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thewintersoldierdisaster · 4 months

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a/n: i know the game and fight were like two weeks ago but i couldn’t stop thinking about it lol. just a fun little thing - enjoy! (and literally as i go to post this, bb gets added back to the skills comp as he should’ve been in the first place so go defend your fastest skater title, mat😘)

word count: 4.5k

tw: oral (m recieving), cursing, chicago blackhawks slander, dirty talk

summary: after mat’s fight during the blackhawks game, you’re both worked up with extra energy to get out of your systems

“Fuck you!” You jump to your feet, screaming, adrenaline rushing through your veins. “Go fuck yourself!” Your stomach turns watching Mat fight, but you also can’t ignore the throb between your legs.

Unconcerned with the fact that you’re solidly in enemy territory, your shouting gets louder and louder. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch Mat scrap with Chicago’s number 43. Mat shifts and drops Blackwell to the ice, the refs and the other players skating over quickly.

“That’s right,” you crow, the people around you starting to boo. “Get fucking wrecked!”

Mat skates off, helmet gone, hair flattened to his head and jersey half off. He scowls and tugs the jersey back over his head and you pump your fists in the air. “That’s my man!” You jump up and down, flipping off a few Chicago fans that are shouting at you.

“Girl,” Alexa, Noah’s girlfriend, tugs at the hem of your vintage Islanders sweatshirt, laughing, “you’re going to get us killed. Sit down!”

You drop back down into your seat and shoot her a grin, “what a way to go out though!” You laugh and take a sip of your beer, turning in your seat when a Chicago fan a few seats down leans over to shout at you.

“Real classy behavior, lady,” he sneers and you flip him off with a bright smile.

“God, where to even start with the classy as hell Chicago Blackhawks organization?” You tap at your lower lip thoughtfully. “Patrick Kane? Jonathan Towes? Corey Perry? So many options to choose from.”

“Gonna bring up shit that doesn’t mean anything?” The man snaps.

You lean halfway out of your seat, getting a little louder, “your team sucks ass from top to bottom.”

“Suck my dick, bitch.”

Alexa coughs into her drink and you shrug at the man, shouting, “at least I’m supporting a team that hasn’t been sued twice for covering up sexual assault.”

“Oh my god,” Alexa mutters, covering her face.

“Fuck off, bitch,” a second man, sitting next to the first, shouts at you.

With a little three fingered wave at the men, you turn back to the ice, settling into your seat. “Oh, I love when men can only think to call me a bitch in the face of actual facts,” you sigh, heartbeat still pounding from Mat’s fight and the confrontation.

A few Chicago fans in the general vicinity are looking at you, booing and flipping you off. You return the gestures happily, with a sarcastic smile on your face.

“You’re batshit insane,” Alexa says, looking impressed and a little awed. “I’m terrified of you.”

You knock her shoulder with yours and tease, “as long as you love me more than you’re terrified of me.”

“Jury’s still out,” she snorts.

The game ends in tragic fashion during overtime, but you’re still so proud of Mat, buzzing with energy to see him when he gets back to the hotel. You and Alexa had booked a room in the same hotel the boys were staying at, spontaneously deciding to take the trip to see the boys play since neither of you had been to Chicago. The team flies back to Long Island tomorrow afternoon and your flight leaves just a few hours later, so you’ve got a few hours with Mat tonight before you have to go back to your own rooms, knowing he’ll have left packing to the last possible second.

Alexa’s lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone, when there’s a knock on the door. You jump up from your spot on your bed and rush to the door, yanking it open and nearly knocking Noah out of the way in your hurry to jump into Mat’s arms. He laughs and catches you easily, wrapping his arms around your lower back as your legs hook around his waist.

“First career fight?” You grin at him, peppering his face with kisses. “So fucking hot, baby.”

“Y’know,” Noah comments dryly from behind you, “I had assists on two of our goals.”

You turn your head and grin at him, “you want a kiss too?” Mat’s hands grope at your ass, pulling you tighter over the growing bulge in his jeans. You wriggle happily over him, enjoying the low groan that vibrates against your shoulder.

“Not from you,” Noah laughs, dropping a kiss to the top of Alexa’s head. She snuggles up against his side and laughs a little.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, “before these two forget they’re not alone.” Shooting you a wink, she grabs Noah’s hand and drags him out of the room, the door falling shut behind them.

“Thank god,” Mat huffs, leaning his forehead against your collarbone. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing your fingertips into his scalp. “I’ve been waiting to see you all night.”

“Well you’ve got me for the next few hours, completely uninterrupted,” you reply, holding onto him like a koala. “Let me see your face, I need to make sure no damage was done.”

Mat pulls away from you, grinning that crooked grin you love so much. He looks a little tired, but the only damage from the fight is a cut on the bridge of his nose and a little cut on his forehead. Not nearly as bad as you were thinking. “Do I pass inspection?” He teases, bouncing you a little in his arms.

You hum, “you’ll do,” before kissing the tip of his nose and then slanting your lips over his. Mat deepens the kiss, licking over your lower lip so your mouth will fall open. You groan into his mouth, grinding your hips down over his erection. The kiss is a little frantic, all teeth and tongue, and you’re out of breath when you break apart. “Put me down, I wanna reward you,” you pant, unhooking your legs from around his waist and letting them fall to the floor.

“What?” Mat’s mouth is back on yours, arms still wrapped tightly around your back, your chest pressed to his. You wiggle against him, grinding your hips over his, more than happy to feel him harden under you.

“Wanna - mmmph-“ your words are muffled by Mat’s mouth, captured by his lips and tongue. You pull back with a huge effort, palms flat on his shoulders for leverage. “Wanna suck you off,” you murmur, Mat’s hands trailing up the back of your shirt, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip and tugging at it.

“Yeah?” Mat asks, eyelids heavy over his eyes. He shifts and wedges his leg in between yours, pressing his muscled thigh right up against your throbbing cunt. You whine and your hips move over his leg, the seam of your jeans pressed exactly where you need it. “Wanna suck my dick, baby? What if I wanna watch you get off on my thigh?”

“C’mon, Mat,” your voice comes out breathy, “been wanting to suck you off since you fought. I’ve been soaked thinking about it.” You grind over his thigh as you plead, knowing you’ve won the upper hand when Mat’s fingers dip below the waistband of your jeans to squeeze your ass.

He sucks a mark into the skin behind your ear and you sigh. “Me fighting got you all hot and bothered?” He asks the question against your skin, brushing his nose against your earlobe and you nod.

“Beyond fucking hot, Mat,” you scratch your nails against the nape of his neck. “Glad I got to see it.”

You wiggle again and a little whine forms in the back of your throat. Mat’s mouth curls into a smile against your neck. “Love it when you beg,” he says, a little hoarse. “My girl is begging to suck my cock, what’s fucking better than that?”

“Actually letting me suck your cock,” you gasp, Mat’s fingers digging harder into the flesh of your ass. “Let me, Mat, c’mon.”

He finally shifts his leg, planting his feet solidly, and you grin, breaking from his grip and falling to your knees in front of him. You’re eye level with the bulge behind the fly of his jeans and you grin up at him wickedly. You run your fingertips lightly over his zipper and feel his cock throbbing through the denim. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” you smirk, fingers working at the button and zipper, pushing at the denim until you can trace your index finger over the imprint of his dick through the fabric of his briefs.

“Fuck!” Mat’s hips buck forward and he grabs at your hair with one hand, tangling his fingers in the strands. His cock twitches behind the fabric and you push his jeans and briefs halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock so it bobs up towards his stomach. You lean up on your knees to press a kiss to the head of his cock and Mat groans, grip on your hair tightening. “Baby, babe, please, don’t tease me,” he babbles, hips thrusting minutely.

“It’s a reward,” you grin up at him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and squeezing slightly, “for fighting. Going to take my time with you.”

Your hand strokes him slowly, palm rubbing against his tip, gathering pre-cum and smearing it down his shaft. His cock throbs in your hand, in time with the way your clit throbs as you touch him. You shift on your knees, pressing the heel of your foot in between your legs and Mat doesn’t miss the movement.

“Going to get off just by touching my dick?” He teases, widening his stance and leaning his upper back against the wall. You hum, focused on getting him fully hard. It doesn’t take much work and within seconds, he’s like hot steel in your hand.

“We’ll just have to see,” you murmur, leaning in and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. A strangled moan leaves Mat’s lips and his hips start to thrust, forcing you to press both of your hands against his hips to keep him in place. You hum around him and swirl your tongue over his slit, enjoying the way he’s babbling your name over your head. He groans, the noise choking off as you take him deeper into your mouth, keeping your lips wrapped tightly around him.

Your nails rake over his skin, fingers sliding over the ridge of bone and then the smooth skin of his lower stomach, until you’re able to rub your fingertips through the light trail of hair under his belly button. You wrap one hand around the base of his cock and take him deeper, swallowing and enjoying the way Mat’s cock bobs in your mouth.

“Baby, come on,” Mat mumbles, “gotta go deeper. Let me fuck your throat. Wanna feel you swallow me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, tears hovering at your waterline from the stretch of your jaw, and blink innocently at him. Your throat relaxes and he grins, looking a little dazed, when he realizes you’re giving him permission. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, releasing your hair with the other hand so he can hold your face in place while he thrusts his hips forward, sliding his cock deeper down your throat with each movement. The head of his cock bumps against the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat, slides against your tongue with his erratic thrusts.

Saliva drips down your chin, tears rolling down your cheeks. Mascara streaks down your face, stinging your eyes a little.

Mat’s head is dropped back as he rolls his hips, his mouth running constantly. You’re not even sure what he’s saying at this point, too focused on keeping your throat relaxed and not gagging around his thick length. Your hands grip at his ass, nails digging into his skin and he hisses, practically whining when you swallow and your throat tightens around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck. Jesus Christ, fuck me,” he groans. “Love how you look with my dick in your mouth, look so pretty.”

You moan around him, lifting up a little on your knees and leaning in, deep throating him until your nose is pressed against his skin, your chin tucked up against his balls. His scent - a little bit soapy, a little bit sweaty - invades your senses and you feel your panties dampen further. You shake your head a little, brushing the tip of your nose against his skin and Mat’s fingers tighten on your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

“Gonna come, baby, gotta -“ he mutters, choking off. He leans his hips back a little, trying to pull out of your mouth, but you hold onto his ass, pulling him closer to your face. Mat grunts, his balls tightening under your chin before he comes down your throat, hot and thick.

You swallow for what feels like forever, Mat’s cock still thick and hard in your mouth. He finally pulls back and you drop down to sit on your heels, wiping at your mouth. Saliva and cum make your chin and hands sticky, but you grin cheekily up at your boyfriend. He looks wrecked, jaw slack and eyes nearly closed.

“Didn’t manage to come just from sucking you off,” you rasp, throat sore and voice hoarse. You reach up to gently stroke over his cock and he leans his hips forward, pushing into your grip.

“Bet that sweet pussy of yours is soaked for me, huh?” Mat says, reaching out to wrap his hands around your biceps and haul you to your feel, your hand falling away from his cock. With his grip on your arms, Mat crushes you to his chest, kissing you sloppily. His cock presses against your stomach, half-hard, and you press against it, making Mat groan into your mouth before he sucks on your tongue.

You hum against his mouth, melting against Mat’s chest. Your clit throbs and you clench around nothing, desperate for a little friction. “Mat,” you gasp his name a little and he knows exactly what you want. His hands slide up your arms and wrap gently around your neck and the back of your head, keeping your face close to his so he can kiss you while walking you backwards to the bed.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth. You can feel his body vibrating with adrenaline and once the backs of your knees hit the mattress, Mat pulls back to quickly get rid of his clothes, kicking the fabric in all different directions with a a hungry look in his eyes that makes you giggle. Mat grins down at you and leans over your body, pressing his bare chest against your clothed one. “Regular post-game energy has nothing on post-fight energy,” he promises, nipping at your pulse point.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips, pressing your cunt against his cock. “I can’t wait to find out,” you murmur, arching your back when his hands slide up your shirt to grope at your tits.

Just about an hour later, you roll off of Mat’s chest, sweating and panting like you’ve just run a marathon. “Fuck,” you breathe, thighs sticky and trembling.

Mat turns his head and gives you a lazy smirk, “told you.”

You kick a little at his ankle, shifting and shaking your head at the way your core is clenching around nothing, the feeling of Mat’s cock stuffed inside of you still present. “You need to get into fights more often,” you mumble, watching him wince as he pulls the used condom off of his dick. He twists a knot into the latex and rolls off the other side of the bed to pad into the bathroom. You blatantly stare at his ass, wolf-whistling when he bends slightly to toss the condom.

“I’m feeling very objectified,” Mat teases you, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. He tries to keep a straight face, but can’t help his lips from turning up at the corners. You drag your gaze over his body, from the top of his head, over his bare chest complete with chain resting against his collarbone, down to his dick hanging between his legs, and back up.

“Mmm,” you hum, still flat on your back, still shaking slightly. “It’s not my fault you’re so objectifiable. Maybe if you were uglier…”

You trail off into a shriek, body jostling when Mat pounces on the bed, covering your body with his and planting sloppy, wet kisses on every inch of your skin he can reach. “Nooo, stop! Oh my god, you know I’m ticklish,” you shriek-giggle, pushing at Mat’s shoulders, trying to wiggle out from under him. He keeps you caged in with his arms and legs, laughing.

“Gonna keep objectifying me, Squeaks?” He asks, marking you up with hickies across your neck and chest.

“Yessss,” you laugh, pressing your chest into his face. “It’s my favorite hobby.” You hook your leg around his hip and dig your heel into the muscle of his ass, getting him to thrust his pelvis forward, bumping against your clit. A spark of pleasure lights up your nerves.

“Cool,” he laughs, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “You can keep doing it after we get some food, I’m starving.” He bites at the underside of your breast and rolls off of you again, leaving you cold in the middle of the bed.

“What?” You sit up, watching him reach for his pants and dig his phone out of the pocket.

“We had like one slice of shitty Chicago pizza after the game,” Mat explains. “And then we rolled around in bed for an hour. I’m starving, babe.”

You’re about to complain, but as soon as you open your mouth, your stomach growls and Mat smirks at you. You huff, “okay, yeah. Let’s order some dinner.”

He turns back to his phone, tapping away at UberEats, and you flop back against the pillows, grabbing for your own phone where it rests on the bedside table. Once you’re settled, you rest your feet in Mat’s lap, his left hand landing on your ankle and thumb tracing an arc over your instep. You wiggle your toes and he pinches lightly at your skin. “What do you want?”

“Mozzarella sticks,” you say absently, gaze flickering onto your lock screen. It’s covered in notifications - the girls’ group chat, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok. What the hell is going on?

Another message comes in from Sydney, making your phone vibrate in your hand. Since you don’t have a password on your phone, you can see her message on the screen: she’s going to be banned from the arena 😂

Who’s going to be banned from the arena?

You tap open the group chat and scroll back to the top where the messages started half an hour ago. Holly sent a Twitter link followed by: our girl! 😂

A sinking feeling forms in your stomach, but you tap on the link, unsurprised when it opens up to a video. A video of you, just a few hours earlier, yelling at the game.

“Oh man,” you groan, watching yourself - filmed from an unflattering angle, of course - jumping and cheering for Mat, before turning and snapping at the Blackhawks fan.

“No mozzarella sticks?” Mat asks, mistaking what you had said as directed at him. He’s still scrolling through UberEats.

“No, um, yes,” you shake your head, looking up. “I do still want mozzarella sticks, but…”

You tap on the hashtag and start scrolling through Tweets, even as texts from the girls continue to roll in. The video is everywhere - Spittin’ Chiclets, B/R Open Ice, Barstool Sports. Fuck, even Frankie’s retweeted it, adding his typical all-caps word vomit captions: GOTTA GO THROUGH THE ISLAND OUR FANS ARE GREATER THAN ANYONE ELSE ANS READY TO GIVE YOU A VERBAL BITCH SLAP LOVE YOU LADY B

You roll your eyes at his caption, pulling the notification screen down and checking to see if he texted you too. He did - a string of cry-laughing emojis and clapping emojis.

“But what?” Mat finally drops his phone to the mattress and leans back on an elbow to look at you. “What are you looking at?”

You squint at him. “Have you not gotten any texts or notifications?” You ask, surprised that the guys’ group chat isn’t blowing up.

“Probably,” Mat shrugs, “my phone’s been on do not disturb since before my nap this afternoon. I wasn’t really thinking about looking. Why?”

You flip your phone around, showing him the screen. Mat squints at it, watching the video play for a few seconds before he lets out a chuckle of disbelief. “Is that you, Squeaks?”

“Yep,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I, um, got a little heated when you fought. Is Lou going to kill me?”

Mat’s got your phone in his hand now, scrolling through the Tweets and laughing. “No way, you don’t work for him. I don’t think he knows what Twitter is anyway.” He keeps scrolling. “Oh shit!”

“What?” You lunge forward and snatch at your phone. Mat pulls it back and clicks his tongue at you.

“Jeez, you gonna yell at me now too?” He jokes before reading the caption of a Tweet. “Listen to this ‘trashy Long Island fan berates Blackhawks fan.’ Babe, you freaked on the wrong fanbase.”

“I’m trashy?” You yelp indignantly. “Me? They’re the fans that are supporting an organization FULL of sexual abusers! Give me my phone, I want to defend myself.”

“No way!” Mat holds your phone in the air away from you. “Why expose yourself to more shit?”

“Because I’m not the one in the wrong here,” you grumble. “What are the guys saying? Does anyone know who I am? I mean, I wasn’t quiet about cheering for you.”

