#i feel like a cornered animal. hostile. but out of fear

[direwombat]

tagged by @madparadoxum, and @poetikat for this midweek wip sharing day <3

tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @henbased, @adelaidedrubman, @g0dspeeed, @gaeadene, @jillvalentinesday, @ivymarquis, @strafethesesinners, @strangefable, @aceghosts, @voidika, @confidentandgood, @purplehairsecretlair, @cassietrn, @neverthesameneveranother, @deputyash, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @euryalex, @clonesupport, @josephslittledeputy, @alexxmason, and anyone else with something to share today! (also I will be moving away from the scattershot approach of tagging (ie, whoever i can remember) sometime around the end of the month and start using a proper taglist, so if you want to be added to that taglist, please like/reply to this post)

no katc wip update because the sybeli brainrot has seized me. part 1 of the horror and the wild is already 8k. these are gonna be fuckin monster chapters, but at least there's only three of them lol

“When you were at the Veterans Center, you didn’t see anything…strange, did you?”

[Sybille] frowns and furrows her brow. “No,” she says carefully after a moment’s thought. The entire ordeal was creepy, to be sure, but there was nothing explicitly unusual.  “Ran into the groundskeeper -- or at least I think he was the groundskeeper --” Because what the fuck was Mr. Seed doing there so late at night if he wasn’t? “--but I didn’t notice anythin’ outta the ordinary.”

“You ran into Jacob Seed?” Eli asks. His eyes are wide. Panicked, if she didn’t know any better. 

“Uh? Yeah?” she says. “Why? You know ‘im?”

“Kinda,” he mutters. A strange shadow passes across his face, darkening his expression. His jaw tenses and there’s a hardness to his eyes. “What’d he say?”

“In a nutshell? Fuck off,” she shrugs. “He told me I was on private property, asked if I was lost, and refused to give me directions. Kind of a dick if I’m bein’ honest.” 

Eli snorts, and underneath the impressive growth of his beard, she sees the corners of his mouth quirk upwards wryly. “That’s an understatement,” he mutters under his breath. “He didn’t say or do anything…weird, did he?”

“No, not really. Just kinda rude,” she says. “He did watch me drive away, which was kinda unnerving, but he weren’t actively hostile, or anythin’.” She deliberately leaves out how she swore she saw his eyes reflecting like an animal's. Surely, it was just her own eyes playing tricks on her. 

A thoughtful hum rumbles from Eli’s chest and he leans forward to take her hand. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he says, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the top of her hand. “Just be careful around him." 

Well, that doesn't make her feel good. “Eli, what’s goin’ on?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about. He and I have just had…run-ins in the past.”

“Whaddaya mean?” she frowns. “What happened?”

Eli’s lips press into a thin line and he chews on the inside of his cheek, carefully choosing his words. “He’s…territorial,” he says slowly. “Thinks the entire State Park is his own personal hunting grounds.”

She shakes her head. “Entitled bastard.” Then her eyes go wide. “Hang on -- he didn’t threaten to shoot you, did he?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Eli assures her. He squeezes her hand in his. “But it did get…physical.” There’s a peculiar tightness to his voice, and she gets the distinct feeling there's something he isn't telling her. 

Sybille’s frown deepens. She raises a brow skeptically. “But not physical enough to press charges?”

“Ain’t worth it,” he shrugs. “His youngest brother is some hot-shot lawyer from Atlanta. I can’t afford to pay for legal fees that would only end with him getting a slap on the fuckin’ wrist.” 

She narrows her eyes. Not worth it. Exactly what Staci said about not pulling Mr. Seed over for reckless driving. The only difference is that Pratt seems to genuinely fear the man, whereas Eli offers nothing but mild contempt. But she still files it away as strange. Eli isn’t easily cowed by intimidation the same way Staci is. He served. Just like her. Just like Jacob. Just like half the fucking county. 

Whatever happened between the two men, it was enough to deter him from fighting back. 

But she doesn’t push it. “Okay,” she concedes. She breaks her hand free from Eli’s warm grip and twines her fingers with his. “But, if somethin’ happens again and you wanna get the Sheriff’s Department involved, you just let me know, okay? Ain’t nobody above the law, and we’ll do what we can to make sure justice is served.” 

Eli smiles. His eyes are warm, swimming with affection, and he lifts their hands to press a kiss to the back of hers. “You know I love your sense of honor and I appreciate the offer, but some things a man’s gotta take care of himself.” 

“It ain’t honor, it’s public safety,” she says firmly. “You know how many feuds I seen end in ‘huntin’ accidents’?” She uses her free hand to deliver air-quotes. True, she’s seen less of it than she did after moving north of the Bible Belt, but the general distaste for involving law enforcement and citizens taking matters into their own hands seems to just be a staple of rural life.

“It ain’t a feud,” he says with a dismissive shake of his head. But there’s a strain to his voice that makes her think he might be lying.

#wip: the horror and the wild #wip wednesday #this is still super rough and halfway between being scripted and being a proper draft #but i had to tease some backstory between eli and jacob before syb gets dragged into the mess #also for the record: i have no idea whether staci's scared of jacob because he knows about the werewolf thing #or if he's scared of jacob because jacob is just intimidating #i'm undecided

[bleue-flora]

Couldn’t help but think about this scene (Ch 5 of Misery Loves Another Idiot-) on Saint Patrick’s Day 🍀 so in honor of our favorite green boy on this green themed holiday, here’s the first rendition I wrote that I just found in my notes. 💚 Enjoy! Consider it my late tortureversary gift. ;)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Referenced/Implied Torture, Injuries, Profanity.

The pang of a metal water bucket hitting obsidian infects the air with an ominous promise. Followed by the approaching footsteps of who intends to fulfill that promise.

The noise makes Dream winch and struggle to hold back his trembling form. The desire to flee building up like a mountain inside of him. But he can’t. Can’t so much as crawl to the false safety of the corner with his ankles currently chained to themselves and the floor as well as his hands tied together behind his head, causing an intense pressure on his shoulders. A lingering tingling coats his body in pain from the previous days and even if he weren’t vulnerably bound to lay out on the floor like an animal ready to be cooked, the broken bones in his legs wouldn’t get him very far. That and well he’s trapped in an obsidian box completely covered in lava. There’s no where to go in this accurate recreation of hell. All he can do is wait for Quackity to make the first move and endure the torment that comes along with it.

Quackity takes his place to sit crisscrossed next to Dream’s head a bright and puzzled expression on his face, “Let me ask you something. Why the color green. Why choose that color?… I mean it’s not particularly flattering on you. It’s really not. It’s certainly not an intimidating color.”

In the hopes it gains him more favor with his torturer, he plays along a bit to the temporary non-hostile ambience, exhausted and tentatively he responds, “I don’t—don’t know. What do you want me to say?…“ before shifting to a higher sarcastic tone, “Oh, Quackity, I just love green—it’s my favorite color—it’s obviously the color I look best in—I mean, it makes me feel powerful, you know, like all the good villains…”

Continuing on he reasons, exasperated, “No no no unlike some people, I don’t need anything to make me feel powerful or fucking intimating, Quackity. It doesn’t matter what I wear, it could be—be a Rudolph costume and it wouldn’t make a damn difference. I still have the revive book so, to be fair, am I less powerful if I wore purple instead? I mean, do really think—do you really fucking think everyone would fear me less in pink?”

Nope. It wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter at all. No, he just wanted peace and freedom and that made him a tyrant. Pink, purple, turquoise, he could dress in the whole goddamn rainbow and it wouldn’t matter, not once they saw him as the villain. He could wear a fucking duck onesie and they’d still call him a monster and hunt him down to kill him like one. No, color had nothing to do with his persona or villainous facade. If he wanted to be seen as fearsome he wouldn’t wear neon lime green and a mask with a derpy, happy smile on it. No, it’s only because it actually is his favorite. Has been as long as he can remember, long before Tommy declared them enemies and turned the server against him.

Quackity, not amused in the slightest by the answer, replies while dipping a cloth in the bucket and squeezing out the access water, “Do you think you’re funny? You think you’re fucking funny?—huh?… Don’t fuck with me, Dream. I was trying to be nice. I was gonna ease into it today, but you know what? I’ll just cut to the fucking chase. How does that sound?”

[For the actual scene I went with see Ch 5 Bridge Over Troubled Water of Misery Loves An Idiot- linked here and above]

#leftovers #tee hee fun fact this chapter was going to originally be called Waterloo like the ABBA song #but I didn’t want to repeat artists #hmmm… don’t you love how everything makes me think of the torture box lol XD #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #c!dream #he’s such a little shit ;) #dream fanfic #misery loves an idiot #dsmp fanfic #c!dream and c!quackity #no one does it like c!dream #dsmp dream #pandora's vault

[balladofthewhitehorse]

7, 14, 18, 22, 38 + d & g for Scotland, i love the way you write him :D (I know that’s so many I’m so sorry for being greedy don’t feel like you have to answer them all! <3)

Don’t apologise at all! I’m glad you love the way I write him. I took a lot of inspiration from your HCs as well as Stirringwinds, Oumaheroes and Fumblingmusings too! Thanks for sending in so many good asks >:)c I absolutely love talking to others about these characters. 7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Going fishing - a peaceful brisk morning for it too, with not a soul around to disturb him, on the banks of a sluggish river. It’s something he does every so often, and usually it gets him in a nostalgic mood. Things were easier once. Things were simple once, back when immortality was something that riveted Scotland’s spirit rather than left him brooding for hours on end. However, this puts Scotland into a miserable mood for the rest of the day - it’s frustrating, given that he genuinely enjoys fishing, but it reminds him too much of how easy it was to be a family - how easy it was to simply be able to view England, Wales and Ireland as his family without any of the politics and history to muddy it. Sure, he may be able to fish with England today - but the past hangs like a lantern, illuminating the darkest corners. 

It reminds him, too, of how easy it was to spend time with France - to kiss and hold them without being reminded of the contractual nature of their relationship, of the obligations and politics and the dreadful feeling that he was only ever stoking England’s fury and resentment towards France. It reminds him too, of their relationship with its ups and downs. Fishing is something of a gentle, peaceful past-time. It is one of his most mundane, most human moments and Scotland wishes, wishes with all his heart, that he could go back to being that young boy fishing by the river. 

14. What animal do they fear most?

I will approach this from a metaphorical angle first, and then put down some animals that he generally does not want to fuck around with in a literal sense. Sorry, I love animal symbolism too much not to approach it from a metaphorical sense - even though I think this question is intended rather literally; Firstly, Scotland is afraid of wolves and dogs - particularly big, black ones with white teeth and copper eyes. Collared ones are perfectly fine, Scotland loves a faithful pet, but the sight of a lone, shaggy dark stray is something that awakens an instinctual dread in him. Wolves too, set something primal and wary inside him - and reminds him all too much of his brother, red-eyed and hostile, barghest, black shuck, snarlyow…

He cannot help, but wonder if the plethora of black dogs south of the border are all England’s doing. After-all, humans talk and make stories and are fearful of the dark, and there is nobody quite like his brother who wears the night like a second coat. If Scotland considers himself a stag - noble, free and just - then England is the wolf, wily and furious. It is hard for Scotland to look into a wolf’s eyes for long - and he remembers hunting them down in the forests a long, long time ago and holding their skulls, their broad jaws in his hand and imagining that England was bleeding before him. Maybe that’s just daft of him, Scotland admits. But nevertheless…

Now in a more literal sense, because I think that’s the intention of the question: Scotland isn’t fearful of any animal. He’s wary of some, but Scotland is always quick to point out that caution is not cowardice - and he has quite a lot of disdain for those who are quick to mix up the two. Cows can flatten you if given the chance and while they’re usually docile, Scotland has seen far too many idiots get trampled by cows, and big cats are simply off the table - too stealthy, too agile and powerful. He doesn’t care for sharks either, and makes sure to avoid the sea. Can’t get him on dry land, can they now? All the same, Scotland is not fearful so much as wary most of the time.

18. What embarrasses them?

On a mundane level: Idiocy, Raised Voices, Being Emotional On a much more personal level, there is nothing that Scotland finds more embarrassing than when his siblings lose their wits or their temper. He’s someone who prides himself on being able to keep control of himself, of being level-headed and calm. He’s someone who’s always told himself that he needs to be in charge - needs to act like a leader while everyone else is freaking out. In that sense, one could argue Scotland is not unlike England (who harbours the need to be in control - but by contrast, England does it out of a sense of wariness, of paranoia while Scotland has a sense of duty). When he snaps or when he raises his voice - or perhaps makes a mistake - the embarrassment sticks with Scotland to the very end. It clings to him like ink to paper, like blood to carpet, like sins to a guilty conscience. Out, Damned Spot; Out, I say! - as Lady Macbeth once said. 

‘’You should just forgive him.’’ Scotland replied icily, jaw tense as he watched his sister pace the length of his sitting room - she was erratic, a little like a wasp, Scotland mused to himself. It had been unfair, that much Scotland understood, but then what else was new? ‘’I know him-’’ Wales whirled around, fury in her eyes (so much like her little brother). ‘’-He just…ah, fumbled his words?’’ He shrugged, feeling the tips of his ears going red - the same hue whenever his siblings argued, which was frequently. ‘’It’s not worth the embarrassment.’’ ‘’And what-’’ Wales spat. ‘’-is the embarrassment?’’ 

