#faux kappa

[warm-tazmily]

FUCK YEAH

MY FLESHY SOULS TEAM !!

they all hate each other

#yokai watch fanart #yokai watch #art #fanart #artists on tumblr #snee #betterfly #allnyta #meremaidyn #faux kappa #komiger #tazmily doodles

[daily-yokai]

Day 104: Faux Kappa

#yo kai watch #yokai watch #dailyyokai #faux kappa

[magicalmyu]

bestest friend

#fanart #yo kai watch #nathaniel adams #keizou amano #hovernyan #mermaidyn #faux kappa #pallysol #gnomey #predictabull #lucy adams #kenny forester #kelly forester #this took a while to finish augh

[casanono1fan]

Day 1 part 14

New characters guys!!

#yo-kai watch #yokai watch #yokai watch : dead hotel #yokai watch au #casanono #yo kai watch #chansin #mermaidyn #faux kappa #Toadal dude (implied) #Arachnus (implied)

[random-ykw-facts]

Fact #33

Many Yo-kai have the same Japanese names as their origins. A few examples include Gutso being Nekomata, Faux Kappa being Kappa (which is also a name shared by a different Yo-kai from Forever Friends), Frostina being Yuki-onna, and Noko being Tsuchinoko.

#yo-kai watch facts #yo-kai watch #yokai watch #youkai watch #ykw #yw #gutso #nekomata #faux kappa #kappa #kappa'ou sagojou #frostina #yuki-onna #noko #tsuchinoko #oddly despite how many komainu there are there's no yo-kai named komainu yet #though also there wasn't a yo-kai named nekomata before gutso

[oh-meow-swirls]

okay 2 fully updated. let's see what we got here.

not quite as chaotic of a team. weird how i've apparently played 1 more than 2 as far as this file's playtime is concerned-

idk when i stopped nicknaming my yo-kai. jibanyan's name is purrball which is one of his random nicknames.

has nyaight as his soultimate n has the memory chime ofc.

not much to say about multimutt here tbh. charlie2 is a pretty funny name-

such a great healer we got here.

i must've liked cadin bfgffbfg-

no idea why i gave him a bony band-

two 77's. funni.

this is somehow the third yo-kai on the list sorted by new. how-

the nickname on this one is my favorite. why did i decide he's a creep- hit the image limit again, there's not much else interesting but there's some funny nicknames bgggfgfvf-

#puppy rambles #yo-kai watch #yw2 #jibanyan #multimutt #hungramps #cadable #faux kappa #bakulia #mimikin #ray o' light

[faithfulcsidesuperfan]

#flash warning #??? #faux kappa #yokai watch #JUMPSCARE

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, theta hurts reader but only a little, this was not edited sorry for mistakes 😭

notes: alrighty guys, this is officially the last chapter of the regular schedule—after this one, updates are going to be sporadic but they will at the very least be monthly. wish i could keep up the schedule but its not going to be feasible considering i start law school this upcoming wednesday </3 i'll update the masterlist to reflect the change too

SPIT IN MY FACE

“Excuse me?”

The masked man—had Gamma called him Theta?—kept a tight grip on your wrist, holding it up in front of you so he could look at it himself. He was stronger than he looked, you tried to rip your wrist out of his hold but failed. His nails dug into your skin in response to the attempt, drawing blood. You grimaced as you watched a thin line of red seep down your forearm. 

“You heard me.” Theta’s smile didn’t budge as his other hand came up to grab your chin, turning your head away from where Kappa was still buried in the crook of your neck to face him. “Was he trying to keep you hidden away or were you trying to hide from us?”

He wasn’t looking at your hand. He was looking at your finger or more specifically… where your thread was hanging from it, leading off somewhere to the left of you wherever Dottore was. You remembered how Kappa had looked down at your hand curiously before deciding to come over to you, the way he was so at ease with you for no reason. And Gamma. Gamma had looked at your hand before he started panicking and ran off.

Could they… see it?

“Hm?” Theta’s nails dug into your cheeks now, just like how he had with the aristocrat—you didn’t even know where they went, if they had taken the opportunity to flee or if he had done something to immobilize them, you couldn’t turn your head to check. You grimaced as you felt his nails break skin again. “Answer me.”

How was that possible?

You could all but taste the poison in his words, the impatience and the frustration. You were at a loss as to how to proceed—your arms were tied up with Kappa, one of your hands was stuck in his and he was forcing you to look at him, and that unhinged look in his red eyes was causing your brain to fog with fear.

Think. You had to think. You had to free your wrist from his hand. You had to get back to your room, or to Pantalone’s. 

Where was Pantalone? Livid, you realized that the man was probably still listening in on the show, not getting involved, leaving you to deal with this unstable bastard. 

Think. What did he want to hear? What would make him settle down at least enough to loosen his grip on you?

But how the hell were you supposed to know what he wanted you to hear? Even with just the way he spat out those two questions, you knew both answers were wrong and would set him off more. But you had to say something, the longer you went without answering his question, the more his eyes flamed with impatience—you didn’t want to know what would happen when that thin thread of patience snapped.

“I came here, didn’t I?” you asked quietly. You tried to relax your shoulders and upper body, exuding a type of faux-comfort with the man. “I came looking for you.”

Theta’s red eyes narrowed with suspicion, watching you carefully—his grip did not waver, much to your distress. 

“You don’t even know who I am,” he said coldly, speaking the one truth you’d hoped he wouldn’t. His grip on your wrist tightened and his nails dug deeper into your cheeks. “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” you told him, grimacing as his nail dragged against your skin. Kappa shifted in your arms, bristling, you couldn’t tell if he was watching or not. “You can see the thread, no? I may not fully understand how you can see it but the fact that you can speaks enough.”

Theta hesitated, the corner of his lip dipping in doubt as he tried to decide whether or not he thought you were lying. You watched with bated breath, tongue kissing the inside of your teeth, as a flurry of emotions rushed through his eyes ranging from anger to hesitancy and hope. Then his eyes hardened, decision made, and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Liar.”

Again, his grip tightened but it was painful now and your body begged you to pull away or do something but he was stronger than you. He forced you closer to him, turning you so that if Kappa wasn’t between you, you would’ve been chest-to-chest with him. You wondered if you should let him go, let him flee somewhere safe, but he was still clutching your shirt.

Theta leaned in close, you could feel his breath hot against your cheek and the cool ceramic of his mask nudging against your skin where his nose would have been. You grit your teeth together as you felt something warm and wet press against the skin of your cheek where his nails had broken through, lapping at the blood.

Your face felt hot, anger and humiliation curdling your blood as Theta let out a puff of amused laughter against your skin.

“You taste like a liar too,” Theta crooned. “Lambda thinks you’re a fake sent to distract us. Are you a fake, little liar?”

Us. He kept saying us but you don’t know what that meant or how it was possible—they could see the thread but as far as you could tell, they did not have a connecting one. You had never seen anything like that before, nor had you ever read about anything like that. 

You thought you should say something but your mind was reeling as you tried to piece together the puzzle and figure out what was going on.

But before you could do or say anything, Kappa squirmed and twisted in your arms, hanging over you to whack his small fist hard against Theta’s mask—with more strength than you expected from the boy. 

Theta grunted stumbling back—he wasn’t hurt but the force of Kappa’s swing had partially knocked his mask off, revealing thick scars similar to the ones you had seen on Gamma. He fumbled trying to straighten out the mask and as he did, you whirled around to rush to your room.

You didn’t get far. 

Not because of Theta, who was cursing as he fastened the mask back on, but because you slammed right into someone else’s chest, broad and dressed in dark clothes. You glanced up as a pair of gloved hands grabbed your waist, irritation rising at Pantalone’s thin, close-eyed smile. You wondered if you had passed or failed whatever test he expected from this situation. 

The pads of his fingers pressed into your waist as he shifted you over to the side and behind him, leveling his attention on Theta as the man straightened back, narrowed eyes still trained on you instead of the Harbinger. 

“Theta.” Venom dripped from Pantalone’s words as he spoke his name. “I suggest you make your way back to the Doctor’s labs instead of bothering my guest.”

“Your?” Theta spat out, taking a step forward. His eyes were wild again now, far gone from the hardened look he had directed toward you after he made his decision. You stiffened, watching as Pantalone lifted his chin, raising his eyebrows, challenging Theta. “She is not your anything, banker. Go back to counting your coins and sucking noble cock to get further in the world, stay out of our business.”

Pantalone, to his credit, did not look bothered by the dig—the only sign of anger was the way his lip twitched before he spoke: “Take it up with your maker, fraud. You have no authority here, you are not the Doctor.”

“I am-” 

Sharp and loud, Theta’s voice rang up and down the hall as he took two long steps forward as if to attack Pantalone but the Harbinger only let out a huff of amusement as he cut Theta off mid-shout.

“I am not one of the subordinates who you can fool into believing you are him. You are a rabid dog running a thin line between life and death. It is only a matter of time before you’re put down, I again suggest you leave before I make that day come sooner.” 

You thought that you shouldn’t feel anything for the man standing a few paces away but something deep in you clenched when Theta drew back as if he’d been physically slapped, red eyes wide with shock. The feeling did not last long though because as quick as the hurt appeared, it was gone, twisting into something far more sinister as a wide smile spread across his lips, teeth bared much like the rabid dog Pantalone claimed him to be. 

“You think you can kill me?” 

Something manic stained his words, deranged and challenging as if he meant for Pantalone to back his words right then and there. Theta did not have a vision, not one that you could see or feel at least, but you knew in your bones that he was far, far more dangerous than he looked—he was strong and he moved faster than any visionless human you’d ever seen. Briefly, you wondered if he even was hu-

Pantalone stepped forward and the air around the four of you crackled with an energy that made your skin crawl. You let out a shaky breath, eyes widening as you took a step away from the man, unconsciously trying to get away from the source of the energy, an unnatural and uncomfortable feeling spreading through you. 

What is that? 

It felt sick. Corrupted. The air tasted stale and rotted as it seeped down the halls like poison. Your vision was reacting in response to it, the purity of the hydro energy trying to repel the new, malefic energy but it was curling all around you, trying to find chinks in the thin shield your vision was providing you from the decay. 

You had to get away from it but your feet were rooted to the ground, watching the scene play out before you. Neither Theta nor Pantalone looked bothered by the energy—in fact, Theta looked thrilled, eyes alight as his impossibly wide smile widened even more, a giggle slipping from his lips as he raised his hand as if to summon something, but before he could snap his fingers, his eyes dulled and his knees hit the ground hard. Almost like he had been turned off, just like that.

What-

At once, the energy around Pantalone dissipated and you could move, confusion riddling your mind as you tried to figure out what happened to Theta and what that disgusting energy was. You took a step forward, eyes wide and trained on Theta first—was that Pantalone’s doing? But as you turned to look at him, your gaze caught sight of a figure down the hall. 

Dottore. 

You were bleeding. 

Dottore could feel his cheeks stinging but he hadn’t been sure what it was until he got to the hall in Pantalone’s wing where Gamma had left you. Theta was on the ground, empty-eyed and still, turned off courtesy of Dottore, and Pantalone was standing to the side of you, seemingly unimpressed by the whole situation. 

But you were looking at him, and only him, and he could only focus on you, eyes tracing the blood as it dripped down your cheeks to your neck, dribbling down your skin. With creased brows and lips pressed together tightly, he couldn’t tell if the look you were directing toward him was suspicion or anger or something else entirely. The only thing he could feel from you was what he assumed were the remnants of the confrontation with Theta: fear, anxiety, skepticism, confusion, disgust. 