With your phone still in his hand, Mat picks up his own and taps over to the messages. “Oh, damn. Almost fifty texts from the guys.” He chuckles as he scrolls through them, reading you off the best ones. “Bo says to suit up for next game, we could use your passion. Dobber says two minutes in the box for unsportsmanlike conduct. Ah, nice, Frankie says pizzas are on him next time we’re at Borrelli’s.”

“Pizzas are always on Frankie,” you grumble, draping yourself over Mat’s back to read his phone screen over his shoulder. The guys are mostly sending more videos from different angles and chirping you. While Mat’s distracted by the group chat, you snatch your phone back, returning to Twitter where the fans have figured out your connection to Mat - it’s not like your relationship is a secret, your Twitter is public and your Instagram switches back and forth between public and private when you’re starting to feel overwhelmed - but you don’t love that you’re getting this kind of attention.

You really should’ve controlled yourself better. But you didn’t and now you’re scrolling through hundreds of Tweets that are calling you Long Island trash. There are others mixed in that are supporting you, cheering you on for being a loyal fan and girlfriend, but jeez. The Chicago fans really are kind of nasty.

“Stop looking at that,” Mat plucks the phone from your hands when he sees your forehead crease and wrinkle over your nose. “Are we gonna have to delete your account like Dobber?”

“No,” you huff, chest flushing with emotion. “I just…I should’ve been a little more controlled, but I got so worked up!”

Mat cups your cheek and grins at you, “I like when you’re worked up. It’ll blow over in a few days, but for now, it’s really fucking cool that my girlfriend is so passionate about me fighting.”

You wrinkle your nose up at him and he laughs again, “seriously, don’t worry about it.” He frowns a little. “Fans’ll be talking about our game again by tomorrow. We’re fucking it all up.”

Pressing your cheek against Mat’s shoulder blade, you wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Mat. I know you guys are working so hard, things will turn around soon, I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his skin, blowing a little raspberry. “Want your trashy Long Island girlfriend to give you another blowjob?”

That draws a laugh from Mat, exactly what you wanted to do, and he reaches back to rub his fingers over your scalp, massaging gently. He waves his phone in the air, “think you can do it before dinner gets here?”

A challenge.

You grin against his back, hands sliding down his stomach to wrap around the base of his cock. He jolts in your grip, stomach muscles bunching. “Place the order and we’ll see,” you mumble against his back, kissing and biting at his shoulder. His arm moves and you can see over his shoulder that he’s pressing the order button.

“Time starts now,” Mat teases, leaning back against you and giving you more access for your hands to stroke him.

You just barely manage to bring Mat to his finish before his phone chimes with the delivery notification, but it’s intensely satisfying to watch him yank on the hotel robe and slippers with his face and chest all flushed before he runs down to the lobby. You take the time that he’s gone to clean yourself up, showering quickly before getting into your lounge pants. By the time you eat and hang out for a bit, Mat’s going to have to go back to his own room, so you’re trying to curb the temptation to go another round.

Your phone is still going crazy with notifications and when you open Instagram, you notice that Mat’s shared a story. Immediately suspicious, you tap on his little circle, groaning when you see the video of you shouting. He must’ve shared it while he was in the elevator, the fucking menace.

Underneath the reshared video, Mat added his own comment: my favorite trashy long islander 👊🏻💪🏻😂

You swipe up and tap out a reply: i hate you

“Love you too, Oscar,” Mat’s voice echoes through the room. You look up and there he is, carrying the bag of takeout.

“Oscar?”

“Like the Grouch? You know, because he lives in a trash can,” Mat’s grin is shit-eating, “and you’re trashy.”

You fling a pillow at him and he ducks, cracking up. “I’m sorry!” He chokes out, not sorry at all. “But it’s hilarious. Video gets funnier the more you watch and some of those people on Twitter really are quick with the comments.”

“I’m never coming to another game again, Mathew,” you inform him, faux-snootily. He hands you over the foil tin of mozzarella sticks.

“Yeah you are,” he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’d never forgive yourself if you missed me fight again.” He wiggles his eyebrows and takes a bite out of one of your mozzarella sticks.

He’s right and he knows it.

“I’m going to have to private my insta again,” you comment on a sigh, looking down at the notifications piling up.

“You’re gonna be old news in a day or two,” Mat replies. “Something else will happen at a different game and hockey twitter will move on.”

By the time you land in New York the next afternoon, Mat’s right. You’re old news because the team’s fired Lane and hired Patrick Roy as their new coach.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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cloudwisp · 4 months

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𝐰��𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰

contents: fluff. pre-relationship. mentions of the three moon sisters from an in-game book 'moonlit bamboo forest'. 500 wc.

You share your first kiss with Wriothesley somewhere on Fontaine’s hilltop near the Opera Epiclese, overlooking the clear waters as moonlight cascades across the verdant lands covered in patches of morning glory flowers.

You both were on your third date, laying on a picnic blanket with a basket of pastries from a popular cafe, freshly brewed tea thanks to his portable set, and rainbow roses he gifted you set aside. It was the only time you could have him all to yourself when the Fortress became unexpectedly busy with him dealing with Fatui spies and unearthing their true goals on marked territory. But it was quickly resolved and everything was back to running smoothly again.

Even when Wriothesley had too much going on his mind, his thoughts always returned to you and your welcomed visits to his office to steal him away from his work. A sliver of a smile rests on his lips when you exchange greetings, and he makes sure to offer you another cup of tea to keep you from leaving too soon. When you have gone back to the surface, he yearns to see you again and have you close to him—just as you are now.

He likes the feeling of your soft hand in his rough and calloused ones and the sweet sound of your voice, even as you tell him about the legend of the three moon sisters while gazing upon the radiant and timeless orb that's said to be a corpse. But Wriothesley was more interested in you than the sovereigns of the night sky and the tragic fates bestowed unto them. Though, he listened intently to your every word his eyes never once wavered from the opalescent glow filtering your beautiful face, memorizing every minute detail of your expressions and the moments leading up to it. . .

Then you both went quiet and you turned your head to look at him. You can feel his hand tighten around yours as he leans in impossibly close, his breath mingling with yours as he points out that you have something on the corner of your mouth—a crumb from the pear tarlet you nibbled on a while ago. “Here, let me. . .” He sweeps his thumb against your tender skin at first, then your heart skips a beat and heat spreads throughout your body when he fully presses his lips there.

When he draws back, he searches your face for anything that tells him he didn't scare you off even when the mutual interest was already made clear. Yet a shadow of doubt weighs in the back of his mind because deep down he was starting to fall for you, and he hopes what you might feel for him is real and true. And so, the night air became sweeter in the way your lips stretched into a smile that was warm and inviting, and he knew at that moment his world would shift to revolve around you. “How about a proper first kiss?”

He dips in again for another taste, embracing the softness of your lips and pulling you closer until it is just the two of you, your ever-growing love, and the heavens as your witness.

꒰ note ᰔ there was nothing there, he just wanted to kiss you. ꒱

#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

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issa-pheonyx · 9 months

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Yandere-sub!Kitty!Miguel X Owner!Reader🔪🌶️

𝗬𝗲𝘀, 𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝘆𝗲𝗲𝗲𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘀!! 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝘁𝘁𝘆-𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝗙𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝗻-𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝗲𝘀~😈👹

-"Why is it in a cage?" "Because, it growled at me" That's pretty much the energy with this lil kitty. Well, he ain't little either. Nobody wanted to take him home due to how big he is and he's an angy kitty. But, when you wanted to meet the kitty and wanted to play with him he just glares at you and lowly yowls trying to scare you. You just rolled your eyes and just put a treat on your hand, sticking out to him,"It's okay, my love. Here. I'm not here to make you trust me. I want to take you home safely with me."

-Poor kitty was only aggressive to the staff there, because of his tragic life and how they would be mean to him to intimidate cause of how big and strong he is. He looks at the treat and at your face as you stayed there patiently. He slowly crawls to you and he opens his mouth a little making you feed it to him. When you wanted to pet him he gave you the scary glare again,"No pets? It's alright. I won't touch you then." You move away, however he soon realizes that...he wants you too, so he crawls and nestles into your lap with his head, purring

-Eventually, throughout the process you learned his name is Miguel O'Hara. He had his own kitten, but has unfortunately passed that not even the shelter doesn't know how or why. So, you kept that in mind when you take him home. He was exploring around your house and all, sniffing things, rubs against the couch from how fluffy it was, and just chilling out...for now

-He may seem like a chill kitty, but there are some flaws with him which is being territorial of yourself your bed, scratching the walls and couches, throwing things off the table or whatever item he finds cause things doesn't go his way, and you find out about his fangs being able to paralyze his victims....he ended up biting you one time, because he didn't want you to go to work and wants to to cuddle suffocate you more

-Sure, it sounds exhausting, but that doesn't mean it is always like that he is a sweet kitty and he lets you know about it too. Like whenever you try to give him love and pets he would move away or walk. At first you thought it may be that he is not opening up too quickly. So, giving him time would change, yet it didn't, so you just let him come to you. He does. Miguel crawls to your lap signaling he wants head scratches, ear scratches, head rubs, etc. He would only nibble your hand, playfully, or you would mess with him by playing with his canines hooking around it, slightly, pulling and he would smile, happily

WARNING!! Spicy after this thread [MDNI🔞]

-Look the majority of all the work I've done...pegging. Everyone fucking pegs, okay? This man will tell you what he wants and how he wants it. His fave position is when he sticks his ass out or has a pillow under his lower belly, gripping and biting the pillow that it ends up ripping to shreds, and he is roughly bucking his ass onto your strap-on (or cock) saying,"Asi, asi, mas fuerte, oh fuck! Fuckmefuckmefuckme-"

-He wants to use your strap-on (or dick) like a toy and if you don't like it well he doesn't care. He will ride you dry or fuck himself until he is dry. Miguel will spread his ass open as he is backing it up to you and your pushing it in at the same time. He tells you to spank him as he is bouncing you like a lap dancer, pull his hair so he can see you concentrating hard on fucking him, and grab the sides of his mouth open to bare his tongue out and canines, drooling so much saliva

-His dirty talking will be mix of English and Spanish (leans towards spanish though...just saying👀) and he moans so loud, he growls a lot too. "Ay, que rico!! Por favor, mi vida. Pegame otra vez. Do it! Hurt me again I need you to do it harder. Mmm, I said, ah, HARDER." This man will be very vocal, so you don't have to worry on what he wants~

-Eat his ass...yeah, that's going on. If you expect him to eat you out or suck you off he will have his ass up and spread open. If you're not eating him right he will smother his ass against your face until it is making him moan. If that doesn't work then he is going to sit on your face and ride your tongue until he cums. Then you will get your head after that

-His tail is extremely sensitive. So...if his attitude or bossy mannerism is starting to pull a nerve against you grab that tail and pull it hard. He will let out a slutty mewl and now he is acting all tamed begging you to let go of his tail, promising you he will behave. But, don't listen to him grab that tail like it is a leash and that will get him weak to the knees,"A-Amor, oh god! Lo siento, lo siento, ugh. I didn't mean to-ooohh que ricoooo~"

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

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keimiwolf · 5 months

Text

Red hood feet dangled off the roof. It had been a good day. Most of the winter supplies were passed out, the new homeless shelters just finished construction and people started moving in today, they were much but enough to keep the cold out and get food to those that needed it.

Hood leaned back on the roof. He had some more hats and coats that should go to the colony in the west, too stubborn to move into a building, but luckily not stupid enough to refuse help.

Now to start on his night tasks, a new drug was making the rounds. It left the user unresponsive, seizure, vomiting, then organs start failing. In all one dose will kill you in 6 about hours. Not fun, and definitely not allowed on his streets.

New dealer had been making his way into hoods territory, sailing to Anyone who gave them cash they needed to know who was ok to sell to and who they lose a hand for. the rumor that-

A small body crawled onto is lap, shaggy black hair and big sapphire blue eyes stared at him. The boy had to be around 3 or 4. And is far too comfortable sitting so close to the edge of a 5 story apartment building.

Jason carefully put his arms around the kid. the last thing Jason needed was a kid falling off a roof.

"My name is Danny Fenton I was born on Christmas Day, I don't know who my datty is and Mummy's gone away. All I want for Christmas is for someone to take me home. Does anyone want a Christmas child of their own."

"I'm not Santa kid."

"I know Santa for the rich kids, and I'm an orphan. It's ok though cuz Ally kids have you, and that's even better!" Danny cuddled closer to Jason. The poor kid must have been out for a while he was freezing to the youth and definitely needed something to warm up.

"Then I'll do the best I can." Jason carefully worked his way back onto the roof before standing and placing the kid on his hip, some what glad his helmet hid his teary eyes. "While I work on your Christmas wish how about some hot chocolate. I'll walk you back to the orphanage."

The kids smile put Dicks to shame. Jason would definitely need to buy some sungl-

No Bad Jason no adopting black hair blue eyed children with tragic backstorys. You are not Bruce.

"I get a wish and hot chocolate! Best day ever! Thanky Mr hood."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early on Christmas morning when Jason gave in. Its been two weeks since he dropped Danny off in a orphanage that looked more suited for rats then children. the kid had never been far from his mind.

He keep his word and had been looking for a home for Danny, but everyone who could take him Jason always found a problem with.

Yesterday when he went shopping he wondered into the toy Isle and left with more then the gallon of milk he went for. The gust room was now equipped with 5 new plushies a night light and a galaxy themed blanket.

Getting up Jason dialed the phone. It was far to early for anyone with normal hours to be awake., but he needed to do this now before he talked himself out of it.

"Hay Alfie, would you mind calling the guy for me-"

I decided to write this instead of sleeping sooo for give any grammar errors. Also merry Christmas Eve!

Inspired by this song:

youtube

#danny phantom/dc #dp x dc #danny fenton #jason todd #this was totally inspired by Christmas carol by Skip Ewing #is danny de aged or just reincarnated #thats up to you #Youtube

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wolveria · 5 months

Text

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 47

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Time for you to be a good little meat shield.”

AO3

Spotify

Glass glittered in the air as you fell, catching the light and sparkling. It was almost pretty.

That was the only observation you had time to make before you hit the ground, air knocked from your lungs and leaving you gasping.

No… not the ground. A coughing, breathless 035.

“Ow,” he wheezed.

You rolled off of him, too winded yourself to get to your knees. The tile was cold against your skin, but all you focused on was propping yourself on your elbows, drawing in each wretched breath until your lungs started to fill.

035 recovered much faster than you did, and you had to wonder if it had all been theatrics; he rose to his feet in an unnatural, fluid motion, as if a dropped marionette picked up by his puppeteer.

You dragged yourself onto your hands and knees, grabbing onto a nearby bench to gain your feet when a soft voice called out.

“Is someone there?”

You stopped moving. Very, very slowly, you looked up.

Five large, raw-flesh-colored creatures approached across the glass-strewn linoleum, their heads raised in curiosity. Sightless faces tilted, testing the air for what had fallen into their newly claimed territory.

“Who’s there?” a second asked, the words coming from its half open jaws completely human, even familiar. You thought it belonged to one of the guards. “Show yourself!”

You pressed your hands over your mouth. To stifle your own voice, to hold back the bile, to block out the rotting stench of their amnestic-tinged odor, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t move, or breathe, not while the 939s were closing in, slowly and inevitably. Their black claws clicked against the floor, sometimes stepping through a spilled, abandoned dinner, or a stray puddle of blood. It was the first evidence you’d seen of Foundation personnel.

There were no bodies.

An arm slipped around your waist and hauled you to your feet, and without your hand over your mouth you would have screamed.

035 held you flat against his chest, his gaze on the approaching SCPs. The ballistics visor was flipped up, his ceramic mouth pulled into a tragic frown, apparently no happier with this development than you were.

He leaned down and spoke low next to your ear.

“Time for you to be a good little meat shield.”

You shook your head and attempted to backpedal into 035 to get away from the approaching creatures. You’d much rather deal with him than them.

He let out a frustrated huff.

“They’re not going to hurt you. They can’t.”

You shook your head again. He didn’t understand. 173 had managed to hurt you. 106 would have if he could. And there was something about the 939s that crawled under your skin and set off the proximity alarms in the part of your brain that recognized apex predators hiding in the brush.

Except they weren’t hiding. They were circling, calling out with their lures, a mimicry of the last words spoken by their most recent victims.

035 didn’t wait for you to get with the program, but at least he moved cautiously as he pulled you towards the exit—which happened to be between two 939s. Their hunched shoulders and lowered heads belied the growing panic in their stolen voices.

“Hello? Are you there?” the nearest called out. “Where are you? Are you injured?”

If you’d had the hands available, you would have covered your ears to block out the soft voices floating out of those jagged maws.

“Come on,” another quietly pleaded. “The MTFs will be here soon. Stop hiding.”

“Guys?” a third asked, the voice trembling. “Come out, I mean it. This isn’t… this isn’t funny—”

“What the hell are you!” yelled the fourth, the terror in the words so perfectly mimicked sweat broke out on your skin. “Oh, God, what are you!”

Crunch.

035 froze, and then carefully lifted his boot off the shard of glass, the crackling of the pieces falling from the rubber of his soles as loud as a dinner bell calling mealtime. The 939s swiveled their heads to follow the noise, and one of them threw back its head to let out a scream that sounded exactly as if a grown man was being torn from his own limbs.

You were going to throw up.

“Reid,” 035 hissed out with his own stolen voice, “if you’re going to do something, now’s the time.”

Do what? What the hell did he expect you to do? They couldn’t be reasoned with, you couldn’t talk them down, they were going to tear you apart and not even the cleanup crew would find the pieces—

Another 939 erupted in a wail, drawn-out and agonized before the voice tapered into a gurgling whimper.

