boxers as you, albeit awkwardly, pull down his boxers from the position you're in. The weight of his cock causes it to fall out once freed from its confines, and it has you clenching around absolutely nothing. He's much bigger than a human, you know that much for sure, the tip is big and looks irritated from how red it is—was he just as needy as you were?

His eyes were locked onto your own the entire time, drinking in the way your pupils dilated fully when you saw the very thing you had summoned him there for. He's about to take back the reigns when he feels a soft hand wrap around his length, it doesn't quite fit the entire way around and that has a pearl of precum leaking from the tip. Finally, he looks down, watching how you delicately stroke him as if he's going to somehow end up hurt if you're just a little rougher with him.

He thinks it's adorable.

But his patience has been worn thin all night long, he didn't make you crumble for no good reason. He wants to be buried deep inside of you as soon as possible, he needs to be or he thinks he might just go insane. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting you upwards to meet your gaze before he's ducking in once again. Your body is forced once again to succumb to his weight as he climbs back over you, big thighs spreading wide to force yours apart so he can nestle himself right where he needs to be.

A large hand meanders its way between the two of you, gripping at the thickness of his cock before he glides it along your slit eliciting a full body shiver in him at the copious amount of slick that had accumulated so quickly. His lips parted from yours just in time to hear the shaky intake of breath, and his eyes finally break away from the string of slick that was connecting the two of you.

He can see the fear in your eyes, something he hadn't expected in someone who would summon a demon. Unless—

"You're a virgin?" he asks in hardly a whisper, almost like he's confused by the idea of someone that pure trying to lose their virginity to a creature made up of pure sin. It's given this whole game a brand new thrill, a new prize that can be captured. The essence of a virgin is hard to come by nowadays.

You can't find it within yourself to answer him verbally, be it from embarrassment or fear of rejection that you're not going to be quite as easy as he first thought so instead you nod to his question. And his ears lower just that little bit more, eyes darting all over your face to take in your expression.

Purity.

"I'll be gentle," he says, it's a half-lie mostly but you don't need to know that. You chew on the bottom of your lip, causing more blood to spill from the previous two puncture holes he had left there from his kiss and he can't stop the automatic response to lean in, his tongue dragging along the plumpness of your bottom before he presses his lips against yours, small pecks slowly growing more heated with each passing moment until he was crowding over you, his weight settling a little more against your hips whilst his hand continued to drag the tip of his weeping cock up and down your slit until he angled it just so.

Your lips parted from his, his own opening in a silent gasp at the way you're squeezing the life out of him already and he had hardly pushed the tip in. You're panting into his mouth, and he can hear the start of a pained whine starting to build in the back of your throat the more he continues to bully his way through your walls. "Relax f'r me, please–" he pleads, unsure if he can withstand anymore of the clenching. "I need you to relax."

It's impossible to relax you think, you had never had sex before and yet you were practically being split in half by the biggest man you had ever seen. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears rolling from the corner of your eyes and you can feel the burning of his gaze on your face when you continue to whine, whimpering in pain at the shallow thrusts he's giving. You feel full already but you know he's hardly made any progress on ensuring he was buried to the hilt deep inside of you. "P-Please," you murmur, what were you asking for exactly? You had no idea, but Katsuki seemed to have some sort of idea as his hand drifted between the two of you again and the heat of his fingertips against your clit had your hips bucking upwards.

He hisses, teeth gritted at the pulse of tightness around only part of his cock when he taps a finger against your clit before running smooth yet tight circles on it. But it seems to be working, your legs relax as much as they can in their binding and your walls relax just enough for him to fluidly roll his hips back and forth until he's seated deep against you. His cock is twitching against your walls, bumping into the spot that has your stomach tensing and thighs trying to clamp closed around his trimmed waist.

You half expected him to start as soon as he was buried inside of you, but when you reopen your eyes you're met with his own being tightly closed. His body is hunched over your own, two large forearms caging either side of your head and his head is ducked down just enough so the hardness of his horns is touching the top of your head. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was in pain from the scrunch of his nose and the furrow of his eyebrows.

