#I just wanted to see That man get a severe humbling before he went down I guess. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Don't Speak 46

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: yeah.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You stay in the room for much of the day. You’re not sure what else to do. The house is empty. You feel small. Lonely.

As you think about the way things were before, you feel woozy. Not Andy, but Amber. When she went to work, the house was quiet but you didn’t feel so desolate. You knew she would come home and when she did, everything would be okay.

Even if you could go home, you shouldn’t. Steve says you’re not ready. You don’t feel ready. You don’t have anything. In fact, you have even less than when you left. You think you might even be even more broken than before.

As the day wears on, so do your nerves. You take out the tablet, your stomach mulching nervously, and you turn it on. You try to draw but your hand is shaky. Then you just stare at the screen, anxious as a thought needles in your head.

You tap the icon for the camera app. Andy moved the camera but it’s still on. It’s in his bedroom. You shudder. He’s not there but the bed is a mess and your things are strewn over the floor. At least, from what you can see.

A notification pops up at the top of the application; you have unreviewed footage, tap to review. You hesitate before you press your finger down. A page full of frames pops up and you scroll down, squinting. You see Andy, sitting on the bed, laying down, and even looking into the camera.

You hit play on a frame. He’s snarling into the lens, “come back, Dove! Please. Why are you doing this? You’re hurting me--” you drag your finger to skip through then let go. “If you don’t, I might just do something. I have to make sure you’re okay, Dove. I love you, honey. You know I can’t do nothing. I will do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

You hit the back button several times and throw the tablet to the end of the bed. That was a mistake. The blaze in his blue eyes clings to you. You don’t know what he meant but his threats crawl over your skin like insects. You shudder and scratch your neck restlessly.

After some time, you find the strength to get up and put the tablet away. It’s all you have now. It’s not just a window into what you ran away from, but to Amber. When you’re ready, you’ll message her. You’ll tell her you got free and that you’re better. Just not right now. Not yet. But you’ll get there.

🕊️

When Ann gets home, she comes into your room without knocking. She treats you like a child as she tells you to make your bed. You do it as she struts out. When she returns, she throws something onto the foot of the mattress.

“Put that on, sweetheart. You want to look nice for dinner.”

She smiles, her lips a perfect shade of candy apple red. You reach for the dress but as you do, she nears. She cups your chin and makes you look at her. Her eyes skim your face and she pokes her lips out.

“You are so delicate and young...” she says. Closer, you see how her foundation cakes in her wrinkles. She looks older as shadows pool around her eyes. “Aren’t you, dear? So gentle and soft and...” she shoves you back and you stumble, “easy.”

“Ann?” You squeak.

“What’s the matter, baby? Last night was delicious, wasn’t it,” he grabs you by the shoulders and angles you against the bed, “you taste so good.” She urges you back until you’re forced to sit. “A good girl,” she grins and pushes until you lay back. You quiver, helpless. “Yes, you stay like that.”

She drags her hands down your body and squeezes your chest. She purrs and kneads through the shirt. She teethes her lips and steps back, running her hands up and down her torso as she shimmies. She trails down to the skirt of her dress and slowly tugs it upward.

You push yourself up on your elbows, “I can help cook--”

She hushes you and a rocky giggle rolls in her throat. He bunches her skirt above her hips, revealing a pair of black panties, and she rubs the fabric with a hum. She drones and lets out a gasp.

“I’m so wet, baby,” she slithers, “you want to taste?”

“Ann, I... please...”

You sit up completely and she rips her hands from between her thighs. She shoves you and you bounce onto your back again.

“This is my house, you are my little slut, so be quiet,” she hisses.

“I... I’m not--��

“What do you call a girl who seduces her therapist, hm? And a married man at that?” She snarls as she steps closer. “You’re lucky I’m not a vindictive woman.”

You look at her in horror, “no, I didn’t--”

She hushes you again and tuts as pushes her panties to the side. She touches herself again and drones as her eyes roll up. She pulls her fingers away and shows you the glisten.

“You’re a cute little thing. I like it,” she steps up and bends over you as she grabs your chin and pokes her fingers against your lips. You open as her painted nails poke against you and she rams in until you gag. “Mmm, see how wet I am for you. You made a mess of me and now you have to clean it up.”

She moves to straddle you, climbing over you as you lay paralysed in shock. What is she doing? You squeak and clasp onto the bedspread as you close her eyes.

“Come on, baby,” she hovers over your face, “have a taste.”

She lowers her cunt until it meets your lips. You whimper and tweaks your ear, “don’t be a bad girl. Open up.”

You whine and obey. The sickly sweat taste of her flesh stains your lips and seeps into your mouth. She clutches a wad of your hair and pulls your head up into her.

“Get your tongue out,” she demands as she tilts your head and her hips. You push your tongue through your lips as you cling to the blankets. Your eyes sting as she smothers you, grinding into your face. “That’s it, baby, oooh, so soft. Move your tongue—yeah, like that.”

The noise of your mouth and the smear of her arousal sickens you. Worse than anything, is your helplessness. Yet, you can’t hate her for this. She’s right. Steve is her husband and you’re here, distracting him, doing those things with him.

“Mmm, yes, oh, I see why he likes you so much. Oh, baby, I want to see you suck his cock just like this.” She bucks faster, until you’re suffocated in her. You shake as she uses you, rolling her hips harder until your head is spinning. “Mmm, here I--”

She bites down on a grunt and spasms, rocking into your face until she stills. She stops, breathless, dripping onto you as you pant breathlessly. She curls her shoulders as she leans on her hands and snickers.

“Wow, that was...”

“Ann,” Steve’s voice rumbles through the open door.

“Ah, there you are,” she wiggles, spreading the mess across your face before she climbs off of you, “wanna join?”

“The kids are home,” he hisses and steps inside, closing the door. “They’re watching Bluey.”

You can hear the TV blaring. You turn your face away from him as he stomps toward the bed. You’re mortified as Ann’s scent wafts in your nose.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying our little toy,” Ann snips. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.”

“Get out,” he snarls.

“Oh, don’t be like that--”

“Out,” he repeats.

She huffs and taps away on her heels, grumbling before she sweeps through the door with a creak and a snap. The bed dips and you flinch as Steve touches your arm. You squeak and try to roll away. He holds onto you.

“Dove, hey, I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?”

You sniff and wipe your face. You swallow and turn your head straight. It’s just new. That’s all. It’s like he said. You’re all together. And if you get to be with him, then it’s not so bad.

You grab onto his forearm and pull yourself to sit up. You look at him through glittering tears. You hook your arm around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. He coos and rubs your back.

“Oh, sweetie, it's okay, I'm here now,” he hugs you back. “It’s alright.”

His hand trails down your back as you cling to him. Slowly he follows the curve of your bottom and traces along your leg. A shiver flutters through you. You pull back and look him in the face.

“Dinner...”

“I’ll let the kids know you’re not feeling well,” he lowers himself down on his side, taking you with him. Your chest pumps wildly. “Let’s just stay like this, huh?”

He tickles along the back of your thigh and you moan. His touch feels so nice. Not like Andy’s. No, you don’t feel afraid. You drags your hand back and touch his chest. He’s strong. You believe him when he says he wants to take care of you.

“I wanna try it again,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” He arches a brow.

You look down at his pants then at his face. You giggle and pet his sweater. You move closer and bend your leg around him.

“I want to have sex. With just you.”

His forehead creases and his throat bobs. His eyes search you and he nods.

“Alright, sweetie, but we gotta be quiet, right?”

You nod and a smile blooms in your cheeks. He brushes his hand along your bent leg then lurches all at once. He pins you under him as he turns you onto your back. You gasp and he shakes his head. You seal your lips to keep your voice inside.

He feels along your thigh and beneath the hem of your shirt. You never put on any panties. You’re in the same shirt he gave you that morning.

As he delves along your folds, you’re already wet. It’s a surprise. Was it Ann or him? You don’t know and you don’t care. His touch feels so good. He plays with you gently, flicking you clit, twirling around it, pressing down until you’re squirming.

He growls and dips his fingers into you. He rocks his hand as he pushes down on your clit, tension clustering in his palm. He moves his arm steadily as you groan and push your head back.

“Sweetie, shhhh,” he warns as he pulls his hand free, “you’re being a bad girl.”

He shifts his weight, holding his pelvis up, and pushes heavy on one knees. His zipper whispers down and his belt clinks open. You reach down to help shove down his pants. A swell of desperation surges inside you.

He holds himself over you as he guides his tip along your cunt. You feel along his back and he sinks into you. You squeak and he catches your voice in his hand as he covers your mouth. You clench around him as he bottoms out.

He nuzzles your neck and sighs as he wiggles his pelvis. Your moans are muffled in his hand, muted by his weight on your chest. He teethes at your throat as he starts to thrust. Slow, long, strokes that tickle your insides.

Friction burns between you. Fire seethes in your veins as you arch into him. He snakes his hand up your shirt and fondles your chest as he ruts harder and harder. He keeps your mouth trapped, his knuckles blocking your breath as he shakes the bed. The clap of his flesh echoes louder and louder.

Your lashes droop and your drift beneath them, carried away by a tide of dazed delight. He bites your neck as he grunts and groans, growling as he pinches your flesh. You twitch and cum around him, swathing him in your arms.

He keeps going. Harder and faster. He sucks and nips at your flesh, until it hurts, until you’re eyes are wet with tears. The delight gives way to terror as your bones ache with each thrust and his teeth threaten to cut through your skin. You can’t breath as his large hand smothers you.

“Oh, oh, sweetie, I'm going to cum,” he rasps against your shoulder, “yeah, I’m gonna... inside... oh, you’re so warm, so good.” He chuffs as his body tenses, the fabric of his sweater rough against your lower stomach, his pants chafing your thighs, the buckle snapping and clinking. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fill you up. Mm, yes, sweetie.”

You clasp onto his wrist as you peek out from under your heavy eyelids. You vision speckles with flashes of his snarling face. Your head pulses and your lungs burn. You try to move his hand so you can get air but he’s too strong. He’s too caught up to notice as he fucks through his climax and you feel him spill into you.

The world ripples as drops onto you, puffing and panting, droning in his afterglow. You cough as finally he drags his hand away. He cups your cheek and kisses the other as his balmy breath dampens your skin.

“Is that what you wanted?” He sneers, “you bad, bad girl.”