Disgust, was that directed toward him or Theta or both of them? It didn’t sit well with him. He wondered how much Theta had told you, and he wondered how much you’d been able to piece together from what he had. Dottore had been hoping to keep the existence of the segments a secret from you. 

The last thing he wanted to have to do was get into depth about what they were because if he knew you even half as well as he thought he did, he knew it would turn into an interrogation of all that he’d been up to with his research. Even when you were young, when the third phase of the bond had first manifested, he had to be careful about what he was thinking about so that it wasn’t transcribed to you. Countless times he received words from you that could have only been originally given by him: the names of the segments, residue, deactivate, and Dottore knew that you must be taking every word he sent you to relentlessly research into them. 

“Doctor,” Pantalone finally drawled as Dottore came to a stop in front of them, forcing his attention away from you just for a second. “It’s about time that you’ve leashed your mad dog, I’m quite tired of dealing with him.”

Dottore didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, he focused his attention back onto you—the only apparent wounds were the deep scratch marks on your cheek and wrist, painful but mostly superficial. It would heal in a few days at most, he would pass along an ointment to Pantalone so he could give it to you to speed along the healing process. 

The issue for Dottore laid in the boy tucked neatly in your arms, hiding his face against your skin.

The Kappa segment. 

Dottore exhaled. That would be trouble trying to handle. The Kappa segment was skittish and nervous. He usually only stuck around Epsilon, Iota or Gamma, he even tried to avoid the other segments if he could. Dottore had a feeling that it was because they reminded him of their father but he couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he had never latched onto someone like this before and Dottore had a feeling it would be an issue trying to get him away from you. He didn’t like shutting down the younger segments—or any of the segments for that matter because it tended to mess with their wiring—but he thought he might have to in order to get the kid back to the estate without alerting the entire palace to your presence and relationship to him. 

His eyes lingered on you, only for a few more moments, watching the way you held Kappa close, arms wrapped around him tightly as if to shield him from danger. Kappa seemed like he was on the verge of dozing off, his shoulders rising and falling steadily—he’d never seen him so comfortable with someone that wasn’t Epsilon before. Something unfamiliar tightened his chest. Longing? Desire? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. 

He looked away sharply, finally turning his attention to Pantalone. 

“Regrator, don’t act as if you spend all of your free time reluctantly handling my segments. You are usually asking for them, in fact,” Dottore said dryly. He barely spared you another look as he said: “I’ll handle this. Go back to your room and rest.”

Your face twisted and Dottore bit back a sigh, realizing that round three of his war of words with you was about to begin.

“I am not a child,” you shot back, voice tight. “You can’t just send me to my room. I have questions and you will give me answers now. I’ve waited long enough.”

Dottore had a feeling that you were not just talking about the past few hours. You were talking about the decade he had spent ignoring your existence. Unfortunately for you, he had no interest in answering your questions, not now or ever. 

He turned his attention back to Pantalone, ignoring the furious look that spread across your face at being blatantly ignored. Luckily—or unluckily, time would tell—Epsilon stepped in. He watched as your brows dipped in suspicion, looking between Epsilon and Dottore warily. If you hadn’t put together something was very, very wrong with the existence of Kappa, Gamma and Theta already, he had a feeling that Epsilon’s appearance just sealed it. 

Dottore turned away as Epsilon took your hand in his to press his lips to your knuckles before he gently led you in the direction of the door on the left. Gamma and Iota followed behind, the latter far more excited than the former. Gamma cast one last pleading look in Dottore’s direction just as Iota slammed the door shut behind them. 

Dottore, as he turned his attention to Theta’s still body, thought this might just be the worst case scenario. All three of the children. Theta. Epsilon. The last segments Dottore wanted meeting you all somehow managed to do just that within hours of you being in Zapolyarny. This would spread to all of the rest of the segments in no time and then he would have Zeta demanding to see proof of your existence and Rho lurking about curious; he’d have Delta bashing down the palace door to get Iota away from you, convinced by Lambda that you were only here to deceive them. And he’d have Lambda doing god knows what to try to remove your existence from their lives so they could continue their research without distraction. 

He needed a plan of action and he needed it fast but first, he had to deal with this. 

“What happened?” 

“Two aristocrats came up looking for the Kappa segment,” Pantalone said off-handedly. “Your soulmate interfered.”

“Interfered?” Dottore demanded. “What was she doing wandering around?”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “Was I meant to lock her in her room?”

Dottore looked at him coldly, silently telling him yes, he should have. They could not afford to have any of their subordinates run into you, much less any of the Harbingers and he knew that some of them would be searching for you. He remembered Columbina’s cryptic comment about you a few months ago, Sandrone’s fury at your presence in Snezhnaya, Arlecchino’s odd interest in you—and if Arlecchino was interested, it was only a matter of time before she sent her attack dog after you to find out whatever she wanted to know. Keeping you isolated from the rest of the Fatui was paramount.

“What happened with Theta?” Dottore asked after Pantalone let out an exaggerated sigh of agreement. 

“What always happens with Theta,” Pantalone said dismissively. “He gets set off and lashes out. Was going on about her faking the bond, apparently Lambda is going around convincing them she’s lying.”

Of course, Dottore thought bitterly. He knew that Lambda had been talking to Zeta, Delta and Rho but he thought the segment knew better than to get Theta wound up about this. 

He took a deep breath, taking a step away to calm himself down. Well, that made that decision: the first thing he had to do was talk to Lambda, he couldn’t have him turning the segments against you, least of all Theta, who was very liable to attack those that he thinks did him wrong. After that, he would figure out what to do with the rest of the segments because in stopping Lambda, he would have to admit to them all that you were his soulmate, that this was all real. 

That this was all real. 

Dottore shut his eyes briefly, unconsciously looking in the direction of where you, Epsilon and the kids had disappeared behind the dark door that led to your room. His body itched to follow them in there—the bond in work, surely, but he could feel it was getting stronger. It was stronger than it was while he had been dancing with you, and even stronger than it had been while talking to you outside of the washroom. He should just grab Theta and drag him back down to his lab, leaving Epsilon to deal with your interrogation, but his feet weren’t cooperating.

“You should speak to her,” Pantalone said as he turned to go back to his own room. “If you’re going to have me confine her to this wretched place, you should at the very least, explain to her why… lest you have a very unhappy soulmate on your hands. I doubt that would be conducive to productivity.” 

Dottore hummed dismissively, glancing back at the door once. He supposed should, he didn’t want to deal with your turbulent emotions, especially when he was going to be dealing with the segments. 

Distantly, a part of him wondered if he was just using that as a logical excuse to give in to the pull of the bond. 

“And Doctor, do get me that prototype by the morning as promised.”

You felt overwhelmed. The older boy, Gamma, was sitting in the corner of your room, knees tucked to his chest as he watched you with the younger two. Kappa was fast asleep now, tiny arms slung around your neck as he slept—you had tried to place him down on your bed but whenever you tried to pull him away from you, his arms tightened and he started stirring awake. The other one, you didn’t know his name yet, was kneeling on the floor next to the bed where you were sitting, big red eyes peeked above the comforter, watching you with varying degrees of suspicion and distrust and longing.

He had the same scar on the upper half of his face that Gamma did, you couldn’t help but notice, down to the burn patterns and wrinkles. And they were identical, if Gamma was a few years younger, he’d be the spitting image of the kid. It was impossible. Not even brothers can be so similar as to be identical down to the wrinkles and patterns in scars. 

So, what were they?

You had to have been onto something when you thought it was some sort of experiment—Kappa was too young to have been born eight years ago, Gamma and the new kid were too similar in appearances, if you saw correctly when Kappa partially knocked off the mask even Theta seemed to have some scars on his face, and Theta and Kappa both showed a strength that did not reflect in their body.

A throat being cleared knocked you out of your thoughts, your eyes drew up from the kids to where the man was standing near the door. He gave you a small, apologetic smile as his eyes met yours—red and gentle. 

Who was this?

You watched the man with thinly veiled suspicion. He looked just like Dottore, silvery blue hair styled the same way and even wearing a similar dark button-up that he did. 

Except unlike Dottore, he was not wearing a mask. 

His skin was smooth compared to the scars of the children and instead of the ever-present frown of Dottore, the corner of his lips were turned up. You had grown used to the cold aloofness of your soulmate over the years, it unnerved you how someone could look so much like him and yet feel entirely different. 

You raised your chin as Epsilon came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, keeping your expression stony, studying him to try to figure out what he wanted from you.

“Peace,” he murmured. “I’d just like to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” 

He had a white handkerchief between his fingers and you were acutely aware of the blood still dripping down your cheeks and arm. He raised his eyebrows, but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to budge, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket. 

“Very well,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you have questions. I can answer them if you’d like.”

Of course you had questions, but could you trust him to answer them? 

He didn’t appear as if he was trying to deceive you, his eyes were warm and his lips were lax, he had none of that tightness that Dottore usually had. Was he faking it? Or was he wanting to help you? You couldn’t tell, his demeanor was throwing you off.

“You’re really her?” a new, young voice said softly, voice hesitant but tinged with the slightest bit of hope that had your heart aching. You looked back toward the kid as he peered up at you through thick curls of hair cautiously. “Our soulmate?”

Our.

Your ears rang, distantly watching as the boy reached out for your hand, thin fingers playing with yours until he reached the one your thread was looped around. From the corner of your eye, you looked at the older man, who was watching you with a knowing expression.

Our.

How was that possible? He could clearly see your thread, trying to play with it and tug at it in the same way you used to as a child, but he had no connecting one, like the Doctor did. Did that make you his soulmate but he was not yours? Was there such a thing as unrequited soulmates? But you didn’t think it was that simple, there was a critical piece of information you were still missing.

But the kid was looking at you again, anxiously awaiting your response, and you didn’t have the heart to deny him. Even if you weren’t sure what was going on, he could undeniably see your thread.

“Yes,” you finally said, watching as he lit up, red eyes pooling with tears and lips trembling as he flung himself forward, burying his face into your lap. He jostled Kappa, who kicked his foot out instinctively, but the kid was unbothered.

“I knew you were real.” His voice was muffled into the cloths of your dress. “Everyone said you weren’t but I knew you were.”

Your throat tightened and your now free hand twitched from where it was laying on the comforter of your bed, coming up to pat his head.

You let out a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to focus on the man still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an indecipherable expression.

“I’ve never seen them take to someone like this before,” he said softly. “I suppose it’s just further proof that you are who you claim to be. Some of the others thought it might be a ploy.”

Others, you wondered distantly but you were more focused on the last thing he said, face twisting.

“I would not fake a soul bond,” you said tightly, mind turning to your stepfather and your mother, your dead father and your destroyed family.

“I insulted you,” he realized. “My apologies, it was not my intention. I was not one of the ones that thought that way but I figured it was best for you to know and prepare, some of them might doubt you when they meet you.”

“How many of you are there?” you asked, but the more important question that you just couldn’t push out was what are you?

“Excluding the Doctor, there are nine of us. I’m called Epsilon. Kappa is the youngest, then Iota, who is on your lap, and then Gamma, who’s sitting over there,” he explained.

You looked back over to where Gamma was sitting. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out the window into the dark night… or maybe he was. Amused, you realized that he was still watching you carefully through the reflection of the window. As soon as he realized that you noticed what he was doing, he turned his head away quickly.