Unsure if you were genuinely hurting him just as much as he was hurting you, you decide to try and comfort him in some sort of way. Can demons even be comforted? They didn't seem the type who needed comfort in any way but nonetheless, you slid your hands up along his neck until you cupped his jaw, the muscles jumping each time he tensed and untensed his jaw, teeth grinding.

His eyes fluttered open when your thumbs rolled over his cheekbones, but instead of that deep red you had been staring into the entire evening you were met with black. Even the white of his eyes was no more, but you could tell he was staring directly back at you, just something in your gut telling you so.

"Don't look at me like that," his voice a thunderous growl, involuntarily making you clench around him and his nose screwed up once again.

But you weren't looking at him like anything, were you? "I don't— like what?"

"Like I'm the one who hung the moon, it's makin' it so much harder for me to hold back." You hadn't realised you were looking at him in such a way, what did that even look like? But the thought of him holding back after all you had endured, all the teasing and the unfulfilled promises of something more, didn't sit right with you.

"Then don't," you reply automatically, his eyebrows raise up in surprise and despite looking every part of the soul-consuming demon that he was, you think he looks somewhat softer as he observes you. His ears twitch a little, angled towards you, he almost looked cute. "Don't hold back."

Katsuki gives an experimental roll of his hips, the drag of his cock against your gummy walls has both of you moaning. His with more timbre than your own before it tapered off into a gravel-like groan when he ruts his hips forward, the entirety of your body bouncing off of his hips. He leaned down further, his hands locking together on the top of your head to make sure you stayed in place for what was to come.

"You asked for it, sweetheart."

The pace he picks is instantly fast and extremely hard. The clap of his thighs against the back of yours is loud but the sound of just how wet you are for him is louder, it has your cheeks heating and the tips of your ears burning in embarrassment because he must know just how desperate you are for him, creaming all over his length until a delicate little white ring is starting to form at the base of his cock. Katsuki finds it all that more exciting, just how much can he make you do?

Suddenly he leans back up onto his knees, large clawed hands grabbing at your knees and spreading you impossibly wider whilst his eyes are glued to the length of his cock disappearing and reappearing from the sticky warmth of your cunt. It has him feral, the way there's a clear yet thick sheen to his cock from your shared arousal and the way it strings every time he pulls back. Can't help himself when one of his hands slides down along your inner thigh until his thumb presses hard against your clit, tight and firm patterns being drawn against the nub until he can feel your walls fluttering around him.

"Let go," he moans when you clench the second he speaks, his pace not faltering now that he has your walls stretched to his size but he can feel the telltale signs of his cock twitching, his balls aching with the need to release. "Cum for me."

The command has you vaulting off of the cliff you had been teetering on for the entire evening, your stomach tensing as your entire body locked up under his ministrations. The way the tip of his cock drags deep inside of you consistently has your brain unable to think clearly, the prolonged orgasm effectively melting away every thought you had ever had until all you could think about was him.

Katsuki watched the way your lips remained parted from your loud, long moans until it fell silent, just the sound of your panting breaths each time his hips slapped against your own forcing the breath out of your body. He couldn't hold back anymore, his upper lip curled into a nasty snarl and his eyes shot down to look at the way his cock twitched hard when he saw just how much you were gushing around him.

The first wave of his cum was molten hot, it felt like it was burning—no, it was more like branding—your walls, and it didn't stop as he continued to roll his hips albeit a little more sloppy in comparison to his previous rhythm, his claws were dug into the fat of your thighs, holding you perfectly still as he continued to pour more and more of his seed deep inside of you.

Slowly he pulled out, the hefty weight of his cock slapping against his thigh. His hands travelled down the back of your thighs, thumbs pulling apart your swollen lips just in time to see you clench around nothing and force his cum out of you and down between your asscheeks until it pooled on the silk sheets beneath you. "Oh fuck, you might just be my undoing," he whispers more to himself, but the words have you yearning for more.