You wince as your body tingles from hot to cold, “bad? I’m not bad.”

“No, baby, you’re good,” he pushes deep into you. “You’re so good taking all of me.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #fresh #defending jacob #steve kemp x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #don't speak

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joshusten · 6 months ago

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kiss and make up

In which Honey wants a makeover and Guy gladly helps. (lots of kisses, fluff, makeover time!!!)

2.7k+ words [ao3 will be added when im not lazy lmao] [masterlist]

[CW and notes: typical guy innuendoes, honey doesn't know how to do makeup and they get a lil insecure about that fact, that being said i'm not really a makeup expert too LMAO, theres also lots of grammar mistakes probably ;--; and since like, makeup styles and visuals vary between people i tried to make it as vague and gender neutral as possible but idk if i really achieved that so keep that in mind and please let me know if i should change some wordings etc. ! oh and lmk about typos too hehe tysm!]

thank you so so much to my dearest friend @slushiepizza !! this wip is literally a year long and they've been a HUGE HUGE (x1000) help to me finishing (and convincing to post) this fic!! this fic's also inspired by fanart they made before and this yt short from that one anthony padilla interview. also yes theres a lil 2024 hbs guy AAAND jin (his gamer friend in that second hoodie video i think) reference too lmao HAHAHAH hope you enjoy!! :D "Ugh! Why can't I fucking–"

“Piece of—!”

“Fuck!”

Another frustrated groan cuts Honey off. For the past few minutes, Guy had been hearing his partner's muffled frustrations from their room all the way to their humble kitchenette and he was seriously starting to get worried about what could possibly be troubling their usually well-composed lover.

He quickly turned off the stove, wiping his hands on the piercingly hot pink apron with the words "Please Do More than Kiss the Chef" embroidered on its body (a joke gift, courtesy of Rosa being his Secret Santa last year, that Guy legitimately used in his every day, much to his friend’s amusement). Fortunately, the lunch he was making was done by the time he decided to check up on them (and, really, it was just a simple one-pot pasta recipe he stumbled on Tiktok at 3 AM.)

Guy haphazardly hung the apron by a chair nearby—future Guy can worry about all of the mess later—and made his way to the hallway that led to their small shared bedroom.

He gently knocked a little melody on the door, announcing his presence through the painted wood. "Honey?”

A thump was heard, as if something suddenly dropped out of surprise, followed by a faint “Shit!”

The man knocked again, this time with a furrowed brow.

“Honey dearest? Lover of mine? Is someone botherin’ you? Need to kick someone’s ass?” He joked, clearing his throat afterward for a more sincere tone. “But for real, do you need any help there, baby?”

The silence that followed almost tempted Guy to ask again before a loud sigh came from the other side.

"Yeah…It's unlocked. You can come in..."

They almost sounded embarrassed. A little shy even. The man couldn’t help but grin at how comfortable Honey had become showing him their more vulnerable sides throughout their time together.

Guy opened the door slowly to reveal their usual semi-tidy bedroom save for the mess that seemed only to be contained around Honey, whose head was currently hanging low in shame. Alarms went off in his mind once he processed the potential severity of the situation with how distressed his partner looked.

He rushed to where Honey sat, in front of the vanity where a variety of make-up products were strewn across the dark oak wood. Upon closer inspection, he could see that—

Oh. Uhm. This was interesting.

His partner’s frustrated face seemed to be an amalgamation of different cosmetics that looked like they were hastily smeared on and rubbed off multiple times.

Patchy foundation, unblended blush, shaky eyeliner.

Guy can practically feel the heat coming off their tinted face, furrowing their brows and averting their glare to the side.

“Look, I know what this looks like but—" Honey was never able to finish their sentence as a very, very poor attempt of stifled giggles reached their burning ears. Oh my god, he's never gonna let them live this down, is he?

“Guy.”

“Wh-whaaaat? N-no, you look f-fine Honey! Pfft–” A snort interrupted the man's words of reassurance.

“Guy, stop laughing, you asshole!” They groaned, sending a flurry of light slaps to Guy's shoulders, snickering along to indicate that they weren’t actually mad at him because, yeah, they did look a little silly (and his laugh was too damn cute to distract them from their predicament) but that still didn't make them any less self-conscious about it.

“I-I–OW! I don’t know what you mean, baby!”

Honey crossed their arms and made a face, looking away in a pretend-but-not-really sulk.

“Fine, so I’m horrible at makeup ha-ha! Pack it up, jackass!”

To that, their boyfriend's laughter slowly died down, leaving him with a soft, sympathetic smile.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! C’mere,” He apologized, beckoning them to come closer to which Honey begrudgingly complied. His smile brightened, pressing numerous quick kisses against his partner’s grumpy face, pulling away with a string of giddy giggles.

“Ew, I got your foundation on my lips.”

“Serves you right,” Honey huffed, unable to hold in a chuckle as they saw the faint splotches of the coating in their skin color on their boyfriend’s stubbled chin and pouted lips.

“So, uh, mind telling me what actually happened over here? ‘Cuz, Honey, you’re as pretty as a painting…given that it’s a painting my baby cousin can do, which I’m assuming isn’t what you were going for?” Guy asked, his full attention to his partner's make-up Frankenstein of a face.

The embarrassment rushed back to Honey tenfold but they masked it up with a shrug that looked timid regardless. “I dunno…there’s this event in the evening with my company and I just…wanted to try something new with my look. I-it's stupid. I started a lot earlier because I knew I’d need some time to learn but…I just can't get the hang of it!”

Sure, they know make-up isn’t all that easy to do but managing to tremendously fuck up something as seemingly simple as putting color on their face despite the amount of tutorials they’ve watched was just embarrassing to admit (especially to someone they’ve grown to care about what he thinks of them). They braced themself for more mocking laughter yet the teasing never came. Instead, they heard an excited gasp.

"Oh, I can do your makeup for you!"

…What?

"Uhm– I– You–?"

Guy picked up the wiped near Honey and started pulling a few from the already-opened plastic pack. The subtle clean scent of aloe vera wafted into their nostrils.

"I can do your make-up!" The man repeated happily, oblivious to Honey's quizzical stare. He gently grabbed their chin with one hand while the other one held the cleanser-soaked napkin inches closer to their cheek before he stopped and gazed into their eyes, "Can I?"

"Uh…Y-yeah. Sure." They felt their breath hitch at the sudden intimacy of the distance between them.

Guy beamed at that and started removing the product on their face but the confused expression never leaves it. He discarded the used wipes in the trash can under the vanity table and started sifting through their shopping spree's worth of cosmetics.

“I suggest you buy micellar water or cleansers instead of those wipes. They do a better job!”

“Uh, Guy?”

"Oh, you got this one! Yeah, I really like their formula, it doesn't feel too heavy on the skin. Well at least on my skin. Let me know if it doesn't feel comfy and–"

"Guy…"

"Woah, you got your shade just right with this one! Ah, but I think this brand oxidizes so the color might change–"

"Guy."

"Ooh, I haven’t seen this product before! Is this newly released or—”

"Guy!” Honey exclaimed, finally capturing their boyfriend’s ever-so-dwindling attention. “Babe. How…I mean, not that I'm doubting your skills or anything but–"

By this time, Guy had already cleaned all of the makeup off from his partner and was now left with the face he was more used to seeing (and admiring).

"It's just…I've never seen you wear makeup. At all. Besides Halloween, I guess?”

The man simply grinned at that and continued rummaging through the cases of eyeshadows and face creams. “If you must know, a performer was moi!”

“Oh, trust me, I'm familiar with your theatrics.”

“I’m just gonna pretend you meant that as a compliment,” He huffed, averting his gaze to the products that lay between them both. “Anyway, I did a lot of shows back then and, well, with constantly getting your face painted on, you pick up a few techniques, y'know? I even get to do my own makeup!”

The click and clatter of glass and plastic fills the room as Guy carefully examines each container with the same look he gets when he proofreads a revision of a script he made. It was almost weird to see how his eyes scanned the text of the labels and his habit of biting the inside of his cheek while focusing on the context other than the familiar blue light of his laptop.

“Got interested, asked my friends, then watched a few vids. I got to…’secretly borrow’ some of my mom's makeup to test out some looks.” The image of a teenage Guy experimenting with makeup much like what Honey was doing a while ago tickled their mind.

“But eh, college got in the way and I never really got the time to play around with some flashier makeup styles between delivering greasy ass pizzas and delivering exquisite screenplays that excite the mind and bewitch the heart.”

He held up a circular blush pot near a dumbfounded Honey. His eyes squinted with focus until he finally determined the blush matched their skin tone just fine.

“Anyway, let's get some moisturizer to prep that cute face of yours!”

After Honey described what they wanted for their look, scrolled through Pinterest to get some inspiration, and watched a few more tutorials, the pair eventually got started with the process.

Guy put on an even layer of foundation, and concealer that he tried his best to match their skin, added contour, eyeshadow and blush according to the style they had requested, and painstakingly drew on some eyeliner (“Because everybody looks hotter with eyeliner!”). He had even let them try a few brush strokes of their own to get the feel of it.

Honey, on the other hand, felt like they were going to explode from the attention they’d been getting from him. Granted, they were no stranger to his affections yet something about the way he was so close—to the point where they could feel the warmth emanating from him, where the way his breath ghosts their neck made them tremble—it was a whole different experience.

The man added some finishing details to Honey’s face before announcing the final step: lipstick.

“Hm, let’s try these colors. Maybe it’s more your style.” He brought up a few plastic tubes with one hand closer to them, awaiting their input on his selection.

“Have you tried these brands before?”

“Uh, not really…I don’t think I’ve actually tried the liquid ones or the twisty ones. What’s the difference anyway? They both color your lips, right?”

Guy laughed at the sheer creativity of the nickname his partner had appointed to the lipsticks in his hand. “Ah well, I’m glad you asked, Honey!”

He twisted up the matte tube and swiped the creamy formula on his lips, smacking them to spread it evenly. The color on his lips only emphasizes the smirk it formed, amused by the hitched breath Honey lets out as he gently cradled their face and brought it closer to his.

“Solid lipstick doesn't last long. See?”

He demonstrated this by pressing his mouth on the back of his hand a few times to reveal pigmented marks against his skin. The man even gestured toward his face to show that the tint of the lipstick had significantly faded.

“Huh.”