“He’ll warm up,” Epsilon said quietly. You looked back toward him, watching as his lips turned up, red eyes glittering, as if sharing some secret with you. “He’s nervous.”

You couldn’t help the way you let out a puff of amusement, studying Gamma and the way he was digging his nails into the palm of his hand and tapping his foot against the wood of the window nook incessantly. 

“I don’t… really understand all of this,” you finally admitted, relaxing a bit with Epsilon. You let yourself lean back against the large, decorative pillows set up on the bed, watching the man that looked eerily similar to Dottore, wondering if this was what he looked like beneath the mask as well.

“This is new for all of us too,” Epsilon told you, “so I can’t really explain to you what all of the bonds might be or mean… but I’m sure that is not what you’re asking right now, is it?”

“Not entirely, at least. First I’d like to understand…”

What you are. What they are. Why you can see the thread and why the children think that I’m their soulmate too.

“Well, I’ll do my best at explaining then. You deserve that much at least.”

The heavy weight on your chest lifted, if only a little. You thought that this might be the first time in weeks, months, that someone was actually giving you answers. Your father passed and left you with only questions, the masked person from the inn gave you even more questions and not a single answer, and now even Dottore refused to answer your questions, he just sent you away for Pantalone to deal with. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, eyes meeting his again.

Epsilon gave you a small smile, lips parting to speak but before he could say anything, the door to your room opened again. Your gaze shot up, eyes falling upon a familiar masked figure standing in the frame, lips pressed together tightly. 

“Epsilon,” Dottore said coldly. “Bring Theta down to the lab.”

Epsilon sighed heavily, shooting you an apologetic look before rising to his feet. “Another time,” he offered, and you nodded, disappointed, ignoring how Dottore’s lips turned downward.

Epsilon made his way out of the room, slipping past Dottore, and Gamma threw himself off the nook and scampered after Epsilon, fleeing the room without another look toward you. 

The door slam shut behind them, an eerie silence sweeping over the room as he left you with Dottore.

Dottore’s already sour mood worsened when Epsilon flung him a triumphant look as soon as his back was turned to you. He wondered what he said to you in those few minutes he was in here alone with you but for some reason, he doubted that you would tell him and he by no means wanted to add more fuel to the fire by appearing interested in you. Narrowed eyes followed Epsilon as he left the room, shutting the door harshly behind him and the Gamma segment so he could speak to you without unwelcome ears listening in.

The Kappa and Iota segments made no move to leave—one being fast asleep and the other now watching Dottore suspiciously, shifting behind you to peek over your shoulder at him. Dottore could see the boy clutching something in his hand, knuckles white around the object and arms tensed as if ready to throw it. Dottore raised his eyebrows, albeit knowing neither of you could see the action anyway. 

He ignored Iota and drew closer to the bed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the mattress that Epsilon had been sitting on as he observed you. You looked exhausted—your eyes looked heavy and tired, they didn’t have the same spark in them that they had earlier in the night, and the blood from the scratch marks on your was smeared messily, staining your skin and dress. 

Irritated, Dottore wondered why Epsilon hadn’t cleaned it up, pulling out a cloth from his jacket pocket and shifting a little closer. He grabbed your arm first, ignoring that tingling sensation as it reappeared as soon as the pads of his fingers were pressed against your bare skin, and especially ignoring the red thread tied around your finger. 

He could feel your eyes on him as he carefully wiped away the blood, distantly noting that Iota had shimmied out from behind you and was darting to the opposite side of the room. 

“He will not bother you again,” Dottore finally said, sparing a look to the side as Iota approached from the side, this time with bandages. He eyed the boy curiously, wondering if this room was one of the places he fled to those rare times he was stuck in the palace and got overwhelmed by the amount of people. Iota turned his head away pointedly and Dottore just shook his head, taking the bandages and wrapping them neatly around your wrist and forearm. 

You didn’t respond to him and Dottore glanced up at you, waiting for you to say something. You looked away, Dottore bit back an irritated sigh, tying off the bandage and moving a bit closer to look at your face.

“Thought they just called you a doctor for the irony,” you snipped half-heartedly, keeping your eyes averted as his fingers grabbed your jaw, turning your head to the side to see just how deep Theta had cut you.

Dottore let out an amused puff of air. “They do,” he drawled, “but I’m usually presented as one to acquire more willing test subjects. I must at least know the basics.” 

You gave him a withering look from the corner of your eye, bottom lip pushed out. He was grateful for his mask hiding the way his gaze lingered on it, focusing back on the scratch marks. They weren’t too deep but he didn’t have an ointment with him to spread over them, so instead he just pressed the handkerchief to the skin, cleaning up the blood.

“What are they?” you asked, eyes steeled for an argument. 

Dottore sighed heavily, considering briefly trying to avoid the subject but you did not seem keen on letting this slide and he was not in the mood for an argument. He wanted to get this done and get out of your room as soon as possible, even if his body was betraying him by allowing his fingers to linger on your cheek as he wiped away the blood. 

“They are me.”

Concise and to the point, as he always was, Dottore waited for the explosion of questions and demands to come from you but you only stared at him, studying him. Again, Dottore was grateful for his mask because he did not like the way he felt beneath your gaze.

“How?” you finally questioned. 

“Experimentation,” Dottore said dryly, your eyes narrowed as if that was an obvious answer. His lip unconsciously pulled up into a smirk. “I was able to isolate and extract my consciousness at specific periods of my life after years of study into-”

“Irminsul,” you finished for him, voice little over a breath and eyes darting down to your forearm. 

Dottore’s lips pressed into a thin line, watching you carefully—he did not like that, or did he? A part of him was impressed that you’d managed to put it together so easily just from the little he said and the words that had been transcribed to you through the bond. But on the same note, he thought that the fact that the bond had given you enough words to so easily string together how he had gone about his research was unnerving. 

Not for the first time since the bond appeared, Dottore felt distinctly violated. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Study into Irminsul. All I had to do was create vessels for the consciousnesses after extracting them.”

“And they are… you?” 

You were looking at Kappa with a different expression now, Dottore couldn’t figure out what it was but it made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. There was a reason why he made sure to keep all of the younger segments far, far away from people. Dottore let his hand drop back to his lap, folding the handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket. 

“Yes.” His voice came out colder and sharper, and you caught the change in tone, looking up at him quickly with furrowed brows. “I’ll be taking them back to the labs.”

You didn’t look pleased, frowning as you looked down at Kappa, who was still fast asleep. Behind Dottore, Iota let out a noise of protest but Dottore only had to turn his head to the side to stop the boy from speaking his complaint out loud. 

“So what? You’re just going to leave again?” you asked harshly.

“Did you think I was going to stay?” he quipped back, sarcasm dripping from his words. “That you and the younger segments and I were just going to be one happy family?” 

To your credit, you didn’t look too perturbed by the harsh words but he knew it affected you, if the way your grip tightened on Kappa had anything to say about it.

“You can’t just keep me here,” you spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not-”

“You’ll find that I can do whatever I want,” Dottore corrected, rising to his feet. 

You didn’t hesitate, shifting Kappa down to lay on the bed next to you as you moved forward, fingers wrapping around his wrist to hold him in place. A commendable effort, but all it would take was one quick snap of his wrist to free it from your hold…

But he did not snap away his wrist. As easy as it would have been, instead he just stood there, staring down at you, waiting for you to say whatever you wanted to say. He tensed as if to pull away but his body didn’t cooperate—he blamed it on the bond but he wasn’t so sure that was the case.

“I’m not done,” you said. “I have more questions.”

“Another time,” he dismissed, finally forcing himself to pull his wrist back. Again, he felt a strange void as soon as the pressure of your fingers was removed from him. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Wasted?

“Wasted?” you echoed his very thought, scoffing loudly before shaking your head. “You know what, I don’t really care. What I do care about is knowing what that energy was around Pantalone—what was that?”

Dottore looked at her steadily from beneath his mask. “That is none of your business,” he said coolly. “Do not go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong lest you find yourself a guest here forever.”

The look you gave him was nothing short of murderous. “As if I won’t be already,” you spat, rising to your feet to take a few steps closer to him after he moved away. Dottore remained rooted in place, looking down at you. “I will not be kept here like a caged animal.”

“Then maybe you should not act like one.”

“Excuse me?” Dottore’s words held no weight, but he did very much enjoy goading reactions out of you, watching as your face twisted in fury at the insult. “I came here for a reason, Doctor, and that reason was not to be imprisoned by you. I have information I need to find and one way or another, I will acquire it. You can either-”

“You will do as I say so long as you’re in this palace,” Dottore said, cutting you off by pinching your cheeks between his fingers and tilting your face up to look at him. “Just because we have a bond forced on us by Celestia does not make you untouchable, control that tongue of yours before it lashes at the wrong person. Once I get the information I want, I will consider getting you what you want. Then, we will never have to see each other again. Until then, you have reaped what you sowed and it is no one’s fault but your own that you were not adequately prepared for the consequences of your actions, do you understand?”

Just for a second, he watched as a helpless expression spread across your face, eyes glassy and lips pressed together tight as you stared up at him. His tongue itched to say something else but no words formed on it before you snapped your face out of his hold, looking away. 

“Get out.”

A part of him wanted to refuse just to be spiteful—was it spite? Or was it something else, that heavy feeling weighing at his chest? That was a question he was not ready to answer, so instead, he smiled thinly:

“Gladly.”

i promise they’re going to start warming up to each other soon more than just in their internal narration <.< soon as in very soon wait til you see the scene i have planned

RBS APPRECIATED!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

[occamstfs]

Legacies Are Supposed To Change

Another fratification, This is one more of a prep to slob tf ! -Occam

My father was a member of Kappa Epsilon Gamma, and my grandfather before him was practically a founding member. I am going to be the third generation Astor to not only pledge but eventually become president. My family donates enough to the chapter to more than pave my way to the top. My only question now is, why are they making me pledge.

The current president, James, clearly didn’t care for me implying that I was getting in regardless, stopping just short of calling me out in front of the other pledges. That’s the only mistake he’s going to make though, when I’m in the frat I’ll completely clean house. That dunce will be lucky to even still be in the frat. I’m already old enough to be the president anyway, I’m sure my father will help the other alumni to agree.

Despite the president’s protests I have already secured a room in the house and I will say the room does seem to be exquisite. The only detail out of place is a pitcher of beer sitting on my desk. The head is still frothy so it must have been put there recently. Before I moved in my father warned me against partying too hard, we have a reputation to uphold after all, and I am not even a big drinker. 

The amber pitcher in front of me, ice cold without a piece of ice within, is more enticing than it ever should be though. The president must have done something to it. Absolutely. But, I  am awfully parched all of a sudden. I feel my mouth rapidly dry as I move closer to inspect the glass. A sip couldn’t hurt, it’s just beer after all. It’s probably that faux president admitting defeat already, no one can stand up to an Astor and prosper after all. 

I raise the pitcher to my mouth, struggling to raise it without spelling as it is heavier than I thought beer could be. The head spills over my face as I tilt the pitcher to drink. It runs down my cheeks and off my chin not that I could notice or care though. This beer is unlike anything I’ve tasted before. It's so, I need more right now. I force as much of it as I can down my throat before needing to take a break to breathe. The brief respite only gives me time to do something I thought unthinkable for a man of such poise as myself, I let out an impossibly loud burp.