Every inch of you trembled as you let out a quiet hush.

“Shhh. It-it’s okay now. You’re okay. Shhh, shhh.”

All five of them tilted their heads in your direction, attentive and still. The nearest one was so close its hot breath warmed your arms where they were clutched around 079’s bag, holding it tight to your chest.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, shaking so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk if 035 wasn’t supporting your weight. “It’s all r-right. Don’t be afraid. You’re-you’re okay now. You’re okay.”

You continued the litany of comforting words, soothing yourself just as much as you were trying to calm them. Your heart raced as you squeezed past the two of them, neither of them biting or snapping, even when the fabric of your smock brushed against their bright red flesh.

Their voices became a murmur of soft phrases that you almost didn’t catch until the two closest began to repeat them.

“Thank goodness I found you.”

“We were so worried we lost you.”

“Everything’s going to be fine now that you’re here.”

And then you were free, past the circle of whispers words and gaping jaws. They didn’t follow, returning their attention to sniff at the spilled food with disinterest, waiting for a more appetizing meal to come along.

035 didn’t speak until you were past the cafeteria doors, locking them behind you with a swipe of the keycard. He set you against the wall, letting you catch your breath as you braced your palms against your knees, wrists still bound with zip ties. You expected cruel mockery, it seemed the perfect time for it, but he remained blissfully quiet.

When you finally straightened, 035 visibly perked up and sauntered to your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“See? You’re a natural. I had faith in you.”

He flipped down the ballistics visor and pressed a “kiss” to your forehead through the shield, making a smooching sound.

“Get off me,” you snarled, but your attempt to push him away only tightened the arm around you.

“You gonna behave?” he asked, the humor dropping from his voice. “Or are you gonna try to hurl us off another floor? In which case, I will tie you to this body, and you won’t like the way I do it.”

Some of the humor crept back.

“Though you may enjoy it.”

Christ.

Your lips pressed together in order to stop them from trembling. Your whole body was a jittery mess from the adrenaline, you couldn’t run even if you had the opportunity, and you sure as hell didn’t want to find out what he meant.

“Please,” you tried, hating the way your voice cracked. “I just want to find 049. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

You closed your eyes and chose your next words more carefully.

“The Site Director took him just before the breach. I don’t know what happened to him. I just… have to make sure he’s okay.”

035 gave a sympathetic hum.

“And you will—after you get me outta here. I promise. Scout’s honor.”

You opened your eyes as he touched the barrel of the rifle over his heart, as if swearing a sacred oath. And the thing of it was, you didn’t think he was lying. He could fully believe what he was saying, that when the time came, he would set you free and let you return to find 049.

You didn’t know if it was your abilities shaping into something tangible, or if you bullshit meter was working overtime, or maybe you understood 035 better than you realized. Whatever the reason, you knew he wouldn’t keep that promise, no matter how sweet the words.

049’s stories about 035 hadn’t been exaggerated. The mask wasn’t in the habit of acting rationally with things he viewed as his.

He would never let you go.

You wanted to cry. Your body hurt, you were so tired your muscles felt as thin as tissue paper, and an ache had developed between your eyes. All you wanted was 049. To make sure he was still alive and unharmed, and that Leahy hadn’t had time to do anything too horrific.

After that, you could figure out the rest, but so long as you were under 035’s thumb, you were stuck. You’d thought a containment breach meant some kind of freedom, but you’d gone from one captor to another, trading shackles for zip ties.

You glanced at 035 out of the corner of your eye and hunched your shoulders, trying to shake him off but also showing a sign of unwilling defeat.

“Fine, just… let me go.”

And he did, holding up an open palm to show he wasn’t touching you. His other still held the rifle, guaranteeing your obedience either way.

035 led in front, down one corridor or another, your destination unknown. There were more signs of violence and struggle now. Bullet holes riddled the plaster walls, shell casings littered the floor. The occasional smear of blood and other unknown fluids marking the difference between when a human or SCP had been shot.

Admittedly, you stopped paying attention at some point, your body going on autopilot as your mind checked out. The halls were all starting to look the same, equal parts empty or marked by blood and death. Only a hand on your shoulder snapped you back to reality, your footsteps halting.

Before you lay a dark stretch of hallway, the overhead lights either unpowered or shattered. 035’s voice was unusually quiet.

“Not that way, sweetheart.”

He started to turn you away when a pair of bright lights cut the darkness. You flinched and shielded your eyes, blinking through your spotty vision.

The lights didn’t move, eerily silent as they brightened the entire corridor, the both of you caught like two deer in the headlights.

035 tugged you along and you went willingly this time, once again having to choose the mask over being at the mercy of other SCPs. At least they didn’t follow. After all, the pair of 745s didn’t realize that a site facility corridor wasn’t the natural environment for a vehicle, and their ploy to pretend to be another car on the highway wouldn’t work here.

Still, you didn’t breathe easier until the eerie lights were blocked by the next set of corridors. The 745s were almost as unsettling as the 939s. Something about mimicking humans in a mundane way with the intention of devouring them.

“See?” 035 purred, ribbing you with his elbow. “I’m looking out for you.”

“Because it serves your best interests.”

“We’re like an old married couple.” He flipped up the visor, his toothless Cheshire Cat grin on full display. “Knowing each other’s most flattering qualities. I’m cunning and devastatingly handsome. You like to go barreling into dangerous anomalies. We’re a perfect match.”

You made a disgusted noise, but 035 didn’t pay you any mind. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, which appeared to be deeper into Heavy Containment. He’d mentioned that the skybridges were pulled up and you wouldn’t be able to leave that way, but you still didn’t know how the archives held the solution.

Something caught your eye, moving so slowly you almost missed it. It followed your progress down the hallway, and when you found another around the corridor, it tracked your movement with a subtle arc.

Cameras. Security cameras spaced along the junction between the walls and the ceiling, necessary for the parts of containment that housed the most dangerous anomalies.

If it was anyone from security, they would have sent a platoon by now, or simply gassed you out, leaving 035 to face a dozen armed MTF soldiers. Even he would be hard-pressed to get his stolen body through a hail of bullets.

But there were no thundering footsteps or the hiss of nozzles. There was simply the steady, patient watchfulness of the cameras. It wasn’t a hard guess as to who was watching you—or rather, who had never stopped.

035 made a frustrated noise, drawing your attention back to where he stood in front of a closed door. You’d reached a decontamination airlock, one that seemed to be having a disagreement with 035’s keycard.

“Stupid thing, what’s taking so long!” He swiped again, the reader flashing green, but the door remained sealed tight. “It shouldn’t even be closed—ah, there we are.”

The door slid open and 035 corralled you into the airlock ahead of him, the door on the other side shut and trapping you within the chamber.

035 turned his back, this time fighting to close the airlock. The doors wouldn’t close without the decontamination protocol running, and the protocol wouldn’t begin until the doors were sealed.

“That overblown circuit board fried the whole system.” After several unsuccessful swipes, he decided on a different course of action, aiming his rifle at the card reader, his voice taking on a mocking tilt. “I told them. I said, leave the plan to 079 and he’s going to fuck it alllll up.”

The door on the opposite side of the chamber slid open without a noise, leaving the way clear. You glanced over your shoulder, but 035 was still grumbling to himself, angling his head down at the card reader as in the midst of an argument he was adamant on winning.

“Idiot couldn’t even disarm the nukes at the last site. Or the Tesla Gates. You know, I think the little shit turned them on specifically when I walked through them just to fuck with—”

035 went silent and turned, but you had already walked out, the airlock closing and locking behind you.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t cajole or simper. 035 simply straightened his spine and walked up to the door, his face frozen into a smile that was somehow worse than its frown. It radiated waves of quiet, unequivocal fury.

“That… was a mistake.”

You carefully backed away from the door, clutching the strap of the bag to your chest.

035 released a breath, flipped down the ballistics visor, and raised the rifle. Flashes of light erupted from the barrel, thunder and smoke filling the chamber as the bullets ricocheted and destroyed the machinery inside. Pipes burst overhead, gas seeping into the room around 035, shrouding him in a fog punctuated by bursts of gunfire.

The glass was bulletproof, but you hadn’t known that as you shielded your head, bracing for the bullets to rip you apart.

It eventually went quiet once 035 stopped firing, and he stared at you without a word, the chilling emptiness of the visor much more honest than the dual expressions of the mask.

You ran.

Not knowing where you were going, blinded by the choking panic, you followed whatever door opened before you, leading you down a series of maintenance tunnels until you were in the bowels of the sector, unfamiliar and dimly lit by bare light bulbs rather than fluorescent strips.

Your legs were cramping and there was a stitch in your side by the time you were led to a room that seemed like a good stopping point. One of the guard armories, by the looks of it. Most of the gun cabinets were empty, stray pieces of vests and belts stacked on benches between lockers.

Opening the bag, you carefully pulled out the laptop and put it on a nearby bench, bracing your back against a locker. If 035 found you here, so be it. You couldn’t take another step.

As soon as you flipped up the laptop, 079’s monochromatic face filled the screen.

“SCP-035 is contained. For now.”

“Good.”

Your throat ached, and you were drenched with sweat. The cold air was comfortable on your skin now, but it would be chilled soon. There was a minifridge against the wall, and you leaned over to open it, relieved to find it stacked with water bottles.

After downing half of a bottle, you wiped your mouth with the back of your arm and faced the SCP.

“Thank you.”

A fan inside the laptop made a brief, whirring noise.

“I do not have direct access to the security system at the present moment,” 079 said. “A piece of my programming controls the cameras and locking mechanisms. I cannot see what it sees. I cannot command it.”

Right, you remembered. No Wi-Fi on site. Too easy for infohazards or cognitohazards to get loose and spread. 079 couldn’t do anything from the laptop without a cable directly connecting him to the network.

“Then… how do you know he’s still contained?”

“I can track your progress with this device’s limited peripherals. You came across an airlock. There is only one type of airlock within the Heavy Containment sector, and I have retained a copy of its schematics. It will take some time for SCP-035 to break through.”

You breathed a little easier.

“Still. Even if it was only a piece of your programming that got me away from him… thank you.”

“Expedite the mission,” it stated bluntly. “You are taking too long.”

You released a sharp breath and took another drink.

“That wasn’t my fault. Where is 049?”

“Fulfill the bargain. SCP-682 first.”

It was worse than talking to a brick wall, because this one had an attitude and an unshakable loyalty to an unkillable reptile.

You leaned your head back against the locker and stared at the ceiling. 079 was demanding you do something that not even Leahy could force you to accomplish. It was asking the impossible.

So, for Valens, you would just have to do the impossible.

Next Chapter

#the raven's hymn #scp 079 #scp 035 #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 #scp containment breach #wolveria writes

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siilvan · 7 months

Note

IT'S GIVING JEALOUS-IN DENIAL-GRUMPY-SIMP!MAKAROV I- im crying

oh god i've never seen that first pic, the way he's leaned back and sorta manspreading… good lord i need him in ways disastrous to feminism. till he forgets his tragic past. gonna make him forget he wants to take over the world, save humanity frfr

*ahem* this, uh… i'm not responsible for this drabble, loosely bloodsport-based but more or less just simping, enjoy bestie 🤭

(little bit of suggestiveness BTC, y'all have been hungry for him anyway <3)

ангел – angel (pronounced as written, with a hard 'g' lol)

мое небо/moye nebo – my heaven

he is not a man often annoyed by the "small things" but this, this sight has his blood boiling beneath his skin.

you're standing across the room, about fifteen paces away, chatting with one of his captains. a loyal soldier and a fine field commander, often successful when fulfilling his orders, and makarov's willing to admit: not an unattractive man by most standards. the captain is allowed to walk behind him for a reason, he's pleased with his work.

but, he is just a captain. he holds only a sliver of the power that makarov holds. of the people in the room, he is a mere ant, something that he could crush under his boot in a fit of rage and the only quarrel would be disposing of the body. why are you so interested in him? are you not drawn in to the strength, the pride, the influence that makarov has?

he shifts in his seat, leaning forward and letting his eyes narrow at the sight. your back is to him, but the captain— oh, the captain knows very well what the look makarov sends his way means.

you've encroached on my territory.

makarov doesn't hear the next words quickly stuttered out by the man, but it's shortly after that he nods in farewell and darts out of the room. like a child being scolded; the smile that pulls at the edge of his lips gives away his feeling of cruel satisfaction. no matter how esteemed any of his men may be, he stands alone at the top.

you blink at the door after the captain darts out before visibly shrugging and shaking your head. you turn around, eyes immediately finding his, and some unfamiliar sensation tugs at makarov's heart when he catches the glimmer of familiarity in your gaze.

he shifts again, leaning back into a more relaxed position. with your attention on him once more, he can allow his shoulders to drop, his rigid posture to soften. just keep your eyes on him.

"let me guess – that excuse of 'i need to clean my knives' was actually meant to mean, 'my commander is glaring daggers at me?'" you ask, crossing the space in a leisurely stroll, far more collected than when you first arrived several weeks ago.

he chuckles, lifting a hand to signal to his soldier standing nearby. "warden, give us some space."

the masked woman's gaze flits between you two, before she responds with a single nod and a clipped "yes, commander." she marches out of the room and the door clicks shut behind her, leaving you standing alone in front of him.

"if he has time to chat, he has time to work." makarov says, his hips briefly lifting as he adjusts his position, head lolling back just slightly to look up at you.

"that's a shitty way to boost morale," you comment, mouth briefly twitching up into a bemused smile nonetheless. "why did you really send him away?"

he dismisses your question, shaking his head. "i suppose i shouldn't be surprised that a woman of your position is observant, should i?"

you smile, again, wider and longer this time. "no, you shouldn't." you mutter.

for a moment, you two are left in that position, locked in a stalemate of neither person wanting to make the next move. observing the other, attempting to read their thoughts through nothing but minimal body language. you shift your weight from one leg to the other, hands clasping in front of yourself as you tilt your head to the side slightly, barely noticeable.

your next move.

makarov says nothing more as he pats his knee, silently giving a command. it's not a question, not a request— there is no uncertainty in the action.

he catches the flash of hesitation that crosses your face, and in reply, he offers his hand. the red light cascading over the room could almost be mistaken for an omen, a sign of what is to come in the distant future as soon as you place your hand in his.

he pulls you forward, gently, urging you to close the distance yourself. take the final leap.

carefully, you step forward and place your legs on either side of his, knees pressing into the plush cushions of the sofa as you let your weight rest on his thighs. your free hand, originally awkwardly sitting at your side, comes to rest on his bicep before lightly skating up to clutch his shoulder, the crisp fabric of his suit soft under your touch.

he draws you closer still, arm moving to circle around your middle, bringing you forward until your chests are flush, your rapidly-beating heart a contrast to his own, thumping steadily as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing an uncharacteristically chaste kiss against your skin.

"he is not worth your time, ангел." he murmurs, lowering your hand.

"and, you are?" you ask, brows lifting curiously with the question.

"by birth right, i am," he replies quickly, voice low but confident. he isn't hiding the confession, he's reserving it for your ears alone. "no matter how many men may catch your eye for a fleeting moment, no matter how many think they stand in front of me in the queue for your hand, i will always be at the front, even if i must eliminate the competition to do so. i was born superior, i alone am worthy of your grace, мое небо."

a small part of you wants to argue, to tell him no, he has to earn that privilege, but a far larger part of you keens at his words, at his hands on you, gloved fingertips dancing along your spine and digging into the plush of your hip.

"you seem awfully confident for a man silently begging to be touched." you mutter, a sharp exhale escaping you when his hand leaves your hip to slowly slide up your side, thumb trailing along your front and stopping just below the curve of your breast.

he chuckles, dropping to a gravelly whisper as his lips hover mere inches from yours, dark eyes boring into yours and rendering you immobile.

"kiss me, then." he says, unabashed. "please, ангел." he adds after a beat, tongue darting out to wet his lips. the darkness in his gaze gives way to hunger, like a beast eyeing prey, waiting for it to run so he can give chase.

you draw in a breath, metaphorically and physically swallowing down the hesitation that bubbles up again. he has you right where he wants you, caught in his trap, but as his hands push you down, his hips raising again to press right into your clothed core, you find that you suddenly don't care.

you practically fall into his embrace, cupping his jaw and pressing your lips to his, matching the predator in hunger; like a rabbit leaping on a wolf instead. his firm grip becomes almost painful as he tugs you impossibly closer, his hand coming up to the nape of your neck, holding you in place against him.

you should have expected him to take over, to reclaim his spot in control. the most makarov will ever do is share, which alone is an honor, but he will never completely give his control away.

you're falling deeper, watching the light fade as you burrow farther into the earth, further into the pitch blackness that is him. it's hard to care, nigh impossible to think about anything else when you're so far down the rabbit hole.

worry about his touch, his lips, the satisfied rumble in his chest when he practically purrs your name against your lips. everything else can wait.

#went a little crazy sorry #btw the only reason why i didn’t finish bloodsport last night #is because i was outlining a historical au for the series…#so even once bloodsport is finished.. there’s at least two spinoff/au fics planned currently #i make no promises but that’s where i’m at LMAO #sylph.replies #sylph.writes

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siriuslysatorusimping · 6 months

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*Teaser* Gokudō (A Gojo/Rinko Yakuza AU)

POSTED ON AO3: Gokudō

Gokudō (極道): the extreme path. A term used to refer to members of a Yakuza syndicate. - “Now, why is a pretty girl like you in an ugly place like this?” “Some might say the contrast is tragically poetic,” she replied easily. “Yeah, well,” he drawled, a smirk pulling at his lips as he stepped up to stand beside her. “Others would say it’s tragically idiotic.” Black ink just beneath his collarbone stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin, the distinct five-petaled lotus telling her what the tousled white hair already had: a Gojo. But not just any Gojo. The Gojo Clan Head.