Honey was definitely studying his lips, alright. It formed into the same old smile they never got tired of, this time with its edges slightly smeared from what he had done moments ago. They were so entranced that they didn't even notice Guy reaching for a clear tube, this time twisting it to reveal an application wand with a different hue of the lipstick before, quickly applying it on his lightened lips.

“While liquid lipstick—” His quip breaks Honey’s lip-centered daydream and with a sudden movement, Guy pressed his colored lips gently against Honey's bare ones, the latter letting out a quiet squeak that made the man eagerly press down harder. He slowly pulled away, close enough to have just an inch of space between their mouths.

“...Is kissproof!”

He was right. Honey could see that Guy’s lips still looked the same with no sign of smudging or transferring of the product. Not that the efficiency of the lipstick is what’s on the forefront of their mind at the moment.

“O-oh,” their voice cracked rather pathetically but Guy only let out a laugh, holding up the twisted-up tube of the lipstick he first used near the other’s visibly quivering lips.

“Hm…now that I see it, I think the shade on the ‘twisty one’ fits your look better. Let’s use that!”

A wide-eyed Honey simply nodded in response.

—

“...And then here’s your make-up bag, just in case you need to retouch! So, what do ya think? Stunning? Iconic? Gorgeous? Oh, oh! Pulchritudinous? Ehh?”

Honey turned to the vanity mirror for the first time in a while and gaped in the reflection.

“It's…” They raised their hand, opting to feel their face before deciding otherwise as they realized it might waste all of their boyfriend’s hard work. Honey racked in every corner of their brain for a word to encompass the awe they’re in right now, wishing they had even just a fraction of Guy’s mind to express it in words.

But for now, they’re just Honey—who isn’t particularly known for their expertise in saying what they mean and they settle for the answer they weren’t satisfied with at all.

“It’s pretty.”

The person staring back at them looked so different yet still the same. It felt like looking at themselves from a different perspective. Pretty was hardly an adequate descriptor for what they were looking at but it’s all they could think about in their dazed state (the way their partner beamed at their compliment told them he didn’t mind).

“You’re the pretty one, hon! With or without make-up! I mean, c’mon! Look at that smile!”

That earned a wider smile from Honey with Guy giddily matching it.

“I’d have to thank my handsome make-up artist for that. He did such a wonderful job after all.”

“How do you suppose you’ll do that then, Honey?”

This time, Honey was the one to surprise their lover with a kiss.

BONUS SCENE:

“Do you really have to go?” Guy whined though he already knew the answer. That didn’t stop him from snaking a hand around Honey’s waist, who was just leaving through the door of their shared apartment.

“Yes, Guy. I really have to, especially with how long you’ve been painting on my face, there’s a possibility I might get late,” they explained, giving him an apologetic look despite the scolding tone of their voice.

“Well, who can blame me when my Honey’s looking absolutely ravishing,” He pulls Honey closer with his usual goofy smile, though this time they notice a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Besides, just a while ago it seems like you wanted your face to be painted with something else, ehh—mmph!”

Honey had cut him off by pressing their lips tenderly against his once more, eliciting a relaxed sigh from him. They pulled back to see a pouty expression plastered on Guy’s face.

“Fuck. Y-you’re enjoying that stunt way too much, it’s not fair!”

“I wasn’t the one that started it!”

“Fine, whatever!” Guy lamented loudly, complete with his hand clutching overdramatically on his chest. “Be like that, go to your party, then! See if I care!”

Honey just rolled their eyes with a smile. “One last goodbye kiss?”

And how could he ever say no to that?

So after a quick peck on Guy’s cheek (maybe two or three more), Honey finally made their way out the door, leaving him a bit lightheaded than before.

Despite his lovesick state, he was quick to make his way over to the couch and started setting up his game console connected to their T.V. Since his Honey would be out for most of the night, he decided to invite a friend over to play video games and kill some time.

Knock, knock. Ah, speak of the devil. “Jin! Come in, man!”

Guy swung the door open to reveal a man his age, carrying a paper bag full of chips on one arm and a game controller on the other. He set down the snacks on the second-hand coffee table before settling himself on the couch his friend was sitting on.

“Sorry for being a little late, just had to do a few things. So, what game are we…Oh.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” “Dude. I think you should look at a mirror.” --

yes jin like one of guys friends that he plays with in that one hoodie video. with no voice line or anything at all. that jin. LMAO

anyway i rlly hope u enjoy this :")) i honestly dont think its my best work LMAO but eh! im here 2 have fun man,,, and this probably would be my last fic (atleast in a while but aughh idk if i'll be active again here HAHAJHAD) so yeah!! hope u liked it tysm have a good night/day!!

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted guy #redacted honey #redacted verse #redacted fanfic #sten writes!

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artificial-transmutations · 2 years ago

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A new character

"I approach the king and bow, before I say: 'Greetings, most noble King Tanarath, first of your name. Allow me to introduce my friends and my humble self.'" Brian said enthusiastically.

There was a moment of silence on the table before Dylan, another of the players, groaned: "Dude..."

Brian blinked and readjusted his glasses. Dylan sighed and explained: "You're not playing your bard anymore. That is totally out of character for a barbarian! Look at your intelligence stat. There's no way your character would even be able to form sentences like that."

"Oh. Right." Brian said. It had been four sessions now since his bard had died at the hand of a wicked owlbear, and although he had been sad about it, Brian had really looked forward to playing something else, for a change.

So, he had created Briarok, his barbarian. While he absolutely loved his new character stat-wise, he sometimes had trouble of actually playing the huge, muscled and dumb-as-a-brick man.

"So, I guess, I just go: 'Yo, king! What's up?'?"

Brian could feel the cringe in the room. Why was it so difficult for him to get into character? Steven, the dungeon master rolled his eyes. "Uhm... okay, let's try this one more time. Before I continue the session, I'd like you to say something in character. You just need to get into it, Brian."

"Yes, Brian, you need to... become one... with... your... barbarian." Dylan mocked in a slow, hypnotic voice and laughed.

"Okay, I think I got this." Brian said. He thought about the character he had created. Brian had chosen the barbarian class because of the raw power and durability it provided. He wanted to be able to protect himself and his friends from harm. Besides, barbarians were just plain awesome. Brian also chose the name Briarok, because he thought it was a cool name.

However, getting into the primitive mindset was difficult for him, especially since he was used to play a bard with lots of charisma.

Brian rolled up his sleeves, took a deep breath and flexed his unimpressive muscles.

"Alright!" he said in a loud voice and nodded.

The other players looked at him with disbelief, before Dylan laughed again: "Okay, that was kind of cool. I give you a 7/10 for trying."

However, something weird had happened. Brian was the stereotypical nerd, with no muscles to speak of. However, when he just flexed, small mounds of muscle popped up on his arms. When he relaxed his arms, however, the bumps did not shrink away again, but stayed visible.

"What the..." he mumbled and rolled up his sleeves further, trying to get a better view.

He could see his own arm, and the small protrusions. It wasn't much, but it looked definitely different from before. Wanting to explore further, his eyes scanned the room before settling on the six pack of large soda bottles on the floor. Usually, he had his fair difficulties lifting the 12 kilograms worth of beverages, but right now, it was easier. It was still a notable weight, but somehow, it felt lighter than before. In fact, he longer he lifted it up, the lighter it felt.

"Hey, guys?" Brian asked, while still staring at the soda bottles.

"Yeah?" Steven replied.

"What's the heaviest thing in this room?"

"Uhm... I'm not sure." Steven mumbled.

"The sofa?" Dylan offered.

"Not sure, but it's pretty heavy."

"Yeah, probably."

Brian placed the large bottle down again and flexed his arms. Bi- and triceps were now clearly visible on them, and didn't disappear when he stopped flexing, like before. His arms weren't the only thing to change, Brian noticed as he went over to the sofa. His shirt clung to his back, as if it was several sizes too small for him and his pants felt constricting as well.

Brian bent down and grabbed the sofa. Were his hands bigger than before? He needed to know now. With a grunt, he started lifting. Very slowly at first, but then it became quicker and easier.

Brian should be confused and normally, his brain would have gone to overdrive, trying to process what was happening, but for some reason, Brian only felt... good about it! His thoughts were slower than usual, but he felt a good deal of pride. He managed to lift a sofa with ease! That was awesome! He bet nobody else in this room was able to do that. He was the strongest of them!

With the sofa safely on the ground, he turned around to look at his friends.

They were all staring at him, eyes wide. Brian couldn't remember having seen anyone looking that surprised. Dylan looked at him and slowly shook his head. "Dude. Did you just lift a sofa?"

"Yeah, I did!" Brian answered with a big smile.

Dylan's mouth opened a little further, and his eyes went wider.

"You're all... ripped and stuff." Dylan remarked.

"Yeah, it's awesome! But sorry guys, I have to get out of my shirt and pants now, they're way to small."

Brian began to fumble on his button fly with his large hands and needed several moments to get it open. The buttons almost flew through the room as he released them.

The reason for the enormous pressure was not only Brian's package. His hips had become considerably wider and stronger. His ass was pronounced and muscular and exerted its own pressure to the construct. However, even though it was not *only* Brian's package, it certainly also had a part: his entire crotch region had become bigger and more prominent. Brian's soft cock made a clear outline on his retro pants. Would it become hard, Brian was sure it would rip right through them.

Brian took his pants off and stood there in only his underwear. It was now tighter than ever and stuck to his body. He gave his friend a broad grin and tried to work on his shirt. That, however, proved to be way more difficult. By now his shirt looked like it was painted on him, showing the clear outline of impressive pectoral muscles and at least a six pack underneath.

"Damn, man! You're... hot!" Dylan said in awe while Brian was still trying to wiggle out of his shirt.

With a frustrated grunt and a gasp from his friends, Brian finally resolved the problem another way. He grabbed his collar with both of his strong hands, and with a bulge of his massive arms, he just ripped the clothing in two, from top to bottom. His undershirt went down the middle, along with the remnants of his destroyed button fly, as he held up the pieces in front of himself.

Victory! He just felt like shouting, so he roared loudly in triumph and threw the remnants of his clothes to the ground.

Grinning broadly, he grabbed his chair and pulled it away from the table before sitting down with his legs spread widely. Man-spreading like that and readjusting his large package shamelessly, Briarok rumbled loudly in his deep new voice:

"Alright! Where were we? I want to kill stuff!"

Dylan, Steven and the other friends had trouble to hide their erections from the display of raw power.