You want more of him, all of him.

In your post-orgasm state, you fail to notice when his claws grab at the ropes on your legs and seamlessly slice through the thick bindings to free your legs. He's quick to manhandle you further up the bed, his frame hitting the sheets this time before he's hauling you up on top of him on all fours. It's a big stretch for your thighs still with how much bigger he is than you, his cock twitches when another thick glop of cum drips from your pussy and directly onto the length of his cock.

"We're not stopping now," he breathes, gripping himself to angle the tip of his cock back against your entrance and this time the way he slides into you is with no struggle at all, your body naturally melting down into his own as you sink all the way down until you're flush with his hips. "You're mine, gotta make sure everyone knows it too."

He gives a rough thrust of his hips, forcing you to fall forward on his chest and crush your chest against his own, your face is inches away from his and you see the vicious smile slowly take over his features. He looks devilish. "You got that?" he says whilst stroking his hands down along the expanse of your body, long fingers grasping at the meat of your ass.

"All. Mine." the growl of his voice makes it hard to hear him properly, but you don't have much time to focus on anything else when his legs prop up on the bed and he's fucking into you with reckless abandon.

The squelching is much louder, and the slap of his balls hitting against the curve of your ass from the force behind his thrusts deafening but you can't focus on anything but the whines coming from his throat. He sounds wounded, panting and heavy breathing between his moans each and every single time you clench around him.

You're so focused on him that the feeling of your second orgasm of the evening hits you a little too late, your stomach tightening unbelievably so but the pressure in your pelvis is nothing like you had felt before. You scrambled to try and get your hands under you, to try and push yourself up and off of him before anything bad happened but Katsuki had other plans. His arms locked around your body, forearms pinned against your spine and hands latched onto your shoulders whilst his hips and thighs did all the work.

"Give it t'me," he moans against your cheek, your moans feeding directly into his ear. "Give yourself to me, sweetheart, c'mon."

You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to, he must shift his hips just slightly before thrusting up impossibly hard so he hits directly onto the pressure point that had been building inside of you. His moans grow louder, rumbling in his chest as he keeps trying to fight against the pressure of you clenching around him until he's inevitably forced out of your pussy when clear liquid gushes from you in harsh streams.

You're twitching atop of him, your mouth having latched onto his shoulder at some point to stop the scream that wanted to rip through your throat as you squirted all over his length. You're mortified, had you just—

Katsuki, however, is elated. He got you to squirt all over his cock, and he wastes no time realigning himself to thrust himself back inside of your hole that's still twitching and overcoming the shock of your previous orgasm. You moan against his skin, teeth threatening to break through the skin. "So fucking good, did so well f'r me." he mumbles against your hair, a deep kiss being pressed against you that almost seems too intimate for the situation you're both in.

His pace is a little slower this time, still aggressively hard but he seems to be revelling in the way you're still occasionally gushing around him. With a pop of your mouth, you finally release his shoulder and meet his gaze, his eyes are back to that shade of red that draws you in. He doesn't stop you when you push against his chest this time, planting your hands firmly against his broad muscled pecs, drawing absentminded patterns over the various scars that littered his chest.

You raise yourself up, gently dropping yourself back down and it has Katsuki pressing the back of his head against the pillows, eyes fluttering. You do it again, and again until the pace is starting to pick back up and his hands are clawed against your hips, marking your body once again as his. He looks beautiful beneath you like this, blonde hair ruffled and sweat dripping from his browline, his entire body glistening with it and large black wings splayed out wide in all their glory. It felt invigorating to have a deity such as himself beneath you, quivering each time your walls fluttered and whining when you rolled your hips delicately back and forth.

When Katsuki reopened his eyes, he raises a hand up to your cheek and guides you back down towards his face. That same hand cups the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair until he had a firm grip and that was the only warning you got before he yanked hard on your hair, forcing your head to the side to expose the expanse of your neck. His mouth opened wide before latching himself onto you, large fangs digging firmly into the skin until he knew he was drawing blood.