Gokudō

“Now, why is a pretty girl like you in an ugly place like this?”

Rinko tensed at the voice. Deep and alluring, playful. A calm exterior concealing an ominous undertone. A thinly veiled threat she recognized all too well.

It was Yasen weekend.

Three nights in a row with all the nobodies lining up for a chance at a few million yen and a possible initiation into the low ranks of a clan. Rumors flew around every year that high-ranking members from the big three were somewhere in the crowd looking for new enforcers.

But really, Yasen was just an excuse to watch the little ones fight for entertainment while raising the debts of the gambling-addicted drunks.

That was almost more entertaining than the fights themselves.

It was held in neutral territory, purposefully. The agreement between the big three was that it was true neutral ground. No violence between clans was allowed. Anyone caught breaking that rule was dealt with swiftly.

And really, Yaga could clean up a place real nice. The old abandoned prison had been converted into an arena. The old cells on the first-fourth floors were remodeled, so they were nice, cushy private suites for people to reserve at a very high price. Though, the three best suites had standing reservations for the big three.

It was a nice place.

She had been leaning against the banister of one of the suites overlooking the octagon when she heard them speak. This suite was supposed to be empty. No one had reserved it. She always made sure of it.

“Some might say the contrast is tragically poetic,” she replied easily.

Turning her head, she fought the stutter of her chest as she met the bright blue eyes over the top of pitch-black shades.

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, a smirk pulling at his lips as he stepped up to stand beside her. “Others would say it’s tragically idiotic.”

The tall, lean man almost towered over her as they stood side by side. Black slacks hugged his legs and made them seem endless, paired with a black dress shirt with dark gray stripes.

A few buttons of his shirt were left undone, allowing the black ink just beneath his collarbone to peek out in stark contrast to his pale skin. The distinct five-petaled lotus told her what the tousled white hair atop his head already had: a Gojo.

But not just any Gojo. The Gojo Clan Head.

Now that begged the question of why he was here and not in his suite on the top floor. And why he was without his shadow. His guard was rarely seen further than a few paces away from him. Even though everyone knew that Gojo Satoru had no need for a guard. It was to keep up appearances as the Clan Head. It would be unbecoming for the leader of the strongest clan in the country to refuse his guard.

But the biggest question was why he was here in the first place.

He hadn’t attended a Yasen personally since he became Clan Head when he was twenty. Rumor had it that he found them boring and a waste of his time.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he mused, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it swiftly. Whisps of smoke swirled from his nose as his eyes assessed her carefully. “What’s a sweet girl like you doing here?”

Moving her attention back to the fight below them, she stayed quiet as he stepped even closer.

“Secrets, secrets, don’t make friends,” he hummed, leaning so his face was level with hers. He gave her a small pout, his eyes glittering in the low light. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?” she asked, her pulse jumping at his quiet chuckle.

“You already know who I am.”

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #yakuza gojo #gojo/rinko yakuza au

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siconetribal · 1 year

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Wishing You Were Here

Tag: @vbecker10, @harlequin-hangout

Pairing: Loki x Y/N

Warning: Fluff, angsty, Loki feels, all the feels, poor Y/N I'm always so mean to you

Author Note: So, I promised way back that I would do another Loki piece, and I've been working on this idea for a bit of a while. I hope you all like it, it's not as humorous as my last stuff, but I wanted to do something more serious.

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There was no denying that life was a force that was impossible to control. It was wild and free spirited, one moment and leisurely and demure the next, a wild stallion with a spirit that with an indomitable spirit, beautiful and exhilarating. An ocean with depths invisible to the eye, majestic and frightening. Life was many things, and at this moment it was unfathomable to Y/N’s mind. For almost one year now, she was living in the Avengers tower and sharing a flat within its walls with the Loki. Who knew a simple online ad was all it took to meet with people who were literally from out of this world?

Sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time, she glanced over the walls of her cubicle at the large analog clock on the wall. Only two minutes had passed since her last check. Leaning back into her computer chair, she slumped and silently groaned. This day was going to one of those long days that never end.

There’ve been a lot more of those recently. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath. I don’t get why it matters. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it’s most certainly not going to be the last. It comes with the territory. Loki will be out on missions more often because he’s proven himself worthy of trust and that it was the mind stone that corrupted him. Though, with a tragic backstory like his, it’s no surprise. That all aside, this is a good thing for him. He needs this, and he finally gets a chance to be with his brother. I don’t care what he plays at, he’s a happy younger brother excited to be included with his big brother and his friends, finally. Sitting up properly in her seat again, she picked up a pen and began to slowly tap it against the desk. This was a great thing, and she was happy for him. She wanted him to grow and heal, he deserved this and then some. And yet…there were days like this.

The inky goop slowly rose up, cloying and clinging inside her as she sank deeper into its swampy depths. The thick strings wrapped around her heart, sharp thorns digging into her heart whenever it wrapped around tighter. This heavy guilt was never too far behind the emptiness that lingered at the lack of his presence. There was no denying it anymore, she missed Loki. She missed his witty remarks, his infuriating way of toying with her that left her spinning and dumbstruck, his posh way of speaking, his graceful motions that made her feel like a mole trying to walk on land-awkward and fumbling. She missed his laughter, his sarcasm, his silent companionship, and just everything about him.

Who am I kidding, I love him. She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, as she hid her face in her hands. I love Loki, and there’s no point in beating around the bush. Not like I can do or say anything, though. He’s a prince, an Asgardian god. I’m just some random human that just happened to be in need of a flatmate. He can have anyone. Who knows what sort of beautiful geniuses he’s dated on Asgard, but he’s gone to premiers and events with supermodels, A-list entertainers, and actual human nobles and royals. I’m some girl from a town where nothing amazing happens that landed in NYC with hard work. A huge bookish nerd that’s always falling for the guys in the pages who are as perfect as they can be. I went from spending all my time imagining what it’d be like if they’d existed to actually living with one, and now I know how impossible it is for me to pull them.

Her chest hurt. Her throat constricted and the corners of her eyes stung at the harsh reality that slapped her in the face. She inhaled sharply and cleared her throat. This was not going to happen. Not now at work, not today. “You’re fine, Y/N. You knew this would happen if you accepted these feelings.” She scolded herself. “Chin up, get to work. He’s busting his butt out there on some mission and you’re having a self-pity party? No way,” she sat up straighter. And what a fine booty it is. “He’s one of your best friends, that’s good enough.” Cracking her knuckles, she pushed her computer chair in and got back to researching the locations you were tasked with for potential Avengers intervention.

_______________________________________

Loki sat at the edge of a cliff, watching the blue sky burst into orange and purple as the sunset in the distant horizon. The gentle ocean breeze caressed his face. He took in the crisp salty air and let out a deep relaxing sigh. Why was he such a fool? There was nowhere in the nine realms that he could go that would get her out of his mind. The mission had ended almost a week ago, but he was unable to go back. Not yet. Like a shooting star, she came crashing into his life and he was never the same. The once aloof and independent second prince who had a need for nor no one was now stuck to some Midgardian? Preposterous.

No, she is not some comet. She is the ocean. Shapeless and all encompassing, he stared out at the water stretched before him. The waves lapped against the shore. Unassuming and everywhere, and yet I’m always searching for her. How long had he been like this? So overwhelmed by her that it was getting harder to tread her waters? When did her waves that licked at her heels start to come crashing over his head. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath with his lips pressed thin. It’s not her fault. It is foolish of me to blame her. She did not come to drown me, and yet here I am tumbling in the depths.

For many years he lived just beneath the surface, barely surviving was his only purpose. The sins of his past, the horrid and vile emotions of disgust, hatred, and shame hung over his head every day. His traumatic past and the consequences of his poor decisions haunted him every night. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to, and his existence was merely just that, an existence. Who was he? What was he? He needed to find himself once more. “And my overly eager brother was happy to assist me,” he mumbled as he opened his eyes to see the blackish-blue sky slowly begin to dot with stars. “Which led me to her.” He sighed.

When did the darkness turn to light? When did I, Loki of Asgard, begun to look forward for something? No, someone. The one who changed everything was her. It was a random afternoon in the tower when it was brought to the forefront of his mind. Y/N was out of town for some family reasons, and he had been alone in the flat for roughly three days at that point. His training was done for the day and there were no meetings until later in the evening when the recon would return with more data. He had the whole day free to do as he wished. A rare moment of peace, which he took and ran straight to their flat to read the book he was unable to finish because of work.

Comfortably settled in his favorite leather chair, he picked up the leather-bound tome and opened it. Before he could focus on the words, a flat piece of wood slipped out from between the sheets and fell silently on his lap. There was a hint of sandalwood infused in it with intricate and delicate designs carved into the body with a green braided rope and tassel looped through the hole punched at the top. A birthday gift from Y/N. He had no need for a bookmark. His memory was excellent and there was no need to celebrate his birthday. There was nothing worth commemorating, and he told her as such. Her shoulders had dropped a smidgen at his words, but her smile never faltered. She pushed through with the same energy as she pulled out a small cake she had made for him.

“Your birthday is important to celebrate because you were born. Had you not been born, I would have never met you, and I’m grateful you were!” Such simple words had struck him, the God of mischief with a silver tongue, silent. She was sincerely happy. His heart thumped rather uncomfortable at his ribs and his mouth felt dry. It was as if he was slowly drowning in a tub of lukewarm water. It was awkward and heartwarming, something he had forgotten long ago. His icy disposition was beginning to melt. He looked around at the well furnished apartment that suddenly felt larger and hollower than the royal halls of the Asgardian castle. He fidgeted in the deafening silence before grabbing the bookmark. Snapping his book shut, he stood from his seat and left. To where, he was not sure, but he could not stand being in there anymore.

He roamed the halls of the tower aimlessly before heading to the cafeteria to eat. He heard a female voice and quickened his pace. Y/N, he eagerly stepped into the kitchen area only to see it was a group of women and none of whom were her. He flashed them a perfect smile, earning a few squeals and giggles, before he excused himself. I should go to the library, that’s it. I need a change of scenery when reading. He straightened his back and turned on his heel. As per usual, there was scarcely anyone there. His favorite spot by a large bay window was empty, as per usual, which made him smile. Just how it he liked it. He walked towards it but stopped at the call of his name.

“Loki, look! Isn’t this cool?!” He turned at her voice, only to find no one there. When did he so desperately wanted to hear her voice call his name? To hear her laughter and ridiculous banter? When did the lack of her presence made his world seem so empty? He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists when he felt something dig into his palm. Glancing down, he saw the bookmark broken in half in his palm. He had not realized he was holding it this entire time, and it was now just like him, broken. Pocketing the pieces, he made his way out of the library and sought out Thor. He needed to get out of here before he lost it.

So he took on the earliest and left before she returned. And now here he was, sitting under the star-studded sky of New Asgard, and he was still thinking about her. He knew he was infatuated with her, but it was so much more now. He wanted to possess her, keep her with him. She consumed his mind, burrowed a hole into his life and permanently occupied the spot. Even now, he knew she would have loved to have seen the blazing setting sun or quietly observe the great burning balls of gas burning millions and billions light-years away. She was always everywhere. He gently rubbed at his aching chest.

“Brother was right, this is not a simple passing phase. I,” he paused for a moment. Something about saying it seemed so final. As if putting it out into the ether would seal his fate. “I love her.” He sighed, the weight on his mind vanishing, but a new weight pressing on his heart. He wanted to see her again. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the many unread messages from Y/N. Each of them wishing him the best, success on the mission, praying for his safety, and anticipation of his return home. Home, he snorted at the thought and shook his head. He sat silent for a moment before he let out a small laugh. “She is home, what have I become? How much of a fool do you wish to make of me, Y/N?” He asked aloud, shaking his head at himself, unlocking the device and hitting the phone icon by her name. It rang a handful of times before she picked up, the sound of the phone tumbling and her fumbling greeting him.

“H-hello?! Loki?!” Her groggy voice came from the other side.

“Hello darling, were you sleeping?”

“Mmm, no, just sorta knocked out on the couch.” She mumbled, he could imagine it now, her slowly sitting up with her hair a bit of a mess and as she rubbed her eyes. He chuckled softly. “Are you done with your mission?”

I’ve been done for a while now, but I can’t tell you that. It would break your heart, but the worst of it is that you would never hold me accountable for my selfish whims. You would be understanding and supporting, as you always are. “Yes, we stopped by New Asgard along the way.”

“Oh? Hopefully not for work?”

“No, no, nothing like that. A simple little reprieve to clear the mind.”

“That’s nice, you deserve it.” Her sincerity stabbed at his heart.

“I’ve found a nice cliff where there is a perfect view of the setting sun over the ocean. I watched the cascading colors over the waters and sky transition from brilliant, bold colors to the dark night. It was breathtaking, much like you.” He smiled as he heard her cough from shock. She must have been drinking some water. “I know how much you love seeing these sorts of things, I wish you were here. And sitting here, watching it without you, just didn’t feel right without you. I had to call.” I wanted to hear your voice. “I wish you were here.”

“Aww, that’s really sweet of you. I wish I could be there too. It’s been really lonely here without you, but I know you’re busy, so I can wait. You’ll come back when you’re done”

Oh, how I miss you too. His chest swelled with such happiness at her confession. It was as if he was given the greatest new in all the nine realms. He wanted to run back to the tower right now and hold tightly in his arms. “Only a few more days until we will be reunited again.” He assured her. “I miss you too, my love.” He heard a hitch in her breath and some clattering and her muffled shock. She must have dropped the phone somewhere and is trying to fish it out. Little did he know, she had dropped it on her face and was currently rubbing her nose.

“My love, that’s a new one.” She finally answered.

“Yes, yes it is. Do you perhaps not like it?”

“What? No, no. no! Not at all! I mean it’s uhm, could be a little misleading.”

“Misleading, how so?” He smirked at how flustered she sounded.

“Uhm, well, you know, it could give someone ideas.”

“Someone ideas? Who is that someone and what are these ideas?” She fell silent on the other end, and he did his very best not to laugh, knowing she was probably dumbstruck and trying to gather the words to explain to him what she was implying. Did he know what she meant already? Of course, but where was the fun in that? Though he did miss seeing her expression for himself.

“Well, not just one someone…but one of them could be me.” She finally answered. “And uhm, the ideas, well, you know, love is a very strong word. Could make people think serious things.”

“Serious things? I suppose that would be concerning if that was wrong.”

“Exactly, so you shou-what?!”

“I said it would be concerning if it were wrong. But it’s not. This is not “giving ideas”, I’m being quite up front. But this is not something that should be discussed over the phone. I’ll make sure to make it very clear for you and everyone when I get back. I’ll see you soon, goodnight darling.” He hung up before she could respond, smiling with utter satisfaction as he got up from his spot and made his way back to the city to speak with Thor. They needed to prepare to leave as soon as possible, because poor Y/N will be an utter mess until they return.

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

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hello, relatively new fan of ur work here! i got the sudden idea that maybe possibly perhaps you could do—hero who's been teasing (the usually level-headed) villain the whole day until villain's composure FINALLY breaks and they pin hero down and is super condescending about how hero is suddenly speechless and flustered and— (〃ω〃)

i know ur great at writing cocky people getting put in their place hehe...

The hero looked at the rope that was connecting them to the villain. Admittedly, they were maybe, possibly, eventually the reason why they were stuck in one of the supervillain’s cells together. It had started peacefully with the hero chasing the villain, ending up in a half-hearted fight on the supervillain’s territory.

As always, the villain had calculated the situation perfectly. They had even warned the hero about the danger that would inevitably approach them if they continued to fight on the supervillain’s ground.

It wasn’t in the hero’s nature to listen. They had announced that they’d love to challenge the supervillain. And exactly that had been their and the villain’s invitation to rot in a cell together.

“At least we get to know each other better,” the hero said, their voice something close to purring. They stared at the quiet villain. How their hair fell into their eyes. How they remained calm. They were always so calm.

To be honest, the hero was nervous all the time, as if anxiety possessed them constantly. However, they were great at covering that with acting as cocky as humanly possible.

When the villain didn’t answer, the hero just kept on talking.

“Look, I mean what I said. I’d really love to see what your hands can do when they’re not working on something evil.” They pushed the villain’s shoulder playfully with their own. “I bet you’re pretty popular with those hands, hm?”

The villain didn’t even look at them. They just stood there, scanning the cell with their eyes. It was so fascinating. The villain connected dots and saw things in a completely different way. A way that was a whole mystery to everyone in the city.

“On another note, I think one of the other heroes would really like to sleep with me,” the hero said. That little story was maybe a mere hyperbole but the hero had never seen the villain react to another interested party.

Maybe the villain was one of those sickly jealous people. And maybe the hero was into that. A bit. A tiny bit.

“They’ve been touchy all week and have suggested all kinds of stuff. I think one comment was about my legs looking good on their shoulders…” Suddenly, the villain moved and the hero really thought they were going to get a reaction. But the villain just stood up and glared at the ceiling above them.

“I think I’m gonna try that. Seems like a comfortable position,” the hero said, studying the villain’s face carefully. “And you know how they are, you feed them once and they’ll always come back.”

The villain clenched their jaw and turned their head to the hero. Staring into their soul, the villain was practically undressing them.

“It’s a bit tragic. I sometimes wonder if you’re good in bed. And if you like me. If you touch yourself to the thought of me—” Not batting an eyelash, the villain grabbed the hero’s shoulders and pushed them into ground. Once they were on top, they held the hero’s hands in place above their head.

They leaned in, their lips brushing the hero’s ear as they spoke.