Steven gulped and continued: "Okay, so, after speaking to the king, you venture out into the cold mountains..."

I think I would enjoy playing with that dude afterwards! What do you think? If you want to see stories like this as soon as they appear, alongside exclusive content like the 15(!) picture candidates that did not make it into this story, be sure to subscribe to my riot page!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down

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sillygoofyqueer · 2 months ago

Note

o' great and might moot

Bless us humble ones with more epic the musical and mdzs mixing pretty please with a cherry on top ;)

(whenever you can ofc no pressure/gen)

AIGHT BET

Okay so where did we get before this....

NOW WE'RE ONTO "I Can't Help But Wonder" - Right this is such a sweet sweet song for one, and for TWO!! I have a lot to say about this one, so get ready.

We start with Telemachus talking about how he has thought about Odysseus for twenty years, wishing desperately that he had known his father within those years and thinking about what he would say to Odysseus only to be left speechless when they're actually in front of one another.

Now, obviously this is Lan Sizhui, and it's just so good!!! Because he never knew his parents, he only knows that Lan Wangji took him in because he was in love with someone who raised Lan Sizhui and wanted to keep their memory alive through him. It would be a beautiful thing if he had just heard these stories about Wei Wuxian from Lan Wangji, and just looked at this bloodied man who had killed for him and proclaimed him to be his son, who stared at him with such obvious affection and thought "oh, it's you." All these stories about Wei Wuxian from so many people come flooding back and he just thinks "how could I ever be good enough for someone as great as you?"

THEN we get Odysseus being like "oh my god my baby BOY, it's you!" He hasn't seen his son in twenty years, he's reminiscing about the baby he once held and then merging this with the son he sees today, twenty years old (and probably looking so out of his depth lmao) and clearly a man who he didn't get to see grow!

Now, pals, this has never screamed Wei Wuxian more because, in the Burial Mounds, A-Yuan was like one of the only things that kept Wei Wuxian sane, one of the only joys he had in his life, and one of the greatest things he thought he lost in the Siege of the Burial Mounds. But then, after gods have told him that his son was alive (from what could have been told to him in other songs, like "Get In The Water" or being confirmed by the suitors), there A-Yuan is, all grown up and safe. The last time Wei Wuxian saw A-Yuan, he was a three year old with a likely fatal fever, calling him "Xian-gege" and dealing with so much instability because he was a Wen, so this is now everything for him.

And then he just instantly takes Lan Sizhui into his arms and accepts him even with how different he must be, calling him his son and telling him that he's not alone, that he's safe and that his father's home again and AUGH.

Afterwards, Odysseus sends Telemachus to go tell Penelope that he's home now, and has a conversation with Athena, who talks of thinking about a different place where everyone is more empathetic and greets each other with open arms (see what I did there?), and how she led Odysseus astray. Odysseus replies with how that's not something he'll ever see but that she should aim for that because she can live forever - he's got his wife to see.

NOWNOW, Athena as Baoshan Sanren just makes so much sense to me, especially HERE!! Baoshan Sanren secluded herself on her mountain to avoid the mortal world and all of the politics that came with it, meaning that when Cangse Sanren came down from the mountain and died, Baoshan Sanren wasn't there to help Wei Wuxian with all the problems he went through when fighting for a life not dissimilar from what Athena talks of in the song. She wants for a world where politics cannot affect people and wants a world where everyone is just kind to one another.

Wei Wuxian, who has fought for such a world and has paid for it severely, knows that it not something that can just happen quickly and, while not unwilling to fight for it, knows that it is unlikely for it to happen. He has died because he wanted to treat Wens with empathy and respect, and now he just wants to live his life without regrets, with those he loves. This could be him urging Baoshan Sanren to see that if she wants such a world to exist, she has to fight for it, she can't just seclude herself on a mountain because she doesn't want to be involved with all the politicking. For now, though, he has a guy he has to see.

Okay one more song to go!!!! Want to hear my thoughts about it??? (I think it's gonna be a big one 😏😏)

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badjoy-17 · 2 years ago

Text

The Playfellow Crew

Chapter 1, Part 1

1969, December.

"Where is it?" Ritzy was busy looking for the apple she grabbed to work. She woke up late that day and had no time to prepare her meal. "Anyone? Does anyone seen my apple?" She yells at the studio filled with busy studio crews dragging and moving props around the set. She was frustrated, it was the umpteenth time this happens to her for last three months.

She went to Fionn Finnigan in the Art department, slamming the door open and walk near him."Piyon! Can you help me..." (She had hard time seeing the difference of F and P pronunciation) Rambling about how she was late at work and didn't made herself a lunch box and was opt to grab an apple that is now missing.

"Is that about an apple again?" Fionn was a man in 20's yet still younger than Ritzy and yes he has seen this scene before.

"Yes?" Still sobbing. "I'm already tired and I'm hungry and ...."

"Why don't just buy your meal here, Ritzy?"

"I'm still your senior so address me Mrs. Ritzy?"

"Why the hell will I do that? You're the only one addressing people like that!" He glared at her annoyed and taking a deep breath to listen.

Her eyes grew bigger and looking up to this tall figure. "No, I'm not! And they like it even so I'm the only one..." she pulls him down as she notice herself getting a bit louder. "Also I'm saving my money for my family, remember? I can't be just spending money here and there!" She slumped to the side of his desk and lowers her head.

Fionn stood up to his drawing desk with a straight face and drags Ritzy away from the Art department. He takes a deep breath and spoke "Ms.... Er... No. Mrs. Santos, here have this cash and buy something in that vending machine." He hands her a few dollar and points out to the vending in the corner.

She looks at him with hesitation and mutters, "But its your money!"

"No buts, You can have that!" He still pointing to the vending machine and waiting for her to move.

She looked at him, embarrassed with the cash she received. She nods and thanks him, she felt humbled and went to vending machine. She took two energy bar, glances at him and suddenly runs to him. "Here, take this, Piyon."

Fionn wants to correct Ritzy but he didn't, she might be older but for him he should the bigger man in this situation.

"I know I've been making a big fuzz about this apple thing, but this job is too frustrating... Imagine, for the past 3 months since I started this video technician-ing thing, things are getting weirder and weirder in set. Apples starts disappearing, few staff getting injured, and sometimes the whole footage of the show just kept on doing those weird glitches. Like, that's my job to look after the final footage, it was all running smooth until all of a sudden that freaking thing happened."

Fionn turned his head to Ritzy, alarmed hearing about that incident. "You know what? I have the same experience like you..."

She turns her head to Fionn after hearing those word. "Really?"

"Yeah, You know me, right? I'm a part of the animation and art direction of the this show, right?"

"Uh huh.." she got herself invested and leans in his side.

"Yet everytime i check our panels and plate, there's this weird scribbles on the each animation panels... Wait." He then stood up and drags Ritzy to the archive, took an envelope and pulls out a several animation board panels. "...here look at this. I don't get it ... I swear, look! Those are not there before... Those are evaluated and inspected before getting approved and I... I received it spotless but...."

Ritzy examined each panels and laid them to the light table. "You're saying you don't understand these scribbles? was it from anyone in your department?"

"Yeah, they seems to be drawn by a kid, based on the handwriting strokes, it has difficulty to grasp with pen, here" he points into a pressed squiggly line in the panel "The line got no control on... The strokes are shaking and heavy, it ruins the whole panel."

"Yeah, you're right... But why they are sabotaging our works?" In her peripheral vision, there was someone's watching them from the door. More like a shadow. "D'you see that, Piyon?" Ritzy glued her eyes to him like telling him not to move and act like nothing happened.

"The what?" He looked at her puzzled.

"There was someone watching us from afar... I don't know why but it might be a ghost or something." Her trembling hand reached into her pocket, wrapped her pearl rosary in her hand and hold on it tightly. "Piyon, stay observant, okay?" This gesture confuses Fionn yet he nods obediently. "Oh, about this ..." She shook the wrapper of energy bar, "I owe you." Then she left looking around for something in the Art department

#welcome home puppet show #Playfellow Co. Au fanfic #Feat. Fionn Finnigan of Real World Au by @Chez/Chezzy on tiktok #welcome home #WelcomeHome

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someones-here-for-sure · 6 months ago

Text

new oc

CELLIAN!! little pirate twink man

Cellian is 22, gay, and TRANSMASC!!

HE’S A PIRATE.

baclstory/Lore

Cellian was born into poverty, his mother(Jane) was left by her husband(Cellians father, David) leaving them dirt poor and with no steady income. Cellians mother died when he was 7, due to a severe illness. Leaving Cellian completely alone. He was a homeless orphan who would sit near the markets, where the most food was. He would steal much in this time, quickly learning how to be quiet and fast. He also knew who to steal from. You don’t steal from the humble farmer, just trying to get by, you steal from the rich. And that’s what he did. When Cellian was 13 he began to notice how much being a girl- wasn’t right, he realized he wasn’t a girl, so what’d he do? He took some old cloth, wrapped it around his thankfully small chest, and cut his hair short using a broken shard of glass. People quickly began to call him a boy. Not realizing he wasn’t born with a girls body.

when he was 16, he was taking a break from hiding his chest, sitting on a sack of wheat in an alley. When he heard a bunch of commotion in the streets, he got up and rounded the corner slowly, looking out to see what was going on. He saw a boy, about his age, with bright green eyes that are scrunched in pain, being held up by his hair, a rich salesman holding him up and yelling about stealing. Cellian guessed the boy was caught stealing. Cellian knows that fear. The mortifying realization that someone is saw you. And then they hitting you, or kicking you, or dragging you by your hair into the street to be beaten-… Cellian knew he had to help, so, before his brain could stop him, he got up and ran to where the boy was being held.

He yelled out “Stop!”, as he looked up at a larger man. Who stopped shaking the boy around like a rag doll. “I told him to! I told him to steal from you!” Cellian never had a strong voice. But it carried. The rich man dropped the boy. And looked down to Cellian. “What did you just say?” he asked sternly, the sound of the question alone made Cellian hold his breath.

“I told him to steal from you. It’s not his f-“ Cellian was slapped across the face. The force so hard he fell.

“Oh you little rat! Why would you, a little girl be out here?!” The rich man began to beat Cellian, “what’s your name little girl?” The rich man asked, stopping for a moment.

“C- Cellian-“ he answered quickly and weakly. The boy that Cellian saved looked at Cellian, wide eyed and shaking, then the stranger ran into an alleyway that goes and circles to the docks.