I hear frat bros cheering outside my room in response “Yeah bro! Let’s go Tank!” I feel my face redden from the embarrassment of being heard doing something so profoundly basal. I scoff and roll my eyes as I notice how itchy my face suddenly is. It must be the beer starting to dry where I spilled it.

I go to wipe it off and notice it is far scratchier than it has any right to be. It burns even. I feel my face grow an even deeper shade of red as the beer must start to hit my system. I put the pitcher down and start to scratch my cheeks. I’ve never even had to shave before! Us Astor men don’t even grow peach fuzz! It  would be unbecoming to even try to grow a beard! I look in the mirror to assess whatever my situation and find an uncomfortable face staring back at me. That can’t be right. Thick brown hair is pushing out forming a chinstrap that must have taken months to grow! I lean in closer to inspect my face as another burp tries to force its way out of my throat.

Unwilling to embarrass myself once again I fight to keep it down. As I struggle against the gas in my esophagus I notice that my stomach is starting to bloat up. I see the thick brown hair in my beard start to seep up through my sideburns, staining my perfect blonde coifs into some dirty oafish brown. I gasp as my thin eyebrows rapidly burst into heavy caterpillars over my eyes which almost allows the burp to escape.

Clenching my jaw as I feel my stomach starts to press against my dress shirt. I audibly groan as I hear my bros outside start to cheer once more, something about me drinking the pitcher. They left it for me didn't they! What was I supposed to do! This burst of rage allows me to swallow the burp my neck thickening as it forces its way back down. I look down to see the button pop off of my suit jacket as my stomach starts to grumble. I feel woozy watching my torso start to barrel out, what happened to my lithe lacrosse build? My mind feels heavy as I inspect my growing body, I start to smell some vile body odor start to come from somewhere. One of these oafs absolutely needs to invest in cologne. I sniff around before my head finds itself in my own pit as I take a deep inhale and find the root of the stick. But that can’t be right?

My arms bloat out straining my dress shirt as I toss off my coat. I raise my arm behind my head to inspect my armpits further which creates a tear right on the seam, exposing my pit just in time for me to see my few blonde underarm hairs rapidly thicken to the same brown now covering my face. It’s almost funny? I can barely stop myself from laughing as I watch hair spread like a jungle in my pit, creating a haven for odor my body now apparently produces.

Is this because I burped? Is it some kind of sick joke? I’m struggling to find any reason for what is happening when I hear the zipper of my pants give out. Apparently my stomach isn't the only part of me bloating. I need to stop this. Maybe, maybe if I finish the beer without burping again I’ll go back to normal. That, that makes sense right?

I quickly grab the picture and do not notice how much thicker my hand is. Brown hairs sprouting on my hand and knuckles as my fingers grow hammy and lose the dexterity I have long honed. As I raise the glass to my face my stomach finally blows off the buttons as a thick treasure trail forms a peak halfway up my meaty torso. My body odor grows thicker in the air as I start to drink the rest of the glass. 

I feel my ass thicken as it forms a much weighter cushion in my seat, in the other side I feel as my balls rapidly grow to supply my body with the testosterone my body demands. My cock thickens but gets no longer as the beer dribbles down my face spilling all over my chest where curly dark hair spreads out from the center in a large diamond.

I finish the pitcher and shout to celebrate my conquest, “I did it fuckers! I passed the test,” as I shatter the pitcher on the floor of my bedroom, one of the pledges’ll clean that shit up anyway. 

I stand and rip the strained pants off my body as the shirt tears itself off of its own accord, no longer able to even try to hide my party bod. My bros burst into the room and start cheering “Tank, Tank, Tank!” Making me realize that duh, they’re talking about me. My bros have always called me that I burp again, now performativity as my body finishes changing. My eyes lose any pretentious sparkle they still held as they darken to a dull brown. My vocal chords grow visibly thicker, just showing from underneath the thick beard hanging off my face. A clear boner starts to grow in my shorts, not like my bros care.

I shake my package at them with my hand as I finish burping. Now that I’m in the frat I can show my bros that I’m not a fuckin’ prude like my dad and the other fuckin’ geezers. It’s gonna be a great year, now let’s go see which of these bitch pledges are Kappa material!

#male tf #masculinization #mental change #frat bro tf #jockification

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 9

a/n: So excited to get this one out to you guys! I hope you enjoy it 😁Thank you again to @cloverstayy for the beautiful graphic 🩵 she's amazing and is on insta & tiktok under the same name.

edit 1/22/24 - I have changed a few things around, this was previously chapter 7, but will now be chapter 9. Stay with me people!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

Chapter Nine: Of Halloween and Hallways

It’s now approaching the end of your first month at the SKZ house. Hyunjin still has not pressured you to move further, but you have continued to explore each others bodies more. Whenever you’re with him, kissing and cuddling in bed, you both allow your hands to roam freely across each other. He’s made it clear that you have control of the reins with him. You enjoy the power—getting both yourself and Hyunjin worked up, kissing, touching, fondling, just to back off. Maybe Chan’s sadism is rubbing off on you a bit. 

Speaking of Chan, your nights with him since offering your submission are always like rolling a 20 sided die. You might be teased, you might get fucked, he might be sweet, but more often he’s rough. He does seem to make some kind of effort to not come off as a dick, however there is definitely still a wall between you two. You feel more comfortable conversing with him, though it’s usually just small talk and nothing remotely deep. 

Lee Know’s birthday passes on Wednesday, October 25th and everyone celebrates with dinner, drinks and dessert. You and Allie helped Felix bake him a chocolate cake (they wouldn’t let you add arsenic, which was a bummer).

It’s now Saturday, October 28th—the day of the Halloween party. The morning of is spent with everyone moving throughout the house making sure their appointed tasks are complete. As evening approaches, your excitement for the event grows—everyone has kept their final costume reveals a secret and you can’t wait to see what they have all come up with. 

Your main goal is to have a good time and possibly, finally have sex with Hyunjin. But, oh, sweet girl, you have no clue what the night has in store for you. 

6:00pm

All of the decorations and finishing touches have been put in place. There are spiderwebs and bats strewn across the ceiling in the living room, a couple skeletons are seated at the dining room table that’s surrounded by floating candles, severed hands and feet rest on surfaces throughout the home, spiders of various sizes adorn the walls, and there’s even an animatronic Pennywise in the in the guest bathroom guaranteed to scare people shitless, but, hopefully not literally as that will just be a nightmare to clean. 

6:30pm

The kegs arrive and are carted off to the basement and backyard. You’re setting up the snack table, putting out the orange and black paper cups, plates, and napkins when you hear a commotion coming down the stairs. 

“This is stupid,” the familiar voice of Lee Know grumbles and you immediately smile.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing a dress,” says Changbin.

Two weeks ago you challenged Changbin and Lee Know in beer pong—winner got to choose the others Halloween costume. You had Hyunjin on your team and came out victorious.

“I don’t look that bad,” comes the voice of Seungmin. 

Seungmin you challenged in a game of pool, same stakes. You’re shit at it, but he sank the 8 ball early and thus, you had all of them right where you wanted.

You turn around to face the stairs as they finish making their way down and bring your hand to your mouth to cover your laugh. They really committed…and their assignees had obviously helped put their looks together, from the makeup to the faux cleavage.

“The Sanderson sisters have come to SKZ house,” Han announces, pointing and laughing at the trio.

Changbin is dressed as Mary—eyebrows drawn on pencil thin, lips crooked and painted red, with a black wig shaped like a witch’s hat. Seungmin is Sarah—thick, dark eyebrows and eye makeup and a long, blonde wig. And the beautiful Lee Know is Winifred—copious amounts of blush on his cheeks, red lipstick only on the middle part of his lips, red wig and, of course, the look wouldn’t be complete without the trademark buck teeth. 

“BoooOOOOOoook,” he wails as he enters the living room and everyone fucking loses it. 

7:00pm 

You finally have a chance to shower and get changed into your costume. It took you a while to decide on what you would be, but Hyunjin suggested an idea to play off what Chan is going as and you went along with it. 

With your dress, corset, fishnets, calf-high combat boots in place and make up complete, you make your way back downstairs. The regular lights have all been turned off so the house has a darker feel to it, but there are various purple, red, and orange lights throughout to compliment the decorations and mood. 

Hyunjin is sitting on the couch and offers you a look of appreciation when he sees you. You can only giggle at his costume. He’s half-assed it, for sure, but he still looks adorable. He’s wearing his regular clothing and has a headband on with pink ears, a pink bow tie, and a pink pigs nose covering his own. He turns around to show you the squiggly tail hanging near his butt. 

“Cute,” you tell him. 

“You look way better,” he says, pulling you close and lifting his pig nose to kiss you on the lips. 

You look around the living room and survey everyone’s costumes. Han is dressed as Jack Sparrow, Felix looks like a man being taken by an inflatable alien and Allie is dressed as an agent from ‘Men In Black’. Jeongin is Woody from Toy Story and Charlotte is Jesse, they’re adorable. Rhiannon has decided to play along with Seungmin and Changbin as the Sanderson sisters and dressed as Binx, wearing all black with cat ears and whiskers, she even popped in some yellow cat eye contacts. 

You don’t see Chan though and you’ve been dying to know what he’s put together. You excuse yourself from the room and check for him in the kitchen, but he’s not there either so you make your way to the basement. 

It’s dark there as well, but lights have been added to each step to prevent anyone from falling. The lighting in the room is purple and a projector casts various Halloween themed images against the walls in slow, spinning rotation. 

Chan and Changbin have their back to you as they struggle to get the dry ice machine working. 

“Need any help?” You ask, and they turn to look at you over their shoulder. 

Changbin’s eyebrows raise at the sight of you, followed by a nod and thumbs up thrown in your direction before he turns his attention back to the machine. 

Chan turns around to face you, smirking as he takes in your costume. The first thing you notice on him is the amount of skin showing on his upper body and the slash-like wounds that have been added to it. You look from his bare navel up to his eyes and arch an eyebrow. It’s definitely not what you had expected but holy fuck does the sight of him make you want to let him do despicable things to you.

In his ears he has one silver stud earring and the the other is shaped like a fang. On his upper half he’s wearing a furry, grey vest that has a hood with a realistic wolf’s head attached to it. On his lower half he has on a pair of black boots and low hanging, ripped black jeans with black Supreme boxers peeking above the top. His hands are covered in grey, furry gloves with nothing but his finger tips out. 

“Little red, eh?” He asks, looking you up and down. 

Your costume consists of a dress that is white at the top (frilly and off the shoulders) then turns red near your hips accompanied by a black bustier that’s squeezing your insides together and pushing up your breasts. A red cloak is also draped around your shoulders, tied in a delicate bow across your clavicle. The fishnets and combat boots add a sexy, grungy feel to the look.

You pinch the sides of your dress between your thumb and forefinger, extend your right foot back and curtsy.

9:30pm

You hate to admit that Seungmin was right. Actually, you would never admit that. However, telling people the party began at 7:30 ensured they actually started showing up around 8:30. Everyone is now scattered throughout the first floor, basement and backyard.

You start the night off with a shot to calm your nerves from being in the house full of so many people. You also can’t help but feel like a hostess, wanting to make sure the snacks and drinks are never empty. You make sure the best costume voting station has pens and paper. You refill bowls of chips. Changbin follows behind you as you refill the drink dispensers to slip more alcohol into it. You eye him carefully and shoo him away from the one dispenser clearly labeled as non-alcoholic. Not everybody wants to get shitfaced tonight. 