Scotland stared steadily back, taking a deep breath as he slowly rose to his feet. Wales was doing it again. Wales was twisting his words - and a feeling of frustration seeped into the core of his bones as he watched his sister cross her arms, tapping her foot expectantly. ‘’He will just blame you. And then you’ll get angry and then-’’ Scotland’s lip curled. ‘’-And then everyone loses their shit!’’ It always happened, and Scotland was always there to pick up the pieces (Why me? Why is it always me-!?) ‘’You wouldn’t understand, Wales, I’m just say-’’ ‘’You’re just saying to pick the easy way out, like a coward.’’ Wales scoffed, an icy veneer crossing her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Scotland. ‘’You’ve shoved yourself well up his arse, Scotland.’’

‘’I’m just being smart!’’ Scotland snapped. ‘’England will…will just use this as proof of your immaturity.’’ He sniffed, shaking his head as he leaned in towards Wales (Green eyes ran in the family, and they bore into his soul). ‘’Keep your cool and play your cards right. Just forgive him. It can be as empty or as meaningful as you want, just try not to fucking lose it.’’ Wales’ lips went thin, her back going rigid as she glared at Scotland. ‘’You don’t know how long I’ve been doing that. You fucking don’t know how long I’ve been doing that for already.’’ 

Scotland’s fists clenched. ‘’I do.’’ Whirlwinds of fire and clashing swords, Scotland took a deep breath (as if he were about to dive, to immerse himself in a cold sea - and never return). ‘’So pull yourself together, Wales. Suck it up.’’ Scotland winced as he said these words, face going pale as he watched his sister withdraw (coiled as a spring, wound up - he didn’t try to dodge, squeezing his eyes shut as Wales slammed the door shut). ‘’...Fuck.’’

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them?

Deep-rooted and quietly seething, Scotland is the figure in the back of the room brooding angrily. Crossed-arms and stiff shoulders, features like stone, he is quiet and icy; A chilly lake in the darkest winter, contemplating what he wants and why he wants it, and most crucially how to get it. Really, Scotland does not think he’s being jealous - only protective, after-all it’s something that he has his sights on and that makes it his, no? Some people might consider England to be rather prickly and sharp - the most jealous out of the siblings, but where England spits fire - Scotland is ice. More specifically, the ice beneath your feet that is threatening to crack, echoing with promise - with threat, the water below to plunge you into his grasp. 

38. What memory do they revisit the most often? 

D. Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

I think I always kept Scotland’s design fairly consistent! When developing his character (I did this before I realised that Hetalia has a canon Scotland already, LOL!), I had a sort of typical body-shape and design in mind to go with his personality - and Scotland has always given me sort of rugged, outdoorsy vibes (stereotyping aside!) He’s always been broad-shouldered and strong, although I have recently started to toy with the concept of giving him some specific scarring or some leg issue, just because he’s been through a lot. For the most part, his design has been fairly consistent - with a few small changes (such as his height, originally I was going to make their heights consistent with the actual size of the country, so England would be taller than Scotland, but somewhere at some point, I changed my mind). 

G. What trait of theirs bothers you the most? Oooh, this is a good question. I think the trait that bothers me the most is - and I’m answering in terms of how easy it is to write - the fact I think Scotland can be quite self righteous. The issue is that I don’t know how to portray his self-righteousness - because he’s quite well within his rights usually, LOL! I guess I’m gonna try and consider how he can be a little cunning himself from time to time, but  I need to work on my Scottish history. Maybe some grave-robbing fic in the future, hmm? I always do think he’d be a bit of a surgeon back then and well…we all know about Burke and Hare, no? (but without the murder. Unless?)

#hws scotland #hws wales #hws england

[trash-monkey]

Ran's Little Dragon

Chapter 9

Sweat rolls down my pale face as my eyes are wide open in fear and concentration as the hostile scarred German Shepherd snarles with the now familiar starvation in it's eyes, we circle around each other as the audience above us holds their breath in anticipation. Suddenly the dog pounce into action as it wishes to sink it's teeth into my flesh but I won't let it as I give a blind slice before quickly rolling away and with practiced speed I return to my feet to see I have given the dog a slice across it's face, that doesn't stop it as it again pounces at me and with a risk I allowed it close. With a worn old knife in hand I embrace the crazed dog which caused it to sink some teeth into my shoulder but I sink the knife into it's ribcage in return and that makes the audience watching go wild while wondering what's going to happen next, I twisted the knife making the dog yelp in pain and let my shoulder go.

"I'm sorry" I whispered to the animal as only one will come out of this match alive and that will be me, I tear my sharp canines into it's throat to crush it and rip it out but I won't let it suffer any longer then it has to so I quickly pull the knife out and instantly killed it instead letting it bleed out to slow die. The audience cheer as some won a bet and others liking the match

"Ryuu Ryo is the winner!!!" The audience cheers loudly as some won a bet and others liked the match, I hold my arms in the air in victory as I show myself off like I'm supposed to. Two week have pass of me having fight after fight until I'm now at Ryo rank and only a slight chance happened to me but I mostly still looked the same as my first match here, animal blood drips from my mouth and onto my shirtless chest that shows off the scars I now have but I am lucky that it's mostly on my front as I protect my back tattoo.

'I use to look like a normal three year old but now I look like a goblin without a round stomach and green skin'

I slightly joked to myself as my match Handler connects the metal leash to the collar around my neck to lead me out of the ring and back into Mercy's hands.

"Come on and let's get that shoulder fixed as Stan has a present for you!" She smiled at me as she lead us back to her room where she once again patch me up after a bath.

"I don't know how a three year old like you is surviving." She mumbles to herself as she puts ointment on the wound before bandaging it.

"As do I" I mumbled back before giving a thanks as she hands me a sandwich and water which I immediately started eating after washing my mouth out.

"What time is my next match?" Mercy fix the medical kit together again.

"You're lucky as it's tomorrow at 9." After getting to the Kata rank I've been having matches two or three times a day.

"Good, at this point feeling so sore is starting to feel normal." I stated as I lay on Mercy's and Stan's bed that they only let me do when it's just us in the room which she lay next to me and let me snuggle up to her side before she runs her fingers through my hair for a little while before Stan walks in with a german pinscher puppy wiggling in his arms, he walks over to us and sets the puppy in my arms which I give him a confused and questioning look.

"She's yours now, a friend of mine is a dog breeder for the gang and this little one is the runt of it's litter which he was going to put it down when it's mother didn't want it but I got him to let me have it." A smile appears on my face.

"She's mine?" Stan nods as he returns the smile.

"Thank you!" I look at the whimpering pup in my arms but I frown as a thought appears.

"Once she's grown they'll made me fight her, won't they?" I question which caused to the two adults to frown at the thought.

"We'll try our best to not let that happen." Mercy promises as I hope they can keep it.

"Yara" I responded after they asked what I'll name her and soon it's time for bed, I hold the pup against my chest as I lay in my corner and let sleep take over. Only a day has passed with two matches when sleep hardly comes to me that night and when my conscious returns to me I can tell something isn't right as my eyes feel like they're glued together with how heavy they feel.

"Ryuu, time to get up." I hear Mercy's voice as she removes the pup from me before noticing the sweat in my forehead when I struggled to sit up and immediately unbandaged my shoulders in worry to see it inflamed with infection

"Shit, I think the two matches from yesterday did more harm then good." She mumbled to Stan as she picks me up and place me on their bed.

"it's time" I can hear her whisper with sadness as I started to pant as my fever gets higher which she immediately trys to cool me down with a cold wash rag.

"Mercy! You know if you do this he'll kill you!" Stan responded back harshly.

"Stan, you know this day was coming! I would rather save him and then live another day knowing I could have done something!" She argues back.

"We've already planned for this, to get him out of here before he catches he's death." She whispers, it's seems they have planned a way to get me out of here for a while now.

"We'll get you out of here." She whispers to me as I started to get delusional from my fever.

"Papa." My lips quivers as I mumbled before my conscious fades. My conscious slips back in to notice someone is using a wet cloth on my forehead before hearing voices.

"Who would do such a thing to a child like this! Can you take this metal collar off?" The male voice is familiar to me before hearing a deeper one speak.

"Yeah, hold him still." Large but gentle hands hold my shoulders down before as I can feel something clink against my collar and with a loud snap they break the lock off, the gentle hands ease the collar off my neck as I hear him give a relief sigh when seeing my skin isn't glued to the metal. I open my eyes when my head touch the pillow again after my collar being fully removed to see two people I haven't thought I would ever see in this life, Takemitchy is the one who gentle hands I felt as he sits on the edge of the bed as he attends to me while I can see Draken in the background doing something.

"You're awake!" Takemitchy blue eyes widen in surprise.

"Draken, he's awake!" He calls over his shoulder at the taller black haired man.

"Mercy?" My voice scratches as I try to speak which Takemitchy immediately helps me sit up to drink the water he has for me.

"Slowly" He urges me.

"Mercy? Stan? Where are they?" I questioned after pulling away once my thirst is quenched.

"Who are they? Are they the ones that took you?" Takemitchy softly questions me but I don't answer as I realize what I said and that the two got me out of that place.

"Pup? Where's my puppy?" I pleaded when I notice that's Yara isn't by my side while looking around wildly.

"You mean this little lady." Draken strolls back in with Yara in his large hand which I immediately reach out to and he hands her over to me.

"Now that you got her can you answer me now? Who are these two people that you're asking for?" I keep my attention on Yara ignoring the questions which Draken whispered to Takemitchy when noticing my absent answers, Takemitchy nods to him.

"I'm Takemichi Hanagaki and this is my friend Draken, he help getting that collar off." Takemitchy voiced before asking my name.

"Dragen" I reluctantly answered.

_______________________________________________

#fanfic #male y/n #male reader #anime #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyrev #tokyo revengers au #tokyo revengers anime #ran and rindou #tokrev ran #tokyo revengers ran #ran haitani #tr rindou #tokrev rindou #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani

[cryst4lwitch]

Even if she's technically made of flies and consumes blood, Cassandra is, unfortunately, human.

She has fears. Of course she does. She may be invincible to bullets, and blades, and will probably outlive most of the staff in the castle, even ignoring the fact that they barely last a month at the most on average. But she is afraid of things.

She has flaws. She's temperamental. She's harsh like the biting wind that weakens her. She sometimes a bit destructive intentionally or not. Sometimes she pushes too far and hurts people in the process.

And she rather be in a room with Miranda for a week or watch a movie franchise with Moreau before admitting it, but she's not perfect.

And she knows the idea of perfection is all an illusion in the eyes that judge her.

However, Cassandra is human. And she hates it.

There are some times when she doesn't give a passing thought to her appearance when she roams the halls of the castle covered in blood.

But there are other times when she stands in front of the mirror and can't stand who she sees looking back at her.

She knows she is beautiful. She knows she is attractive. And sometimes she's perfectly confident with how she looks even if it looks like she got into a wrestling match with a lycan and won.

But today is not one of those days.

Today, all she can see is her hair that she swears looks like a doll's peeking through her hood that's in desperate need of a washing.

But her focus is not on her hair, no.

They say eyes are the window to the soul. Cassandra wonders if she has one.

She loves her eyes, she does. They're beautiful like her mothers. It makes her feel more connected to the woman that adopted her and her sisters.

But today she doesn't feel beautiful. She feels awful, honestly.

She tries to cover what she has been told is a "lazy eye" with her hair, but stops when she realizes she can't leave the room looking like this.

She tries to consider wearing the eye makeup her sisters wear often but knows she would feel even more uncomfortable with it on.

She thinks of using an eyepatch, but that would be an obvious indication of her issue.

The whole point is to draw attention away from her eyes not to them.

She tries not to be self-conscious about it. She's a Dimitrescu for crying out loud.

But her and sisters tower over most of the staff, and their mother makes all of them look like toddlers in comparison.

She's going to be drawing attention to herself regardless of what she does.

And while she could death glare anyone that dares to look at her, it's only going to get her sisters to question her hostility.

And if her sisters get suspicious, then her mother gets involved. She doesn't have the emotional strength to speak of her insecurities. She already feels embarrassed enough as it is.

Cassandra feels like a trapped animal. No way out and as her insecurity circles around her ready to strike at her self-esteem more than it already has.

And she knows no one cares about it. She knows she shouldn't get so worked up over something so small.

But it bugs her knowing that anyone can see her obvious imperfection. They all will know how vulnerable she is and she feels so exposed that she has backed herself into a corner and everything is a suddenly a threat now.

Even her own reflection.

The glass shatters under the force of her fist, and she'll clean it up and come up of an excuse regarding her outburst later, but her hand burns with the shards of glass stuck in the cuts and its bleeding.

And if she wants to avoid any questions, she'll have to be fast.

However, the thought of facing the world outside her door keeps her in place. She isn't ready to face anything yet.

So she drops to the ground, feeling helpless to her own minor demons, tired of the mental battle, and sits there surrounded by broken shards of glass that if she looks at she can see herself in them as the blood begins to drip from her hand and pool on the floor.