“Well, Cellian, you’re going to learn how horrible stealing is. Especially for little girls like you.” Cellian remembered that he didn’t have his cloth on, so to anyone out there he was a little homeless girl. He grunted and yelped in with hurt at every kick and hit. Being picked up by the hair like a rag doll, and kicked some more.

After what felt like forever, Cellian was dropped to the ground, panting, crying and bruised. Bones might even be broken. It hurt, it hurt a lot. But he helped someone. Someone important.

he dragged himself to where he sat before, on the sac of wheat, blood dripping from his nose and his ribs screaming with every step, and curled up and cried the pain was so bad. He also wondered where the boy with green eyes went.

When Cellian was 18, he began to look for a job. Finally old enough that people might pay him something worth while. He found a job at the docks, cleaning boats between uses. It was hell, but it paid money. He was paid 9 dollars a day. Which he knew would stack up. Pretty quickly. He also hopped onto a second job cleaning dishes at a small pub near the docks. That paid him 6 dollars a day. He hated it. Working for the rich people that could buy and use these boats. Working for the rich people that could own and run their own place. He just wanted to live though. And to do that, he had to work.

Cellian worked these jobs for about a year, before one day, while he was cleaning the dock of one of the most exspensive boats that stopped at this docking, there was a raid. 17 pirates had invaded the docks and were going for the biggest ship. They fought until every guard was down, and then one man, a slightly taller man than the rest, ran onto the boat, he had green eyes.

Cellian watched, dumbfounded at the chaos, horns were being blown as backup was called, the man with green eyes ran to the steering wheel. And Cellian just stared at the deep green eyes. He had seen them before.

while he was staring, the rest of the men got to the boat, 4 going to undo the anchor, and 2 going towards Cellian. He panicked, and realized they were coming for him. They knocked him down. Cellian yelled out for them to stop, trying to push them back. But he was far too malnourished and inexperienced to stop them. They tied him up, and threw him to the lower level. On his way down the stairs, he hit his head and blacked out. And that’s where he stayed for at least a few hours.

Cellian woke up, tied in a chair now, and on the main level. He looked around panicked. Trying to get his bearings. And he realized that he was in the middle of the ocean, on the boat he was cleaning earlier, and with a bunch of strangers. A man noticed he was awake, and called the “captain” down.

the captain was the man with green eyes,

“Hey- you awake?” The man with green eyes, the “captain” of this crew asked, as Cellian’s brain went into panic mode. “Okay, what’s your name?” He began analyzing the man’s face, the man has short brown hair, slightly tanned skin, some stubble on his chin, and the familiar bright green eyes.

“C- Cellian!” He said quietly, scared and confused and overwhelmed. The man with green eyes backed up. His face looking shocked.

“You-“ the “captain” stopped, his green eyes widening. “Did you take the place of a thief? About 3 years ago?” The man asked, looking surprised. That’s when Cellian’s eyes widened. THATS where he saw the man’s eyes!

“Yes! Yes I did! And he had the same green eyes!”

the captain then freed Cellian, thanking him. And Cellian joined the pirate crew. And he’s been with them ever since.

#Tw homelessness #Tw child abuse #oc backstory #NEW OC!#Pirate oc #Cellian stuff

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remma3760 · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 4

Summary:

Where does Wei Ying belong? Should he stay with the Lans, or should they let the Jiangs have him back?

"So you think he would want this? It would be good for him?" Lan Qiren was anxious. The Elders had approved his request, but he was unsure on how to approach Wei Ying, so had come to Lan Huizhong for advice.

"I do. He needs to feel safe. That he won't be discarded for the slightest mistake, and the onus of that is going to fall on you, Qiren. But you won't be alone in this. We have all become very fond of little A-Ying."

Lan Qiren smiled. Yes, the boy was certainly endearing. He had never thought he could feel such fondness for a child of Cangse Sanren. But, here they were. Less than two months and already Wei Ying had made such a difference in all their lives. "How are his sessions coming on, Huizhong?"

"Qiren, you know I can't talk about them. When Wei Ying is ready to share with you, he will. Although, I am considering additional sessions involving all of you."

"All of us?"

"Yes. You know I've been including A-Zhan already, and I feel that that has helped both of them, so in time, perhaps you and Xichen could be there too."

"I have noticed that A-Zhan seems more at ease. He smiles now, Huizhong. I had given up all hope of seeing that again. Was he really so traumatised by what happened at Lotus Pier?"

"His faith in the infallibility of adults was severely shaken, but honestly, he should probably have been seeing me since his mother died."

Shocked, Lan Qiren stared at his friend. "But he got over that. He stopped sitting outside her door every month and went back to being the well behaved boy he was before."

"The well behaved boy who never smiled and rarely spoke."

Dropping his head into his hands, Lan Qiren sighed. "I missed so much, Huizhong. I was never meant to be a Sect Leader or a parent, yet now I have to be both. All I wanted was to study and teach."

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Not for a moment. They're my boys and I would die to protect them. They make me a better man. Did you know that A-Zhan stood up to Madam Yu because he thought that that's what I would have done had I been there?"

"Isn't it?"

"I don't know. I would hope so. Even so, A-Zhan's trust in me is humbling. I only hope I can live up to it."

"Yes. The faith of a child is absolute and terrifying. And now you're taking on a third."

Lan Qiren huffed. "Am I mad, Huizhong? What was I thinking?"

"You were thinking that there was an innocent child who needed your love and protection. You're a good man. Qiren. Never think otherwise. Raising a child is the hardest job any of us will ever undertake. You're doing well, my friend. And you are free to come to me anytime you have doubts or uncertainties. I will always listen."

Lan Qiren smiled and sighed, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze as he left to find his children.

***

"Why is Mother so angry, Yanli?"

"I expect she's missing A-Ying."

"No she's not. Why would she, she has us, and he was always being bad anyway and she hated him. I expect she's happy he's gone."

"Don't say that A-Cheng. Mother doesn't hate him. She cares about him deep down, she just wants to help him be better so she has to punish him sometimes. It's for his own good. Don't you miss him too?"

"No! I'm glad he's gone. He made Mother and Father fight and Mother was always angry because of him. Mother is still being angry because of him. I wish he'd never come here."

"You don't meant that A-Cheng. Think how much fun you had playing together."

"I had fun with my dogs but Father took them away because of him. Oh, do you think I can have them back now that he's gone?"

"He isn't gone. He's just visiting Cloud Recesses for awhile. Father means to bring him home soon, and Mother agrees. I heard them talking, and Father said the Lans were being difficult so Mother told him he had to be more forceful or she would take things into her own hands and go and get him herself. So you see, Mother does want him back and she must care for him."

"But if he's bad again, she'll get angry."

"Yes, but if he's here she can guide him to be better. Teach him to be good. This is his home. Father has been helping me write to him so he will want to come back. Maybe you could write, too, or we could send him a present. He must miss us both terribly. You know he loves us."

"I suppose. I could send him the frog I found!"

"Well, maybe not the frog."

"Can I send a bug?"

"A-Cheng, I really think it would be better not to send anything alive. Maybe a picture?"

"Drawing is boring."

"A-Cheng."

"What about the funny rock I found? that's not alive. can I send that?"

"Yes. That sounds good. I'm sure A-Ying will love it. You go get it and I'll ask Father to put it in with the newest letter."

Running off happily, Jiang Cheng went to retrieve his rock, while Jiang Yanli went to get her Father's help with a new letter.

***

Standing in the doorway, Lan Qiren quietly observed his family. Xichen sat at his small desk, finishing his lesson, while the little ones played by his feet. Some new game where his shoe had somehow transformed into a rampaging beast and was menacing his spare socks and a teacup.

Taking a deep breath he entered and closed the door behind him, drawing their attention. A-Ying jumped up immediately, running over and grabbing his hand to draw him into the game. A moment later A-Zhan joined them, tentatively taking Lan Qiren's other hand. This was a new developement as before A-Zhan had been reluctant to engage physically, but now that seemed to be changing. He knew how happy that made Xichen as he was now able to hug his little brother without feeling him turn into a block of stone. In truth, it pleased Lan Qiren too, although he had never before realised that this was something he wanted.

Giving the small hands a squeeze, he settled himself down with the boys by his side, beckoning that Xichen should join them.

"Boys, there is something I need to talk to you about."

"What is it, Shufu. Is something wrong?"

"No Xichen. Nothing wrong. In fact, this is something good. At least, I think so, and hope you will to."

Xichen was confused. It wasn't like his uncle to ramble like this. He was usually so direct, but he said it was a good thing so he wasn't worried. Shufu never lied.

Taking a deep breath, lan Qiren looked at Wei Ying. "A-Ying, are you happy here?"

Wei Ying started. "Yes, Lan Xiansheng. I'm so happy. Everyone has been so kind to me and I have my own bed and my own comb now. I know so many rules and I follow all of them, don't I Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan nodded and hummed. Then, in case his uncle didn'tfullu comprehend added, "Wei Ying is good."

Patting both boys on the head, Lan Qiren nodded. "I know. I know Wei Ying is good. But A-Ying, even if you do sometimes break a rule, it's okay. As long as you try your best, that's enough."

Getting agitated, Wey Ying shook his head in denial,"no, no, A-Ying is good. A-Ying will follow all the rules, always."

Holding his now shaking hand, Lan Qiren soothed him. "I know you will always do your best, but even if you do accidentally break a rule I need you to know that I will understand. Even A-Zhan has broken a rule."

Amazed, Wei Ying stared open mouthed at Lan Zhan who nodded sadly. Lan Zhan had broked a rule? But Lan Zhan was perfect! How could that be? Wide eyed, he looked back to Lan Qiren.

"So you see, A-Ying, all I ask of you is that you always try to be the good, kind boy I know you are. Do you understand?"

Wei Ying wasn't sure he did. He could make mistakes? He could break a rule and not be thrown away? His mind was reeling.

Lan Qiren gave his hand a little tug, getting his attention back. "That doen't mean you can run riot, A-Ying. You still should try to be good and follow the rules. Simply that you are young and still learning. Don't be afraid. I promise, if you fall, I will pick you up."

Wei Ying's smile was blinding. He hugged Lan Qiren's leg, bouncing happily. Patting him again, Lan Qiren continued. "Well then. A-Ying, since you want to be here, and we want you to be here, I would like, with your consent, to adopt you."