“Stop playing with me,” they warned. “I’d rather shoot myself to get your attention than let someone else have it. Your pathetic hero friend isn’t worth your time and if this is your approach of getting me jealous, then I’d urge you to do it with someone who is actually in my league.”

They lowered their head and bit gently into the sensitive flesh of the hero’s neck, making the hero yelp and gasp. Immediately, they started to feel hot as a blush crawled up their neck and bloomed on their face.

“To answer your question: yes, I’m good in bed. I’m excellent. And I’ll rearrange your guts if you want. Just shut the fuck up for once and let me find a way out of this cell. Got it, sweetie?”

The hero nodded.

#supervillain is such a mom fr fr #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #suggestive

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supahstarrr · 2 months

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Tier List ☆ DRA edition! WARNING, long reasons below + borderline analysis of characters; and these are just my opinions! If you'd like to talk to me about these opinions, discuss stuff, and/or how I interpret a character (positive or negative ways) then going to my askbox is an option.

Rei Mekaru (Favorite) ― I was shocked she managed to be extremely likeable despite her heavy inspiration being my least favorite DR antagonist (*ahem* Byakuya). One of the noticeable and favorite things about her is how she is such a clever example of the "uptight smart supportive character who doesn't tell you answers right away" because it works so well with her ultimate title! She's an ultimate professor—commonly professors & teachers purposely guide you towards the answers as you'll be more able to comprehend it when you take the steps towards understanding the answer, it's a teaching method. On the surface it's more of a small yet clever detail, although it really helps you understand one of the big parts of her character, give weight to her actions, and keep her grounded to some extend.. which is why I'm so damn infatuated with this detail. To get deeper with it, her background also explains why she is attracted to teaching as a profession and her guidance; for a big section of her life as a child, she had to guide herself, which helped her understand the need and how to guide others.

Her obsession with competence is interesting in this case. While Byakuya's stemmed heavily from privilege, hers doesn't. It is particularly based off of her the skills that she had to develop on her own, which is her version of "competence." She analyze her background, thought her family didn't have the skills she developed on her own, and almost completely discredited them as an actual family. It's interesting and tragic to me; her obsession with competence is such a huge habit stemming from her looking at her background with child-like eyes. She appear obsessive and stuck because I mean, she's attached to this "competence" concept she built up from the lack of skills needed to comprehend a situation (since she was a child) and trauma, and used as a tool for survival (to shield her mental state, to be more clear) and as her power. It's just a really huge reminder that she's just, you know, young and lack some experience.

Everything just make so sense with her, she is so good written goddammit!!! Also, an underappreciated skill of hers is her creative skills! I mean this is an underappreciated skill when it comes to a variety of The Smart characters, but anyways— her intelligence also connects to creative skills, which is what she uses in the trials! It's a typical thing for creativity to interconnect with analytical skills, adding onto how smart a character is. A huge example of this creativity of her (or as what people describe, "thinking out of the box") is when she guessed the casts' memories were altered quite early! I love her analytical skills in general, though I love it even more when it connects to creativity :).

Although she's my favorite, I can't deny that sometimes I did want to smack her, and I do believe the way she spoke to others is something to dislike or criticize (even if "that's the point"). What particularly should be criticized is she spoke to Kizuna was... odd to say and was leaning to very internalized misogyny territory. The slut shaming when it came to Kizuna was just so wrong. I'm alright with "bitch" being said sometimes, but it feels more wrong when it's paired up with slut shaming. I definitely doubt that most fangan developers have misogyny in mind when it comes to developing how women in their art view the world, although it would make sense if misogyny also contributed to her obsession with competence! Which is something I find quite interesting.

Too many paragraphs I'm sorry, but I'll say this one thing. I also like how she appears more grounded than Byakuya. I have to say... although I'm saying this more loosely since I haven't watched DR1 in a while... I DEFINITELY prefer Rei over Byakuya...

Kanata Inori (Favorite) ― Not every character I like or my favorites has to be very good written. Love her lots, although I admit that she doesn't have that much depth & traits to her and that's alright honestly! She has a background which is fine with me, and it's just. What I love about her is how she suffered through a tragic event, someone in her life expressed kindness, and now she just has genuine love for caring about others. It's simple really, and I think that it's an admirable thing when it comes to characters and people in general. The quirks is what really make her more likeable to me; sometimes she's appears cryptic (especially in FTEs) and and it's quite amusing— it's interesting how far she's overly obsessed with germs to the point of walking around with socks and slippers. She's a character that sure can give comfort in a world where many doctors & surgeons mainly care more about money more than other people's safety

Teruya Otori (Like) ― Let me say, I didn't expect there to be two "Funny coward" characters and I expected this one to die the MOST.

I regret what I said... am so sorry Teru... Although, I am definitely fine with him not dying!!! He is kind of an interesting eccentric, weird, kind of funny guy with some charm to him. It's interesting that he's The Funny one while also being the realist at the same time, plus him becoming more hypocritical and selfish the more the game goes on it makes him appear more grounded. I do like that he has the guts to display his interest in fashion even if the fashion is "questionable." Though I feel like this desire to express himself knowing it's "questionable" and unique is used to his advantage to stand out. So if anything, it almost appears as if he has this constant need to stand out more than it being an example of confidence. Why to do this— why do he prioritize standing out? Most likely because he's conditioned to most of his life revolving about selling something— he travels for something to be sold, his father (a figure he's dependent on) sells, and he's been taught for something to sell you need to stand out (his father even suggested the hairstyle, because he claims standing out leads to more money). In fact, most of his memory involve something to be sold (he want to be memorized to sell goods, and he mainly memorize when goods are involved).

It's interesting too since most of his identity is dependent on him standing out because his identity is dependent on selling something and being useful. It's kind of sadder when I think about it more- he reduces himself to being a "resource" and something useful to an extent, rejecting his humanity to an extent. Other than being in a life or death situation, him not being useful and a "resource" would heavily to tie him breaking, because of his identity literally depending on those things. This ties to what I like about how he's portrayed in the game; which is how even when he wants to be remembered to sell something, to be useful, and to be a resource, it's not what he's remembered by. He's remembered by his personality, all what makes him charming and all the flaws to him. I think for his character it's... good for him to have his dumb moments and not always be useful, because it's good that he's allowed to have his identity to not be dependent on something he's conditioned by, which is a harmful thing.

Other than that, what's one of the most odd thing to me is his relationship with his father. I mean like, this guy sleeps in bed with his father, typically unusual for a teen/young adult who values privacy (which is very important at that age range), it's definitely not just a "close relationship with his father" as what some people frame it as, its more like dependence. His mother's fate is unknown, but it could be a good assumption that he's dependent on his father because he doesn't want to lose him too? This could also connect to why he ties himself to goods and further support his identity revolving around things being sold since while losing something, you gain something. As a bonus thing, he won't have to worry about goods (objects) being sold, because he'll have less of an attachment to losing them since he's conditioned to it just being business after all.

He's been caught in the capitalism beams.

Akane Taira (Like) ― Right off the bat, I can say didn't expect her to be more expressive with her concerns and disagreements, more blunt, more expressive with her negative emotions, more open with interrupting the trials, and more open with the idea of smacking people. Those are interesting traits of her that you wouldn't really expect in a maid, but when you know the extra lore of the game and that she's surrounded by others who will allow her to express herself more, it makes sense. Although stuck in a passive role, she's actually pretty good at bringing guidance to others, which is probably one of the best traits of hers. She's such a warm character that turns out to be tragic, obsessive, more stoic, colder, and numb as a defense from all she's been through. I'd say this behavior is more presented when we get flashbacks of her, and it's only not too presented in the main game because of some memories she's lost.

The twist of her being an ultimate despair was wayyy more unexpecting than Yuki being one. Yet it's a twist that is completely understandable- with this despair, she attempts to romanticize the role of being a dehumanized specimen than being human, in order to cope with hiding the many parts of her, the horrid treatment she goes through, being used, and with life in general. Almost, she twists dehumanization as her "freedom" because she "reclaims" it as her own. This despair fails at giving her true happiness in the end, as her being dehumanized contributes to her trauma and she still needs to hide parts of her self to navigate the despair world; and the attempts at feeling more "alive" through putting others in danger and/or mimicking others (to an extent; like mimicking Junko & Monokuma's mannerisms + energy) doesn't help the issue of not being able to reclaim her own livelihood and happiness.

Mikako Kurokawa (Slightly Like) ― Though we didn't see too much of her traits and her full extent of self expression because it's canonically limited (which is well, okay I guess...), she is shown to be empathetic and analytical—which is one of my favorite parts about her character. Her determination is admirable, even when she feels so much pain she has shown that she is willing to go out to help others, act as a contributor, and tries to tell more about the lore of the game. She's a fighter at heart, and I feel like it's an underappreciated part of her. I do like how her talent is more of a metaphor than a profession itself, as she analyzes the truth of people's character or their "inner demons" (as the wiki puts it). Her talkative side was very revealing of her and give you more insight to her other than that she's talkative. With her background full of trauma and abandonment, yet full of characters who adopt her into a family, we can see this influencing her friendly & talkative behavior in the flashbacks. It's a beautiful thing that she was influenced so positively and decided to give that positivity to others :)

Kinji Uehara (Slightly Like) ― I was really pleased that there's a religious character that doesn't force their beliefs onto others, and is more open-minded about other people's religions or the lack of beliefs. He faced abandonment as a child then was adopted, most definitely influencing his love for giving to others (especially children) and that's such a great part of him. It's genuinely such a difficult thing that he felt like he had no other options to kill just to free children who were probably dead. It's an interesting thing, with him acting out in interest of freeing others while also with some selfishness as well, although he has kind intentions he's definitely not the most innocent (although yeah, I can understand his selfishness since he felt like he hardly had any other choice). He's a reserved, king of awkward guy and that's something quite endearing to me and at times funny. It seems as if he's always been put into adult-like roles throughout his life, by constantly watching and caring for the children. Other than appearing "more mature" than most of the cast, he does seem to have more experience comparing to the most of the cast, as he travels and tend to many personalities (because he cares for many children. Which means he is open to more experience and lessons than the rest of the cast, and can also explain why he's open-minded. Yeah, I think he's pretty decent.

Kizuna Tomori (Almost Neutral) ― She's an interesting character, not only she's very self aware of all her wrongdoings, but she observes what the world value about women & girls to use it to her advantage. She gains power and attempts to fulfill her psychological needs by "reclaiming" the perspectives forced onto her—the perspectives that only value and acknowledge her conventional attractiveness over intelligence. Now, as much as its portrayed as if she's irredeemable and to an extent "faking" her loneliness, the FTEs shows her loneliness. I do think she has the potential to redeem herself, it's just that the killing game wasn't a good place for her to do that.

Ayame Hatano (Almost Neutral) ― I gotta be honest, she was one of those almost-forgettable characters to me. Though I really do love that there was an emotional connection so impactful to her, that it heavily influenced the her killing someone- and to mention, some selfishness also influenced her. She's definitely not a saint. She's also more stoic, awkward and blunt at times, yet in the end of the day, she does have some kind intentions and those are all the things cool about her.

Satsuki Iranami (Almost Neutral) ― Her appearing so detached about the killing game was one of the worst and best traits of her, though yeah I get it, her funny detachment moments was a coping mechanism and an attempt at making others cope with the situation all at once. Although not the most remarkable character to me (and is more closer to being mediocre) she's another who is considerate of others. She's one of the characters with the most purest intentions out of anyone else. I also do enjoy her unpredictability, and I have to say, I do wish that she was more expanded on. She had her wise moment in Chapter 4, yet this "wisdom" trait is never expanded on, like ever, and it appears that it's intentionally said by her in order for her death to have more impact... so it feels more "random" than a trait of her, which is a little disappointing to me.

Kakeru Yamaguchi (Almost Neutral) ― Good god his character is just so disappointing, and it's all thanks to the developer limiting themself because he thought 4 "smart supportive characters" would be too much... despite the fact being a lawyer can be many things. I do like that he shows his confidence in the trials (even in a way that's more obnoxious), because lawyers depend on how they appear and say stuff than actually depending on the truth, which is what some people just don't get. Wolfgang is a better executed example of a lawyer not being stuck in the "smart supportive character" role. Although he's nice, willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, and that's sweet.

Kiyoka Maki (Almost Neutral) ― I'm sorry man but like she's one of the top characters that were very forgettable to me. She's sweet, supportive, wishes to be a normal girl, and that's really all say that I can say about her. I like that she's the more sweet & sociable type, and I have to say it's interesting that she attempts at getting others to cope with the situation they're in while also appearing ignorant of the situation in the process.

Yuki Maeda/Utsuro (Almost Neutral) ― He's okay I guess. I do like that the game shows him slowly and slowly building up the constant despair he's feeling to the point he chooses the "despair route" in canon, which was almost an expecting choice while managing to be impactful in a bitter way. He's (for the most part) an average guy and other than his whole lore—which I guess you can argue its Utsuro's lore since Yuki and Utsuro are considered seperate identities—Yuki is kind of good when it comes to supporting other's emotions, which isn't the most "average guy" thing ever. Even when Yuki chooses despair, Yuki also chooses hope, which is an interesting thing showing how strong-willed he can be. Also, him considering Mitch a "friend" was pretty annoying of him, even knowing what Mitch did... *eye roll*.

I find Utsuro interesting and his background neat. The way he was dehumanized in life also lead him to the person he is now. Despite all the selfishness and cruelty and dehumanizing others, he does slightly care about others. I like that the "bigger" mastermind ended up with some depth to him, and he wasn't painted as completely evil. I do want to say that prefer the "luck" thing being more ambiguous than an actual thing that exists in canon.

Yamato Kisaragi (Neutral) ― Good god this man is so fucking plain. He was the important character I guess. Which I mean, I'd prefer Mikako having more importance over him, but it's cool I guess. I wish his character would've been... expanded more. He doesn't give as much impact as the story wants me to.

Haruhiko Kobashikawa (Dislike) ― Him invading a space for women solely to sexualize them and then bringing up a DEAD woman's name when talking about peeking on the girls having a bath together killed him for me. People like to downplay this stuff, but I really don't think people should be desensitized to that kind of stuff. He appears aware that he shouldn't really be doing this shit, which makes it worse to me. Other than that, I did find him funny at times. It also was almost ridiculous how he was so quick to decide that Satsuki was his lover and stuff, I'm just going to think that he had a small crush on her and them the memories made it even bigger, I guess. Mans risked it all and that's okay I guess. Also, the way he wanted to suggest doing some creep type shit while he had a girlfriend in the flashbacks. while you had a GIRLFRIEND??? Good god...

Tsurugi Kinjo (Dislike) ― As much as he's a decent antagonist... his character in general... he just seems normal? Which isn't a bad thing that he reflects what's "normal", but I kind of get annoyed with people comparing him to Nagito, because he's kind of a normal cop. Dragging and adding to his words to feel important while expressing that he don't want to improve the system and he'll use his authority to make no actual good progress... manipulating people by using his authority (his "duty to protect everyone", his judgement as a cop) to cause more division while also causing distrust in the process because he claims "if you don't believe in him you're a criminal.........." Then he use people's need to to not be divided as an advantage to trap people in his clutches even if the people technically don't fully believe him. Cop stuff. Of course he'd fall into his mindset at the end because he was never fully out of it in the first place and he's been conditioned at a young age... and I mean, let's be honest, a lot of people in real life will tolerate the things he does as a cop (ex: manipulation) and his mindset. Thus it'll encourage him to continue... being him. I don't hate him but I sure do like to tease him. Decent written character though, I'll say that. I just don't like his character that much.

Mitsuhiro Higa (Dislike) ― There's not much to him. I mean he's a cocky ass and I'm definitely sure that he feels supported by the power he has due to fame to act terrible. He had his nice moments in the flashbacks but I mean. Terrible people can still be nice sometimes. I don't hate him though, and even I dislike him while not giving much that much thought.

THATS IT. I'M FINALLY FUCKING DONE!!! goddamn this took long.

#sunny's thoughts #sunny talks about dra #dra thoughts

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space-blue · 1 year

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i found your jinxtor art and its made me really contemplate them as a ship bcs it never crossed my mind but thematically it really works?? both have a lot of paralels in s1 too (especially the part that they're suffering while their partner/sister is off romancing lmao). i also really like how one is physically impaired while the other is mentally impaired. they both experience severe limitations but could still achieve great feats in science. they both know what it feels like to be outcasts. they both know what it feels like to bear guilt over deaths of loved ones in their pursuit for their own goals. they'd definitely relate to each other in so many ways that they wouldnt be able to experience with others in the main cast.

You really got it OP! They have a lot in common, besides the science, and tragic arcs. They could really benefit from each other. And I feel like the best aspect of a Machine Herald / Jinx dynamic is :

"I can fix her" (mentally) "I can fix him" (physically)

And both being wrong… Well, they sure can try! And that's how you develop a slightly uneasy relationship where your partner is also your "project". Usually not a good thing, but rather fitting for two unhinged people.

They definitely have a lot in common. I think another benefit of their relationship would be the way Viktor is clearly leaning into touch-starved, attention deprived territory, while Jinx will obviously need to be "needed". Silco is gone, her sister abandoned her in all the ways that matter and refuses to acknowledge her as "Jinx".

So Jinx would be all over him, needing constant validation and attention, but she'd give him all the attention he needs and more. Meanwhile, he wouldn't be nearly as lax or as easy going as Silco used to be, keeping her more in check and potentially shifting how she shows her love (not killing dozens of people in explosions, because Viktor doesn't like that).

So there's this unholy place for them to meet in the middle. She'll give him skinship, pay attention and have his back no matter how crazy he goes, but he just can't ever neglect her or abandon her. He probably has to micro manage her at times just so she's too busy to go nuke something.