She sighs, but makes no move to get up.

"I really need to stop making a mess of things."

CHEF KISSES

#cassandra dimitrescu

[didyoutrydynamite]

World of Remnant: Grimm Behavior Group

A while ago I had an idea to classify Grimm based not on their physical attributes or abilities, but based on their behavior and hunting style. Of course there may be some Grimm out there that will be a mix of several definitions, but I feel a mass majority of Grimm can be categorized into five behavior subgroups. (At least within the JNRZ AU) If you have any further questions about these Behavior Classes, or are curious about certain Grimm within these subgroups, please leave an ask! I had a lot of fun brainstorming this one and I hope you enjoy!

Mavet Class: Also called “Predatory Type”, is the most common type of Grimm, having the greatest number and variety of forms, a majority of which taking the form of Beasts. These are Grimm that run on basic primal instinct, behaving much like wild hostile animals. They'll either travel in groups or alone, always seeking out the nearest source of negative energy. As soon as they find their prey, their only goal is to kill and to do it as fast as possible. Very few Mavet Class Grimm have the ability to reign in their bloodlust, and an even rarer few will possess the wherewithal to retreat and live another day if a battle turns in their prey's favor. Even then, they'll only retreat because they know somewhere out there, there's an easier kill just waiting for the slaughter.

Some examples of Mavet Class Grimm include Beowolves, Nevermores, and Ursa.

Mazzikin Class: Also called “Vermin Type” a category of Grimm that don't instinctually attack on sight, but rather hide in a frequent dwelling area for humans and feed off their natural negative emotions, preferably of those belonging to mentally unstable or emotionally unbalanced humans. These are usually creatures that will hide in tight spaces around an inhabited building, whether it be inside the walls, above the ceiling, under the floorboards, inside the furniture, etc. These Grimm tend to also do subtle things to make a human's life slightly worse without making their presence obvious to them, and will hold off on directly attacking until the human either corners them, or a large Grimm horde attacks the village they inhabit, causing them to spill out from the woodwork.

Some examples of Mazzikin Class Grimm are Goblins, Hiss, and Stainlings.

Shedim Class: Also called “Dweller Type”, arguably the wisest and most mysterious of Grimm. Where other Grimm are constantly on the move for their next meal, Shedim Class will instead settle down and stay within their very own territory, oftentimes a sizable distance away from any human population. After numerous investigations, experts have determined that these "Shedim Territories" are often established in places where tragic events or a great loss of life took place. These often include city ruins, old battlefields, shipwrecks, disaster sites, and even abandoned buildings. It is theorized that these Grimm are attracted to the residual negative energy that resulted from these tragic events and will staunchly defend their homes from human trespassers. They are often built large, tough, and will kill without hesitation. Shedim will only ever leave their territory if they purposefully are lured out by Huntsmen, or they feel a massive aura of negative energy from up to several hundred miles away, usually seen as a signal of a new possible home.

Some examples of Shedim Class Grimm include Nuckelavee, Goliaths, and Cyclopses.

Dybbuk Class: Also known as “Sadistic Type”, by far the most feared class of Grimm, their endless cunning is only matched by their inhuman cruelty. Where they most differ from other creatures, Dybbuk Class specialize in hunting down prey one at a time, taking their victims alive and prolonging their suffering as long as possible. They'll torture victims and feast on their negative energy for hours, sometimes even days on end until they eventually break. Dybbuks are intensely protective of their meals, going as far as slaying other Grimm that dare encroach on their feeding ground. Their meal of choice ranges from lone wanderers in solitary forests, blissfully unaware children sleeping in their beds, or foolhardy Huntsmen who decide to hunt on their own deep in Grimm Territory.

Some examples of Dybbuk Class Grimm include Hags, Krampuses, and Bodaks.

Nephilim Class: Also known as “Colossal Type”, the rarest of all Grimm types and generally the largest, easily towering over forest canopy and rivaling mountains in stature. These giants are given an important role in Grimm ecology, to give rise to generations of new monsters. Nephilim Class Grimm will find a secluded spot far from civilization and go into a hibernation state that lasts for years, sometimes decades, possibly even centuries. As they sleep, their bodies ooze Dark Essence that morph into early Grimm forms that wander from the nest and out into the world for the hunt. It is unknown when or why, but eventually, Nephilim wake up from their slumber and will leave their nesting grounds, and lead gigantic hordes of Grimm towards nearby Settlements. Such horrible events are known as "The Grimm Eclipse".

Some examples of Nephilim Class Grimm include Wyvern, Leviathan, and Tarasques.

#jnrz au #world of remant #jnrz world building #creatures of grimm

[ixylle-d-from-the-stars]

unpopular Opinion

Katya and Goncharov both saw protecting their images as the only way of survival, but the way they attempted to keep up the images were both morally wrong (mostly) even though they did it in COMPLETELY different ways. Stick with me here but i need to say it. Is about the entitled idealism and capitalization on the 'perfect' families/couples that society continues to enforce on its members, and how deeply its rooted into the very minds of everyone. The whole movie is about people so trapped and boxed away from their true selves that those people can barely be considered their 'true selves' anymore. In that scene where Katya lures Andrey's 'friends' to their untimely demise for not respecting her husband's and his newly boyfriends decisions as well as hers and Sofias is proof of how far the human will go to preserve the fragile sense of self they are able to develop in a world hellbent on making sure people have so little sense of self that their forced to assume whatever identity society intends to place upon them because humans by nature *require* some form of identity and structure to the inner being. Katya's actions were not justified, and inherently she indirectly attributed to the further or suppression to the world, but tis less a strike of cruelty and more the defense of an animal cornered in its cage, protecting the only thing they have left. Goncharov was not right in reacting the way he did either, and cutting off with Katya and further distancing her from everyone (including himself and Andrey) they knew, even people who may not know the whole story but feel the same way did nothing to not further encourage hostile or aggravated behaviours when Katya may feel threatened, or feel that Sofia may be threatened. Although their relationship was not one society would approve of or even acknowledge, I believe they did have a bond, but rather a wlw/mlm solidarity and support network with each other rather than the romantic relation they lead the ones around them to believe. They needed each other in some of the darkest times in ways Andrey and Sofia may not be able to help due to the limited contact they could have without it being suspicious. There is no inherent 'right' and 'wrong' or black and white as most other movies of this sort, and there is no surface level answer. Katya was in the wrong but in different ways to goncharov, who was also, very much in the wrong (esp near the end) Goncharov and Katya's relationship is a complex, interconnected web built on fragile social constructs and mutual trust, but since most is the movie is spent breaking down those ones they are forced to rebuild in other ways, and unfortunately the 'way out' as Katya described it seemed like heir only way, although it wasn't. Katya are symbolism for the aggravated, desperate, lonely, defensive nature of most of today's population, whereas goncharov is a symbol for the fearful, desperate, lonely, borderline reticent facades each person has to carefully construct in modern day. I have opinions on sofia and andrey as well but I fear tl can't handle that one quite yet

#goncharov #katya goncharov #goncharov x andrey #katya x sofia #unpopular opinion #im right and i should say it #tl needs to hear it im not kidding

[transcourier6]

a vague, messy list of things i like about fo76

atmosphere. i really think the game nails it. petrified corpses litter the wv wasteland, folks who were instantly turned to ash when the bombs fell. some look up to the sky, frozen in a now-silent scream. others are curled up in bathrooms, closets, corners of houses, trying anything to help mitigate the effects of the initial blast. others, still, are half-trapped under rubble, reaching out for help that never came. with wastelanders, the potentially contemplative solitude that i'm sure was present in the initial game is lessened. but places like the wayward contrast the harshness of the wasteland with how warm and welcoming the characters there are, and there are still moments where the player's left alone with the wasteland's grim reminders of death, terror, scarcity, and classism.

the wildlife. don't get me wrong, i understand why older FPSes like fo3 and nv wouldn't want to waste the, like, CPU or whatever it'd take to render a bunch of non-hostile, mutated animals. but i really enjoyed seeing ghoulish squirrels and beavers, electric frogs, and pretty normal looking foxes, all things considered. it makes the wasteland feel infinitely more alive, having weird little creatures around that don't immediately try to kill you. serves as a reminder that the world's continuing on, even after everything.

the robots. there's a smug protectron who took over the university he was meant to guard, pointing out that, technically, he's the highest ranking member of staff, so it's his now. skinner's a mr. handy whose owner(employer? Designated Human?) lost a close relative and reprogrammed him to believe the delusion that that person was still alive, and now he laments about seeing ghosts. polly's an assaultron that's part of a found family consisting of two humans and a ghoul. i could go on.

the ghouls. the ghouls in this! mwah. love 'em. they're ostracized, especially since sentient ghouls are kind of a rarity. none of them fully understand what's going on, and the idea of them becoming feral is a fear for all parties. since ghoulification's such a new concept, their relative immortality's only hinted at, with lucky lou being a ghoul in his 90s who doesn't feel his age. we don't get many ghouls who are that age, they're usually 30 or 230, and it's refreshing to see a newer game bring up the idea of going from an elderly human to a mutant who'll live another 150+ years. what a paradigm shift that'd be! what a strange situation for him! love it.

the criticisms of the american government, which bethesda doesn't usually touch. when the overseer started talking about using gold as currency to slowly replace bartering, i was happy to see that i could have my character point out that bartering works. when she mentioned bringing back the old economy and old government, i was able to say that the old government was what brought about ww3. that the systems weren't working then. that a more anarchist society brings about its own freedoms. and there's plenty of general stuff about pre-war classism, but i'll probably make a post dissecting that once i'm deeper into the lore. and yes, one could argue it's hypocritical to critique america and capitalism in a game with microtransactions and uncle sam costumes, but i doubt the writers have any control over that.

#penn posts #long post #found this in my drafts. haven't played fo76 in a while but i still genuinely love it. #don't get me wrong. it's definitely flawed and the microtransactions are Bad. but there's a lotta good shit if you can tolerate the bad. #also i'm interested to see if the fact that the in-universe govt studied ghoulification before the war will come up.

[ofthepuzzle]

when he was first released from the puzzle

Send me a scene that happened in canon and I’ll write in detail how my muse felt in it!

I take it you mean released after Yuugi assembled the Millennium Puzzle? Or officially released after the Ceremonial Duel-- But since you put ‘first’ I take it it’s the first option.

I headcanon that he loses his memories over time. We could see Atem as his true self helping out Solomon. So, while Solomon gave up on solving the puzzle and then Yuugi began doing it, in the span of the eight years it took he was ‘losing himself’ so to say.

So imagine this memory-less spirit suddenly appearing inside a dark room with just a throne in the center with a bunch of hieroglyphics engraved everywhere. But that’s not all. The moment he steps into the maze with what feels like endless doors, you would expect him to go like, “What am I doing here? Why am I here? What is this— everything?’ (There’s one thing I am thinking about, how in the anime he says he can be called ‘Pharaoh’ or ‘Yami’. How does he know that? Maybe the last bits of his memories were just that he was a pharaoh and that’s it. But the ‘Yami’ part just doesn’t make sense unless he was like, "Well, I live in darkness, so it fits". ) He sets himself on a mission to open the doors, only to end up almost caught in the traps each time. That is how he learns to be far more cautious with his exploration. He is studying every corner. Surprisingly, he doesn’t falter or become afraid of the fact that he’s alone in a maze filled with traps. Because he has nothing to be afraid of. He doesn’t remember anything, or anyone. He has no one. There’s no reason to panic.

He wouldn’t immediately find out that he can switch consciousness with Yuugi. Only until he finds out that there’s another soul room in front of his own. He never crosses it. The first time he ever instinctively manages to switch with Yuugi is whenever he feels this sense of fear coming out somewhere. That is how via the puzzle’s magic he could hear what is happening out there. And until he considers something a threat would he take over. He wouldn’t question why but know that he has to. It could be so he could secure his dark sanctuary, so that he isn’t disrupted while inspecting. Or it could be because he has the need to pass judgment on what may be causing this feeling of distress. The Sheut, the darkness. That is all that he knows to do in that moment.

One important thing is that after he learns that there is one more soul in this body, he doesn’t bother it. That is why Yuugi doesn’t know about him until the first duel with Bakura. Technically, Yami could’ve appeared beside him as a phantom but he never did. And Yuugi never did either, because he didn’t know he could do that. He was, in a way, asleep in his soul room. And on the other hand, Yami would be wandering around the maze, searching for answers.

Overall, he is stoic about everything. He just ‘came to existence’ in a place that is unfamiliar. An empty shell. The maze keeps him busy. He lacks this sense of morality that he used to have, so that is why his shadow games may seem harsh even if he was defending himself (or the body he is possessing) from a threat. It’s like when you are first born in this world with no memories, you don’t know a lot about anything or about yourself. He is completely detached from everything. He lacks sympathy in the beginning until he interacts enough with other people to learn to have it. Simultaneously, he isn’t hostile if not provoked. He is laid-back, non-disruptive, minding his own business. He couldn’t care less about what’s outside his own room. Luckily, he will learn to care with time.