Silence. Nothing but blank looks. Had he been wrong? Was this a mistake. Then Xichen gave a happy squeal. "A-Ying, you would be my little cousin, my Tangdi! You could call me Tangge. If you wanted. Do you want to? A-Ying? Do you?"

"Your cousin? I could call you Tangge? Really. What about Lan Zhan? What would I call Lan Zhan? Could I still call him Lan Zhan? I like calling him Lan Zhan. I like just saying Lan Zhan. And Lan Xiansheng. what would I call Lan Xiansheng? Will I be a Lan? Lan Ying? I won't be Wei Ying anymore?" He was so confused. What did all this mean?

Pulling the boy into his lap, Lan Qiren huffed a laugh. "A-Ying, it's alright. Wei Ying can still be Wei Ying. The choice is yours. Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze will still be your parents. Only that, since they can't be here, I will be with you in their place. I will make sure you get enough to eat, have a bed to sleep in, that you clean your teeth and brush your hair. You will have a ribbon, like Xichen and A-Zhan, and we will be family. You will grow up here, alongside A-Zhan and when you are old enough, you will get a sword and be a disciple. You can call Xichen and A-Zhan whatever they wish you to call them, and they will call you whatever you wish to be called. As for me, I know you called your father Baba, so perhaps you could call me Die or Fuqin?"

"A-Die?"

Chest tight, Lan Qiren Nodded. "I would like that very much A-Ying."

"Can I still be Wei Ying?"

"Of course. Your parents were good people, and deserve to be remembered. I have already spoken with a craftman. He is making tablets for them both. They weren't Lan, so I'm sorry, but they can't be kept in the Ancestral Hall, but we can build a shrine for them so you can visit with them, and honour them. You can even choose where you want the shrine to be if you wish."

Overwhelmed, Wei Ying burst into tears, clinging desperately to Lan Qiren and pulling Lan Zhan and Lan Xichen in close. Lan Qiren hugged them all. His family.

***

She watched the white clad cultivators as they wandered through the market. They were young, and hadn't yet learned discretion. They weren't shouting but she could easily hear them as she followed at a safe distance.

"No, it's true. Lan Xiansheng is definitely adopting Wei Ying. A-Niang told me. There's going to be a ribbon ceremony and everything."

"The Elders agreed?"

"They did. A-Niang siad that at first, they were worried about fallout from the Jiang, but Lan Xiansheng convinced them."

"I still can't believe that our little master stood up to Madam Yu. That woman is terrifying."

"He probably didn't really do it. The stories have to be exaggerated. He's seven. She was probably just telling the Wei boy off and Lan Zhan interfered so it became this whole big thing."

"Are you crazy? Wei Ying was in the infirmary for weeks. You think what, he was so devestated at being scolded that he had a mental breakdown that needed weeks of recovery? Come on. A-Niang said that she heard Daifu say that Lan Zhan saved Wei Ying's life. His life."

"Wow. Lan Zhan always seems so quiet and reserved. Who would have thought he had such courage?"

"Well, they say it's always the quiet ones. And just think, if he's willing to stand up to Madam Yu for a complete stranger, what wouldn't he do for us, his sect brothers?"

Nidding in agreement, the disciples moved off. She watched them go. So, the rumours she had heard were true. Maybe it was time to pay a visit to Cloud Recesses.

#the untamed #untamed fic #untamed fanfiction #wangxian

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cursedbanalities · 3 months ago

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[[Figured I'd give it a go here!]]

My shoes were wet by the time I got to the manor, as were my pants and most of my belongings. Of course, the one time I didn't bring an umbrella was the time the sky decided to open up and pour all over me. Thankfully, I was able to take shelter on the mansion's deck, huddling under the roof. Despite the creepy and slightly worn-down look, it seemed the family was a fan of the macabre and kept their grounds well-maintained. There was a large graveyard in the distance, something that I had never seen on someone's property before, as well as several gargoyles and wrought-iron fences. Despite how soggy and cold I felt, I couldn't help but wonder what the townsfolk were going on about! These people probably just liked to embrace all things creepy and crawly.

I wiped the rain from my face, and noticed mascara stained my hands black. Great, I look like a friggin' raccoon now! I thought, desperately trying to find napkins somewhere in my purse. The door creaked open as I was wiping the mascara off of my face with a Taco Bell napkin, and I saw an extremely tall man with a square face standing in the doorway. He had to hunch over in order to properly see me, and was dressed in a full suit.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said in a hurry, stuffing my wet, soiled napkin back into my purse. I quickly motioned to the storm outside. "The, uhm... the rain slowed me down. I don't have a car, unfortunately. Um... I'm here about the ad?"

The tall man smiled. Lighting struck and thunder cracked as he did so, adding an uncomfortable amount of drama. He turned and began walking away, leaving the door open. At first, I thought he was going to close it in my face, but a moment went by before I realized he meant for me to follow him. I quickly ran inside, the mansion was colder than I had hoped, and carefully shut the door behind me.

I followed the tall man through the manor. The walls were covered with various pictures. Old family members in black and white look sternly ahead, though I could swear I saw their eyes following me as I walked by. A painting hangs over an unlit fireplace depicting a witch burning at the stake, which only furthered the unsettling atmosphere I found myself in. There were a couple of more recent ones as well, depicting a young girl in black, and a pudgy boy with short, black hair. Must be their kids, I thought.

Not long after, I found myself in a conservatory. Gnarled plants on tables line the large windows. A tall, slender woman in a clinging black dress stands in the middle, trimming a black rose bush. She noticed us enter, and she gave a slight smile.

"Ah, a guest. Thank you, Lurch." She said, coolly. The man gave a stiff bow, and left without a word. The woman in black locked eyes with me. "So, what brings you here on this fine afternoon? Were you responding to the ad?"

"Ah, yes ma'am! My name is Sherry. I'd normally agree with you, but the one time I didn't want rain was the day it happened!" She gave a weak laugh, but the woman didn't break her gaze. It was paralyzing, but I cleared my throat. "Anywho... I'm new in town, and I was looking for some extra cash. Times are tough, and when I saw the ad I figured... you know, I like kids! I figured I could watch over your little rascals while you're out and about!"

The woman's scarlet lips split into a smile. "Aahh, I'm happy to hear it! We've had that flier out for a while. I'll be honest, I was about to give up hope of ever finding a babysitter!"

"Y-yes, well... The locals didn't seem to fond of you guys, I'm not going to lie. They warned me about how "creepy" and "kooky" you guys are, but I figured they were just... I don't know... judging a book by its cover? I don't mind the creepy crawlies too much, so I think we'll get along just fine, eh?"

The woman seemed to glide across the ground as she came to shake my hand. "Morticia Addams is the name. Welcome to our terrifyingly humble abode." She motioned around her with her hands, "I'm glad you don't carry the same... prejudices some others have. I won't lie, though. You're not the first to come about the ad. Our kids... well, sometimes their creativity can get to be too much for our babysitters. We haven't been able to get them to stay more than one night! Heck, we've had a couple of people run off before we could pay them!" She let out a hearty cackle, and I weakly joined in with her.

"Haha, yeah, I'd at least have stayed for the money! At least, if it's as bad as you're saying..."

"Oh, nonsense! You're different from the others. Trust me, darling." She gives me a grin, "Besides, we always pay fairly. Even if it's not to your standards the cash will stay the same, if you'd like to get mercenary about it."

"Well, in that case... would you mind telling me how much I'll be paid?" I said meekly, afraid I'd seem ungrateful if I spoke about money too much. With a grin, Morticia led me back into the manor and to an office. She began pulling some lockboxes out with an old key. My mind wandered as she went through the boxes, and I began wondering if this job was right for me. Maybe I'm in over my head. The children's "creativity" seemed ominous, but there's no way that it's that bad, right? The entire town just hates the Addams Family. Maybe I should just make her way back out of the house, just to save my skin!

Though, once Morticia threw a heavy bag on the table, filled with coins and gems, I quickly changed my demeanor. "So..." I began, "When will I get started?"

[[This was fun! Maybe I'll continue this, if I get inspiration. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually do, after all!]]

You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.

#story writing #writer stuff #writeblr #aspiring writer #writers community #creative writing #trans #writer #the addams family #morticia addams #fanfic #2024

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shadowsshowdown · 2 years ago

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Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown 55

youtube

The Zero Hour.

Two days before leaving for Washington. Sarif Industries.

Like a hurricane, Laura stormed into Pritchard's office. She was so furious that no amount of complaining from him could dampen her mood.

"Princess Laura is back!" he snarled ironically, rising from his armchair. "Welcome to the humble thresholds of our company," he continued, making a deep, courtly bow. "Spare me this childishness. I have a lot of work to do before I leave."

Apparently, she hit Frank’s weak spot, because he momentarily took his place in the armchair and pretended to review the data.

"Connor has probably already mentioned I want our security to be an unconquerable fortress," he stated. "He did. So if you'll allow, the princess will now return to her matters."

Francis only snickered in response so she left. Faridah passed her on the way, but she didn't even say hello to her. It's possible that she also has many responsibilities and simply didn't notice Laura.

As soon as she closed the office door behind her, Connor handed her a mug of hot coffee without asking anything. She appreciated the gesture, as did the still-warm croissants with chocolate-nut filling.

"I figured you'd need a solid dose of sweetness, so I ordered them right after you left," he said. "You always think of everything," Laura said, sitting down on a sofa upholstered in brown linen.

The woman set her mug and croissant plate on the coffee table. She took a laptop out of her backpack, placed it next to the mug and turned it on. Connor took his computer, and then took a seat next to Laura.

"Not all people think only of themselves. Besides, I know Pritchard can be an arse most of the time." "It's not because of him," she muttered, trying to log into her account.

Connor had expected such an answer. Frank never made her feel that way. It was always a short-lived anger that passed on its own. This time she was stuck in some strange state that was hard to describe. She looked sad, angry and lost. He watched her making a mistake every time she tried entering her password. He surmised who was to blame but preferred not to ask.

"I met Adam. He yelled at me because he's jealous of you and still thinks I should stay away," she sighed. "I've had enough of that." "You shouldn't be venting your anger. You're both stressed about Washington. When you return, try to talk to him and explain everything." "Why should I..." "See, you're doing it again. You are floating with pride. Why you? Because you are more reasonable and mature. That's the overtone this move will have." "You're right," she sighed. "As usual." "I don't mean to be right. I'm just trying to suggest a solution." "We'd better get on with what's important first. We don't have much time, and I haven't even packed my suitcase."