When you’re not playing hostess, you float around from room to room. With all the housemates here, you always have someone to wander off and talk to, which is comforting. You spend some time cheering Lee Know and Allie on as they reign over the beer pong table. You listen as Jeongin engages in a conversation with a group of girls, talking about needing models for an upcoming project. He has his arm wrapped around Charlotte’s waist as he addresses them, and she looks so out of her element, but leans onto him for support.

As far as you’ve seen, the boys really live up to the rule about not sleeping with anyone else outside of the house. Jeongin could probably pull any one of those girls in that circle, but he’s making it clear he has someone and is not interested. 

Felix really did put himself in charge of the music and made a master playlist that’s blaring throughout the main floor. You spend some time with him in the living room, watching the people mingle and dance. Later you join Seungmin and Rhiannon in the backyard, sitting around the fire pit with a couple of others.

11:30pm

The house is fucking packed. With the music so loud, people’s conversations sound more like shouting matches. You take another shot with Hyunjin and snack on some of the Halloween-themed food that was catered. There are several giant, soft pretzels shaped like spiders, stuffed peppers that look like Jack-O-Lanterns, witch hat shaped calzones, white chocolate covered strawberries that look like ghosts, cheese wrapped with prosciutto and a green olive in the center to make it look like an eyeball. You’re delighted with the selections you and the girls made. 

Eventually, you duck off from a conversation with Han (who, after two drinks is taking his roll as Jack Sparrow a little too seriously), to head to the bathroom on the second floor. You bypass the yellow caution tape blocking upstairs to let everyone know it’s off limits, and head up. It’s dark and the lighting has been changed to red, making it feel extremely eerie. 

Once in the bathroom, you quickly relieve your bladder and wash your hands. When you’re done, you stay inside for a bit longer than necessary, just needing a moment of silence. You can still hear the music bumping and people chattering, but it feels calmer in here. You lean against the counter, check your makeup and adjust your costume. The corset is tight around your chest—but it does look good. You bounce, tipsy enough to giggle at the sight of your boobs jiggling in the mirror. 

There’s a knock at the door that snatches the laugh right out of you. 

“Yes?” You call out, wondering who it could be. The girls would have walked right in, but no one else should be up here. 

There’s no response, so you open the door, ready to tell off whoever it is. 

“Second floor is off—“

The first thing you see is a wolf’s snout. 

“What are you doing?” You ask Chan, shutting the light off to the bathroom. You place a hand on his chest and force him backwards into the hallway.

You move to drop your hand from his chest, but his fur clad hand stops you, keeping it in place. 

“Just making sure nobody else was up here,” he shrugs. 

He places his other hand on your waist and pulls you to him. 

“Hmmm,” you hum, looking up at him skeptically. “Did you find anyone?”

“This costume,” he switches gears and releases your wrist, not allowing you time to call him on his bullshit. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, but he’s not drunk.

His eyes trail down to your cleavage. He brings a hand up to trace lines back and forth across the top of your breasts with his finger.

“So you did wanna play dress up with me?” 

Your eyes drop to his fingers touching you. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying yes.

“It was Hyunjin’s idea,” you reply.

“Oh?” He cocks his head to the side. “Those are two different wolves though—from the three pigs and little red.”

“And?” You counter.

His hand slides up from your breasts to your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. You are slowly growing accustom to the feel of this. You were shocked the first time he did it—there must have been an intense look of panic on your face because he eased up his grip and assured you he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s odd to think you trust him more sexually than in your everyday life, but he’s shown you enough when fucking you to let you know it’s all meant to be pleasurable in some way—sometimes for both of you, sometimes just for one of you. 

“You guys never clarified what wolf I am,” he says.

His hand drops from your neck to yank down the fabric and reveal one of your breasts. You look down the hall, a look of shock plastered to your face, but there’s no one in sight. He doesn’t seem like he would care, even if there was. When your eyes meet with his again, he’s staring right back at you. Daring you to protest.

He pushes the wolf head off and it falls to his back. His dark, curly hair is stuck to his forehead after having it on for so long. You lean back instinctively as he lowers his head to take your nipple in his mouth and let out a surprised gasp. 

“Chan,” you say, gripping his bare waist. 

He swirls his tongue around your nipple and bites it, eliciting another gasp from you. He releases your nipple and stands up straight, cupping your breast as he makes a declaration you’ll never forget.

“I wanna be Red’s wolf.”

No smirk, no smile…it doesn’t feel like he’s joking or teasing you. Does he mean it?

Your hand shoots up to his neck lightning fast, pulling him down and crashing your lips to his. He spins you both around so your back is now against the wall as he kisses you. You roll your body, pressing your hips against his as his tongue clashes with yours. 

He leans back for a moment, biting his furry glove with his hand to pull it off so his hand can feel you completely. When his lips are on yours again, his other hand takes hold of your neck once more, squeezing it as you slip your tongue in his mouth and he sucks it in further.

With his now glove free hand, he lowers it to rub at your fishnet covered thighs. His hand inches higher beneath the hem of the dress until it’s right between your legs. But then he freezes.

He breaks the kiss, still gripping your neck. His thumb rests on one side, pointer finger directly on your chin, and the other three are on the opposite side. He pushes your head up, pressing your head to the wall as you both catch your breath.

“Is shark week over yet?” He asks, cupping your pussy. 

You start to repeat the phrase back to him, but chuckle as the realization hits you. The last three days you had been with him you were nearing the end of ‘shark week’ as he just called it. He had kept his distance, for the most part, aside from an impromptu morning blowjob before he trotted off to class on Tuesday. 

“Yes,” you breathe in response. 

His thumb and pointer finger squeeze your jaw, lowering your head and allowing him to recapture your lips. He resumes moving his other hand, hooking two fingers between the fishnets and the side of your underwear. He sucks on your bottom lip as his fingers rub your pussy, feeling how wet you are. He groans into your mouth as his fingers circle between your lips.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, Red,” he says, breaking the kiss once again.

He withdraws his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, popping them right inside and sucking your juices off. You watch him through lustful eyes, loving how fond he is of your taste. He’s not even remotely communicative with you but in these small moments you share, you understand all you need.  

He pulls his other glove off and tosses it aside before dropping to his knees in front of you and bringing both hands to where the fishnets are at your crotch, poised to rip them apart. 

“Chan!” You yell, grabbing his wrists. “I’ve only gotten to wear this for three hours, the party isn’t even over yet.”

“So?” He says, breaking his wrists free of your hands with ease. 

“So, relax.” You say, taking hold of his wrists again. “And wait.”

He drops his hands and sits back on his heels, looking up at you. With only the red light illuminating the hallway, his gaze feels ravenous. Perhaps he does not like you telling him what to do. You second guess your word choice…maybe you should have added a please in there. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as his continued silence makes you anxious. 

When his hands move back to your thighs, you don’t even try to stop him this time. Resisting is futile. You always give in to the pleasure. They slide up beneath the hem of the dress again, but instead of ripping them, he respectfully finds the waistband of the fishnets. His eyes never leave yours as he hooks his finger inside them and slowly pulls them down, dragging your underwear with it. 

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. So maybe he disregarded the part about waiting, but he did at least grant your request to not rip them. He has a smug look on his face, seeing your reaction. You avert your gaze down the hall, wanting to check that the coast is clear but also wanting to keep him from seeing how much of an affect a small act of kindness from him makes you feel. 

The hallway is still empty. 

You look back to Chan and pull your dress up and out of the way. He uses one hand to keep the fishnets and underwear pulled down as the other guides your leg over his shoulder. And as soon as he leans forward, taking your pussy in his mouth, you know you wouldn’t fucking care if the entire party walked up here right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you roll your hips, pushing your pussy against his face so he can properly devour you. The music downstairs is muffled, but still mostly drowns out the sound of him slurping you up. He replaces his mouth with his fingers, playing in your wetness. He uses his thumb to rub circles around your clit as you grip his hair with your free hand. 

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, pressing his thumb against you harder, watching your hips move in response. He slips his fingers inside of you and swaps his thumb and mouth again. 

Your eyes snap open at his words and your hand forces his face against your pussy even more. You had already declared you belong to him the first time he fucked you. Hearing him say it, hearing him claim you drives you wild. 

His fingers pump in and out of you rapidly as his tongue licks up and down your pussy. You put your head back against the wall, moaning at all the feelings. His fingers inside of you, his mouth on you, being in the hallway where anyone could come up and see you. But most of all, being his. 

“Please, Chan,” you say, feeling so fucking turned on you think you might burst.

He detaches his mouth and stands up, causing your leg to fall from his shoulder, and reclaims your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips as his fingers keep thrusting into you. His other hand finds it way back to your neck, squeezing it harder than before. 

“Please what?” He asks, lips pressed against yours.

You keep your eyes on his as your hips fuck his fingers back, whimpering. You reach your hands between you, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing the zipper down. You slip a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and grip his cock, feeling how hard he is.

“I need you,” you force out with his hand still around your neck and he grins. 

He knows how he makes you feel and he loves it. Seeing you desperate and needy, begging him to fuck you. 

Before he has a chance to, you see someone step onto the landing from the corner for your eye. The thought of being caught and the reality of it are two very different things. 

Chan reacts so quickly, turning to shield you, lowering his hand from you neck to pull your dress up and cover your breasts. You drop your dress and pull your fishnets and underwear back up. You peek over his shoulder to see who’s come up.

It’s Han. 

He sees you two, but he doesn’t say anything. He opens the door and walks into his room, but a moment later his head pops back out, adorned with his pirates hat and he throws a grin in your direction. You flip him the middle finger and he disappears fully into his room.

You press your head to Chan’s chest. Maybe he does care about people seeing you exposed and he just talks a big game. You don’t want to ask, though. He might just take it as a challenge. 

You lean your head back to look up at him and he chuckles, wrapping his hand around your back and pressing your hips against his. You can still feel the bulge of his cock.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” you say, taking a step away from him as you come back to your right state of mind. You need to clear your head—maybe get another drink, maybe get some fresh air. 

“Will you stay with me Sunday?” He asks suddenly, pulling his zipper back up.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to concede so easily, nor ask you to stay with him. You had yet to spend a Sunday with him. In all honestly, you didn’t think he cared much for you to be there. But maybe he’s only asking since he didn’t get to fuck you during the week and feels like he needs to make up for lost time or something. 

“Maybe,” you reply.

Sunday is your day. It would mean a lot, to you, for you to choose to stay with him. What would it mean to him? 

He buttons his pants as you pick up his discarded gloves from the ground and hold them out to him. 

“Maybe?” He repeats skeptically, eyeing you as he accepts the gloves with one hand. 

His other hand—the one that had been inside you—he brings to his lips and sucks his first three fingers into his mouth one by one. He’s silent as he puts the gloves back on, mulling over your answer. 

“Okay,” he finally says. 

“Okay?” You repeat him this time. 

The dark look in his eyes makes you feel as though it’s not okay.

“Sure,” his tone is now sickly sweet and you find it unnerving. “I’ll be back down in a sec.”

12:15am 

The keg in the basement has been tapped already. Changbin and Chan work to move the one from the backyard down there with the help of a few other guys. It looks like a disaster waiting to happen and you don’t want to watch. You spot one of your friends that you stayed with after the breakup hanging in the kitchen and talk with her for a bit. You let her know you’re fine and have found a place to stay—sparing the specifics, of course. 