His cock twitched again deep inside of you, that sudden warmth coating your insides as you rolled your hips back and forth involuntarily to try and ease the pain you were feeling in your neck, your nails dug into his chest leaving behind thick red welts. His groan vibrated against your throat, and he remained like that until his balls were drawn tight and a sense of completion finally settled deep into his bones.

Deattaching from your throat he relaxed back into the bed, blood dripping from his lips. His body curled naturally around your own, large arms holding your smaller frame to his own and shifting slightly to ensure he remained buried deep inside of you. It felt oddly intimate once again, but something in your stomach told you it was right. He had said you were his, had he marked you as such?

Part of you hoped so, you think you could live with this for the rest of eternity if it meant you were his.

"Sleep," comes his raspy voice, his fingers now stroking along the back of your head where he had pulled a little too harshly on your hair. "We're not done here yet."

#tw dubcon #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo katsuki imagine #bnha x fem!reader #bnha oneshots #mha smut #bnha x self insert #bnha smut

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shooting-love-arrows · 4 months

Note

What’s Yandere Barbarians kinks? (I assume one of them is breeding? 🥰)

Also I assume that the men of his clan are raised a certain way to follow in their fathers’ foot steps, but what of the women born into his clan? What’s their role? (I think you said that they were “traditionalists”?) And how would courtship work for them since they aren’t abducted or anything?

*I just wanna be a house wifey/mother to my lovely barbarian man 🙈

Dear Anon,

What of the women born into his clan? What’s their role? The barbarian woman:

Stay in the village most of the time. They aren't trained enough to go on the raids or fight bigger armies. But that doesn't mean they're harmless. They are trained in basic combat and to wield a white weapon so that they can protect themselves in case of an intruder or attack.

They hold the power in the village/camp/location they are currently residing. They are the one to decide if the place is good enough to camp, make sure there's enough supplies (food/medicine/sacrificial artifact/etc). If there's not enough, they turn to males who are responsible for bringing the females necessary supplies.

They are considered gifts from the beings above. Since the birth of females is rather low among the barbarians, when one is born, it's a moment a family should fervently pray for giving them such a blessing. After all, it is the woman who is a gifter and nourishes life. So with that in mind, they are also considered a link between the mortal world and eternal one. They are the priestesses.

They're the one to lead sacred ceremonies, give blessings, organize the funeral, pray and give sacrifices to gods. If one doesn't have the necessary blessing from a head female of their family (which is usually the oldest), then there is little to no chance you can do in some matters. You can always try persuading the head female but you never know how it can end up, since they can end up cursing you.

How would courtship work for them since they aren’t abducted or anything? Barbarian courting traditions when it comes to their own people still includes kidnapping. Since I mentioned earlier, there is significantly less females in the barbarian population. This means there is high competition among male members of the population. So in the end this part of the courting is still a bloody mess. At first, the male is supposed to woo the female with a show of power/wealth/ability to provide and protect her. Those are the generall first stages of courtship. Kidnapping comes as the last step. It is the ultimate test of his ambition and abilities. The difficulty lies in the fact that he has to kidnap the bride from her household/family. Remember, all of them can harm him and they will protect their daughter with all they have since they are probably made aware that there’s a bachelor interested in her in the first place. If he succeeds, then he's supposed to bring her to his tent/house, where the members of the bride's family have a last chance to take her back by attempting to buy her out of captivity. If the family fails, the woman and man are considered engaged and are supposed to be blessed by the head females of each of their households. From this day onward, the future bride is to live in her future husband's household.

What’s Yandere Barbarians kinks? Yandere! Barbarian (some of the) kinks would include:

Breeding. It's only normal to desire an offspring(s). And since Yandere! Barbarian lets his primal instincts take control in most situations, I think he'll like to have one too.

Blindfolding their partner. You don't need to see him during your passionate and rough love making. You only need to feel him and bask in the pleasure he gives you. He just loves how confused and helpless you look. Sprawled on the bed, swallowed by thick furs and left at his mercy, not even knowing what’s to come next.