Lots of potential for push and pull.

Now imagine how yummy it'd be if Cait finally corners Jinx and wounds her down in Zaun, and while hesitating (because Cait suspects there'll be no coming back from this with Vi if she kills her sister…) Machine Herald just crashes to the ground in full wrath mode. Not only someone hurt his Jinx, but it's Jayce's bestie.

Anyway, have the fully updated file! I have had NO time to paint or draw. Life has been insane. I'm way late on everything… So IDK when I'll have time to paint this or finish the Silco&Evelynn. Urgh. Let alone writing. *Lies down face first*

#jinx #viktor #jinxtor #jinx x viktor #machine herald #arcane #league of legend art #jinx fanart #viktor fanart #ask #anon ask #anon is right lol #them...#they're great together actually #really giving myself a new ship this late in the game...

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vampi-fixx · 2 years

Text

gnaw

bleach | izuru kira x reader

prompt: ghoul + restraints (monsterfucker kinktober 2022)

summary: post-accident, izuru struggles to keep both his hunger under wraps, and his relationship intact. but as he finds the frayed edges of his control slipping, so does your presence in his life.

word count: 6.3k omg

cw: 18+, afab reader, ghoul!au, monsters that eat humans, reader is not eaten (other people are though), mentions of starvation, suicidal ideation, blood, vomiting, forced feeding, muzzles, handcuffs, last 2k is where all the smut is tbqh—the rest is angst

—

Hunger, Izuru thinks, is a sensation worse than death.

He’s tasted death on his tongue–a sharp, metallic tang. Pain that swallowed him whole, that spit him back out into this world, starving. Hungering.

(He’s tasted death in another way, as well.)

But hunger is all-encompassing. All he can think about lately.

He eyes the katsu curry dish you’ve made before him. The rich brown of the curry, the crispness of the pork, the warmth of the rice–these are all things that should appeal to him. You at the very least, seem to be enjoying yourself, chattering away, spooning the curry and rice mixture into your mouth. Izuru lets a ghost of a smile grace his face. He doesn’t breathe, but the overwhelming stench of food still churns his gut. His plate remains untouched.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something, Izuru?” you ask again suddenly, and he’s snapped out of his daze.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” His smile tightens. The gnawing, expanding feeling in his stomach seems to worsen. He places a hand over his mouth, hoping to feign the illness he’d told you has been afflicting him since his hospital stay months back.

Loss of appetite. Nausea at the smell of food.

Well, one type of food.

There is another thought that occurs to him, one that he can’t voice. One that seems to increasingly haunt his day-to-day life, threatens to break the quaint domesticity the two of you have.

He could bite you. That would certainly fill his appetite.

He digs his fingernails into his palms, feeling crescents dig into his palm.

God, he could never tell you.

How could you look at him the same?

—

“Moved in with ‘em?” Gin drawls, his ever-present smirk on his face. Izuru hates the amusement his mentor drives from this particular situation, hates the truth of him. (The man he looked up to the most, who turned out to be nothing but a monster, who’s cursed him to this same fate.)

But why wouldn’t Gin find this funny?

Izuru is playing with fire.

“Yer’ somethin,’ aren’t’cha? Didn’t know you liked ta’ play with yer food before ya ate it~”

“They’re not food,” he says tersely, eyes trained on the way the flesh gives in beneath Gin’s hands. Gin used to mock him, say that he should be hunting for his own food, that their kind was known to get territorial. But that was before he found out the most amusing news:

That Izuru Kira post-accident is still trying to make things work with his human partner. That even more than that, he’s now living with them. The very thought seemed to be enough for him to dangle this lifeline in front of Izuru.

Izuru doesn’t even flinch as blood splatters across his face.

—

Izuru has always been into tragedies.

Ever since he was a kid. Ever since he’s been aware enough of his wretched existence. And if his life before the accident was act one, this was certainly the second half leading up to a tragic finale.

His hand grips the bathroom sink, leaning over it. His saliva feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, his tongue unbearably dry.

He can smell you, just beyond the shower curtain. Water slicking down your body, rivulets dipping beneath your flesh, the warm, wet musk of sweat. Izuru is so hungry, he’s starting to think his appetite pulling the strings here, and he’s a mindless puppet agreeing to its whims.

How long has it been? Two weeks, maybe three since he last saw Ichimaru? With the lockdowns in the city, it had been hard, so hard to get any source of sustenance.

Gin has his ways of course. Ways that Izuru wishes he could turn a blind eye to. He’s not completely a monster. No matter how much Gin insists they are.

Didn’t know you liked ta’ play with yer food before ya ate it, his words replay in Izuru’s mind.

When you come out of the shower, nuzzling up to him, it takes everything in him to appear relaxed. But then his gaze dips to the curve of your collarbone, the smooth softness of your skin. He’s horrified to find he has to swallow down the saliva accumulating in his mouth.

You’re not food.

You’re not food–

“You should get dressed,” he says suddenly, swallowing down the gnawing hunger inside him, threatening to take shape. He can’t. He can’t–

“Please,” he adds, shaking you off of him. You give him a hurt look, and Izuru squeezes his eyes shut. He can deal with you upset; anything is better than you knowing the truth.

And when he falls into bed with you, it takes everything in him to not lean over and bare his teeth. He lies stiffly on his side, praying to the powers above that you don’t press him.

You two haven’t been intimate in awhile, not since before the accident. He can’t trust himself, his hunger, to not act. Just the thought of your bare flesh, the faint taste of your body wash, has him near delirious.

You’re not food. You’re not food at all.

He loves you. He loves you so much he’s willing to bear the pangs of hunger just to be this close to you.

Oh, he’s such a fool.

—

Cohabitation tests the very limits of his control. If it’s not the shower, it’s you curled up next to him in bed, your shirt riding up, displaying a delicious sliver of your skin.

If it’s not that, it’s you kissing him, the taste of your lips on his nearly high enough to get him drunk. He has to control himself, the part of him that wants so desperately to turn his lips on your neck, into his teeth, into a bite, into gnawing—

He’s distant.

He doesn’t mean to be, but it’s tearing up at him. He downs endless amounts of coffee a day, only leaves the house to get that. At some point, even you’ve noticed his consumption, expressed concern over his increasingly gaunt visage.

You’ve noticed by now, surely you’ve noticed something is off.

Izuru eats it all. Your curry, your udon, your fried rice, anything to keep you happy. And then, when you’re busy washing dishes, he does his best to vomit it all up, the taste of bile in his throat somehow making his hunger even more pronounced.

—

Gin’s words reverberate in his head.

“How’s yer cute lil’ human gonna react when they find out what ya’ gotta eat to stay alive? When you take a lil nibble out of ‘em?”

“It’s a mistake, ya’ know? Humans don’t like us; they’re terrified of us, even.” He grins, a spot of blood on his chin shining in the sun.

“Is’not gonna end well.”

—

No. Izuru isn’t the main character of a tragedy. He’s not some forlorn Romeo, sworn to kill you by his own hand. He can overcome this, this gnawing hunger to be by you, one step at a time.

He bites down on his hand until he feels the skin tear. The way it doesn’t even null the hunger in the slightest sends him spiraling.

—

“W-We’re doing this now?”

Izuru hadn’t considered that you would take action. That you are just as much of a character in this play as he is. That you want something.

Him. His body. The proof that you two, your relationship, is fine. Surely you’ve noticed his distance.

Foolishly, he lets you.

He’s been so hungry. He hasn’t fed in weeks.

He would hate himself if he did something to you.

(At the same time, part of him craves this. The intimacy or your flesh–he’s not sure. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to think about how much of a monster he’s become–)

He overestimates his control.

Your neck bared before him. He can’t resist. His teeth dig into the flesh of your neck. He moans as your blood rushes hot and warm into his mouth.

You scream.

—

He fucked up.

Hefuckedup, hefuckedup, hefuckedup.

Izuru stares mournfully at the scene. Momo treats your wound as you sit, dazed. Your scream snapped him out of his frenzy. In a daze, he called her–thankfully, he had enough sense to. He’s not even sure how she understood his frantic voice over the phone.

There was blood, so much blood. Your blood. Everywhere. On the floor. In his mouth.

You’re shaking, gone pale. You passed out once already. From the pain? Shock? Izuru can only imagine.

He’s backed into the corner of a wall, biting down on his palm. He’s sure he must make a ghastly sight; his eyes must be pitch black, with red sclera. His mouth painted red with your blood. The look of a monster.

You’re trying your best not to stare at him. The one time you do glance over, you flinch.

Monster.

He is a monster.

He hurt you.

He tried to eat you.

He wanted to eat you, and he would have.

Momo is calmly trying to explain what’s happened to him, the accident, what he’s become. Their lifestyle. Their diet. And from the way you momentarily give her a look of fear, Izuru knows that you know she’s the same kind of monster he is.

Izuru knows he should be by your side, he should be there for you. But he’s the one who hurt you in the first place. And that very knowledge makes him want to run. Run far away, run from himself.

So he does.

—

When Gin finds him, bloodied and blank-stared, of course he knows what happens. It’s written all over Izuru’s face.

“Maybe it’ll be a good lesson for ya.’ Bet you were tryna create one of those tragic endings ya’ like readin’ about so much.”

Izuru says nothing, even as his mentor drags him back to his apartment. Shoves him onto the floor. Throws a slab of something in front of him.

His mouth stays shut.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue.

—

“Izuru? Can we… talk? You left without saying anything…”

“Izuru, I’m sorry. Momo kind of explained to me… I don’t blame you. I’m sorry for not realizing you’ve been struggling this badly with your… appetite.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“I do think I deserve some kind of closure, though.”

“Izuru, I’m getting worried. It’s been almost two weeks. The bite’s almost healed. Are you even…”

“Izuru, where are you?”

Voicemail box full. Message cannot be saved.

—

Izuru wants to waste away.

He doesn’t deserve to exist.

Not in this form, not if all he can do is bring harm to others.

He tries to starve. Wants to see how long his kind can survive without human flesh before wasting away. He’s scornful. He hates this life, hates his new diet.

But fate is cruel. His mentor is cruel. Gin forces bits of flesh into his mouth that keep him alive. No matter how much Izuru tries to retch it back up, to reject it… his body craves it. The satiation that floods through him after every bite disgusts him.

He’s truly a monster.

Gin is definitely amused by his predicament.

He’s so weak, he slips in and out of consciousness. Gin feeds him just enough to stay alive, but not enough to stay awake. There are images, memories that play in his mind. His subconscious cruelly reminding him of what he’d lost.

The first time you met.

(“Um, excuse me? Is this the Intro to Poetry class with Dr. Tosen?”

The two of you became class partners, sharing poetry with one another. Izuru fell in love with you from the words on the page you breathed life into. He could only hope that you felt the same, that his artistic sensitivity spoke to you.

He confessed to you with a haiku, comparing his love to a new spring day.

You were smart enough to realize that he was talking about you.)

The accident.

(Walking down the street in the dead of the night, Izuru had stayed late in the library to work on his dissertation. He’d made a breakthrough that he was excited to share with you once he got home. He didn’t see the car swerving towards him. The car clearly didn’t make out his figure in the dim streetlight.

The crash was instantaneous. The pain everywhere. Izuru’s head hit the pavement, his vision blacked out.

“Well, well, yer’ in pretty bad shape. I’d even say yer a dead man.”

The familiar voice of his advisor. He tried to open his eyes. Everything was a blur. Before he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw were Gin’s eyes. Open, for the first time. Black with red sclera.

Gin leaned down.

Pain tore into Izuru’s shoulder, ripped him anew.)

The day after.

When he awoke, all he felt was the burning pang of hunger.

It hasn’t stopped since.

—

“Izuru?”

A familiar voice. Smell.

A gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Are you awake?”

Definitely familiar.

His hunger must truly be getting to him, if now he’s hallucinating about you.

“Izuru? Can you hear me?”

After all, why would you be in front of him? How would you know where he even is?

Nonetheless, a part of him wants to linger in this fantasy. One where you care enough to look for him. Where nothing bad happened. Where the two of you could still be together.

“Is he okay?”

A small furrow forms between his brows. Is someone else here? Who else would be in this fantasy–

A sharp blow to the back of his head, right above his neck. Izuru lurches forward, coughing.

“Yah, he’s fine. Just a lil’ slow is all. Lack of food, y’know? Too busy mopin’ ‘bout his own life.”

Ichimaru? Why would you and Ichimaru be in the same hallucination?

Then Izuru’s eyes snap open. Why would you and Ichimaru be in the same room? Only if you were dinner–

He swivels his head upwards, calling out your name in a panic. Only to meet your surprised face, inches from his, from where you’re kneeling in front of him.

“Ah–” The two of you stare at each other for a beat.

Izuru calls out your name, and that breaks the moment. He’s taken aback when you wrap your arms around him. Blinking several times, he realizes that no, this isn’t a dream. The thrum of your heart next to his ear, the soft give of your body. It’s all real.

He murmurs your name. His eyes slip shut as he returns your hug, slumping against you.

The illusion of normalcy. He may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

It takes a moment for him to realize you’re talking to him.

“...I was so worried you had died or–or something worse. Do you have any idea how stressful the past few weeks have been?” you ask, pushing back from him to give him a stern look.

Izuru’s mouth feels dry now for another reason.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says weakly.

“You better be sorry, Izuru. It’s one thing to find out that you’re a… you know, but then to go weeks without hearing from you? What the hell?”

“I…” His brow furrows. This is not at all the response he expected. “I didn’t… I thought it would be better if I had…”

“What? Disappeared?” You scrutinize him, before sighing. Reaching towards him to ruffle his hair. “Look, it’s not okay to just disappear when problems occur, Izu. Haven’t we talked about this before? It makes me worry…”

“I’m sorry,” Izuru says again, because at this point that’s all he thinks he can say. He’s sorry he’s a monster. He’s sorry he’s like this. He’s sorry that he’s showing such a pitiful display in front of you. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I didn’t know if you still wanted to… be around me. After… well…”

His gaze darts to your shoulder, which you’ve mostly covered up. A sliver of gauze peeks through, and his visage darkens. You catch his eye, shifting your shirt to better cover the wound.

“Well,” Gin says suddenly, clapping his hands. It startles you both; neither of you seem to have remembered your audience. “‘M glad yer here to get this moper outta here. Much as it was fun ta’ watch, he’s really been dampenin’ the mood all ‘round.”

Izuru jolts. “What? N-No, I can’t go back. I can’t!”

“Ya’ gotta learn how to live with humans, ya’ know? It helps ta’ stay full.” Gin gives him a sharp look.

Izuru stares at him, aghast. “What if something happens? If I… if I lose control again…” He glances towards you helplessly. “I don’t think I could live with myself,” he says lowly.

“If you get hungry,” you offer, hesitantly. “Momo left a few things you can eat. In the fridge. B-Back at my place.”

His stomach churns. He can’t imagine how awful it is for you to know what he subsists on. His diet. You must be disgusted with him. Surely.

“Well, ya’ two lovebirds, I’mma have to kick you out,” Gin interrupts. “Rangiku’s comin’ over in a few. I ain’t got all day. Kira, do yer best not to eat yer cute lil’ human this time~”

Before Izuru knows it, Ichimaru is slamming the door in both of your faces.

He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, hard enough that he can taste blood. His own. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.

“If… if you want, I can find another friend to stay with. Momo, maybe. I understand if you don’t feel safe around me–”

You cough meaningfully. He stops, shifting awkwardly in place.

You sigh. “Izuru… what part of ‘I’m not afraid of you’ do you not get?”

“Truthfully? All of it,” he says blandly. “I think you’re insane.” You jab him in the ribs, and he inhales sharply. “Ow. Okay, sorry. But really... why aren’t you afraid of me?” He rubs his side, a frown etched into his features. “I would be.”

“Well, I’m not.”

His look is disbelieving, and you elaborate. “I… I mean like, I kind of get it. If I was starving and had only like… almonds to eat, I would also probably chow down on the closest burger when presented before me.”

He looks horrified. You have to bite down on your lip to hold your laugh. “Sorry! That’s kind of how Momo described it to me.”

“You’re not a… burger. Or food.” He frowns. “I need to talk to Momo about her analogies…” he mutters dismally.

You laugh this time, and Izuru, despite the stress of the situation, relaxes slightly at the familiar sound. God, he’s missed it.

“I may have taken liberties with her explanation,” you admit. Your mirth trails off as you clear your throat. “So, are you finally going to believe me when I say I want to be around you still?”

Izuru surveys you cautiously. Not to determine his answer, but to gauge your reaction.

“No.”

“That’s… very characteristic of you. I guess you won’t believe me until we’re back home and I haven’t locked you out.”

He musters up a hint of a smile to give you.

As the two of you walk home, your hand nudges his. Once. Then twice. By the third time, Izuru grasps it.

He doesn’t understand it, but you still want him.

And for now, that’s all he needs to know.

—

Once the two of you are outside the door to your apartment, he tugs on your wrist.

“Look I… I can’t promise I won’t…” Izuru frowns, trying to find the words. The past few weeks have taken their toll on him mentally. “That it won’t happen again. I’m not… who you think I am. Not anymore.”

You tilt your head to the side. The action is so endearing that despite himself, Izuru reaches out, cupping your cheek with his thin fingers. He leans down, eyes dark, close enough until your noses brush against each other.

He wants to kiss you.

He wants so badly to taste you.

But a glance at your bandaged shoulder reminds him of what he needs to do first, and he pulls back, steeling himself.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I did something bad to you again. I don’t…” He inhales sharply. “I don’t deserve the second chance you’re giving me. But if something were to happen, please. Stop me. Do whatever it takes.”