Connor nodded in agreement. He momentarily dropped the topic he had started and turned on his laptop. Laura still couldn't log in to her company account, so without asking Pritchard, he restored her old privileges. For several hours they checked the company's security code, applying fixes in some places.

"Look, this part is kind of weird," the man remarked.

Laura stretched and yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yes, because this is a rarely used form of coding. Few people know about it," she explained.

"I think it can be left that way. Anything that's not obvious can be helpful," the man shrugged.

Connor wasn't entirely sure of this decision, but he trusted Laura. The clock on the computer announced it was lunchtime so, after much protest, he managed to persuade the hacker that they should eat something and rest. Although the Camarilla Club was further away than The Jackdaw, they went right there. It would be better to avoid another meeting with Adam.

Sarif Industries. The Jackdaw.

Jensen spent all his time in the office reviewing the backlog of cases and accepting new ones. On top of all that, he still had to give orders before leaving. He felt like the stack of files wasn't diminishing at all, and his eyes were starting to sting from looking at the computer screen. Pushing off lightly with his heels, he moved along with the armchair almost under the cabinet leaning against the back wall. Lighting a cigarette, he stood up and with a determined step paced the distance separating him from the door. Faridah was his only hope for at least temporary salvation. Of course, he reckoned she might ask about Laura, but if he had to be honest, he needed this conversation. The crowd in the corridor was still large, so it took him longer than he thought to reach Malik's office. With a quiet knock on the glass door, he pulled the woman away from her work.

"No, thank you. We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

He heard her disgruntled voice, but that didn't deter him at all. "How about a very old friend?" he asked, swinging the door open.

"Adam? What are you doing here?" she asked surprised, furrowing her brow. "I came to take you for lunch. Don't refuse, I'm tired of paperwork. Because of this Washington thing, the whole company is standing on its head, and Pritchard seems to feel like a boss," he sighed, finishing smoking a cigarette. "All in all, why not? I've been hanging around here all morning with no visible chance of a break," she said, saving what she had managed to do so far and turning off the computer. "We'll pick up Laura on the way, too, won't we?" Jensen twitched nervously, hearing her suggestion. "No," he replied reluctantly. "I'd like to talk to you." "A-ha. This tone of yours means it's something serious," she muttered, dressing her orange jacket over a black wool turtleneck.

Fortunately, the euphoria was slowly coming to an end and the people heretofore crowded like ants in an anthill had managed to disperse so the way to the exit was less troublesome.

On the street, they inhaled the frosty air and went straight to The Jackdaw. Although he had said earlier they would not take Laura, he silently hoped for the opposite course of events. As usual, they were greeted by the bartender and took their favourite corner seat. Malik ordered a Tortuga Soup, as did Adam, and a salmon filet in puff pastry. The Head of Security chose the rare steak.

"What did you want to talk about? How's your leg, anyway?" "My leg, it's fine," he lied, because he still had a lot of trouble with walking, and against the doctor’s advice he didn't want to use a cane. Adam was killing constant pain by taking more Vicodin than he should. "It's all about Laura. I have a feeling that we're starting to distance ourselves from each other again," he said quietly as if he wanted Faridah not to hear it. "I'll say frankly I find it hardly surprising. Joe was her friend. Probably the only one she had at the time." "Faridah," he interrupted her in a rough tone. "I think it's more than just a friendship. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but my gut tells me I'm right." "Talk to her. Lately, the conversations have been coming out better and better for you. Didn’t they?" she suggested while sipping green tea. "Not really," the man muttered, sighing deeply at the same time. "Has Laura done something wrong again?" "This time the fault lies with me," he admitted openly. "After our week together Laura was supposed to move in to my place but apparently Rupert said something that influenced her to change the decision. I accepted it. I thought she needed a moment alone after what happened. Meanwhile, she kept meeting Connor, despite my warnings." "Wait a minute, because I don't think I understand it correctly. Are you jealous? You?" she said surprised. "I'm not!" he protested. "Connor's files were not in the database. They appeared there suddenly, right after I discovered their absence. I'm sure of it. I told her about it, but she didn't believe it. I did it out of concern, and Laura ignored it. During that week, I haven't heard from her at all." "Adam, I know how you feel but she doesn't know it. When you return from Washington, you will explain everything. And stop being so suspicious because she will think you are controlling her and the effect will be even worse."

The Security Chief slowly nodded, after which they both busied themselves with their meal.

Camarilla Club. Sarif Industries. Laura's apartment.

"He wants to control me!" growled the hacker, stabbing a piece of apple pie with her fork. "He thinks he can dictate what I can do and with whom I can meet." "Hey, hey, slow down. Adam is not like that. Although I don't know him that well I think he's more the type of person who protects rather than imposes his own will." "Are you suggesting I'm misjudging his intentions?"

"I think so," he risked exposing himself to her fury.

Laura closed her eyes, looking down at her cup of earl grey tea. "Maybe you're right," she admitted.

Connor was surprised by her reaction. However, he couldn't tell if it was a sign of a mature approach or if the hacker had just given up.They finished their dessert in silence and then returned to the company. Adam was not around so they avoided another confrontation. For the rest of the time, they finished the security check and wrote a report.

"I didn't even ask him how he was feeling," she said quietly, putting on her jacket. "You can always call or visit him at home."

The woman nodded and left. Being in the lobby, she noticed the Security Chief's office was dark. It didn't look like he had lowered the blinds so he must have already left the company. Enriched with this information, she returned home.

Laura stood on the sidewalk for a quarter of an hour with the Chiron apartment building in front of her. She lacked the courage to go inside, and when she finally gathered it, she couldn't put together in her head what she wanted to say. She stepped into the elevator, and her fear grew as she approached her destination.

"Good evening Mr Jensen. Sorry to disturb you..." she repeated quietly.

Her finger trembled but she managed to control herself and pressed the bell. Silence answered her so she repeated the action two more times. Adam wasn't home, or he didn't want to see her. She sighed straight at the closed door and took the elevator down to the first floor. With a quick pace, she crossed the road and in a split second, she was at her door. She took off her shoes, jacket and hat, then yelled at Stalker just because he came to greet her. From the living room window, she saw that the blinds were down in Adam's apartment. She didn't have the strength to speculate. She packed the most necessary clothes in her suitcase and her laptop along with two phones in her backpack. She took a quick shower, fed the cat, and then went to bed even though it was only seven in the evening.

Confusion will be my epitaph As I crawl a cracked and broken path If we make it we can all sit back and laugh But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Crying Crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Crying

One day before leaving for Washington. Laura's apartment. 6:15 a.m.

The sound of the ringing alarm clock made her furious. She didn't feel like getting up. While still in her pyjamas, with her hair tousled, she went to the kitchen and forced herself to eat at least a few spoonfuls of cereal. The next sound that disturbed her was the doorbell. The woman furrowed her eyebrows, surprised that someone was visiting at six in the morning. The hope that it was Adam was extinguished as soon as she opened the door.

"Good morning! Ready for the big day?" "Connor, it's you," she muttered without enthusiasm. "Come in." "Oh no, my dear. That's not a way to start the day," he protested, setting down his bag and backpack in the hall. "I went to see Adam yesterday, but he wasn't there. Or he's avoiding me." "Today you will definitely meet," he assured, but Laura was closer to tears than joy so he gave her a friendly hug. "I know you won't listen anyway, but your attitude is also important in achieving success." "A-ha." "Get dressed, because we don't have much time," he urged.

When the woman went to get dressed, Connor fed the cat again. No doubt they had a good relationship with each other. She returned a quarter of an hour later, reluctantly put on her shoes, jacket and hat, then left dragging her suitcase behind her as if she were going to a beheading. The man was clearly amused but made a serious face whenever she looked at him.

"Don't worry," he broke the silence, recognizing it was taking too long. "We'll fly there together. It's already been decided. Adam is flying with Megan and Faridah. Sarif has a separate flight."

When they stepped out onto the street, Laura reflexively looked up at the Chiron building. It was dark at Adam's place, so he is definitely already in the company.

Sarif Industries. 7:20 am.

Laura was sick of hearing about Washington, D.C. Nearly everyone they passed on the way to the office talked only about it. Some were excited because they would get the honour of being there, while others regretted it. The hacker really wanted to approach one of these people and tell them to fly instead, but Connor kept her close. Right after she left her suitcase, Francis called. They had to show him the report and assure him everything was fine. In fact, he envied them this trip.

Connor was more patient during the visit with the boss. While waiting to hear what Pritchard would say, he stared dispassionately at the wall. The hacker nervously stomped her shoe on the floor with what apparently annoyed Frank, because the latter wriggled in his chair.

"This looks pretty good," muttered Frank looking at the computer screen.

Connor and Laura were happy to be about to leave the daunting place, but their joy was premature.

"There's a mistake here. Another one here. You must correct it immediately. Then we'll check everything in practice, and then we'll see." "We don't have time for that," protested the hacker. "Remember that you are here only because Adam helped you. I won't be so kind, and if necessary I'll kick your sorry arse from one end of the company to the other."

Grabbing Laura’s hand, Connor signalled her to let go.

"Okay, we'll correct that right away," she replied reluctantly, yielding. "You still have to go to server room G. There's something strange going on there, so you'll plug in the computer and check the drives. One of them is malfunctioning, but from here I can't tell which one. It looks like it was heavily used by someone recently." "Maybe someone from Dr Reed’s team is copying the test results?" suggested Connor. "Possibly, but we need to be sure."

They both left Frank's office in wicked moods. They had hoped he wouldn't be so demanding today, but he was clearly jealous of their departure.

"We won't make it in time with everything," the woman complained.

The man looked at his watch. "We still have plenty of time before departure. If we hurry, we can make it."

Again, that calmness of his was infecting her as well. Thanks to the RK800 agility, they quickly reached his office.