Role play (prey [the reader] and a hunter [Yandere! Barbarian])/chasing. He loves a good dose of adrenaline. The feeling of his heart speeding up to the point it’s ready to burst out of his chest, the thin layer of sweat on his skin and the wind blowing his hair and filling his lungs with fresh air. It’s what gets him going. So with that in mind, he’ll let you run away from him, only to chase you down and in the end catch you. Once he does, there’s no escape. He will hold you tightly, hugging your body to his like he’s trying to be one with you. He'll most likely take on the spot he has caught you.

I hope that answers some the questions. I am sure you'll be a perfect wife for him :)

@shooting-love-arrows

#s.l.arrows answers <3

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wishluc · 1 year

Text

✧ CW: yandere character, stalking

You'd never have guessed that General Mahamatra Cyno was such an avid fan of Genius Invokation TCG.

It came as a huge shock when you, waiting for an opponent to duel with, heard the all-too-familiar voice addressing you.

"May I join you for a game?"

That day, Puspa Café was bustling with patrons, as per usual. Still, you had managed to find yourself a seat on a secluded table by the corner, where you could comfortably wait for someone to join you. Despite being somewhat new to the game, you had quickly grown to love Genius Invokation TCG, and were now a regular customer here.

You watch, with wide eyes, as Cyno stands by your table with an expectant look. Immediately shaken out of your trance, you nod and, with bated breath, stare at him again as he takes a seat across you.

"Excuse me," Cyno says, before surveying your cards, picking up one to look at the back. It doesn't seem to bother him that you've not given him a single response yet.

"General M—"

"Cyno the Adventurer," he smoothly interjects, closely inspecting your card back, "I hope that you won't let my position waver your interest in my duel, but if it helps, you can just think of me as someone else. So while I'm here, please refer to me as such. You had this commissioned in Liyue, yes?"

"Yes..." you're not sure how he knew, but maybe Cyno was familiar with the artist's works, "But, adventurer...?"

He nods, "and you are...a poet traveling to find inspiration."

"A poet," you echo weakly, confusion heavy in your voice, "yes..."

"Before we begin, I'd like to give you some tips. You'd be better off using an artifact card than this weapon card. Also, the synergy between these cards won't be as good as these, and..."

Was this just a characteristic of a professional player? You're not sure how he managed to identify your go-to cards and analyze your usual strategy so quickly, but it didn't appear too strange that someone like Cyno was so quick to identify the flaws in your gameplay.

The duel itself was undeniably exciting. Cyno had cards you hadn't seen yet, cards, he told you, that were exclusive to Mondstadt. Even his card back was done by a famous illustrator based in Mondstadt. You were almost envious of his cards. However, when Cyno unsurprisingly won, he only frowned. Your mind raced for explanations. Was he disappointed in your play? Did he think you were holding back in fear of upsetting him? It would be awful if he had a bad impression of you just from a card game, and though he didn't strike you as someone to hold such views, you couldn't help but be cautious.

"Another game?"

After a considerable amount of time had passed, and three more games had ended with varying results, Cyno was finally ready to retire.

He clears his throat, "next week," he declares, "I'll be here again. Will you be available for another game?"

You mentally ran through your schedule. Next week...you didn't have anything planned as of yet. Regardless, how were you going to turn down a personal invitation from the General Mahamatra himself?

"No," you tell him, "then, I'll see you...?"

Cyno hums, looking deep in thought.

"Next week, I'll be the ex-leader of an Eremite camp. A fugitive seeking to reform his old ways. And you can be..." he trails off, instead giving you a gentle command, "surprise me."

You don't know what to think of him, really. He was a lot more eccentric than you had heard, but for the most part, he was...harmless. Ultimately, like the other players in the café, Cyno was just here to have fun. While you mull over the possibilities on your way home, you fail to realize a card from your deck had gone missing. It was one of the weapon cards that Cyno himself had advised you against using, and at the time, you hadn't noticed anything, so overwhelmed as you were by his presence, but he had pocketed it for himself. It would soon find itself a new home inside Cyno's own case, not that you would ever know.