1:00am 

All the housemates and a good majority of the guests crowd around the living room as Felix MC’s, to hand out best costume awards. Much to your chagrin, Changbin, Lee Know and Seungmin win best group. Some guy dressed as Elton John in his bedazzled LA Dodger outfit wins most like the original. A girl with a literal UFO floating above her head and lights streaming down wins most creative. Sexiest female goes to a girl dressed as a skimpy Mario. Sexiest male costume goes to none other than Chan—he celebrates by taking two shots back to back. You’re close enough to notice a small dribble that’s trickled down to his abdomen and you’re tempted to get on your knees and lick it off in front of everyone.

After the prizes—gift cards and alcohol—are handed out, the crowd disburses throughout the house. You stay in the living room with Hyunjin and Felix as Felix gets the music going again. 

Hyunjin wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to his side as Despacito plays. He’s smiling down at you with glossy eyes and you can tell he’s definitely had a couple cups of the Changbin-spiked punch.

“Dance with me,” he says.

“Hell no,” you spit back, shaking your head. “I’m not anywhere near drunk enough for that.”

“Well, drink up,” he says, moving your hand with the cup to your mouth. 

You take a large gulp but still shake your head again. He takes the cup from you and finishes it off, sitting it on the table next to Felix. You protest as he pulls you to the middle of the living room where others are dancing. You’re struck with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face as he dances around you. He moves freely and easily to the beat, tongue caught between his teeth with a smile. He stops behind you and puts his hands on your hips, moving you from side to side with him. 

He spins you in a circle, then brings you back against him, rocking his hips backwards and forwards to the music, guiding yours in sync with his, holding you firmly to him. You want to feel mortified, but you’re smiling and laughing. You’re enjoying yourself. As you always do with him. He wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling your back flush against his chest and kisses your neck.

“Y/n?” You hear your name called and as your eyes snap up to the person who said it your smile immediately drops.

Your ex. 

Hyunjin still has his arms around your shoulder, holding against him, but he stops moving and looks up at your mood killer too. 

“Who’s that?” He asks.

“My ex,” you tell him. He straightens up, but doesn’t remove his arms from you. 

Your ex walks closer to you, not even glancing at Hyunjin behind you.

“Can we talk?” He asks. 

1:45am

You’re hesitant. You don’t walk to speak to him, not now when you’re having such a good time.  You also don’t want to cause a scene, though.

You tap Hyunjin’s arm around your shoulder and he releases you. You gesture for you ex to follow you and lead him through the kitchen to the backyard. There are people out here too, but it’s not as crowded. You fan yourself when you hit the fresh air—you hadn’t realized how hot it had gotten inside with all the people, combined with the alcohol and dancing. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asks in an accusatory manner. 

“Nothing?” You respond, not sure what he means. 

“I saw you a few weeks ago with one guy, now you’re dancing up on some other dude?”

“You keep asking these questions as if you’re entitled to answers,” you snap at him. “You wanted to break up with me. You wanted to see other people. You don’t get to say shit about what I do.” You step closer to him and jab your finger into his chest each time you say ‘you’. 

“Is this where you’re living now, then?”

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Listen, I think closure would be good here…but this is not the way.”

“I told you I wasn’t looking for closure.”

You let out a wry laugh.

“I’m not going to sit around waiting for you, if that’s what you’re wanting. I’m single. I’ll do whatever and whomever I want.”

His jaw clenches as he glares at you. 

“And I have no intention of ever being with you again.” You add. “So, either leave me alone and enjoy yourself at the party or get the fuck out if that’s too hard for you to do.”

You throw your hands up at him and shake your head before opening the sliding glass door and walking back into the house. He follows you inside, grabbing you by the arm to stop you before you reach the living room. You turn to face him, snatching your arm back. 

“So you give me shit about wanting to see other people, but now you’re living in a house with these frat bros?” He arches an eyebrow.

You shrug. He becomes more annoyed at your response. 

“You’re fucking them aren’t you?” He spits, stepping closer to you, leaning down so you can hear him over the loud music. He grabs you by the arm again, dragging you to him.

You put a hand on his chest and struggle to push him away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You’re certain the music is still blaring, but it suddenly feels extremely quiet.

“You’re fucking all eight of these squinty-eyed motherfu—“

Your fist connecting with his jaw cuts him off. You don’t know what’s come over you to react in such a physical way, but you’d be damned if you let him finish that sentence. 

The next few moments happen in a blur.

He yanks you closer, seething, as he opens his mouth to say more disprectful shit. But someone wraps their arm around your waist and pulls you away from him and at the same time, someone else shoves your ex. Then Chan is standing between you and him, facing your ex. You can’t clearly hear what he’s saying over the music and the erratic beating of your heart, but they look to be exchanging some heated words. Your ex looks furious with Chan in his face, acting like the literal big, bad wolf. 

You look back to see who’s grabbed you—it’s Seungmin. He’s holding you close, but his eyes are locked on Chan, waiting to see if he needs to get involved. 

Hyunjin and Felix come into the dining room amidst the commotion. He walks behind your ex and places a hand on his shoulder. Your ex shoves his hand off, says one last remark to Chan then storms out of the room. Hyunjin follows behind him to make sure he leaves. Felix puts a hand on Chan’s chest to keep him from following. He forces Chan to look him in the eye to hear whatever he’s saying. 

Changbin storms in, coming from the basement a little too late, but still looking ready for a confrontation. All while dressed as Mary Sanderson. The sight sends you into an immediate fit of laughter. 

The partygoers go back to their own conversation as Changbin approaches you, Chan, Felix and Seungmin. 

“Why didn’t you ride your vacuum?” Seungmin says to him. “You would have gotten here sooner.”

“He’s lucky I was late,” he huffs. 

Chan turns away from Felix to face you and Seungmin releases you from his grasp.

“You okay?” Chan asks, softly. 

“I’m fine,” you tell him, wiping at a stray tear as you regain your composure.  

Chan lifts your chin up with a finger so you’re looking him in the eyes, possibly wanting to make sure the tears are from laughing. 

You nod your head, reassuring him. 

“Nice job, slugger,” Seungmin says, ruffling the top of your hair. You swat him away and wince as your hand comes in contact with his arm. He laughs at your pain. “I’ll get some ice.”

He disappears behind you towards the fridge. 

Chan gently takes your hand in his and brings it up for inspection as you weakly wiggle your fingers. 

“Can you make a fist?”

You squeeze your hand together the best you can but it becomes painful before you can make a complete fist. 

You hear Chan take a deep breath. He closes his eyes, hand still holding yours. 

“Tell me I shouldn’t go after him,” his eyes snap back open and they are brimming with rage. 

“Don’t,” you plead. 

“I wouldn’t lose,” he says, rubbing his thumb across your fingers. He’s here, physically, in front of you, but it seems like his mind is already out the door. 

“He’s not worth it,” you shake your head. 

He readjusts the wolf on his head and nods, as if trying to convince himself you’re right. 

“Go to Seungmin, put some ice on it.”

He lets go of your hand and heads for the basement with Changbin.

3:30am 

You’ve apologized profusely to the members and the other assignees, hoping the altercation with your ex hadn’t put a damper on the night. They assure you it’s alright—they all seem more concerned that you’re okay, and it makes you feel warm and cared for.

The house has mostly emptied, Seungmin and Jeongin are getting the last few stragglers out. Changbin and Hyunjin are supposed to be helping clean but Changbin, drunk off his spiked punch, is cradling Hyunjin’s face in his hands and loudly alternating between calling him the cutest piglet he’s ever seen and asking him to ‘oink’. Hyunjin is cackling, trying to squirm away from his touch, but he’s no match for Changbin’s strength.

Chan, Jeongin and Han come up from the basement and shut the light off behind them. 

“Everyone’s clear from down there,” Han says, removing his pirate hat.

Chan has his arm around Jeongin’s neck as Jeongin supports his stumbling steps. 

“…and that’s why you’re my baby,” Chan is saying to Jeongin.

“Okay, hyung, okay. I’m your baby forever,” Jeongin is smiling widely, amused.

He must not get to see their chapter president like this often. 

You’ve never seen him like this. 

“Y/n,” he says with a smile when his eyes fall on you.

He shakes free of Jeongin and walks to you.

“What did you do to him down there?” You ask.

“We had to keep him from going after that guy—he’s at least responsible enough to not drive drunk,” Han tells you. 

His words give you some pause. You would never want to condone any further violence, but…had Chan been ready and willing to fight over you? 

Chan hugs you from behind, head hanging over your shoulder.

“You should probably take him upstairs,” Felix says, taking the stack of paper plates you’ve amassed and tossing them into the trash bag he’s holding. 

You step to the side and drape Chan’s arm around your neck, holding on to it with one hand as the other holds him by the waist. 

He lets you walk him up the stairs, giggling to himself as he concentrates on taking one step after the other. 

“Do not fucking fall. I’m telling you right now I can’t save you,” you warn him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he giggles again, putting his other hand on the rail to grip as he walks.

Once in his room, finally, you ease him onto his bed and he immediately splays out flat on his back. You kneel on the bed to get his costume off and he lets you remove his gloves, and vest without putting up a fight. However, when you get off the bed to place them on the dresser, he protests

“Come here with me,” he whines. 

“You need to sleep it off, Chan.” You tell him, softly.

“No,” he pouts, sitting up on the bed, swaying. He looks like he’s concentrating every fiber of his being on holding steady. “Come here.” 

There’s more demand to his voice the second time. You sigh and walk towards the bed.

“Don’t do that,” he chides.

“Do what?”

He mimics your sigh.

“Like you hate me or something. Don’t hate me,” he turns to look at you with sad eyes and pout once again firmly in place on his lips. 

“I don’t hate you,” you tell him truthfully, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you sit next to him on the bed. “You’re just always so hot and cold with me. I don’t know how to be or feel when I’m around you. I’m in a perpetual state of conflicting confusion with you.”

You choose to be honest with him about your emotions. You do want him to know how it feels, but you also wonder if he’ll even remember any of this tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning to the side to rest his head on your shoulders. “I have to be this way, y/n.”

You furrow your brow at his response. Why on earth would he have to be this way to you? You shake him off of you and he sits back up on his own, leaving his head hanging. 

“Why, Chan?” You ask angrily. He doesn’t budge. “Chan. Look at me!”

Your sharp tone of voice causes his head to snap up.

“Why?” You ask again, softer this time. 

“It’s just easier this way…I don’t think I cou—“ he starts but trails off and shakes head, unable to finish.

“Chan, please,” you plead with him. “How is this easier? Easier than what?”

He shrugs and places his head in his hand. A silence falls over the room as you wait to see if he will respond. He doesn’t, and it angers you. 

“Why would you choose me,” you start slowly, “if you’re so determined to treat me like an object you own when everyone else in this house can be both friends and lovers, fuck buddies, whatever the hell you want to call it with their assignee. Why is it so fucking hard for you?”

“I couldn’t let you end up with anyone else,” he says, words muffled by his hands.

You sigh. Again. You’re desperate to know what he means, to get some kind of clue about why he keeps you at arms length. Why he wants your full submission but refuses to let you get closer to him. You wish he were sober. It's even more frustrating that even when he’s drunk, he’s not spilling out helpful information. It’s the most of an explanation you’ve ever gotten out of him, though, but talking to him like these feels useless. He’s too heavily guarded. 