This was a fun ask to answer~! In case this wasn’t what you meant, lemme know! I’d gladly do other scenes either way.

#ooc.// #about.// #— ask replies.// #thank you !

[semercury]

I am functional, isn't that enough? What more do they want from me? I go to work. I pay my bills. I even shower most days. Why isn't that enough? Why add the impossible task of being happy on top of it?

#stuff sarah says #i didnt ask to exist #i dont want to exist #but i will #i will remain functional #why do i have to be happy on top of it all? #that doesnt exist for me #we can try more pills. we can try more talk therapy i guess? but its hopeless for me #im worthless and my life will amount to nothing #so forgive me for wanting to ease that by sleeping more #and please no one feel obligated to say anything in response to this #my shitty mental health is being called out and im reacting defensively #i feel like a cornered animal. hostile. but out of fear #what am i hurting by being miserable? im here #i wont die yet. and if me not being happy is that upsetting then ignore me #people want me around or they dont. why do i have to be happy? #ill stay awake and stare at walls if that makes her feel bettter i guess??

[saturnsstufff]

Hear me out, imainge Techno raiseing a little girl and she just brings home her first boy friend or something. Techno being Techno just reacts to this in a "hurt her and i'll kick your ass" kinda way.

This idea wont leave my head and I have no idea why.---

Also hope you have a great rest of the weekend!! :D

-🐼😐

Oh my god he would be the best/worst dad ever. Best because he would be so loving and supportive. But worst because he was so terrifying.

Also! Apologies before hand I got a little carried away (I love domestic dad techno, what can I say)

Athena- Technoblade

Warning: none, maybe protective dad Techno?

   When you first had children Techno was pretty hesitant. He wasn't sure if the child would like him or despise him. He also wasn't sure if he would even be a decent father. Of course being his loving and supportive wife, you already knew Techno was utterly amazing with children. So when you announced you were pregnant, you swiftly eased Techno's nerves about fatherhood.

   When your baby was born he cried, he was so over joyed at the sight of your little darling within his arms. Phil, having known the lengths and dangers of pregnancies, was glad that you had safely delivered a healthy baby girl. Almost a exact replica of you to be precise. With little ruby eyes she looked at you both with wonder. Quickly finding comfort with her Mother, Father and Uncle. Techno upon seeing her, knew she would grow to be strong. Whether she choose to be delicate as a flower, or as fierce as a warrior. He would be there to support his little girl. With that said, he only found one name, perfect enough to fit his little darling.

   Athena.

   Like her name foretold, she became a elegant warrior. From a young age she was driven to make her father forever proud. Of course he was naturally proud of her. But that didn't stop her from picking a bow, and sword up to challenge her father.

   When she was a toddler, she found amusement and love for the little things. Athena and Steve had even become inseparable. Her father was gushing over the idea that his daughter had a love for large animals similarly to him.

   Of course you were also close to her. She was your daughter, made of your flesh and blood. While Techno taught her everything about combat, you often shown her the gentle side of things.

   Between You and Techno- and the rather occasional help from Phil- you guys had taught Athena to be fierce, yet gentle and loving. Something you were all very proud of.

   As Athena aged she became rather beautiful, growing to look a lot more like Techno then you first had perceived. With her father's strong gaze and jawline she became a heartbreaker without even knowing it.

   You and Techno both knew she was gentle and loving. But due to Technoblade being her father, many boys and women alike tended to shy away from her. Fearing of upsetting her or her father.

   Techno felt bad at the idea of his daughter being alone. He knew what it was like to be shunned by most people. It wasn't something he wished his little girl to face.

   You, having been the more positive person in the marriage, knew that it would just take time for her to find the right person. Sure enough, you were right.

   Athena had found friendship with a hybrid Ender boy named Nathaniel. Although rather tall he was in fact timid. Athena waisted no time in telling you about her long adventures with Nathan by her side. Soon the name "Nathan" and “Nate” had become a house hold name for your family.

   Of course you had met Nathan occasionally. Having seen him when you would walk with Athena to the nearby village. He was a kind and loving boy towards you, and all those he encountered. When he started bringing Athena flowers, you had more then a well known hunch of where it would lead to. As always, you were indeed right again.

   One morning Athena was a bit restless in her seat at breakfast. While you fed your young toddler, you couldn't help but wonder if she was ok. You were the type of mom to let your children come to you with their issues on their own terms. Figuring to wait until they were comfortable with bringing things up, then being pushed to tell you. It worked with your sixteen year old daughter and your twelve year old son. So you planned to roll with that for your soon two year old son as well.

   Soon enough she did budge. "Mom?" She asked softly. You turned to her, showing she had your full attention. She cleared her throat and poked at her egg a bit. "I invited Nathan over for today... I hope that's ok..." she asked a bit shy. Something was up, but you weren't about to pry.

   "Of course that's ok Thena, he’s your friend" you smiled softly to her wanting her to feel at ease. Her brother narrowed his eyes a bit. You watched your son from the corner of your eye. He knew something. Your middle child took after Techno expression wise. The look he was currently giving his sister, was the same look Techno gave you when he knew you weren't telling the full story. With your youngest in front of you asking for more food, you slowly moved your attention away from the eldest children.

   "Will dad be coming home today?" Your son asked curiously. You herd the bemusement lace his tone. You hummed and put a spoonful of oatmeal into the toddlers mouth.

   "I believe so. Phil and Your Father said they wouldn't be long with the Mansion run" you said looking over to him. With your youngest now almost two Techno started up his usual runs again. When you had a baby in the house he was always hesitant to leave for too long. Of course you always told him you would be fine. Thankfully your children were well behaved and easy to keep track of- that is unless your oldest son felt the urge to annoy his sister of course.

   It was about a little after noon before Techno and Phil had returned home. Your toddler was the first to see them from the window of course. Calling out "daddy" and insisting that you all go out to meet him. With no hesitation you scooped up your baby and wondered out with your kids. Athena was smiling brightly. But you could also tell she was on edge.

   When Techno rode up to the house your toddler was thrashing for him. Only easing up when he was handed to Techno. Your husband had the largest smile as he took his son in his hands. Asking if he was missed. You gave Phil a warm welcoming smile. Hugging him when he dismounted from his horse.

   While you stood by Phil talking about the trip, your youngest children were hugging there father when he came down. Happy to have him home once again.

   Athena, although overjoyed that her dad was home. Found her attention drawn to the young Ender boy approaching from the tree line. The two hugged happily when he met up with her.

   Techno had traded your toddler to Phil. Making room within his arms for you. With your body pressed up to his, you turned your head to give him a warm welcoming kiss. But instead paused to see Nathan and your daughter hugging. Techno, expecting a nice kiss started to pout. But he soon stopped when he saw a unfamiliar boy with his little girl.

   You had previously met Nathaniel, however, Techno has not. He’s only herd about this boy. So he was a bit skeptical.

   Athena didn't hesitate to bring Nathan over to your little family. With Techno and Phil in full armor, you felt a bit bad that shy Nathan had to meet them this way. Your sons stood with Phil, your youngest within his arms. You stood in front of Techno, your husband towering over you with only his hand on your shoulder.

   "Who is this?" Techno asked, his eyebrow slightly raised in question. Athena smiled hesitantly. Nathan quietly looking Techno over.

   "Dad... This is Nathaniel... That boy I always talk about" you smiled warmly at the boy. Saying it was nice to see him again. He gave you a shy, but warm smile in return. Techno's eyes lingered over Nathaniel. Almost summing him up. "Nate.. this is my Dad and Uncle..." she said pointing. Nathan stepped away from Athena's side. Slowly stepping up to you and Techno. With a hesitant arm he held his hand out to Techno for a handshake. When Techno shook Nathan's hand, the size difference was easy to spot. Where Techno had strong calloused hands, Nathans were limber, long, and soft. Easily one of his Enderman traits he possessed.

   Techno didn't make direct eye contact. Having remembered when Ranboo stayed with you two years previously. Ranboo had off hand mentioned making eye contact was seen as a hostile move to Enderman.

   "Its very nice to meet you finally, sir..." Nathan said rather quietly. Techno although on the fence. Didn't choose to try and be intimidating. Instead he kept his normal monotone voice.

   "It's nice to meet you too"

   Nathan ended up staying for dinner that night. Athena and Nathan mostly stuck together, but both were a bit nervous you could tell. But again you didn't push it.

   After dinner Phil took the kids outside for a late night walk. Figuring he would leave you and Techno alone for a bit. Of course you weren't fully alone. Athena and Nathan stuck about. With the two sat together on the couch, Athena ended up falling asleep on Nathans shoulder.

   Well you and Techno talked in the other room at the table, the last person you expected to see was Nathan. He quietly walked in and waited for you two to finish talking before he began. "I... I uhm, have something to ask you s-sir" Nathan began uncertain. You gave him a kind smile and motioned for him to sit.

   When he sat he looked between you two. Mostly looking for reassurance from you so he could address Techno. Techno didn't push, he just calmly waited for the boy to speak. "A..Athena really cares about your opinion... And.. I... I know I want to do this right..." he was stumbling over his words. You could tell he was nervous. Quietly you just told him to take a deep breath. He nodded and did so. Waiting a moment before continuing. "W...with your permission as her Father... Could I please date your daughter?... S-she means the world to me... all I want is her happy..." Nathan was shying away from Techno. Almost expecting him to yell or something.

   Techno watched a bit and thought on his words. Truthfully Techno was proud of this boy. Everyone was terrified to date his daughter, yet a shy Ender boy had purposefully stepped aside to ask him for permission. "I suppose I'll let you..." Techno said slowly. Nathaniel's shoulders visibly relaxed at Techno's words. Of course techno narrowed his eyes after, becoming serious "just know I was your age. If she ends up pregnant anytime soon, I'm coming for you" Techno meant it. Nathaniel went red and swallowed thickly before slowly nodding.

"Y-yes sir...."

#technoblade #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #fanfic #fanfiction #minecraft fanfiction #minecraft x you #dreamsmp x reader #tb

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #tw animal death

[celestialmango]

Scared prey, gentle Pred, artificial monster Pred, honestly this stuff is very loosely based on a dream I had last night. Reader insert, (I don't know if what the pred feels is romantic or platonic. You decide) a dude gets the shit beat out of him off screen.

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

You're shaking and sobbing with your hands covering your mouth as you try to quiet yourself so you won't be found, you can't escape, they're in the hall that leads to the exit of the experiment containment part of the facility carved out inside of a cavern and you're locked inside one of the adjoining rooms. You flinch at the crushing and snapping of bone and smell copper in the air, tears well up in your eyes at the sounds, You remember how this situation started in the first place and choke on air at the smell you know is blood.

---------

"Is it ready?" Your teammate asked you close to the route the race will be on, the route made up of different obstacles starting with a forested area followed by rocky terrain and finishing off with a water based obstacle, you smile cheerily 'yeah, our driver here should be.' you pay the shoulder of the semi-robotic being of flesh and metal, "well I finish the vehicle it can-" you interrupt 'don't call them an it.' Your teammate sighs "(y/n) it's not even sentient." You gasp and clap your hands over the ears of the unresponsive four armed creature sitting on the crate in front of you 'how dare!'

Your teammate sighs and pinches the bridge of their nose"alright fine, they, so they can drive it. Better?" You let go of the beings ears, 'much, thank you. So the other teams are pretty much ready so we just need to get them in the vehicle and I'll monitor their vitals right?' you had been added to this team recently and the monster had already been made when you got there a few months back, you had been added on after a scuffle between the previous caretaker of the creature and the team leader left with them getting kick out of the team.

The creature continues to stare forward empty eyed and unmoving reminiscent of a doll sat on a shelf and left there, your job was to check it over and keep an eye on it's vital signs but honestly, you have kinda abused your position and would sometimes just go vent to it, even though you know it was no better than talking to a stuffed animal but you always felt better afterwards, you finish getting them ready and help move them into the multi-terain vehicle. 'so this is just the preliminary right? Why do you alchemists and mages make these guys in the first place? And why the race?' you finally decide to ask the team lead the big questions.

"Yes to the first, second to test our skills and about the race bit? That part's just for fun." They answer as you both get into place, 'you magic dudes are weird' "heh heh, well you took the job, what's that say about you?" you huff like you're offended but your smile gives you away. A shot goes off and the race starts. Thing go fine with the first two terrains, but something goes wrong with the third, 'Hey we need to pull back something's wrong, what is that?!' some sort of dark mass starts trying to drag all the vehicles under. "What the hell?!" Your team lead yells at the coordinator "I thought you said the path was cleared!" They dash over to where you are still monitoring the wildly fluctuating vital signs of the artificial being, "shit."

The team lead overrides the vehicle and manages to snap it free and have it return to start, the rest of the teams not so lucky the vehicles crush or dragged under, as their creation skids to a stop neither of you notice the tiny oily splotch of black slip into the cracks of the vehicle and sink into the creatures skin. Team lead opens the cockpit and drags the still doll like construction out and while they check the vehicle you check over the artificial monster concerned.

"Fuck it's shot, I'm going to have to replace so many parts, how's our driver?" You look up from where your crouched over the still form, 'alive, doesn't look hurt, you guys built them pretty sturdy' your team lead sighs. "Well somebody sabotaged the race, in anycase we'll take them back to the under lab facility to monitor them and make sure there's nothing wrong." You give them a concerned look but nod.