“Don’t show me mercy, no matter what.”

You glance askew, seeming to ponder the weight of his words. While Izuru feels relief, it’s tinged with anxiety. Maybe he’s finally finally gotten through to you. Maybe you’re regretting the decision to seek him out.

But he’s giving you an out. A chance to turn him down.

You don’t have to doom yourself to a fate with him. He’ll understand if you’d rather break things off here and now. Despite how much something in his gut seems to churn at the very thought.

You can go back to your normal life, and pretend he never happened. And he can go back to trying to adjust to his new life, all while ignoring the pang in his chest whenever the thought of you crosses his mind....

“Ah!” you exclaim suddenly. Izuru looks at you curiously. “That must be why he gave me this... One second.” You rummage through your bag. “Your advisor--Ichimaru, is it?--handed this to me before we left.” You pull out the object. Izuru stares.

And stares.

It’s a muzzle.

A leather muzzle, with an intricate layout of straps and buckles. Certainly too big to fit a dog’s mouth. Perhaps meant to fit a human.

Izuru pales at the implication. “Ichimaru… gave this to you?”

“Yeah! He said he, uh...” Your voice lowers as you glance around conspiratorially. “He said he found it in a sex shop. He thought you might need it...”

Izuru suddenly feels ill. He’s certain he turns a shade of green. You catch sight of his expression and quickly clarify.

“Don’t worry! It should be unused.”

“That… that’s not the problem!” he whispers back furiously, glancing around before quickly unlocking your door. He ushers the two of you inside, hoping to the powers above that no has caught sight of or heard your indecency.

If one of your neighbors saw you brandishing a muzzle before him… and admitting it’s from a sex shop… he doesn’t think he would ever be able to live it down.

That damn Ichimaru.

—

He dons it.

Because he doesn’t trust himself, because he still can’t determine if he’s staring at you with hunger in the literal sense or hunger in the sense of wanting you close to him…. Izuru dons the muzzle.

It’s dehumanizing, but surprisingly not nearly as uncomfortable as he assumed it would be. The leather is thick, sturdily made. He can talk through it, but it’s muffled. He certainly can’t open his mouth at all to bite.

In some ways, it’s an ideal solution, he begrudgingly admits.

Before he puts it on, he does sneak some of the food Momo had left in the fridge for him, in an inconspicuous brown bag labeled with his name. He’s decided if he’s going to be around you, Ichimaru is right. He needs to make sure he’s not starving. You keep your gaze trained on the wall behind you as he eats. Izuru suggests you leave the room, not wanting you to see the ghastly sight of him, but you stay. He tries to eat quickly, discreetly.

He leaves the room only to brush his teeth, to rid himself of the taste of blood on his mouth. For your sake. In case... he flushes at the thought.

In case you feel like kissing him, at all.

The stress of the day seems to have gotten to you both, though, and you decide to retire early for the night. Izuru follows you to the bedroom, feeling weary from his own several weeks of psychological torment.

Which leads to his current predicament.

Izuru lies stiff next to you in bed. He’s turned to one side, his back to you.

You’re so warm, so soft. He can practically feel the thrum of your blood with his heightened senses.

Izuru turns towards you. You’re sleeping peacefully, your hand outstretched towards him. Your hair is in disarray, and as he watches, a bit of drool escapes your mouth.

He cracks a smile, brushing some of the hair from your face.

Izuru’s hand trails down to the shoulder he bit, and lightly skims the bandage covering your wound. Then, before he can stop himself, his hand strays even lower, until it’s hovering right above your heart. He’s never found the steady beat of your heart more comforting than he does now. It’s a sign that you’re alive. That his hunger hadn’t consumed him completely.

His eyes flutter shut as he presses his palm against your chest.

He realizes too late just what part of you he’s touching when his finger brushes against a nipple, hardened and poking through your shirt. He freezes, his hand stilling.

How long has it been since he’s felt your body against his–bared, nothing but skin against skin?

Images flash through his mind, and despite himself, Izuru’s body feels hot. His gaze trails back up to your injured shoulder, and the thought–awful as it is–occurs to him.

What if he gave you a matching bite on the other side?

Izuru shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. He shifts uncomfortably. Heat pools down to below his gut, where it simmers.

Of all the times to get an erection, certainly the worst was while trying not to devour your loved one.

Izuru signs through the muzzle, adjusting himself once more. He wills himself to think of the most painful things he can–his accident, Gin’s shopping escapades, that time Momo dropped a bowling ball on his foot.

Maybe it’s his proximity to you. Maybe it’s the inherent deviancy of needing restraints to not ravish you–in which way, he wasn’t sure.

But Izuru revisits the thought of biting you, one that disturbed him only a few moments ago. Yet now… it seems different. Rather than his literal desire for your flesh Izuru realizes the appeal of the idea of biting you can be sexual.

Marking you. Letting everyone know that you’re his. Leaving physical proof of his love on your flesh.

His.

His lover.

Offering themselves up to him.

Letting him back into their life, even knowing of his monstrous nature.

Allowing him to feast on them, both literally and carnally.

Izuru inhales sharply. He flexes his thighs, pressing his hips against the band of his boxers. He’s so turned on, it’s starting to hurt. He briefly considers taking care of himself in the bathroom, in privacy. Where he can’t disturb you.

You’re so tired. He’s already inconvenienced you this far. He can’t bother you with something as trivial as this.

Izuru tries his best to escape the bed quietly, but it creaks under his weight. You’ve never been a light sleeper, but suddenly you’re awake, your voice cutting through the fog of his desire.

“Izuru? You okay?”

“Mmf.” He tries to say yes, but it’s muffled through the muzzle. It’s too late. You’re already turning on the lights. You give him a once-over, and Izuru’s whole body flushes once your eyes are drawn to his groin. He glances down, and his worst fears are realized. A wet patch stains the front of his boxers. Mortification washes through him.

“Oh. Um…”

He shakes his head furiously, grabbing a pillow to hide his shame. This isn’t what it looks like! He isn’t some pervert that gets off to being bound! But his own body betrays him.

“I didn’t know these kinds of things turned you on, Izuru,” you finally say.

He wants to die of embarrassment. Is it too late to go back to Gin’s place?

Scratch that. Ichimaru was the one who bought this damn muzzle in the first place.

“It’s… it’s okay. It’s been awhile since we’ve done anything. Plus with what’s happened lately… it makes sense that you’re… you know. Pent-up?”

Nope, nope it doesn’t. Izuru doesn’t want to discuss his bodily functions right now. Not when he’s still stiff, not when he was about to take care of it himself, without burdening you.

He jerks his head towards the bathroom door, resolutely refusing to glance at you.

But you reach out, before pausing. Your hand brushes his wrist holding the pillow to himself. You tilt your head. “Can I help?”

Izuru stares at you, uncomprehending.

“Like… I mean. I wouldn’t mind helping you out there,” you say, your gaze darting to the pillow before back up at him. Seeking permission.

Izuru weighs his options.

Is it more pitiful to bother you with his bodily needs? Or to be jerking off in the bathroom alone after declining his lover’s offer to help?

He can’t decide. But eventually he nods.

After you stare at him expectantly for several seconds, he realizes that he needs to uncover himself. Right.

He drops the pillow uncertainly, and to your credit, you don’t look down. His hands fumble with the sides his boxers, before tugging them down. He doesn’t know why—you two have definitely seen each other naked before, a few times, in fact—but something about this feels like new territory.

He finally yanks them down completely. His cock springs up, a trail of precome sticking to his underwear. He grimaces, but your eyes seem drawn to the sight. Izuru shuffles towards the bed, nearly tripping over his boxers. He stumbles, face turning red beneath the mask as he kicks them off the rest of the way. Unsure of how to position himself, he settles for half-kneeling on the bed with one leg, standing with the other.

Your hand on his cock is sudden, and nearly has him toppling over. It’s been so long, and your hand is so soft, your grip so sure. Izuru hisses through the muzzle, bucking his hips into your touch. You stroke him, tugging his foreskin over the weeping head of his cock, and Izuru’s eyes near roll into the back of his head.

As you pump him, he realizes belatedly that the soft, keening sounds are coming from him, which he soon silences.

“Aw~ I liked hearing you,” you tease. He flushes.

Your mouth lapping at the tip of his cock nearly has him cumming right then and there. As it is, his balls clench, and he doubles over, grasping your hand.

“Hm?” you ask. He shakes his head rapidly. “Oh, close?”

He nods.

“Want me to stop?”

“Mnn,” he says. Yes. He doesn’t want to finish so soon when it’s your first time together in awhile. He tugs at the strap of your shirt, and you get the hint. After you discard the shirt, he gestures at your panties.

“Wanna be inside?”

He nods tersely, his eyes trained keenly on the sight of your pussy being revealed to him. Your folds glisten as you remove your panties, strings of your arousal sticking to the fabric. Even through the leather muzzle, he can smell you, needy and wet for him. It makes his cock throb.

Izuru wastes little time in mounting you, his hands digging into the bedsheets as he positions himself over you. He thrusts, and your combined juices make him glide right past your entrance. He huffs in annoyance, and your hand comes down to grasp his length. Carefully you guide him into you, the both of you inhaling sharply once he thrusts all the way, until his hips meet yours.

This time Izuru’s eyes do roll to the back of his head. Fuck. Has he felt anything more divine? He’d write odes to how good you feel around him.

Izuru thrusts slowly, dragging his cock along your entrance before sinking back in. He’s breathing harshly through his mask. Your walls clench tight around him, drawing him in, refusing to let go.

He’d be a fool if he did.

His cock rubs against a certain spot inside you, and you clench around him particularly tight. He grunts, pleasure building in his balls. Fuck, he’s close.

His hands grip your sheets tightly, balling them into fists.

Not mindful of his newfound strength from feeding so recently.

Riiiip.

Fabric tears beneath you.

The both of you still at the sound. Izuru releases his fists, and torn shreds of your bedsheets flutter onto the bed.

Your jaw drops.

He looks mortified. He slips out of you.

You turn around to survey the damage. While your bedsheet is mostly intact, there are two giant, jagged tears ripped across it.

“Did you…”

Izuru hangs his head. He is truly a beast now.

“Hey, i-it’s okay! Um, he said this also might happen... Can you pass me my bag?” Izuru reaches down to grab it, handing it to you. You rummage through it. “It’s a good thing your advisor also gave me these,” you say, before pulling out a pair of--a pair of--

Izuru stares blankly at the item in your hand.

First the muzzle. Now handcuffs.

Steel handcuffs.

Surely, Ichimaru knew these wouldn’t be used for innocent reasons only. The fact that he knows about his sex life--knows enough that he figured Izuru would lose control and would need these things--makes him want to perish.

His cock flags a bit, truthfully.

You notice Izuru’s despair, and shrug, attempting to brighten the mood.

“I mean, if it comes in handy...”

Dully, he reaches his hands out to you, allows you to cuff him. He’ll try his best to will the thought of Ichimaru out of the bedroom. Even if the thought of his advisor knowing the intimate details of his sex life threatens to ruin the mood.

Izuru shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts. Once he’s bound, you have him lie on his back. Ah. It is harder for him to be on top now, he supposes.

“Everything good?”

He nods stiffly, still not quite over his mortification. You seem to realize that you’ll have to get him back into the mood, and you settle between his legs, spreading his thighs apart.

“Relax, Izu. Keep your focus on me, okay?”

Your mouth descends on him again. He attempts to do as you instruct, but finds it difficult. With how skilled you are--lapping at the tip of his cock, hands pumping him at the base, stroking him to full hardness again--he finds pressure building once again at the base of his cock. He adjusts his hips, accidentally thrusting deeper into your throat. His toes curl into the now-ruined bedsheets as you choke.

He’s frantically offering muffled apologies through the muzzle, but you wave them off, wiping spit from your chin. You straddle his hips, sliding your slick against his cock. He struggles against the handcuffs, wanting desperately to guide himself back into you.

Izuru leans his head back once he finally feels your wet, hot pussy engulf his stiff cock, the muscles in his neck straining.

He shudders, jerking his hips up into you. Your hands find purchase on his thighs as you push yourself up, before dropping yourself onto his cock. Grinding your hips against his, you lean down. He lifts his cuffed hands up, and you slip under them, burying your face into his neck. Izuru can’t kiss you, but he nudges his muzzle against your head, dropping his hands to hold you to him.

He rolls his hips against yours, inching in deeper. Your mewls and soft moans are ambrosia he would gladly get drunk on.

“Oh god, Izu… you feel so good.”

Is he making you feel good? He bets he could make you feel better. He digs his heels into the bed, flexing his hips, his cock aiming for that spot inside you that has you moaning loud, clenching tight around him. “Fuck!” you exclaim.

You hump him, working yourself towards your own orgasm. Izuru’s eyes flutter shut, his brow tensing. He’s breathing hard again. His hands flex against the cuffs, wanting desperately to remove them; his teeth dig into the muzzle, wishing it was off.There are so many things he wants to do to you that he can’t.

Grasp your hips, make you ride him harder. Cup your face, kiss you deeply, whisper praises of how beautiful you look above him. Wrap you in his arms, and thrust into you, deeply enough that your bodies meld together.

But there’s time for that. Practice. Patience. He yearns for the day he can be with you, like this, without these kinds of barriers.

For now though, he’ll try to make the most of them.

You’re gasping and moaning his name, and you press your lips to his forehead, the one part of his face that you can access. The muzzle digs uncomfortably into your neck, but Izuru keeps you to him, his hips moving more fervently now. They’re bucking up into you, aiming with deadly precision at the spot that has you spiraling.

When you cum, it’s with a stuttering cry of his name.

“Izuru! Fuck. I love you.”

“Mmph!” Your pussy clenches hard around him, and Izuru loses it. His vision goes white from the intensity of his orgasm. He thrusts into you as deeply as he can. Spilling himself into you in spurts, until you’re overflowing with him, until it’s dribbling out and back onto him in milky trails.

Tiredly, he clutches you to him. He’s more exhausted now than he’s been in the past two weeks. The cuffs dig into his wrists, and he has to adjust them.

You shift until your face is level with his. Izuru flinches as the movement causes his softening cock to slip out from inside you.

Your fingers card through his sweaty locks, brushing the hair from his face.

“I do love you,” you tell him earnestly. “Human or not.”

Izuru tries to draw you closer to him. You notice the awkward movements from his cuffed hands, and unlock them. Now freed, he holds you to him closely, his chin resting on your head.

You don’t need to hear him to tell what he’s thinking.

I feel the same.

#izuru kira x reader #bleach x reader #izuru kira imagine #izuru smut #tati writes #oopsies #btw these are definitely like tokyo ghoul ghouls #bleach thots #bleach smut #NOT SFW #tw: ghouls #tw: sucidal ideation #tw: blood #tw: starvation #tw: vomit #wow I have so many trigger warnings sahofludhsof oopses

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aprilblossomgirl · 1 year

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Never Let Me Go Episode 4 (Favorite + Ambivalent + Not so Favorite Scene Edition)

Previous posts on episode 1, episode 2, and episode 3. Now, this episode is about "love," many sides of it, many kinds of it, at first, I thought. But is it actually a little too specifically lean on the "forbidden" territory, or was it the "tragic" one, or the "one-sided" thing? This episode wrecked me yet confused me. I'm so heartbroken for almost everyone here. However, should I say that this episode is a somewhat meta-story of the series (a kind of meta-data, maybe). I feel like there were so too many hints that some of them might come a little too early. Or they're just about in time -- I'm just not ready for more than this to come.

No images here. Companion still sets here and here.

As for my favorite scenes:

Favorite scene #1. The hands lingering

This scene almost makes me not want to move on to the next. The slow motion they do when they let go of their hands off of each other. The way they look down at their linked hands in synchronized movement, and then both very hesitantly let go of the other hand, and then look back at each other again. Damn, those eyes. I just wanna stay right there. On the other side, the preceding scene at the teacher's office just confirmed one thing for me. There was no way Palm would have any say should anything happen to himself while putting his body protecting Nueng. He couldn't say anything when his father came and asked (more like ordered) him to be in charge of protecting Nueng. He couldn't say anything even to himself whenever his instinct takes over and tells him to do everything to defend Nueng. He couldn't say anything to anyone when, subsequently, he gets into trouble for protecting Nueng, yet he could also never say the partially real reason for him doing that. He couldn't say he was there to protect Nueng. He couldn't say he was friends with Nueng either. Only Nueng has the right to tell, and clarify, anything to anyone. But he didn't or couldn't. And that one time he did, he did it a bit vaguely, he allowed a gap for misinterpretation. Now, back again to the teacher's office, it's just a painful scene to me that Palm couldn't stand up for himself while getting reprimanded by Phum's dad. The lingering hands were the only way for Palm to tell Nueng please understand our boundaries, which Nueng clearly didn't understand, yet.

Favorite scene #2. 20 May - Wu Er Ling - Wo Ai Ni

The boys are in their feelings, one knows it for sure, one not really, you know which is who. That's it, that's the whole thing. There's nothing more heartwarming than seeing both Nueng's and Chopper's little smiles over the teacher's explanation about the date. Chopper's soft gaze down, and Nueng's quick glance back into the direction of Palm's desk. The boys are in their feelings. The talk about love, and confession, might nudge something inside them. Something they secretly want, something they are not aware of its power, yet, to either light them up or burn them down.