It was only a small token taken to commemorate your first official meeting. Next time, Cyno was hoping to get his hands on a much better prize.

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 months

Text

Promises Kept.

January 5, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

When Joe Biden declared his candidacy for president in 2019, the nation was bruised, battered, and divided by three years of Trump's unrelenting chaos and carnage. During Biden’s year-long campaign, Trump plunged America into darker waters as he tried to extort Ukraine into fabricating lies about Joe Biden and his son. Trump then engaged in gross dereliction of duty by mishandling the nation’s response to Covid, ultimately resorting to lies and quackery as the death toll mounted.

Biden stepped into the breach, promising “to restore the soul, honor, dignity, and decency” of America. In word and deed, Biden has kept those promises—despite virulent and violent opposition by MAGA extremists who sought to prevent the peaceful transfer of power—and who still seek to destroy our democracy today.

Historians may view Biden’s greatest success as the restoration of normalcy, decency, and rationality to the executive branch of the US government. Biden’s legislative accomplishments are historic and will be an enduring legacy standing alone.

Identifying Biden’s legislative successes is easy; identifying the depth and breadth of Biden’s restoration of decency and rationality is more difficult—because living in a normal frame of reference is subtle and ineffable. It infuses every aspect of democracy and political discourse. It is the absence of chaos, it is��not waking up every morning thinking, “Oh, God. What has he tweeted now?”, and it is not hearing every governmental action re-interpreted through Trump's lenses of narcissism, delusion, and insecurity.

Joe Biden acts within a rational political framework. His policies can be praised or criticized because they exist (in writing) and reflect the reasoned judgment of Biden and his staff after a period of reflection and debate. They are not made up “on the fly” in response to reporters’ questions shouted over the noise of helicopter rotors.

The return to normalcy, decency, and dignity is neither sexy, compelling, nor “made for TV.” But it was precisely what the nation needed after the chaos of Trump's tenure as president. Joe Biden kept his promises. For that, we owe him a debt of gratitude that we must repay in 2024.

On the eve of the third anniversary of January 6, Biden is launching his 2024 campaign in earnest. In a political ad previewed on MSNBC, Biden said that he is making ��the preservation of democracy” the centerpiece of his campaign. In the ad, Biden says, in part,

All of us are being asked, “What will we do to maintain our democracy?” History is watching. The world is watching. Most importantly, our children and grandchildren will hold us responsible . . . .

A campaign theme of “preserving democracy” is neither sexy, compelling, nor “made for TV.” But it is precisely what the nation needs as it stares into the abyss of a second Trump term as president.

I have heard from dozens of readers this week who are disappointed with Biden’s responses regarding immigration and the war in Gaza. Some have suggested that they will not vote or will vote for a third-party candidate. Both of those options are the functional equivalent of voting for Trump.

The freedom to criticize the president is a privilege of our democracy guaranteed in the Constitution. We can debate presidential policies only if we have a democratic frame of reference within which to hold those debates.

That democratic frame of reference will exist under a second Biden term. Under Trump, the democratic frame of reference will be replaced by a simple test: Does speech praise Trump? If not, the speaker will act at their peril. Trump’s vigilantes will threaten the speaker, and state and federal agencies will pretend the threats are harmless jokes or over-exuberant expressions of loyalty to Trump.

The threat of vigilantism to punish speech is not hyperbole. As we approach the third anniversary of January 6, elected officials who criticize Trump or apply the law to his unlawful conduct are being deluged with death threats. They are being “swatted” by sick individuals who call 9-1-1 to make false reports of crimes in progress—resulting in the deployment of armed emergency responders to the elected officials’ homes.

Like Joe Biden, Trump has made promises. He has promised his followers that, if re-elected, “I will be your retribution.” He has also promised that he will be a dictator “on day one” if he is elected to a second term.

Joe Biden has kept his promise “to restore the soul, honor, dignity, and decency” of America. We should take Biden at his word that he will work to preserve democracy if re-elected in 2024.