-------

Deep inside the lab you enter a hall filled with empty rooms to hold experiments that lock from the outside, you both set the creature in their room on their bench, your team leader leaves before you and turn to the creature cup on it's cheeks with your hand, inanimate they may be you still got attached,brush their cheek with your thumb as you speak softy 'i was worried about you but I'm sure it will be okay' you say mostly just to reassure yourself before you let your hand fall away and walk out of the room, before you shut the door you give the creature your final parting words 'night big guy.' Before you shut and lock the door.

the creatures finger twitches of its own volition.

-------

Hours later you're finished up paperwork when you feel a gun pressed to your head, you freeze up,"take me to my creation or I'll blow your brains out" it's the previous caretaker, you want to live so you do as asked, you take them into the experiment containment hall and lead them to the room the creature is stored in, they throw you into the room across the hall and lock you in before opening the other room to see the four armed being still sitting where you left them.

They stand in front of it, it's hair is covering it's face, "you're coming with me you abomination, what a wrenched thing." they reach out a hand to yank the creature to it's feet when one of their hands snaps up and grabs their wrist, the creature raises it's head and levels a terrifying glare at their ex-caretaker as a bone chilling raspy voice leaves their throat "don't call me that."

-----

That was when the sounds of screaming and the snapping of bone started to sound and you had huddled up in a corner in fear and started sobbing terrified, that's what led up to now.

Your panick breath and a stiffled sob cause them to snap their head to the room you're locked in as they drop their unconscious punching bag, as you hear their footsteps appoch your tears get heavier, a screech of metal as the rip the door of it's hinges, with the light behind them their form as well as cold and hostile face terrify you more as their eyes glow in the darkness, "you...." You flinch at their voice. "I remember you..." They start to approach you and your teary eye squeeze shut as you try to make yourself as small as possible.

You don't see their expression twist at this, they know they don't like this, they don't like you looking like this, but they feel so empty now and you-....they crouch in front of your frightened form and one set of hands grasps your own and the other set cups your face and rubs your cheeks with their thumbs wiping tears away, "shhhh, hey, shhhh, hey look at me." Their voice soft as they address you , your heart still pounding in your chest and still choking on sobs quietly you open your eyes and look at them.

Their expression toward you is different then when you first saw them after the ripped open the door, different from when you first came here, there's life in their eyes now, they're no longer glazed over and their expression looks a bit sad. "Shhhh, I remember you, you'll be okay" you whimper as they pull your face closer to them and the set of hands that were holding yours pin your arm to your sides "shhhh, shhhh, it's okay" they say as their jaw unhinges and their maw streaches open causing your eyes to widen and tears to start rolling down your face again.

They shove your head in and swallow, they groan, you're the best thing they've ever tasted, being a construct they never needed food, but they suppose you don't know that seeing as you kept feeding them, their hands that had previously grasped your face now pin your arms to your side and the others move down as you try to squirm away, they swallow again and you slip further inside their throat as a whine escape you, you feel their hand gently squeeze at you as they swallow again and you sink in further into the grasp on their tight muscles as the continue to speedily pull you inside. They stand and tilt themselves and your lower torso and now pinned leg into the air with a thick gulp you're dragged in to your thighs.

One set of their hands rubs their stomach as it fills uncomfortably and they wince, they've never swallowed this much before, you continue to sob softly as their other set of hands keeps you from flailing and grip firmly before shoving and gulping thickly, their gut feeling more painful the more of you they stuff inside, they continue to do this repeatedly until your shoes are all that's left outside their maw, they remove them and swallow, sealing your fate as you're crammed tightly inside their stomach, they feel sick but at the same time it feels really good, they place all four hands on their distended gut that groans and gurgles as if to protest what they've done and rub at it, drool running down their chin feeling you shake and hearing your sobs they start again "shhhh" the press a bit firmer as the rub putting more pressure on your tightly curled form cradled by gurgling flesh that just scares you more

"Uh-gah" they gasp in discomfort but continue "shhhh, it's okay, it'll be okay" they know they've scared you, but they just felt so empty, but you're in there now, now they feel full and warm "shhhh" that goo did something to them, gave them a sentience they didn't have before, but it could never give them what you have, they remember everything from before they were awakened, "uhmmm" they groan in pleasure as they feel you squirm inside them. As much as they'd love to just sit down and enjoy the feeling they know they have to get out of here now.

-------

They wonder deeper into the woods as they continue to rub at their wriggling gut before finding a place to hide themselves and sit down to enjoy the feeling as they continue from where they left off trying to soothe both their stomach and you, their belly now used to the feeling of being stretched and filled so much. "MMmmm, shhhh, not gonna hurt you" and they won't, "you'll be okay." Physically. "I love you" and they mean it, they got more attached to you than you did them.

#safe vore #soft vore #v*re #v0re #scared prey

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | summon

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The Devil and his right-hand demon are forcibly yanked from Hell to encounter a power they've never seen before, a power that everyone thought was only a rumor. In chains and unable to break free, they are asked to give up part of their souls. And they do. For science. But, mostly, to fuck.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; short graphic descriptions of sexual acts; supernatural and horror (and it gets way creepier during the smut, you have been warned); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs; they don't have your best interests at heart and neither do you.

--

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

-

there’s not a word for what i wanna do to you

One second, the Devil, also known as Min Yoongi, was frowning as he gazed up at his right-hand demon Jeon Jungkook, pondering the whereabouts of the missing soul-shards. The next second, the volcanic ground below him exploded, multiple giant red-black rings adorned with symbols and images creating a circle, expanding a larger and larger surface area, crackles of red lighting and tendrils of black smoke shooting everywhere. It consumed everything, bleeding into every nook and cranny of the throne room, saturating the air with summoning intent. It was happening far too quickly for the Devil to stop, the ground splitting and black chains shooting out, surrounded by a deadly ice-silver signature of the kind of magic you don’t bring home to your mother.

“Fuck–!”

That was Jungkook.

“Ah.”

That was the Devil.

The black chains snapped around their bodies and bound them in an instant. Jungkook snarled and fought with all of his power, black wings flaring out that were instantly crushed and shredded by the enchantment, his curved black horns protruding from his head and being forced back by the power. In contrast, the Devil merely sat there. Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop it, not this kind of magic, if it could even be called that, so he didn’t try. He let the chains wrap around him and shackle him. Instead, he furrowed his brow and tried to trace the source, tried to find the purpose. In order to defeat an enemy, you must be informed. Yoongi lived by this philosophy, which was why he was the Devil.

He could not trace it.

That was very disheartening.

But he didn’t need to worry earlier, because the red-black summoning circle was closing in, and he would find out very, very soon who it was. He had nothing to worry about.

Yoongi was the Devil, after all.

-

You inspected your nails.

Matte black, pointed. You had just done them. You liked to look nice for your guests.

“Hm, the Devil works hard, but I work harder,” you chuckled.

-

This was not what the Devil expected.

Yoongi expected a dark cave, a crowd of hooded figures, lots of candles. Maybe a Bible or a Koran. Devil worshippers, Satanists, cultists, or whatever they liked to call themselves. He fully expected to fight, to kill, to maim, and to fucking enjoy it, because he was the Devil and he served no one.

That was the whole fucking point of leaving Heaven in the first place.

He did not expect this.

You.

“Oh? A new development.”

Yoongi had seen many things in his time. He thought he could no longer be surprised.

He was wrong.

You stood over the two figures chained to the ground, peering curiously at them. A plain black dress with a flared skirt and a lace high collar. Long-sleeved with small ruffled cuffs at the end. No socks or shoes, just long, beautifully sinful legs and pretty feet. Pointed, matte black fingernails at the ends of lovely hands. A single nail was on one of your full dark lips, small amused smile dancing on that pouty mouth.

Your nail pressed into your flesh.

Yoongi wanted to shove his dick into that mocking smirk.

Sharp, distinctive eyes. Unforgettable. Yoongi would not forget the eyes of the fool who summoned him anyway, but your eyes… They were different. They held no malice. No innocence either. No, your eyes were the greatest mystery of all.

They were an enigma, revealing nothing to the one who could tell everything.

Yoongi did not like this. He did not like how him, an all-powerful being, one who could poison the minds of all other beings, was being confronted with a human who seemed very not human.

You were holding something on the crook of your arm. He narrowed his eyes. A black plush goat-man with horns and an upside-down red pentagram stitched on his head. It had little leather hooves for feet and hands. Black leathery wings as well. Another common misconception of the Devil. As if he wanted to be an ugly goat for all eternity. Hmph. But there was something about the way you held it that made Yoongi think it wasn’t an homage to him.

No, you held it close to your breast, next to your heart, squeezing the plush goat-man’s little arm lovingly.

It made him ache with longing.

They were in a bedroom, on the floor next to the bed. Black sheets, fluffy blankets with white stars all over them. Black walls with posters all over them, cute animated characters, haunting imagery, various musical artists, sinful and innocent, a vast plethora that told him nothing of true intent. Modern, sleek furniture. A high-end desktop with multiple monitors. A nice flat-screen television. Many soft plushies of adorable and strange characters, stacked on shelves and in corners, both popular and niche.

Who was this person?

With every passing second, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

Jungkook was beside him, disheveled and disoriented, chained down with black. The demon sat up, growling in his chest, trying to exert his power.

“Who do you think–”

“Ah, little Satan, they shouldn’t talk until I allow them, isn’t that right?”

The Devil was not a fool. You were not talking to him. You were talking to the little goat-man in your arms. Yoongi heard a choking sound and he turned his head to see a very large black ball gag ramming itself in between Jungkook’s teeth, snapping closed with a black chain strap behind his pretty head. Jungkook looked livid, trying to bite through it, but Yoongi doubted he could break it.

You smiled at him.

Yes, indeed, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

In some ways.

Seeing Jungkook in a ball gag was a pleasant image.

“I didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I was aiming for him first,” you said to Yoongi, lowering the little goat-man and holding him by a hoof. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip apart the plush or be it. He decided that wasn’t important right now.

“Ah, well, this might be better,” you mused nonchalantly. Jungkook was still fighting his restraints, but neither you nor Yoongi acknowledged it. You crouched down, a delicate flash of inner thigh and black velvet panty in his view. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. You cocked a brow, smirk widening. “Two birds with one stone, no?”

You set the little goat-man in front of him.

Sat down, spreading your legs to squeeze the little goat-man with your inner thighs.

There was no question now.

Yoongi wanted to both be the plush goat-man and rip him to shreds.

“I’ll let you speak to me, Devil. You seem polite.” Conversational, calm. Not condescending, which somehow made it worse. At least if you spoke to him with hostility, he would know how to turn it against you.

“You have magic that doesn’t belong to you, human,” he said softly, a raspy renounce in his voice. He festered it with sweetness and warning at the same time, accenting it with a discerning stare.

You grinned.

Even he, the Devil, was unsettled.

“Nothing belongs to anybody. You only borrow it for a short while and then the powers far beyond even you take it back.”

Yoongi felt his heart drop and race at the same time. As he suspected. This was not the work of his father or some a wayward demon. Magic, power, illusionism, these were all words to describe things that could not be described. Entropy holds no bounds and there is no meaning behind it. It exists only to cause anarchy. For some reason, perhaps simply chaos alone, you, a human, was in possession of something even he could not control or understand.

Shit.

He stared into your eyes and they reflected his expression back to him. He tried to search for it, the desires within the heart, the small tendrils of pain that asked to be soothed, the soul begging to be freed. An ordinary demon could be fended off by a strong-willed human for a while, but Min Yoongi was no ordinary demon.

He was the Devil, even if he was bound by your chains.

You tilted your head at him, hair curling around your cheeks and lashes.

Yoongi could take even the weakest flame of desire and stroke it into a blazing fire. Even the holiest of saints could not fight him. Everyone wanted something, even if it was, disgustingly, in the name of his father. And humans, well, they were the masters of wanting things they couldn't have. Easily manipulated, even by each other. The Devil hardly needed to do anything at all. It was only a matter of whether or not Yoongi cared to do it and, most of the time, he didn't give a single shit.

You tilted your head the other way, smiling.

Yoongi did not find a maze or a barrier preventing him from the soul. He found the soul within seconds. It was there, all right.

The Devil just didn't know what the fuck he was looking at.

Why was your soul just you sitting there in the abyss, looking up at him with the same smile you were giving him right now?

And why did he feel nothing emitting from it?

He pulled back, looking into your eyes again. He did not like this.

You leaned forward and touched his horns.

His eyes widened as your fingertips brushed against the large curved black-red horns against the sides of his head. He hasn't even realized they had protruded. How? His horns were a sign of his power, a symbol he used for fear, for appearance, and for the moments of when he was exercising a great deal of his influence. Your fingertips brushed against the second set, the ones that bloomed upwards into wicked black-red spikes. Both sets? His soul-search had him reflexively procure both?

Shit.

He started into your eyes, seeing himself reflected back. Min Yoongi was the Devil. Emotion was no stranger to him. He harnessed it all, consumed himself in the passions and wonders of emotion. There were ones he felt less, simply because of who he was. For instance, there was not much that made him afraid.