He looks up again and turns to face you.

“Stay with me tonight?” 

What is he trying to do to you? It’s the second time tonight he’s asked you to stay with him. And the way he looks right now, annoyingly adorable, you want nothing more than to grant his wish. But it’s infuriating to think that this isn’t the real him. Or if it is, why the fuck can’t sober Chan be the same? If you give in to him like this, after he’s explained nothing yet expects everything from you, you will lose even more of yourself. 

You find logical ways to justify your shared intimacy and lack of anything else, telling yourself that it’s part of the gig as an in-house stay. But what happens if you start to choose him and his behavior doesn’t change? Will you become upset if he continues to treat you the same?

“It’s Saturday,” you say finally, standing from the bed. 

He pouts again.

“It’s Sunday, actually.” He corrects you. 

He stands, taking a moment to catch his balance. He reaches for your hand and brings you towards him. He rubs his finger over the back of your knuckles. The pain from the punch earlier had mostly subsided after icing it.

You think back to Chan’s actions in the kitchen, how he immediately sprung to your defense. It’s as if he wants to be the only one who can get away with mistreating you. 

“We’ll just sleep. Stay with me.” He asks again, bringing your hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. Your stomach flutters at the sight. 

“No,” you say defiantly, shaking your head. “That’s not how it works.”

“It works how we decide it works,” he counters, placing his hands on your hips and looking down at you. 

“No, Chan…not like this.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, dropping his hands from you. 

He turns away from you and walks towards the corner of the room—to your bed. He grabs your pillow and hugs it to his chest as he walks back to his bed. 

He’s acting like the cutest fucking brat you’ve ever seen and yet you still want to slap his face. How had his parents put up with this? Maybe shipping him off to the states for school had been in their best interest. He would have been a handful, and spoiled rotten. You can almost guarantee it.

He climbs into his bed, holding your pillow as he gets comfortable. You stand watching him. You want to go to him. You want to curl up behind him, to hold him. To share a bed with him for the first time. But you can’t keep setting yourself up for failure. If you do that tonight, what happens tomorrow? He won’t treat you any different and you’ll be upset you let yourself fall for it. 

“Goodnight, Chan,” you say, turning for the door. 

He grunts in response as you turn the light off and exit the room.

On your way downstairs, you stop to listen and see if anyone is still cleaning in the kitchen but it’s dead quiet so you continue to Hyunjin’s room. You make it back to the room and see he’s already knocked out. You contemplate waking him up but decide against it. Any mood you had for fooling around is gone. 

You rid yourself of your costume piece by piece and climb into bed with Hyunjin in just your underwear and a shirt. His body adjusts to your presence, as it always does, and you snuggle in to him. What started as a promising night that could have ended with some fun—with either Hyunjin or Chan—turned out to be quite the opposite.

a/n: I am struggling so much to keep Chan in check. I want him to just give in an be the bestest boy ever, but then it'll be a rush and the story will end sooner. So, let's ride this out together.

taglist: @iflmho / @skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 I don't know why it's not letting me tag certain folks. but I will personally dm you if this happens so you're still aware when a new chapter is up. I GOT YOU!

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #bangchan fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan x y/n #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n

[zorosdimples]

pairing ⛧ creepy medical student! law x gn! reader

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. while there’s no smut, this is suggestive, and everything that happens is nonconsensual (law is gross). mentions of masturbation, fucking inanimate objects, bruises, and death. additionally: cum sighting, cursing, knife play, a little blood, some spit, manhandling, and general grimetown weirdness.

word count ⛧ 1132

notes ⛧ this is another installment of the garden of earthly delights series, as well as a contribution to @bastardblvd’s house of slimy horrors collab—my prompt was “pumpkin patch”! the plot is nonexistent… just go with it <3

something isn’t right.

the early evening sky is hazy, the sun obscured by a leaden film that shrouds grimetown’s pumpkin patch in a deathly hue. the barren field before you is more of a squash graveyard than anything else—the vast expanse of dirt is littered with a few dozen orange carcasses.

this is certainly not what you were expecting when your date suggested a fun autumnal outing.

“this has to be the world’s most depressing pumpkin patch,” you grouse, craning your neck to look up at law’s stony expression; as usual, his face doesn’t betray his thoughts. you can never get a good read on him. you don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s simply awkward or if he genuinely doesn’t emote. “we should go somewhere else.”

the jet-haired man places a firm palm on the small of your back, urging you forward. “c’mon, we’re already here. we can’t make jack-o-lanterns without pumpkins. toji joe’s is out of ‘em.”

there’s a peculiar lilt to his words—a faux positivity that makes you hesitate for a split second. but you move forward anyway.

the blustery air ruffles your clothes as you drift across the dark earth with law, searching for a pumpkin that isn’t in some state of decomposition. this is exactly the sort of scenario you hear about on your favorite podcasts and documentaries: a careless person accompanied by a man they barely know in a remote area, not so much as a whisper of nearby life on the wind.

all you really know about law is that he’s a handsome medical student who shares similar interests, namely in true crime and literature. that, and he had been unusually pushy about this outing.

“hey, that looks like a good one.” law points to a suitable carving prospect. crouching down to get a closer look, a gasp leaves your lips when you find a hole a few inches in diameter bored into the side of the pumpkin. what appears to have once been a pale cream fluid is now a flaky crust, caking the opening. “is that—”

“probably,” law cuts in, resting a cold, tattooed hand on your shoulder. startled, you nearly topple over, but his strong arms catch you and pull you to his chest. now standing, you jerk in his embrace; he releases his hold and you take a few steps back. “it’s one of kappa upsilon mu’s fall festival activities.”

it’s impossible to hide the disgust that furrows your brow and creeps into your voice. “they mutilate pumpkins and fuck them like fleshlights as a frat tradition?”

law shrugs. you swear you see a glimmer of humor flit through his amber irises. “it’s not even close to the weirdest thing they do. ever heard of a ‘cum fountain’?”

you hold up a hand to stop him. “i don’t even wanna know.”

but something isn’t adding up you think with a frown. “if you knew all the pumpkins were going to be cut up and…violated, why did you bring me here, law?” you tried to measure your words carefully, but now that they hang in the open, your accusation is evident.

your date’s lips curl into an ominous smirk. the familiar chill of dread nips at your heels and paws at your chest. “well,” law starts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade. your eyes rivet on the tool—the weapon—as he fiddles with it, nimble fingers gliding along the handle before flicking it open with ease. his bored, yellow gaze unnerves you; his words ooze calculated confidence. “i’m gonna practice my carving skills with you.”

his statement rips the breath from your lungs. unsure of what to do, you chuckle uncomfortably, praying that he’s still talking about the goddamn pumpkins.

law edges closer to you, a hunter testing his prey. you don’t move—you don’t think you could if you tried. your mind is racing in countless directions, but you can’t settle on an action, a plan. and this freak—your date—is one small thrust of the blade from you, crowding your space. so you stare down the predator’s maw.

“you’re beautiful,” law states, though it doesn’t sound complimentary; it’s an observation. there’s a clinical coldness to his words that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a microscope slide. he gestures to you with the knife, the unspoken threat palpable.

“oh. um, th-thank you,” you stammer, eyes darting wildly, cornered prey.

you force yourself to think: how do you escape this fucker? you had to take a shitty taxi to get to the pumpkin patch, but the driver could barely keep the car in its lane and tried to proposition you for sex. is everyone in grimetown a slimeball? you don’t realize your nails are biting so deeply into the skin of your palms that blood is dripping onto the dirt.

as though he can read your thoughts, law says coolly, “i wouldn’t run if i were you.”

options dwindling, you remember your lifeline. slowly, you inch a hand toward your back pocket where your phone sits. but your opponent is perceptive; law cracks a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. he raises the knife and presses the flat side of the blade against your neck.

it’s an effective warning.

“there’s no signal out here—the only cell provider that services grimetown is slime mobile. you can check, though, if it makes you feel better,” law taunts.

to your horror, your phone reads “no service” at the top of the screen. your skin itches, nerves buzzing with adrenaline. your hands shake, fear and rage coalescing into an unshakeable tremor that has sweat beading at your temples. hot tears of frustration singe your cheeks. but the cold steel of the blade against your throat saps the fight from your body.

your final resort?

“fuck you,” you hiss with all the venom you can muster. and, before you can stop yourself: ptui. you launch a glob of spit that lands squarely on law’s cheek, punctuating your insult.

law doesn’t flinch. rather, he swipes two calloused fingertips through your precious gift. he holds his wet digits up, admiring the glistening pads of his fingers, then pops them into his mouth. the groan he emits while enjoying your taste makes you lightheaded. he pivots his blade so that the honed tip scrapes an angry line up the column of your throat. the pressure isn’t enough to slice your flesh—yet.

you shriek when law forcefully grabs your jaw and pulls you to him. bruises in the shape of his fingers will bloom on your face tomorrow—if you live that long, anyway. for the first time, his wide grin crinkles his hawkish eyes.

his voice is thick with desire as he murmurs, “i’d like to fuck you first.”

#house of slimy horrors collab #the garden of earthly delights #kinktober 2023 #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #༄ kae writes #law <3 #grimetown #tw knifeplay #tw knife play #cw knifeplay #cw knife play

[angelsnkisses]

thinking about kappa with a particularly sensitive reader <3

600 followers in such a short amount of time is insane, thank you so much!! this is sort of random, but i also think it fits kappa pretty well, and i had sm fun writing it :3. not yet proofread 🫶

💟 nsfw - mdni 💟

warnings: dom!kappa, sub!fem!reader, slapping, rough sex, mocking, degrading (slut, "hole", whore), dacryphilia, oral (fem receiving).

• sensitivity was never a recurring concern for kappa, so when he finds out you're more fragile than he is.. lord, you'll never catch a break. he loves how you twitch and jerk away at any unannounced touches, how you wince at the lightest of pinches or squeezes, how he can literally feel your skin threaten to give every time he sinks his teeth into your thighs, everything. it's such an incredibly insignificant detail about you, but it turns into his biggest ally when he needs to overpower you.

"what, did that hurt? seriously?"

• he would absolutely use it to his advantage, taking his time to carefully manipulate your keen sense of touch. he'd run his rough fingers across your skin while cooing harmless taunts at you, his lips tugging up at every delicate noise that falls from your bee-stung lips.

"already squirmin' around? i've barely touched you, sugar."

"be good for me, yeah? 'm gonna take care of you.."

• he'd tease you so much, putting you on the verge of tears without even touching you properly. he'd trace his fingers across your ribs, your waist, the curve of your thigh, right along where you need him most.. but never giving you any stimulation. at least, not until you earn it.

"such a greedy little whore, hm?"

"what do you want? use your words, darling."

• he's honestly so mean to you, always mocking or degrading you effortlessly. he's real rough with you, too, knowing damn well you like it even more than he does, even if you won't admit it. he savors every single noise that you make under him, cherishing how whiny and pathetic you sound. don't be surprised if he lands a heavy slap to the side of your face before taunting or scolding you cruelly.

"answer me like a good slut.. aw, none of that, i barely touched you."

"shh, i know what you need."

• you started crying? good, he loves it. he'll kiss away your pained tears to somewhat distract you from him stuffing his cock in your unprepared cunt, ignoring your pained groan. unless you say your safe word, he won't grant you any leniency. he'll fuck you mercilessly, all but using you to chase his own pleasure. he'll grab your jaw so tight (even leaving small marks at times) while he pounds into you, tilting his head just a bit while taking in your disheveled state.