As with Biden, we should take Trump at his word: He will exact retribution and act as a dictator on day one of his second term.

The competing promises of Trump and Biden tell us everything we need to know about the choice we face in the 2024 election.

Concluding Thoughts.

The choice between presidential candidates in 2024 could not be starker. There is no ambiguity, nuance, or grey area. We must help Joe Biden communicate that fundamental difference and help people understand that the choice in 2024 is not about policies or the economy. It is about democracy—and whether we are for it or against it.

#Robert b. Hubbell #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #Biden Administration #Democracy itself #the threat of vigilantism #preserving democracy #Boston Globe

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leggerefiore · 2 months

Note

Can I request how submas, piers and other celebrities would react to the whole mob wife fashion trend? How would they react to fans dressing up as their "girlfriend" or what not?

guessing this is like more of a weird cosplay thing than like what I did for villains. also an s/o there since. x reader blog and all lol.

also first time writing piers so it may suck💔

cw: light jealousy? kinda sorta

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Piers, Elesa

▲Ingo▼

● The second he sees something related to a fan dressing in a “train wife aesthetic”, whether it be from Elesa showing him a post she saw online or in person somewhere in the Gear Station, he instantly is distressed by it. Why? He had heard of people wanting to buy his and Emmet's coats and hats, but that made sense with them being local celebrities in Nimbasa. Their choices confused him further. Something about the focus on sweaters alongside a strange fascination with the colours black, purple, and white left him baffled. It almost felt like they were taking from his casual outfits, almost.

● He supposes he does not mind, though. It was nothing too out of the ordinary. He had witnessed people dressing up as him and his brother, so this felt like some other odd things his fans did. As long as none of them were actually claiming to be his partner, he decided this was nothing that he needed to address. Ingo would just wait this out, assuming that people would eventually get bored and move on after a little while.

● Though, if his actual partner was upset by this, he might feel less happy with it. Especially if there were a few outliers of the mean daring to claim that they were in a relationship with him. Ingo would hate for people to cause distress in you and would likely ask that people please stop pretending to be his partner since he is already in a relationship. Whether that would actually do anything is anyone's guess, though. He would definitely beg his partner not to try to fight the weird fans online, too. That was the last thing he would need.

● Ultimately, Ingo just hopes it will pass quickly as an odd but notable trend among his fans. The inspiration from his own clothing choices into theirs makes him a bit curious as to what they would think he would prefer his partner wear, however. Truthfully, he has no real preference. He is happy to let his partner wear whatever they please and enjoys how they express themselves with it.

▽Emmet△

○ Elesa absolutely has to show him it because he lives blissfully unaware of most things. He feels confused upon seeing this “train wife aesthetic” video, with a woman choosing to wear clothing themed among cutesy styles and bright colours. His expression is vacant, with his usual smile still on his lips. This made little sense to him. Were they dressing in styles they thought he would like? He asked Elesa, and she explained to him that it was related to some greater style thing happening in online fashion. Apparently, dressing up like your favourite celebrity trainer's partner was big. He just nodded.

○ He still does not understand for the most part. It was strange to him but ultimately harmless. People dressed up like him and Ingo often enough for him to just shrug it off. The only thing that may upset him was if one of these fans actually claimed to be his partner. That boundary was one thing that he would prefer not to be crossed. He just decided to go back to being unaware and figured it would go away, like most trends do.

○ If it was upsetting his partner, however, Elesa may need to take his phone before he makes a fool of himself. Even more so if it were someone claiming they were his partner online. He hates seeing his darling upset and does not want to allow anything that distresses them to continue! Emmet simply wants to make you happy. Elesa would help his draft a post to explain why people pretending to be his partner online makes him uncomfortable and how he wishes they would stop out of respect for him and his real partner. She had to stop him from threatening to send Joltiks after people doing it since he was so emotionally charged from it.