You smiled.

Fear. He could feel it rise within him.

Yoongi grinned back.

Was this what he thought it was? He had heard of such things, rumors and whispers, even amongst the angels themselves. The hidden truth that Heaven and Hell belonged in a specific dimension or realm, Order. That there was another realm, the mirror, the reflection trapped, the unknown.

Disorder.

His kind, the high-above, and those between angels and insects, the humans, none of these belonged in the realm of Disorder. There were rumors that Order was merely a concoction of Disorder and that their realm could collapse any moment, erasing all of existence without a trace. Entropy was waiting for them all.

Yoongi understood now.

This was chaos.

The Devil was a master of desire. And a master of deliberately doing exactly what he shouldn't. He should not be tempted by a glimpse of chaos. His father would warn him to stay away from it.

His father could fuck right off.

Yoongi leaned forward, still bound, his horns disappearing. The chains clanged around him, his power rattling underneath. He wasn't doing it to fight them. He wanted to feel it. To understand what could not be understood, to touch the untouchable, because it was there, there right in front of him and he wanted it, he wanted it, and the Devil feeds off desire, even his own.

He wanted those lips.

You backed up.

The denial only made his desire stronger.

You left the plush goat-man sitting there right in front of him.

-

Jungkook was pissed.

Absolutely furious, jaw and head aching from this ridiculously large ball gag, fuming that he had no idea what was going on and that a single human was doing this bullshit. There was no way you were working alone. There had to be other beings behind this. He couldn't figure it out right now, but he would and he would tear them apart, right after he fucked your pathetic human body and tore you apart.

You must be a fool, thinking you could shackle him, Jeon Jungkook, the right hand of the Devil himself, the epitome of pure sin and free will.

He continued fighting the magic, trying to exert his strength, rattling the black chains, ice-silver lashes beating him back down. He tried to release his wings, but they were ensnared, pain shooting up his back. Jungkook cared not for pain. He had felt pain for millions of years. A few seconds was nothing. He tried to release his horns, but he could not, as if the very air neutralized him.

He was enraged.

Maybe would simply kill you so he could spend an eternity torturing you for your insolence.

Then the Devil's horns appeared.

How did he–?

Then you touched the Devil.

Jungkook wanted to scream.

He did, deep in his chest, muffled rage, jealousy, hate, all at once, and both of you ignored him, your fingers grazing Yoongi's horns, fucking smiling, looking unflinchingly into the Devil's eyes, and Jungkook wanted to erase you from existence, destroy every single shred of your soul for not groveling at the feet of Min Yoongi.

The horns disappeared and your hands hovered around Yoongi's head, fingers splayed out around the black hair like a shining halo.

Ironic.

The Devil leaned forward.

Don't you fucking kiss her, hyung!

But you moved away, backing up, gaze lingering on Yoongi before closing your eyes and reopening them slowly, a gradual shift to Jungkook's face.

He snarled at you through the gag.

He had you now. Eye contact and Jungkook could exert at least part of his power, the soul-search to find your deepest desires, your hidden gems, the calamity within that would call to him. He would find it and manipulate it, bend you to his will, turn you into his puppet. Play with you until you begged to die, only to find yourself in his arms once more, his plaything for all eternity.

All he had to do was find it.

You slid to your hands and knees, crawling to him. He felt it inside his chest, his own desire, watching the curve of your back to ass, his cock twitching at the sight, his mind conjuring images of your pretty body on a leash. Jungkook didn't have preferences when it came to bodies. A body was a body. In his hands, all bodies became prettier. You already had the base and he already had the wrath to want it. You stopped in front of him, the black skirt of your dress flaring out. He could see parts of your bare body.

Legs, knuckles, knees.

A small, amused smile on your lips.

Eyes that Jungkook searched valiantly, looking for malice, for innocence, for desire, for the darkest shadows and the lightest light.

Why couldn't he see anything?

This must be part of your magic. No matter. Jungkook had other ways. He was creative and cunning. You would break under his hand. He wouldn't stop until it was done. He was a demon that saw things through, even to his detriment.

His jaw was suddenly released from its prison, ball gag disappearing, fading into ice-silver smoke. He coughed, snapping his teeth, glaring at you.

"You dumb bitch," he hissed, violent resonance in his voice, oppressive and intense. "Do you think you humans are above us with your tricks and schemes? Kneel before those who invented such things."

You tilted your head.

Yoongi chuckled beside him.

Jungkook's brows furrowed. What–?

Your body trickled down like liquid, laying against the dark wood floor, looking up at him. Jungkook froze, maddening desire rising, infuriated at your face looking up at him, plush dark lips parted, hands on your chest, fingers spread out and molded to your flesh under the plain black dress. Sinking in, making him clench his jaw.

Your smile like a Cheshire Cat, eyes reflecting his rage.

Jungkook wanted to straddle your face and shove his cock into that smirking mouth, bulge your throat and cheeks with his girth.

"Is he always like this?" you asked, still not looking away.

"He pretends to be nice when he wants something out of you," the Devil answered calmly.

"Isn't that you?"

You still didn't look away from Jungkook. Why couldn't he find what he needed from your eyes?

"I'm always nice."

"That means you always want something out of someone."

Yoongi laughed, raspy and deep, the sound echoing in the bedroom, filling it up with his sound. Why couldn't Jungkook find it? His rage began to become infested with something else. Your eyes reflected only him.

Like a mirror.

No matter. The demons had other ways.

"Come here," Jungkook purred.

"I wouldn't do that."

That wasn't you. That was the Devil.

Your body lifted as if it was on a string from the center of your chest, fingers and black fingernails trailing against the dark hardwood, head tipped back, the line of your neck hidden by the high collar of lace, shielded from his hungry gaze. Legs curling up, skirt pooling around your thighs, his rage molding with carnal need, festering with something else.

Fear.

You rose to your knees, in prayer position in front of him, almost as if you were about to reach out and touch faith. Jungkook furrowed his brow, watching your presence near, wanting it, ready to coax or rip your desires from your lips themselves. It didn't matter if he was bound, it didn't matter if his black suit was torn up and ugly, it didn't matter if he was bleeding from his efforts to escape this magic.

You were still a human.

He was a demon and he would taint you.

Closer, your lids lowering, entranced by his spell. Jungkook smirked. Too easy. Humans were so, so easy. He craned his neck, lips parting, the palpable lust of his breath exhaling. So close to those pretty, dark, fuckable lips.

"You're really falling for it, hm?"

Jungkook paused. His eyes shifted to Yoongi. The Devil had turned his body to watch, clad in a tailored black suit. In contrast, Yoongi's was unmaimed, as he hadn't fought his restraints. The Devil had black hair like him, parted slightly, with shadowy dark brown, cat-like eyes that glinted with something sinister. Pale skin, almost luminescent. Exposed neck, elegantly laid black silk tie, unlike Jungkook, who preferred not to wear one. Lips that demanded you to plead for your life.

A body that made Jungkook want to sin for him.

That was the power of the Devil.

His eyes shifted from Yoongi to you, who had stilled in front of him. Hands beneath you and knuckles pressed to the floor like an obedient pet. What was Yoongi talking about? He had you right where he wanted you. And yet, he hesitated.

Then you spoke.

Delicate and calm, with no resonance. Human.

"I thought demons had free will?" you whispered. "That not even the Devil could control a demon."

Or was it?

Jungkook watched your lips form the words.

"If he is powerful enough, that is."

-

Yoongi didn't bother warning Jungkook anymore.

The Chaos knew what it was doing.

Clever girl.

-

Jungkook growled, leaning back a little, letting the passion of emotion course through him, wrath, lust, pride. Fear. All of it. Drawing from it, his power pulsing, singing through his muscles.

"Come here, human."

You had to crawl into his lap, his thighs against your thighs, hardness against softness, bringing your lips to his, sudden and sweet with your legs, knuckles, knees. Jungkook smirked, white teeth and canines flashing, urging you to him.

"What a good little girl,” he breathed softly. “I can be anything you desire. All you need to do is tell me."

Your eyes locked with his.

"A kiss, please."

He groaned at the small plea, finally getting it out of you, finally, and he would make you regret doing this, sow every seed of desire within you and reap it all, turn you into his pet on a leash. All he had to do was kiss you.

Jungkook kissed you.

He pressed his lips to yours, ravenous to consume what you had, eager to claim his offering.

You smiled against his lips, a small, amused smile.

It was instant, his hunger to your plushness, the rush euphoric and wild, immediate lust and power dominating him and now he could taste your tongue and fling open the doors, clawing for the soul within, the moment so close he could taste it, taste your moan sliding into his throat, his favorite treat, intoxicating in the way you sucked in his breath to fill your longs.

Jungkook arrived at the last gate, tearing through the door. Looked down into the abyss, triumphant.

You looked back up at him from below.

A small, amused smile.

A nothingness like he had never felt before.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open and widened, staring into the reflective glass of yours, his chest constricted. He had never felt this. Your lips still on his, tongue flicking, taking his breath, and then he felt a strange kind of compression, like everything was being pressurized, tighter, tighter, suffocating, and he gasped in your mouth, recoiling.

The kiss broke, your eyes still on his, lips shiny with his saliva. Your hand was outstretched, hovering in the air, fingers coated with black tendrils mixed with ice-silver, right above his chest.

Your eyes, void of anything but himself.

“What…” Jungkook breathed, hard cock straining against his slacks. “Are you?”

He didn’t understand. You were only a human. Only a human who had done a very stupid thing, summoning the Devil and his right-hand demon to your bedroom. Just a stupid, foolish human. You tilted your head. Lowered your hand and placed both hands on Jungkook’s thighs. He tensed. You pressed your fingers into his slacks, kneading the firm flesh underneath.

Where was your fear? Your malice? Your innocence?

Where was your desire?

He could only feel his own, rising, rearing its beautiful head, teeth bared and ready to strike as your fingers drummed against the fabric of his pants. You had tried to take something from him in midst of the kiss.

Part of his soul.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” he hissed, forceful and direct.

You stopped moving your fingers. He wanted to scream in dismay.

“Only a small thing.” Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “A token to remember our fateful meeting.”

Now, only now, did Jungkook not like this.

You removed one hand from his leg and Jungkook clenched his jaw, watching it rise, nearing his heaving chest, the black chains spreading apart, links snapping with ice-silver sparks, but he was still bound, still chained, and he did now know why and not knowing infuriated him. You stopped, right above his heart, the heart he forgot was there sometimes.

The true irony of this world was that angels gave up their hearts to serve the one above and demons kept them to serve themselves.

Jungkook felt it again, the compression of his insides, making his breath hitch and his teeth grind, the sensation unbearable. Your expression remained the same, the small, airless smile. Eyes reflecting his terror.

“I could take it just like this.”

Not a threat, only a statement. Only a testament to the power within you, a power that Jungkook was beginning to think wasn’t something he knew or understood. The Devil could take souls. He could reap them, he could tear them, he could wring them dry. But not like this.

“I will give you a choice,” you murmured, hand retreating, releasing him from the uncomfortable pressure. “Because everyone deserves a choice, don’t they?”

The chains were lessening, slowly slipping off Jungkook’s body.

“I’ll let you give it to me willingly.”

Your hand on his pants caressed the fabric.

“If you have the power to take it,” Jungkook snarled. “Why not take it?”

Your other hand found his other thigh, squeezing lightly, sparks of heat flying through his veins. The chains slid off him, clashing into the hardwood floor and turning to ice-silver liquid that faded to nothing.

“I do not want to take.”

You stopped your touches and Jungkook wanted to scream.

“It will feel better for you if you give.”

He raised on eyebrow. “Considerate of you.”

You smiled wider. He stared into your eyes and only saw himself.

“What do you think, Jeon Jungkook, the Devil’s right-hand man?”

He felt the tendons on his neck tense, expression twisting into anger. You shouldn’t know his name. You were a human. You would only know if he told you directly. Someone else was behind this. Someone who wanted to kill him and the Devil, thereby putting Hell itself in imbalance.

“How do you know my name?” he seethed.

“You told me.”

What?

“When you looked into her eyes, you told her your name,” confirmed a deep, cavernous voice.

Jungkook started, whipping his head to the Devil beside him. No longer chained, simply sitting lazily on the ground, one knee raised to rest an elbow on it. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Getting soft, Jungkookie?” the Devil taunted.

How…? Was he so absorbed in his own lust and deceiving you that he did not realize? He looked back at you. Your eyes lowered to his slacks and then back up to his eyes.

“Pants can always come off.”

Jungkook raised a hand, running it through his black hair, jaw set. “You are too greedy, human. Do you even know what you’re doing?” he sneered.

Your hands jerked down a few centimeters closer to his crotch, making Jungkook hiss. Your tongue slid out, feathering against the plush dark mauve of your lips. His cock throbbed with need, demanding to abuse the mouth presented. You leaned forward, putting more of your weight on him, welcome weight that Jungkook wanted all over him. He was a demon, after all. He was no stranger to carnal desire.

“I do,” you murmured softly. “You and me and the Devil makes three.”