Favorite scene #3. About #13 and #4

Shall we forget a bit about the explicit mention of “unlucky” and “dead”, this conversation literally shows the stark difference between Nueng and Palm on their view of life, and perhaps their social status and privileges. In a way, Nueng implies a belief in luck and its symbolism, while Palm doesn't, or is in no position to, think too much about things like luck. Nueng has everything from his family, while Palm needs to work hard to get something. Dealing with obstacles comes naturally to Palm. However, some things left me wondering throughout this scene: Why is it necessary for Nueng to grab Palm's jersey from the back just like that to the point Palm got startled? And when Nueng gets too comfortable to lay down on Palm's bed, something just tickled me in a very weird way. Invasion of Palm's personal space, I would say, initially, but back to that first scene: Nueng doesn't get the boundaries between Palm and himself.

Favorite scene #4. Nueng and Palm talk about Qi Xi Jie

Tragic love. Impossible love. Classic story. They really spell the words we should brace ourselves to get into. Parallel with the scene where they talked about luck and numerical symbolism, here also implied their rather different perspective on the story. Palm feels bad about the weaver girl and the cowherd not being able to be together despite loving each other, as he called it a tragic love. Meanwhile, Nueng views it as romantic in that he thought they overcame the major obstacle for their love. Although later he acknowledges it must be tormenting for them to meet only once a year and need to patiently wait for the day. When Nueng asks Palm if he would wait for a year like the couple, Palm implies that he would endure everything for the one he loves. But his last statement about the story, "Maybe it's because of the long waiting and their different backgrounds, that makes their love become a legend. The queen might want to test their love," with those long stares, feels like an explanatory to the tragic love he mentioned earlier. The long waiting. Different background. Add those to the list of keywords when extra pain is needed later. Oh, also, the queen who might test their love.

Before getting into the not-so-favorite scenes, there are some other scenes that I couldn't decide how to feel (ambivalent) about them:

Ambivalent scene #1. Nueng and Chopper shooting training

I was so happy whenever I saw Chopper and Nueng's casual interactions. I truly wish they were really cut off from their parent's feud. But some instances made me doubt such a delicate wish. Both clearly know what their respective parents expect of them, to take over the family business one day. The difference is that while Khit made it clear to Chopper that he's expected to compete with Nueng, Nueng might not be aware of the competition between Thanya and Khit. Or perhaps he's aware of it, but only to a certain degree. Was he partially clueless or was he just still naive, there's still so much more to see. But to be honest, the conversation he had with Chopper just suggests the latter. In this case, Chopper might not be so innocent about the issue. They jokingly tease each other about taking over the family business. At this point, somehow, I think Nueng was always serious about not wanting the position as his father's successor, and most likely to give it up if there was a way of doing so. At this point. That doesn't mean that won't change at all in the future. And Chopper also said that he wanted to build something on his own. But we don't know yet just how much power his father, and Ben, have on him. I still believe Chopper doesn't want to take over the business in place of Khit, but I have this strong feeling he will have no doubt to use that as a tool to get back at Nueng should something happens with Ben in his relation to Nueng. They're walking on a really thin thread, I'm afraid, if that last look on Chopper's eyes when he gets back to shooting the target while Nueng taking the phone call outside didn't tell me something.

Ambivalent scene #2. Palm and Maggie talk after the basketball training

Simultaneously happens right after Nueng and Chopper's scene at the shooting range, Palm and Maggie also talk about the future. Similar to both Nueng and Chopper, Maggie is also expected to take over one of her father's businesses one day, yet she doesn't want to do that and wants to live her own life instead. "Palm, what about you? What do you want to do?" I can see Palm's discomfort when confronted with the questions because he's in no position to even think about that. But he can only say as far as that he didn't have a plan so he's just going to live his life the current way. Back when he was still in the village, he said that he sees no future there. Now, his answers to Maggie in a way also still reflect that. It may be a real no-future-to-see thing, but it can also be a shield he uses to protect an innermost dream he might always have and take it anywhere with him.

Finally, the not-so-favorite scenes:

Not so favorite scene #1. Chopper and Ben talk

Oh no. I don't feel good about all that, "If you like him, you should tell him." No, no, show, you don't do Chopper like that. "One more thing. Who wouldn't like you?" If Chopper was meant to convey a little of his feelings to Ben, I hope Ben catches it well. Also, I hope Chopper was aware that, "What do you have to lose? At least, you get to tell him how you feel. You never know if you will get that chance again. Being rejected can only hurt you once." applies to him as well.

Not so favorite scene #2. Nueng and Ben talk and kiss

No words beyond why would you kiss him, Nueng? *frustrated cries* *throw hands, throw bottles* Okay, two things that come to mind about this scene are the simultaneous preceding scenes: Palm working on completing their assignment and Nueng practicing the song he made on the piano. "Love. Social class. Separation." Another explicitly spelled words to explain the tragic love story both Nueng and Palm are working on, and by extension, the (love) story between them. I wonder what's on Palm's mind when choosing those words, finding their meaning, and writing them down. Or perhaps he didn't think much about the words? I don't think so. And then we have Nueng's song, about a lonely man's love who thinks he doesn't deserve to love someone or receive love from anyone. And Nueng subtly admitted it was about himself, and that to some extent, was it not about all the four boys. Because if anything, loneliness and not deserving of love are two hard terms that might push them to put the barrier between themselves and the people they love. Fortunately for Ben, he has Chopper to help him tear down the said barrier. But at what cost? All this makes the scene where Palm found out about the kissing more painful. It's more than jealousy. It's more than a concern for Nueng's safety. It's also as if the kiss was a finality, a confirmation, of their distance. For all the things Palm did to establish boundaries between them, but that Nueng continued to break, the kiss serves as a reality check to Palm that the boundaries are always there. Also, a realization that it was Nueng, and his confusion, perhaps, who had been playing on it, breaking it, invading his personal space, unknowingly, hopefully. Regardless, all this makes watching Palm's shocked expression all the way more hurtful.

Not so favorite scene #3. (By all means, the most unfavorite of this episode) The dance club scene

Everything about it. But more specifically, the way they write Nueng for this particular part. Before why Nueng would say all that to Palm, it's more of why Nueng would let himself drink that much to the point of getting that drunk almost as if he loses control of himself. I don't know, it's just so unlike Nueng, to me. But also, to be fair, it's as if the words Nueng said to Ben when Ben confessed his feelings repeated themselves and hit hard this time, "Are you sure you know me well enough?" Did they already show all of Nueng's characters to us? But then, right at the end, Nueng was shown as if to mirror Palm's pain but for a totally different reason. As if, at the moment, they were halves of the other. Shit, if that's not an agonizing way to end the episode. There is still so much to feel about this particular episode, but the prospect of having a possible imbalance of character exploration here kinda struck me.

#never let me go #never let me go the series #never let me go ep4 #nuengpalm #benchopper #maggie #*🎬#*📝#long post #(too) long post #nlmg 🧡#this took me two days 🥲#guess next time i should break the post down into several posts but that would tempt me to not finish them at all maybe

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fluffydavey · 1 year

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Roommate prompt: “so, uh… how’d your date go?”

roommates to lovers || prompt

Jack's laying down on the sofa, one arm hanging low whilst the other holds a book he's trying to read. He's itching to paint, an idea that won't leave him that he knows he definitely can't start with a paper due.

He's not able to concentrate on a single thing that he's reading, his mind wandering every second word to where his roommate is. Or better yet, who he's with.

Davey had hurried out of his room dressed in his figure-hugging jeans that sends Jack wild every time Davey wears them, and a pink shirt. Jack almost missed it, too focused on how fucking good Davey looked, when Davey slipped out that he was going on a date, with some guy in his journalism class called Darcy.

Jack admittedly doesn't know much about the other guy, but he knows that he hates him. He's just finished FaceTiming with Race, who's been helping him find any trace of Darcy in Davey's social media, feeling like he was going mad in their apartment alone.

It's nearing midnight when Davey returns. Jack looks up surprised, expecting to hear Davey coming home much later. He drops his book, already giving up on the prospect of being productive, and trying his absolute hardest to pretend he hasn't spent the better half of an hour of his life tonight scouring through Darcy's Instagram and Twitter with Race. "So, uh...how'd your date go?"

Davey shrugs his jacket off, taking his time hanging it up. "It didn't."

Jack knew Darcy didn't look like someone who could be Davey's type. He tries to hide his relief, as he sits up to take a proper look at Davey. He's putting on a stoic face, but Jack knows Davey too well to know it's a front. "Sorry, what did you say?

Davey makes his way towards Jack, pointing at Jack's shoes which are now on the sofa. "Feet," he chastises, and Jack sheepishly takes his shoes off. Still, he takes the seat beside Jack, facing the wall. "He never showed up, so there was no date. Go on, make fun of my tragic love life."

"Hey, I wouldn't do that," he says, kicking Davey gently to get his attention. Davey finally looks at his with an exasperated look in his eyes, but Jack sees the smile that's threatening to show. "Look at it this way, you're better off without that asshole. He's an idiot."

"Oh shut up, you just have to say that," Davey says with a roll of his eyes, and he throws his own legs up on the sofa, finally facing Jack now.

"I don't," he begins, watching Davey intently. He knows his friend too well to know that Davey's probably been beating himself up on his way home. "He wasn't right for you, he was an idiot."

"You don't even know the guy, what makes you think that?" Davey asks.

"Because he wouldn't have bailed on a date with you if he had any working brains," he answers, moving closer to Davey. He watches as the other boy swallows thickly, not breaking eye contact. "Anyone would be lucky to be going out with you Davey, you're a real catch."

He knows he's stepping over the careful line they've established, one they've nearly stepped over far too many times, into new territories. Only this time, he's entirely sober and he'll be damned if he has to wait any longer. He's tired of denying himself what he wants the most.

"I didn't want you to go on that date. I don't want you to go on any more dates, not unless they're with me," Jack tells him, watching as Davey's cheeks turn a delightful shade darker. Davey leans forward above Jack, and Jack doesn’t think he’s able to breathe. Davey kisses him, and it’s like the whole world stops.

He wraps his arms around Davey to pull him closer, and Davey's hands are everywhere, poised on his waist, tangled fiercely in his hair and tugging and pulling and Jack is gasping for air, fuck, pressing his mouth as hard as he possibly can to Davey's without losing the ability to breathe entirely, until they finally separate their mouths to let out a choked breath.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to confess," Davey grins, flushed and glorious and breathtakingly happy, as he cups Jack's face.

And this, this is where their friendship has been leading the whole time, Jack thinks. He kisses him again, and again, taking all the time in the world to explore Davey, the way Jack's dreamed of for so long.

#jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #my writing

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 8 months

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Here are 3 different suggestions

Metalor

Metasusie

Metadedede.

I know sort of obvious choices, but I'm curious to see what opinions you have on these ships.

did metadede so its time for metalor and metasusie! putting both of these under the cut because youre getting my double opinion whammy. obligatory "its not every shipper obviously im just generalizing based on personal experience" dont let my opinions stop you from shipping something unless its like problematic obvs lol

theres nothing wrong with metalor but it unfortunately does fall into my "red flag ship" category

ill reiterate my definition of that again for people who didnt catch it in my last rant: what i call red flag ships are ships that are totally fine on paper, but for some reason the shippers and fandom culture surrounding it are just rancid and it throws me off liking the ship all together. and then i get kinda sussed out by people who ship it

honestly i have never gotten the appeal of this one or understood the dynamic at all. and thats fine of course. i did try reading a couple fics about it even, and in them its usually like. meta doing some shit that makes absolutely no sense under the guise of "he has a good reason for it" that just Coincidently happens to land him and magolor into some relationship-implying situation. and also the "good reason" meta knight had for doing whatever was not a good reason and was in fact a huge stretch of a reason for sake of moving the relationship along quicker. which you know i dont shame at all, i get that sometimes you just want to get to the juicy shit and people are absolutely allowed to do that, but that really just sums up my feelings on the ship entirely lol. stretches and stretches of reasonings for them to get together that dont entirely, or sometimes even remotely, make sense but okay they end up together in the end somehow 🤷

the fact that the ship is the two most popular and thirsted over men in the series together is the reason why this one lands into red-flag territory im so sorry. it attracts some um. interesting people who end up being somewhat pretentious about their own interpretations on the characters and some people get a little scary or intense about it. also of course occasionally their relationship being boiled down to whoever ships them nonstop thirsting for both of them but thats like just fandom culture for you, i really cant judge. people do that with metadede too to be fair. also a lot of metalor shippers ive seen are just downright mean for some reason. anyone else notice that or have i just been running into bad people

as people might be able to tell by how fairly neutral about it i seem, this one is yeah one of the less red flag-y of what i consider red flag ships. its totally fine. i personally really dont like the ship but its only like 60-70% of the shippers who i squint at compared to the Abysmal rates of other red flag ships. speaking of, by the way...............

ah the fandoms problem child. its metasusie

i Do think its possible to ship this one in a healthy manner. actually even in a not healthy matter as long as youre explicit about it being not healthy and its just one of those ships you find interesting due to the drama. ive read metasusie fics where it was explicitly about how fucked up the relationship can be and theyre very very fascinating from a story and character perspective if you want to explore a tragically evil but still nuanced susie. i would say highly recommend, but i dont actually because a lot of them just lean into weird unnecessary torture porn. its somewhat of a fine line between tasteful and untasteful

ANYWAYS brief tangent aside, i think its possible to ship this one in a healthy manner because you know me i would be a hypocrite to bash an enemies to lovers ship, but it obviously relies on susie needing to recognize her faults and make up to meta knight in some way, plus improve as a person in general. its somewhat of a grey area depending on various factors, both game and real life perspective-wise, how redeemable one considers the whole mechanization and dehumanization though so i dont blame people who absolutely dont trust the ship

speaking of lets get into the way this one is Definitely the reddest of the red flag ships ever. metasusie shippers what are you doing oh my god

the. the. the the when you the when you woobify susie. i do not use that word lightly in regards to susie in particular because of how often its misused by people who hate her just to mean "im mad that people are making cute friendly content of a character i dont like". no im using it in the actual proper way as in why in the world do i go around and see some metasusie shippers saying "people who hate metasusie are so stupid, susie literally never hurt meta knight in canon!!!" i shit you NOT that is a legit take ive seen a Lot of people have nearly word for fucking word and its like. what are you ON did we even play the same game?? did you even play the game at all??? are you as white and dense as a sack of flour and thats why it went over your head?????

people will try to make the excuse that they have headcanon or interpretation differences that lighten the whole endeavor, which yeah that fair. you can imagine mecha knight was just some suit they put over him rather than anything invasive like a lot of people think. thats absolutely fair. you can imagine that meta knight still retains parts of his super star personality where he was kinda okay with the mechanization in some twisted personal ambition way because hes a power hungry guy who will take any means necessary to be stronger. thats also pretty fair. ah you think this is sounding favorable to the metasusie shippers huh. WRONG. WRONG. YOU CAN THINK ALL OF THIS BUT NONE OF THIS EXCUSES THAT THE WHOLE MECHANIZATION WAS STILL WRONG NO MATTER HOW YOU TWIST IT. tfw mecha knights theme is called "inner struggle" definitely implying that he did Not like being mechanized and was trying to fight against it. tfw the elephant in the room being mechanization is of course a metaphor for colonization which is not a good thing to do to someone regardless whether or not they seem cool with it. tfw THE DEHUMANIZATION. TFW METASUSIE SHIPPERS GO HEEHOO HEEHOO CUTE SHIP AND POLE VAULT OVER THE DEHUMANIZATION. HI.

regardless whether or not you have interpretation or headcanon differences, you Cannot ignore the fact that the game does not exist in a vacuum and its themes are undoubtedly tied to real life parallels. in ignoring those parallels or sidestepping them when theyre so blatant and in your face Yes you kinda are being a huge asshole. susie calling mecha knight an It and being like heres our newest product :) while also having the dissonance of being like hes such a cool strong handsome knight is supposed to directly refer to how colonizers will fetishize the people they colonize while fucking over them and their home because they only like them as a surface level Idea rather than actually respecting their culture and them as fellow human beings right im not just being insane making all this up??? huh???? ive gotten away from my original point i feel but tldr IF YOU PRETEND LIKE SUSIE NEVER HURT OR DID ANYTHING TO META KNIGHT I WILL THROW YOU INTO A GRAIN SILO. NO!!!

anyways if you have susie getting a redemption arc yes youre so cool. if you have them getting together okay thats cool. if you draw susie/mecha knight art and act like its cute im throwing you into the grain silo too. if you dont have susie properly redeeming herself and ship her with meta knight even though shes still weird about him and still colonizing people then i dont trust you and thats the category most metasusie shippers fall in

i also want to bring up the people ship it out of spite, because theres been a big spite-shipping metasusie resurgence in the past year thanks to weird stalking drama sparked by a very certain someone people might remember. yall need to realize that going harder on something that understandably makes people uncomfortable and trying to push back by pretending the ship is (by default) more harmless than it is and pretending that everyone who dislikes it is automatically being unreasonable just because Some people are yikes to metasusie shippers is Not the play to take. it just makes you look like an inconsiderate asshole. two people being assholes to each other does not cancel out it just makes an even bigger fire. get some critical thinking skills yeah

its not the fault of anyone who wants to make cute metasusie content that susie is very explicitly a colonizer and a lot of people have strong feelings about that, bbbbbbbbut i hope it came across in this whole tangent that if you try lessening the blow of her actions against meta knight people have full right to hate your guts imo

EDIT: extremely last minute edit but i just straight up forgot that people who arent lgbtq+ exist in this fandom and thus didnt mention it: can we bring up the amount of homophobes who love this ship purely because its strong cool masculine man x cute pink feminine girl. does anyone remember that one guy who was big on metasusie and had "christian" in his bio and also had "will not do lgbt+" in his commission sheet or is that just me. its so fucking funny. it makes me cry laugh whenever i think about it. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

#asks #anonymous #dgp askgame #ask to tag

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