○ In the end, Emmet does not really like or dislike it, but he does prefer to pretend to know nothing about it. His curiosity about what led to the fashion choices that his fans all seemed to agree upon was his only real thought he gave it. Everything seemed so bright and cutely themed that he did not get it. He knew what he preferred his partner to wear, and it certainly was not anything someone could post online to normal social media sites. He just shrugs again. It was not the first time his fans had misread him, after all.

🎤Piers🌑

✖️ The singer sees it randomly while scrolling social media on his phone and cocks a brow up at it. “Punk Singer's GF Style”? He wants to assume it is someone else, but clearly there are too many elements in the various styles that call back to him. Hot pink, leather, and black and white stripes all dead giveaways. It did not feel anything far away from his recollection of fans making their own homemade dark-type gym uniforms before he started selling them at his concerts. He looks a little more into it and discovers its relation to a bigger trend with dressing like a celebrity trainer's partner. He scoffed at the “Gym Leader-Influencer's GF Fits” he saw.

✖️ He knows better than to acknowledge these things. No need to pour diesel on this when it would be easier to let it pass on its own. Fans do weird things – Piers is more than aware of this. He does feel a bit perturbed by a few audacious ones claiming they were his real partner, but even then, he knew it was better to just ignore it. They wanted attention and nothing more. Better to not feed it.

✖️ If his partner expressed discomfort at the trend, he would be inclined to agree. Especially if it were about the ones claiming to be with him. Piers did not want to force a public relationship with him on you, but if you wanted to do that to try to stop weirdos online, he would be down. 'Course, he is not forcing anyone to do anything. Even if you were clearly uncomfortable by it, he knows better than to bring attention to something. He assures you it will go away, and instead wants to channel your upset into something else. Help him write a song or something. Leave an impact on him in a way others only wish they could.

✖️ Piers does not really like it, ultimately, but he is more than aware of how the internet works. Though, he does find their choices in clothes most fascinating. Seriously? It almost feels strange seeing them in clothing similar to his own or, weirder, one he saw in a dress like Marnie's own. That one made him uncomfortable enough to block them. He does not really dictate what his partner wears at all. That is not his style. Not to say he would not prefer them to have similar tastes to his own, but he would not force that on them.

⚡️Elesa🌟

⭐️ The black-haired woman felt a bit intrigued when she sees something like “Model Gym Leader's GF Chic” on her feed. She enjoys fashion, after all. It was a bit strange seeing people dressing how they thought her partner would, however. All of it seemed yellow or blue and based around some of her previous looks or pokemon. Did they think she wanted to dress up a lover in some of her clothes? Well, maybe a little bit, but casually? Day to day? Not really. Though, she did hate how much she really enjoyed a lot of the styles. It was nice seeing inspiration taken from some of how styles and applied out on others.

⭐️ She would never speak about it openly, fully aware it would just bring more attention to it, but her inner circle and private account followers get to see her favourite styles taken out from the trend. Elesa does not really mind it, finding it mostly to be people online having fun, but she really does not like anyone trying to claim to actually be her partner. That is a boundary she does not like to have overstepped. Of course, she bites her tongue back on saying anything. Like most fads, it will pass and something new will replace it. She will just enjoy the lovely outfits that come out of it for now.

⭐️ Though, her partner expressing distress over it would make her a little less excited about it. Elesa gets what it is for the most part personally, but to you, it must have seemed like people wanting to be with her. Well, there were a lot of those, too. She would try to explain how she views it and hope it calms you down from your emotional high. Your feelings are perfectly understandable, too, of course. Especially if it is about the people claiming to be her partner online. Her best advice is to ignore it and let it fade, giving those people attention is the last thing to do. She is more than happy to remind you that you are who she loves in order to distract you both from it.

⭐️ In the end, Elesa does not mind a majority of the trend and even really likes certain aspects of it. She does, however, find it strange that they think she would like her partner to wear clothing really similar to her own. The model would not oppose that, no, but she really likes to see how they could express themselves individually from her. Their own style tells her a lot about their personality. That is what she loves to see more than anything else.

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