Jungkook sharpened his gaze. “You couldn’t handle that, human.”

You said nothing.

You simply removed your heat and turned to the Devil, where Yoongi held the little goat-man plush by a single hoof, dangling it next to his lap, making your crawl into it to reach the doll. It was almost an innocent gesture, the way you took it and tucked it into your lap before looking up at Yoongi’s face, lips parted slightly, nearly curious, childlike awe decorating your features.

Jungkook growled like a hurt animal.

Your eyes shifted to him, looking at him under lowered lashes. Dismissive, vacant gaze.

“Yes or no, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Yes.”

The thin black string between you and him darkened, searing with ice-silver, a contract made. He didn’t even know the terms. He didn’t care. No human could outsmart him. And you, you must have been human once.

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t know if you were human anymore.

-

Yoongi watched your eyes return to him. The little black goat-man plush was tucked between your legs, pressed against your core. Slowly but surely, he was understanding. The original vessel was human, now tainted by someone, something, or simply bad luck. It made you something else entirely. You were a creature from the realm of Order polluted by the realm of Disorder. How long could this last? Would you die eventually from it? When you died, what would be left? Was the soul still there? Would he be able to collect it? Contain it? Study it?

Yoongi didn’t know the answers to these questions.

He wanted to know.

“Your turn,” you whispered to his chin, warm breath against his skin. “What is your answer, my Devil?”

Yoongi chuckled. “A shard of soul is all you ask for?” he purred. “What for?”

You tilted your head. “I want to complete my collection.”

The Devil doubted that. He doubted you wanted anything. Something was driving the entropy in a direction, a purpose given to the original human you long ago, and now you did it because it was the only thing left in the shell, a memory of a purpose, the human determination so strong that it could not be killed or erased, even though this body was now only a container for the power within.

The Devil had spent a lot of his time lately doing nothing. Nothing fun, nothing exciting, nothing worthy of his attention. Yoongi already knew everything there was to know about humans. He cared not for those above. But this.

This was new.

This was different.

This was something he wasn’t supposed to know.

He raised his hand, fingers tracing your jaw, staring into the eyes of Chaos. The Entropy. The Vessel.

You.

“I’ll be part of your collection, little one,” Yoongi purred.

And you will be mine, he vowed as the black string between you and the Devil glowed, ice-silver magic contaminating it with the power of Disorder.

-

part ii the collection. if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[narrators-journal]

Moonlight

warning: Light depictions of violence, Aku really admires Atsushi’s tiger (idk if it comes off as super sexual, so idk might be a bit monster-fucker-y) Nothing sexual or vulgar, just him being super into watching Atsushi kill.

edit: Had to fix some glaring formatting issues, also just editted some of the choppier bits of the text :D

Akutagawa had no clue why he was out looking for a pissy tiger gijinka at 10 pm, but he was. He wasn't super thrilled about it, to say the least. However, Dazai had called and explained that Atsushi had apparently had an awful day at work or something and then changed into a weretiger in the evening, and the bandaged ADA agent wasn't sure if that was intentional or because of the full moon, so it was now up to Aku to go find the weretiger and bring him back to his apartment before he could cause any trouble.

Any good mafia member would've told the traitorous sociopath to go fuck himself with a cactus, but some weird urge had led the goth to agree to return Atsushi home for his old mentor. Had him receiving the crybaby's address from his mentor and heading out into the darkness.

It wasn't that he still wanted acknowledgment, he'd gotten his praise and acknowledgment a few weeks before. So while he still highly respected Dazai, he wasn't out clicking his tongue into alleyways and lifting himself onto rooftops at such a late hour for his praise. It definitely wasn't out of concern for Jinko, he could care less if the brainless house cat got hit by a car or stuck up a telephone pole. No, what had Akutagawa out near the hellish docks was a lingering sense of curiosity. He couldn't exactly place what he was curious about that exact moment, but he was intrigued. So, he poked around until he finally spotted a familiar flick of white and black disappearing around the corner in the slums.

When he spotted the first signs of Atsushi, Akutagawa dropped to a crouch and crept forward until he could look around the wall to see a dimly glowing white tiger nosing through a trash bag he seemed interested in. With him distracted, Aku took the chance to move towards him, bringing Rashoumon to life once he was close enough. Either the energy or the light near-instantly drew the predator's eye, but either way, he was now staring into the golden eyes of Atsushi Nakajima, or, more so, his tiger.

In that dangerous, uneasy situation, it finally clicked. He'd wanted to see this. Atsushi's full tiger form. That's why he'd agreed to go hunting for him upon Dazai's request. Not only that but staring into those predatory eyes brought a new sensation through his body. Awe.

        "Jinko," He said, doing his best to sound calm while he internally battled a storm of fear, awe, and honest wonder. "Can you understand me?" He asked it nonchalantly, his grey eyes just staying glued to the tiger's golden gaze as he circled to face the vampire of a man properly. With no answer, obviously, Aku took a deep breath to steel his nerves before trying to reason with the creature again, "Listen, I know we don't get along, you annoy the shit out of me, I'm sure you dislike me just as much. But, Dazai sent me to try and return you home, so can you please cooperate?" He asked, but the answer he got was a pretty huffy tail lash and the creature walking past him and across the street to dig through more trash. And for a moment, Akutagawa was nearly mesmerized, forgetting what he was going to say. The hunter's movements revealed the powerful muscles just beneath its snowy, striped fur, it knocked home just how dangerous this car-sized cat could be. He hasn't attacked me though, the mafioso realized, normally Jinko would maul me on sight, but his tiger isn't. Not even a growl. The realization almost made a sense of honor well up in his chest as he followed the giant cat to the next bag of garbage he seemed intent on investigating.

For a bit, the goth trailed after the large predator, his original task abandoned, mesmerized by the sight of it moving so quietly despite its lethal claws and hulking, muscular form. However, his observations were interrupted when a realization hit him like a brick to the face, Of course! He's hungry! No wonder he's been digging through stray garbage bags and whatnot, he's probably looking for meat! He slapped his hand over his face at how obvious that had been, then, he whistled to the massive feline, coughing a few times before he spoke again,           "Would you like to actually hunt, Jinko?" The snowy ears of the creature perked at the mention of hunting, perhaps he can understand me to some extent, the thought was swiftly shelved for later though, he had mentioned hunting, he had no time to ponder how conscious his nemesis was as a likely impatient and hungry tiger. "If you follow me, I can take you to someone you can hunt," he offered, once again looking into the yellow eyes of the beast, almost able to see him contemplating his offer before he suddenly moved forward.

Akutagawa's first thought was that the car-sized feline was going to eat him instead, but no. In reality, Atsushi simply headbutted him in the chest, sending him sliding on his back across the pavement, coughing and wheezing from the air leaving his weak lungs so suddenly.             "J-Jinko!" he snapped between coughs, glowing red in his annoyance, but instead of being even slightly intimidated or on-edge from the show of hostility, Atsushi just continued to headbutt or nose him, pushing him along the pavement until the choking mafioso finally managed to put his hand on the cat's striped, moon-silver forehead, Holy shit, you're so soft, and shove him back enough to let him get back to his feet. "What are you doing Jinko? Don't nuzzle up to me just because I offered you food, dumbass!" he snarled, keeping his pale hand on the cat's head as he glared at him.

The two stood there for a moment, Akutagawa's glow intensifying when Atsushi pushed against his hand and made him step back to avoid tumbling over again, all the while the choppy-haired vampire was trying to decipher what the weretiger might be doing this for. It's not likely that he wishes to eat me. If he did, he would've pounced as soon as I was on the ground...That also means he's not looking for a fight. Could it be his way of thanking me for offering to take him to hunt? Is he just trying to NUZZLE me?? His cheeks heated like stovetop burners at the thought of the elegant predator showing him, his most hated rival, affection of all things. He could handle the tiger trying to maul him, half expected it honestly, but he didn't know how to feel about Atsushi nuzzling up to him as a thank you or otherwise.

It was only when he gave another attempt at a nudge that Akutagawa got the message at long last.           "Oh! You're wanting me to take you there!" He rolled his dark gray eyes at that and pushed himself away from the weretiger, turning around with a huff and starting to lead the way. This also gave his pale cheeks the time to return to normal in the cool night air, though his heart couldn't seem to stay at a steady, calm pace. It kept jumping and thumping unpredictably with the excitement of maybe seeing Atsushi on a proper hunt.

It was sure to be a fascinating sight, to see the massive feline crouched, creeping up on an unsuspecting victim, to see his muscles bunch with so much power just before lunging at the prey. He was excited at the thought of seeing the weretiger's lethal talons tear into a person, and his jaws crunch down mercilessly on his victim's bones. The sheer power of it. The fact that he had fought someone who could tap into that primal potential. He'd looked into such an animal's eyes, he'd seen the human intelligence mingling seamlessly with the animalistic cunning. Atsushi's razor-sharp fangs had been mere inches from such a vital part of his body, and yet he'd done no malicious harm. No, not a scratch. Aku couldn't place the feeling of awe and nebulous adrenaline-pumping thrill he got from it. From being so close to a beast who could end him without hesitation or issue, and yet he hadn't. All of that strength was so beautifully control-

The goth's thoughts were interrupted by another headbutt, this time to his spine, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with an indignant squawk.           "Jinko! Wha- Are you trying to get me to speed up, or fucking kill me?!" He snapped, scrambling to his feet with a small cough and a tidal wave of humiliation for the noise he'd made on his way down, but his only response was another nudge from the beast, one he swatted away. "Oh no! I am not jogging or running ahead of you! Quit acting like an impatient toddler," he scolded, dusting himself off while the tiger huffed like said impatient toddler.

With his own grumpy huff, he continued, leading Atsushi out of the slums and into the nicer parts of town. It wasn't the rich end of Yokohama, where the homes were capped with long driveways and wrought-iron fences or had names for addresses, but it wasn't the slums. The neighborhood they ended up in, while sparse of people on the sidewalk and road, thrummed with life within the safety of the nightclubs and bars that were scattered about. It was somewhere near the outskirts of town without being too far, around there Akutagawa would find the mafia's casino and the one rival casino whose owner was as equally a customer of the mafia as much as a rival.           "Alright, you stay here for a moment. I've got to go find your food. Don't worry, they aren't good, innocent people, so you shouldn't feel a lick of shame for eating them." He promised Atsushi, now standing a few buildings down in a wide alleyway from the rival casino. "You eat the men in suits to your heart's content, in return, I'll destroy the street security cameras." The creature made a noise he assumed was agreement, so he left him in the alleyway and began prowling the street, taking out cameras as he went until he'd not only left the whole street defenseless but also found the owner of the second gambling hall.

Once he'd located the man and his goons relaxing at an outside table, smoking and drinking their booze in front of the closed shop, he used a ribbon of his coat to slither over and knick the owner with the sharpened cloth, slipping away before he realized it was more than a simple bug bite or accidental scratch. With the fresh blood now on his coat, he slunk back to Atsushi, letting the striped hunter sniff the strip of cloth thoroughly before he hoisted himself onto the roof with Rashoumon.

From his vantage point on the rooftops, the wheezy goth could follow the weretiger as he prowled down the street, following the scent of blood until he too spotted the prey at the cafe table and fell into a hunter's crouch. The goth repressed his coughing and wheezing as much as possible, paused with the cat, his grey eyes fixated on the silent animal as he inched closer to the men.

It amazed Aku that neither the owner nor his goons noticed the rabbit-soft white-and-black fur of the weretiger, part of him wanted them to spot the beast before he pounced, just so he could watch them run and panic and really see Atsushi chase down his prey. Sadly, by the time the small group had finally realized they were being stalked, it was too late. Atsushi was already on them, tearing them apart, his powerful jaws turning their muscles to pulled pork in seconds, his talons tearing into them like a hot knife through butter. They tried to run, but they didn't get far before each one was picked off with one swipe of the dark claws, or powerful jaws of the predator.

Akutagawa watched the scene from the safety of the rooftop, his heart racing with excitement, his breath quickening as he grinned like a lunatic. Not even his subsequent coughing fit could ruin the absolute thrill that zipped through his blood at the sight of such a gorgeous, efficient predator crunching on bones like they were nothing, his white fur now stained a lovely shade of red. It took a moment for him to come back from that high and realize that his lightheadedness and shortness of breath had gone from pure elation to an issue, so he had to swiftly fish his inhaler out of his pocket and pull from it, hoping it was enough to open his airways so he would avoid the hospital. He was not keen on having to explain to a doctor what exactly had gotten him so hyper.

Thankfully for the pale mafioso, his inhaler worked. So, after a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure, he brought Rashoumon to life and used it to lower himself down to the pavement again, a safe distance from Atsushi, who was contently tearing the mafia's rivals apart and devouring their flesh. With one final calming breath, he slowly walked over to the beast, not getting a glance as he approached until he was beside the car-sized feline while he chomped at a bone until it splintered.