"just a hole f'me, aren't you?"

"quit your whining, you can take it."

• if you catch him in a good mood, he'll utilize your sensitivity in different ways. some nights he'll do nothing but eat you out for hours, taking his time to make you feel so good. that doesn't mean he's not still unfair, because trust me, he is. he'll coax you to your first orgasm or two with faux graciousness, letting you think he'll go easy on you. as soon as you start to feel overstimulated, he'll force your thighs open and go down on you like a man starved, his nose bumping and pressing against your clit while he tongue-fucks you eagerly. he'll push you over the edge over and over until you're sobbing, and won't stop until he's pretty much drunk on your desire. he doesn't care how much you beg, unless that safeword is used you will not catch a break.

"stay still for me, i'm almost done."

"one more, i promise.."

• he'll let up eventually, and don't worry, he doesn't forget to take care of you afterwards. he'll get you whatever you need, do anything you ask, praise you and your performance.. pretty standard aftercare. if you look just a bit past his rough exterior, you'll quickly find that he also loves receiving aftercare. being told he felt good, that you knew he didn't truly mean his aggressive comments, general reassurance, that sort of thing. he especially loves letting you lay on his chest to play with his hair while he lazily rubs his hands up and down your bare back, eventually drifting off to take a nap with you.

***

A/N: me 🤝 abrupt endings

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #culkin cult #kappa black mirror #kappa #kappa smut #kappa x reader #black mirror #black mirror season 6 #black mirror s6 #angelsnkisses #mdni

[calmlypanicking]

Gigglefish - a Castle Swimmer tickle fic!!

I loooove castle swimmer so much!! so i finally finished this fic i started a whillle ago lol.

750ish words, switches Kappa and Siren, fluffy, very short mention of injury in the beggining but its just like he bumped his hand into something. Enjoy!!

“Ow, crap,” Siren mumbled, trying to pull his hand free and accidentally hitting a rock with his knuckles.

“I’m back. Siren?” Kappa asked when he saw the odd position his boyfriend was in. Siren was in the cave they had been using to hide out in for a while, right up against the wall. And his arm was, gone? No, it was stuck. In the wall.

Siren took a panicked yank at his arm in a last ditch attempt to get out of the situation with some of his dignity left, but it didn’t budge.

“Siren, are you, *cough*, are you ok?” Kappa asked, couching to cover a laugh.

“I’m fine, I just, I was playing with this shell, tossing it, and it went into this crack, and now i’m stuck, and I look really stupid,” He said, blushing slightly,

“Aww, no Siren. You look handsome as ever. You're just, uhuh, stuck,” Kappa responded, giggling to himself at the predicament, but swimming closer and starting to grab his arm to help him.

“It’s not that funnyhy” Siren giggled, shifting as Kappa reached up to grab his underarm to pull.

“Yes it is, you're literally laughing too.”

“Not beca- because of thahat.” Siren laughed again, twisting as Kappa continued trying to pull his arm free.

“Oh yeah sure, then what are you laughing at, your highness?” Kappa asked sarcastically.

“Yourhe tickling mehe!” Siren squealed in response when Kappa's fingers drifted lower towards his ribs.

Kappa paused, looking contemplative. “Tickling?”

“Yehah, you were tickling me.”

“What’s tickling?” Kappa asked.

“What? You don’t know what tickling is? Its when like, your friends or whatever like, i dont know. It’s hard to explain. But someone touches you and it makes you laugh.”

“Touching makes me laugh?”

“Yeah, if you’re ticklish. Most mer are, some aren't, though.”

“So you’re, ‘ticklish’?” He asked, a small mischievous glint in his eyes.

“W-well yeah, but you probably are too, see?” Siren reached his free hand out and gently grabbed Kappa's side, smiling when he immediately folded over himself in giggles. “Now would you help me out of here, gigglefish. I’d like to have my arm back before it goes numb.”

“Gigglefish?!” Kappa gasped, “You’re the gigglefish, mister!” He said, reaching out and scribbling at Siren’s ribs again.

Cackling, Siren squirmed and pulled, trying desperately to avoid the quick hands that were steadily moving closer to his stomach. Once Kappa reached his stomach, he squealed and promptly pulled his arm free, landing on the sandy ground.

“Ohoho my God! That was so cute!” Kappa squealed, coming closer to watch his boyfriend continue riding out his giggle fit as he desperately tried to rub the tingles off his stomach.

“Noho, it was not!” Siren protested through his giggles.

Kappa swam closer, smiling at his boyfriend laying on the sand. “Sorry to say this Siren, but that was, in fact, very cute,” he said with a faux serious expression, but Siren could still see the glint in his eyes and the way he couldn't quite stop smiling.

“I’ll show you cute,” Siren replied, quickly getting up and tackling a very surprised Kappa to the seafloor.

“Sihirenn!” Kappa laughed as Siren once again targeted his sides.

Lightening his touch worked wonders, he realized, as he started gently scribbling against the spot. The lighter touch resulted in Kappa falling into tittering giggles and desperately grabbing onto Siren’s hand.

“You’re not pushing me away?” Siren asked as he continued his gentle torment.

“Aham I suhuposed to?” Kappa asked, his voice pitching up at the end because of Siren moving to his stomach for just a moment.

“Uh,” Siren started, slowing his tickling but not stopping completely. “I guess not? I mean, lots of mer do, but it’s okay if you don’t. It’s actually pretty cute,” he smirked, moving closer to the blushing boy’s face.

“Why do they push it away? I think it’s fun!” Kappa smiled, still holding Siren’s wrist even though he wasn’t tickling. “Am i- am I not supposed to like it?” he asked, expression faltering.

“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with liking it, its just not as common I guess. But I like it, to a point. It's nice to be close and have a reason to laugh. And I definitely like that you like it. That gives me an excuse to tickle you more.”

“So… you can keep going then?” Kappa asked hopefully, squeezing Siren’s wrist, and his heart at the same time.

“Of course,” he paused, then smirked as he leaned closer to Kappa. “Anything for you, gigglefish.”

#tickle #tickle fic #tickl fic #castle swimmer #castle swimmer tickle #lee! kappa #Ler!Siren #Ler!Kappa #Lee!Siren #tickles #tword community #tickl #tickle community

[the-monkey-ruler]

Why is Wujing the most wishy washy when interpreting his design?

I think that in most cases he is both the easiest, and can be the hardest to interpret. Technically speaking, he is built like a man with mostly human features and can be interpreted as a normal human with the occasion of red hair and tinted skin but otherwise doesn’t need prosthetics like Bajie or faux fur like Wukong. Not to mention that because Wujing has the one of the least impact characteristic he is the most likely to be changed in personality depending on the medium. I have seen him being portrayed as a Gentle Giant with not much to say but always has a big heart, to a Raging Brute with a short temper but while emotional still tries to never give up, to even a Quiet Genius where his quiet nature comes from more of a quizzical point of view. Wujing in the story is shown to be thoughtful, caring, and ruthless, so any of these depictions wouldn't be inaccurate but rather a highlight of only one of these traits.

But design-wise, he could be considered the hardest as if accurately portrayed he would be nearly 12 feet tall, completely blue, and have a full red beard. None of these can be practically done and so most people settle with just making him a normal man with perhaps some monstrous features. I have seen the most in Japanese media that he is portrayed often as a kappa because these are popular river spirits and Wujing is a river spirit himself.

It really just depends if you’re watching a live-action TV show, which is more likely to use the more practical design, or if you’re watching a cartoon or animation that would benefit from the unique indifferent character choices. Depending on what the director wishes to portray Wujing will heavily influence his design. If he is to be seen as a Gentle Giant he might be given a more soft look, allowing the audience (perhaps aimed for children) to be more sympathetic. If he is seen as a Raging Brute he would be more intimidating in appearance whether human or demon. And if he were to be a Quiet Genius they would give him a more noble bearing like a scholar. You have to think more like a producer or a costume designer for a movie when it comes to where you want to put most of your effort into the prosthetics and fur costumes and at least have two characters with simple designs.

You see more in most cases for more long-running tv series or for more domestic movies there are human Wukong designs, mostly inspired by the beloved 1987. There are cases that which most of the cast can look more human as well, making Wujing stand out less. Some of these looks range from hiring tough intimidating men to older more soft spoken men depending on the character.

With Xiyouji movies there is a higher chance of Wujing being more detailed since it is a one-time production compared to TV shows where it has to be consistent. These are either full face makeup or full body paint and you have to see the dedication when it comes to putting on such details. A good example is how the 2014 Monkey King Wukong looks the most human out of the four as he is to be seen as a Gentle Giant, while in the second picture, Marble Mountain 2022 Wujing is given striking fish scale prosthetics as he is a Raging Brute in this movie. Demon Strike Back Wujing leans more to Raging Brute with his such temper hence his intimidating eyes and fish prosthetics, but he said the role by proving himself to be one of the most insightful and thoughtful characters in the movie as he is able to analyze his journeymen emotionally and mentally, giving sight of that Quiet Genius.

While in cartoon movies or television can be inspired by the live action, or wish to portray him more accurately. Even in animation, the 1986 is so popular that even when they can use a more accurate design, his human design is still seen! I believe this is because this is the softest version of Wujing that would give children that Gentle Giant persona that is most likely being portrayed.

But personally, I enjoy when production allows him to have a more monstrous form and allows him to finally look like a demon. We see this only in a few movies and shows but surprisingly it is increasingly popular in comics and video games. This could be allowing Wujing to be more of his Raging Brute persona but surprisingly many of these examples are Quiet Genius as well with Monkey King Reborn 2021, Saiyuki 2001, and Adventure through China Wujing all being seen as Geniuese in their own right despite their monstrous appearances. I would say this is a clever contradictory visualization to have their largest and most-human but still not member to be one of the smartest rather than having him play a Brute.

In any case, there are a lot of ways that people can utilize the beloved Wujing as because his character is one of the most subdued he is easy to play with. We have seen him from Gentle Giant to Ranging Brute to Quiet Genius to anything in between. Whether he is quizzical or thoughtful or just doesn't have anything to say at all he is always a delight to see and given the time he deserves to be fleshed out. I think that the greatest design for a Wujing would allow him to show his Gentle nature without erasing his Rage either. He is a man who is haunted by his past of having a single mistake ruining his life, and pushing to perform cannibalism to survive. But he is a kind man at heart and is shown to be a Thoughtful and Clever individual when he is given the spotlight allowing him to move past his rage and self-hatred to show his earnest feelings of wanting to be a better man. In any case a Wujing is loyal, earnest, and honest to a fault and those are consistent qualities that make him wonderful. Wujing isn't given a lot of screen time but I think that he has so much to offer from anguish, comfort, and philosophical discussions.

#anon ask #anonymous #anon #jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #ask #sha wujing #I love this man #sorry if this got a little bit long-winded #just love Wujing so much #he essentially plays the straight man in the gangs dynamics between the comical duo that is Wukong and Bajie #he isn’t the most outspoken but that cause he speak when he wants not cause he will be pressured into it #he is fucking funny though #he pulled JOKES #Gave Bajie such shit and he is always funny for it #these are my pilgrims of love

[bucknercreech98]

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[hellman55]

Yo-kai Watch 2 Psychic Specters - Faux Kappa! [Episode 12]

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