Once he was sure Atsushi wasn't interested in him, Akutagawa crouched down and gently, tentatively put a hand against his side, feeling the soft, silky, striped fur and perfectly honed muscles just beneath his pale fingertips.          "I can see why Dazai chose you...over me..." he muttered quietly, his eyes glued to the tiger's mouth, admiring his fangs as they worked at the bones and meat of the casino owner, "You are far beyond my power level. So much more controlled, so much stronger, so much more capable than I'll ever be." It hurt to voice these shameful realizations, but for some reason, Aku felt like he wouldn't be judged by the beast, even if it did understand his words, it wouldn't shame him for his admitting to his faults.

So, he just sat beside the tiger, running his hand over the beast's side, shoulder, even along its back, from snout to as far as he could reach behind him. Just taking everything about him in. The car-sized feline didn't seem to care at all, unbothered by the admiring pets, or when Aku grabbed his back paw to flex his toes and unsheath his talons. Some part of the mafioso still reminded him, He could still eat you next, but it did nothing to dissuade the child-like curiosity that fuelled his exploration of every deadly part of the animal, from tracing his muscles, to bringing out his bloodied talons, all while Atsushi ate his fill of his prey until nothing remained save for their shredded clothing.

The pale man simply gathered those up and ran a hand through his chopped up hair,             "I guess I should take you back to your apartment now before dawn comes." he mused, judging that they had about an hour or two before the sun rose and Atsushi likely changed back to his more pathetic, weak form. Aku looked at the weretiger, watching as the beast licked his chops and shook himself off, then turned with a sigh to head to the address Dazai had given him. Atsushi followed without complaint, padding alongside the goth, much more content, it seemed.

Once Atsushi was safely back in his own home, and the clothing was burnt and disposed of, Aku went home to his personal apartment, flopping onto the bed with a half groan, half sigh. Now that he wasn't running on thrills and curiosity, he was exhausted. His only thought before passing out was Never telling anyone of this.

#Shin soukoku #bsd #'bungo stray dogs #sskk #Akutagawa x atsushi #atsushi nakajima #Akutagawa ryuunosuke

[wri0thesley]

sparring practise - sorbet x reader x gelato

you realise how helpless you are after an attempted burglary, and sorbet and gelato attempt to help you defend yourself. things do not go as planned. 

warnings: not sfw. reader is gender neutral and neutral of body. mentions of fighting, guns, knives, blood, home invasion, choking, cannibalism, serial killing, violence, general sorbet and gelato type warnings. 

yes this is self indulgent no i do not care

The home you share with Sorbet and Gelato is cloaked in civility. It’s in a nice neighbourhood that has a low rate for crime, and Sorbet dutifully tends to the flower beds – Gelato paints your front door in a shade of yellow that makes the neighbours whisper under their breaths even more than the nature of the relationship the three of you share, but nobody comes out and says it because as a whole, you seem like three perfectly well-adjusted and functional members of society who keep to yourselves.

They figure that Sorbet and Gelato work nights, perhaps as a security guards or some kind of manual labour – in the dark, bloodstains can look like all kinds of different things. They greet you when you go to the supermarket and gather your shopping, not blinking when you buy another new sharpening steel with the laugh that all three of you are foodies, and you seem to have an unfortunate habit of breaking them--

The house is your domain. The careful windows, the flower boxes, the neatly vacuumed carpets and the sigh as you stare at Gelato’s muddy boot prints in the entrance hall. They do their best – but sometimes, it is half past one in the morning, and they are weary and simply want to come to bed and embrace you.

The basement, though . . .

That is Sorbet and Gelato’s domain, and you are very rarely in it.

Not because you disapprove of what they do – but because they worry about you, you think. You are smaller than they are, not as scarred, not quite hardened by the years of their past.

“It’s better if you don’t get involved in Passione shit,” Gelato has said, a hundred times. “We need you here, amore! Who fuckin’ knows what we’d do without you?”

“He’s right,” Sorbet has intoned, wrapping his arms around both of your waists. “Bad enough we’re involved.”

“You love it!” Gelato accuses, leaning into Sorbet’s shoulder despite it. Sorbet’s mouth tilts at the corners, a small smile on his face. You know that a hundred men or perhaps more have had that smile be the last thing they see, Sorbet’s eyes dark, his face streaked with blood. It should strike fear into your heart – but all it ever does is make you want to poke his cheek, kiss him until you can feel the curve of his lips echoing all over you.

“Yes,” he says simply. “I do.”

Sorbet and Gelato keep their weapons down here, mounted on the wall. There’s an iron-topped table like the kind one would find in a butcher’s shop beneath the knives, shining brightly despite how often you’ve poked your head down there to tell them dinner is ready and seen it practically bathed in blood. The training mats to one side of the room, a table and chairs and fridge on the other side. Opposite the side of the room with the table and chairs are four iron manacles set into the brickwork, for times when hits have to be taken home and interrogated before being brought to an end – and for some of Sorbet and Gelato’s other outside of work activities, though they don’t talk to you much about those.

And tonight, you are here too.

“You leave me a gun in the bureau,” you’d said to Gelato, a night after a would-be attacker had attempted to burgle you, seeing that your house was neat and pretty and hearing on the grapevine that one homeowner was often alone. “But if someone overpowers me, I’m useless--”

(Sorbet and Gelato had not treated the man kindly. The basement is soundproofed, but you had still heard rhythmic thumping, and the next morning Sorbet had come into the kitchen with several unusual cuts of meat.

“They won’t fit in the fridge down there,” he’d said. Sorbet does most of the cooking. His meals are always delicious.)

It had been Sorbet’s idea to try sparring with you.

“We could leave you some knives too,” Gelato had suggested. “Maybe some other guns? A chainsaw?” and Sorbet had had to point out that none of those things would actually assuage your fears – in fact, if the perpetrator managed to wrangle them off you, you were left much worse off facing a chainsaw than you would be if you had never had one in the first place.

Gelato is closer to your height, so Sorbet makes him wrap his fists and take off his shirt. You do your best not to stare at his torso too much, though he is all lean, wiry muscle dotted with scars and starbursts that you have kissed a thousand times over. He sees you looking and gives you one of his most manic grins, his teeth all sharp – you repress the shiver that runs through you at that, trying to remind yourself you are here to learn and not merely to ogle your boyfriend. Though he does look very good, with his gold hair all tousled and a rush in his eyes that you always see when he feels like he has the dominant position.

Sorbet had taken a seat at first and told you to approach Gelato as if he were hostile, to see if you could get a punch in and so they could work on that – you had made a valiant attempt, despite every bit of common sense you had immediately whispering that Gelato was a predator and you were a prey animal.

You had not been surprised when he had flipped you easily, and you had landed on your back on the training mats with a great thump of air, all of the breath knocked out of you. One of Gelato’s heavy military grade boots had landed, gently, on your abdomen, as he’d bent over you with his eyes glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the basement.

“You look cute like that!” He’d laughed. “Come on! You can do better than this, tesoro!”

He’d been delighted as you’d dragged yourself back up, and as you had made attempt after attempt to get ahead of him. All of them had inevitably ended with you on your knees, or on your back – or once against a wall with a knife far too close to your back for comfort, Gelato’s hand easily around your throat.

That one had almost pushed you to the brink, your breath coming in little pants, a hot jolt of arousal coursing through you at just how Gelato was looking down on you. Gelato had obviously felt it too, because his grin had widened just a little, pressing closer to you so you’d felt the stiff, hot heat of something in his fatigues pressing heavily against your thigh--

“Come here,” Sorbet says. He’s stood up from the chair now, his hands coming to unbutton his own shirt. He is not quite as covered in scars as Gelato is – the blond is more reckless, and you have gathered his previous military experience was more dangerous than . . . whatever Sorbet did, after leaving his church school. That does not make any difference to the fact he is broad and muscled, sculpted from training and years of violence. “You’re not starting right. Your stance is all wrong.”

“I started that last one sittin’ on the floor to give ‘em a chance,” Gelato says, breathlessly, as he peels himself away from you and your hand flies to your throat, recalling the echo of Gelato’s calloused fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had one of their hands about their necks, but . . . well. It never gets old, does it? “’N I’m doing fine.”

“You have experience behind you, caro,” Sorbet’s tone is patient. “Of course you do.”

Gelato grins as he gets back into position opposite you, clenching his fist.

“Sorbetto,” his tone is sing-song, wheedling. “You’re not gonna tell me what a good job I’m doin’? C’mooooon--”

Sorbet chuckles, crossing the room to wrap an arm around Gelato’s smaller form, using one hand to tip up his face and place a chaste kiss on the tilt of his crooked nose. Gelato’s had two broken noses in the past six months.

“You know you’re doing wonderfully,” he coos at his boyfriend, who dutifully reddens despite asking for the praise. “But that’s not what we’re here for, is it?”

“No,” Gelato admits, with a sigh – he looks at you, and he gives you a nod. “You’re not doing too badly! Look, Sorbet could knock me down without blinking, if you’re gonna learn from him, some low-life fuckin’ thief is gonna be a piece of cake.”

Sorbet kisses him on the sweaty mass of his pale curls and comes to you.

“Here,” Sorbet murmurs, getting in very close to you. “Your feet are too far apart.” One of his feet kicks gently at your own, forcing you to widen your hips. He grabs a hold of those next, rearranging the tilt, his body so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his chest. Your breath catches as he takes your wrist, helping you curl your fingers into a fist. “Not too tight, don’t put your thumb inside or you’ll break it--”

He’s bent over you, his dark gaze on your hand – and you feel the puff of air he dispels in a breath, warming your neck and shoulder. You can barely breathe. Your heart is beating ten to the dozen.

You know Gelato is turned on – you’d felt that when you were pinned against the wall. You hadn’t realised until Sorbet had come up behind you that watching you was doing the exact same thing to him.

“Alright,” Sorbet says. “When you throw the punch, aim to get it through him, you’ll need the follow through.” You nod, but your throat is dry and your head is spinning.

“Yeah,” you say, “I will.”

Sorbet gives you a pat on the shoulder, before pausing and leaning in to whisper against your ear;

“Aim for his ribs. He’s got a weak spot, left side. You should be able to kick him and sweep him off-balance too.” A hand on your hip drags down, squeezing your ass. “If you manage it, he’ll fuck you into next week.”

“Don’t give ‘em too much of an advantage,” Gelato says. “Can I rush on them now?”

Sorbet gives a small smile again.

“Be my guest,” he says, but he does not go back to his chair – instead, he steps to one side so he can observe. Gelato bounces on the balls of his feet, all buzzing and unrestrained energy. You keep your fists as Sorbet told you to, re-running everything you’ve been told about punching today--

And Gelato moves like a wild animal, chaotic and quick. You dodge one of his blows by inches, sliding your foot forward towards him to alter your balance slightly, your dominant hand coming out with as much force as you can muster, everything you can remember about how to hold your fists running through your mind as it connects hard with Gelato’s left rib and the blond sputters.

Kick. Sweep. Under the ankle, despite his heavy boots--

Gelato stumbles to one side, balance lost, coughing – and then Sorbet is in the fray too, pushing you down in between the two of them so that you’re trapped between two of his legs and topple onto Gelato. The blond snarls hungrily, grabbing a handful of Sorbet’s hair and dragging him into a hungry kiss.

Sorbet’s stiff erection digs into the meat of your ass whilst Gelato’s digs into your front, stuck between the two of them, your glory at getting Gelato off of his feet seeming much less important than the frantic beating of your heart.

“You told them about my ribs,” Gelato grumbles. “Asshole.”

“Your asshole,” Sorbet reminds him, and kisses him again, before pulling away to wrap his arms about your middle instead. “Besides.” Sorbet’s voice turns low and smug. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice . . .?”

Gelato snickers. He lets go of Sorbet’s hair to cup your face roughly.

“Cucciolo mia,” he says. “How long have you wanted to be fucked?”

Your face grows hot, but that just makes him grin harder, sparks fly from his dark eyes. He grinds his crotch into your thigh and you swallow the thickness that rises in there.

“M’sorry,” you say, after a moment, as Sorbet joins in with the bullying, grinding his hips against your ass. “I--”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Gelato says, with a laugh like a rusty iron grate. That’s one of those laughs that his victims hear – one you should be scared of, but that makes nothing rise in you except want. “As you can probably feel--” Sorbet’s lips brush your ear, teeth worrying at the earlobe so you moan aloud. “We’ve got the same kinda problem ourselves. Y’know.” His teeth flash, sharp, bright, and you imagine them coated in blood. “If y’wanna help out some.”

You don’t respond to him in words. Instead, you press your lips against his hard, and when he bites hard enough to draw forth blood you moan.

---

When everything is over and done with, you lay sweaty and panting in between both of your boyfriends – Sorbet’s front pressed protectively against your back, Gelato clinging to your waist as he tucks his head beneath your chin.

“Next time,” Gelato breathes, already looking ahead, as if you three did not just spend several hours tangled hot and heavy within each other, biting and moaning and groaning and making the entire basement smell like sex. “We should teach ‘em to fire a rifle. I think they’ve got potential.”

“Mm,” Sorbet says, very low, making his chest reverberate against your spine in a way that has you shivering. “I think you’re right.”

#jojo postin #writing #sorbet x gelato x reader #sorbet x reader x gelato #reader x sorbet x gelato #sorbet x reader #gelato x reader #not sfw #neutral reader #sorbet #gelato #violence for ts #blood for ts