"This morning you said we didn't have much time," she noted. "I said so because you would go back to sleep. We fly late in the evening or even at night. The whole puppet theatre doesn't start until tomorrow, but I don't know what time. Everything is top secret." "Great," she sighed. "We'd better fix what Frank ordered because he won't give up. Do you still have no doubts about that line of code I showed you?" "No, I don't. I'm sure it's correct. But I am puzzled why Frank has doubts about something we don’t." "You're kidding. You've known him longer than I have, so you should know he wants to keep us busy with something by force. He can't stand the fact that he won't always be a star of the show." "I think you're right. Let's leave it as it is and check what's going on in the server room. I've got bad feelings about this." "Come on, it's probably another Pritchard paranoia. At worst, the drive is breaking down, or the power cable has come loose," he tried to reassure her. "Let's hope you're right," she replied, zipping up the backpack into which she had stowed the laptop."

Connor took the necessary things, then they left the office and after a while took the elevator down to the underground, where the servers were located. The hall was huge, divided into sectors separated by glass walls. It took them quite a while to find sector G. They were even about to give up, but Connor saw a large letter taped on the door.

"This is here. I hope Pritchard isn't wasting our time."

Hundreds of LEDs flashed green and blue, like Christmas tree lights, all over the rectangular structure made up of disks. Cooling fans hummed loudly and unbearably. Laura first looked at everything carefully but didn't notice anything strange. Only after a while did one of the LEDs turn red.

"Connor, I found it," she called out. "We need to isolate it," he suggested. "That may not be necessary," she replied, pulling the disk from the rail on which it lay. "The cable has come loose, that's probably the cause. We'll check it anyway just to be sure the wire is the only problem here."

While the hacker dealt with the faulty disk, Connor decided to check the rest as well. If any of them are infected the entire sector will have to be cut off. He really wished it wasn't because he had planned to take Laura to lunch at Camarilla but fate had other plans.

"Unfortunately, I have bad news. The situation is more serious." "I beg you, don't tell me we're going to sit here longer than we intended," she said. "The disks are infected. Apparently, someone in the company forgot the security rules or the worms were smarter than our antiviruses. We need to secure the sector." "And check the data piece by piece. Later, isolate the defective fragments, move them to quarantine and see if they can be salvaged. Great!" "We'll do as much as we can. The rest must be handled by Frank."

The hacker prepared a laptop and her phone for special tasks, while RK800 pulled out and booted up his laptop. Later, they divided the work into several stages. They started by scanning everything, piece by piece, with HAL 9000 helping them a lot. Laura was unsure about showing the phone so openly, but in the end, she trusted Connor. Isolating and trying to repair the infected pieces proved to be the most time-consuming. The hacker didn't know how much time had passed since they got here, or even what time it was when they left the office. She could have checked it on her laptop or phone, but that didn't occur to her either. She was hungry and monstrously tired.

"Another hour and we're out of here. We'll have some time left to drink coffee." "Some time? You mean what time is it exactly?" "Half an hour left until 9 pm." "You're kidding! We're sitting here all day?!" she yelled, and her voice echoed. "I'm going to murder Pritchard." "You can start scanning. This will go fast."

An hour later they were back in the corridor with the elevator. Unfortunately, too many people were using it today, so Connor suggested they take the fire escape stairs and try another floor.

Sarif Industries. Labs. 10:35 pm.

Adam was sitting in an armchair and had been having a conversation that he thought was going nowhere for a long time. From time to time he glanced at Megan sitting on the sofa and at how she was nervously playing with a pearl necklace loosely hanging around her neck. The room was full of screens with diagrams and models of prosthetic arms, glowing with a bright blue light.

"Major, I expect the entire area of the Conference Center to be covered by at least two groups of people," the Security Chief insisted. "I've already said we won't enter with the others through the main entrance, because the security will be hindered," his voice was increasingly exasperated. "Yes, that's what I meant. I'm glad you understand. Goodnight," Adam ended the call and tossed the phone back on the desk. "Idiot," he muttered.

He looked again at Dr Reed, who had turned off the news transmitted live from Picus by Eliza Cassan.

"If you keep pulling that necklace, Dr Reed, you'll tear it," he tried to joke.

The effect was different than expected so he stood up and walked over to the woman, who was now standing facing the large screen that had previously displayed the news.

"You'll be fine. After all, this isn't the first time you've had to defend your research," he assured, placing his hands on her shoulders.

The grey material from which the fancy tunic was sewn was slippery and cool to the touch. For a moment he wanted very much to kiss the side of her neck but, apart from the high collar, he was stopped by the thought that, after all, Laura was still present in his life.

"Previously there was only a theory. Now it is different. This new discovery is something big. Kepler big. Rosetta stone big." "Forgive me, but I still don't see where the problem is." "They will want to know the details. To know how I came to it." "So..." "Megan, we're leaving for Washington in two hours," they were interrupted by a video call from Sarif which appeared on a screen. "Good evening, boss." "Adam, you're there too. Good, because I'd like to review the security plans one more time." "Of course, boss."

David nodded. "Megan are you and your team ready yet?"

"Almost. We still have to check the data," she replied, avoiding looking at the screen. "Hurry up. If you want to shine and dumbfound these smart arses, everything has to be perfect." "I hate it when he does that," she sighed when Sarif had already hung up. "Come on, I'll walk you part way."

They both walked out of the office into the corridor and then cut through one of the laboratories where the scientists were collecting and checking all the data. Megan was stopped several times and had to clarify any doubts with team members. On the way, they met General O'Neill, interested in the Typhoon prototype, but Dr Reed avoided the conversation, leaving it to Vasili.

"Adam, you can't be so closed to modern technology. This is our future," she tried to convince him. "Teachers certainly dream of using Typhoon during lessons at school," he replied with sarcasm. "That's not the point. Contracts with the military provide us with the money with which we exist and can expand the company. Neuroimplants are something else, they help people. They improve their reflexes, improve their thinking. David has been talking about this for a long time. He's a good man, and I know you like him." "Mhm, just like everyone else," replied the Security Chief reluctantly.

Megan did not respond. She was interrupted by the elevator doors opening.

"Where are you going?" "To Diane's office. I have to leave her the keys to take care of Kubrick. He's not so little anymore. He knocks over all the flower pots." "He broke a vase yet?"

The woman shook her head negatively. "I moved it and made a fence. The one you were supposed to make yourself."

"I'm sorry it turned out that way," the man admitted regretfully. "Me too...And not only because of that. Adam...I...I have to tell you something..."

The elevator unexpectedly stopped. They heard laughter.

"We made it at the last minute," Connor said. "I told you not to take the damn stairs," growled Laura at him. She already wanted to get into the elevator but saw Adam and stepped back. "We'll wait for the next one." "Nonsense," RK800 replied and pushed her inside.

The hacker felt herself getting hot, Jensen feigned cold indifference, Megan looked depressed, and Connor whistled under his breath.

"This is my floor," muttered Dr Reed. "Faridah is already here. We should hurry up," she added and left.

Laura felt her hand go numb from holding tightly her backpack. Fortunately, they got off at the next floor leaving Adam alone.

Sarif Industries. David Sarif's office. 11:15 pm.

Jensen got off the elevator and, trying not to limp, approached the reception desk behind which Athene was sitting. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for entering the office. Good thing he just happened to have the documents he needed with him.

"Adam, son!" he was greeted by Sarif's cheerful voice. "How are the moods? Everything ready? Tomorrow's the big day." "Yes, boss. I brought everything regarding security," he informed, handing over a file. "The Capitol Police will secure the whole area, and as soon as we leave VTOL, the Federal Protection Service will take over." "Great, great. And our star?" "She's terribly nervous." "Nonsense. She'll just show them her research, and that's all," Sarif said tossing his favourite baseball. "Did she tell you about them?” "Yes," nodded the Security Chief. "But I don't understand much of it." "Purists accuse us of disrupting the natural order of things," snarled the boss. "Megan merely exploited our DNA. She unleashed the dormant power within it. That's something better than Darrow did."

Sarif Industries. Francis Pritchard's office. 11:50 pm.

"I see you've already returned. Somehow you were in no hurry," Pritchard complained. "Sector G was infected with the virus. We had to isolate particular pieces of data and recover what we could," Connor explained. "Give you a simple task, and you're about to screw something up."

Laura wanted to say something, but RK800 stopped her.

"Probably someone didn't follow the rules. Even if we had a list of authorized people, we won't be able to find out who it was." "Holy shit. Why does everything have to go to hell just today?" growled Frank. "Anyway, we need to check the security systems. I'll raise the alarm right away," he announced and, without waiting for their response, carried out his plan.

Sarif Industries David Sarif's office. The 0 hour.

The screen in Sarif's office, which had previously displayed a broadcast of a baseball game, now showed a map of the laboratories highlighted in red. An alarm vibrating in their ears sounded, and a robotic, female voice repeated in a loop: Environmental malfunction, laboratory sub-section six. All lab chiefs, please report in.

Knowledge is a deadly friend If no one sets the rules The fate of all mankind I see Is in the hands of fools

All chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

#Deus Ex #DXHR #Deus Ex Human Revolution #Adam Jensen #Shadowfanfic #crunchy-shadow #Shadow's Showdown #Nifriel #I never asked for this #Fanfiction #Evie Dormer OC #Joe Mando OC #Cyberpunk #Writers on tumblr #Chapter 55: The Zero Hour.

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lokisprettygirl · 3 years ago

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Would Never be her (Loki x Female Reader)

Summary : You found a portrait of Loki's ex wife in his chamber and she looks awfully alot like you. But it's not you.

"My beautiful princess, you look ethereal" he kissed you softly. Loki just brought you to Asgard yesterday, you were dressed up in the asgardian traditional attire for women, a flowy expensive gown, All father Odin was going to introduce you in the evening as Loki's would be princess. Even though you were just a mere mortal, loki found himself drawn to you the moment he set his eyes on you. You could never tell why? You didn't think of yourself as anything special, especially for an other worldly prince like him.

So you rejected his advances and ignored his flirting but he was relentless and he finally managed to win you over somehow, it's not that you didn't want him too, you were crazy about him, how could you not be? He was everything you'd ever want or desire in a man in every way.

"Thank you my prince, I'm a little nervous though about the ceremony" he pulled you into him by your waist as he heard you and you giggled "You don't have to be, you're my princess and everyone is going to love you and accept you with open arms, that I promise you " he kissed you again and at soft first, the kiss turned pretty heated quickly, he lifted you up and sat you down on the dresser.

"Oh princess I wish I could love you right now but there's some urgent matter that requires my immediate attention but do not fret, I asked your personal maid Layla and she would show you around" he whispered and you moaned as you felt him pulling you closer to him "Don't address her as maid loki, it makes me uncomfortable" you told him and he smiled, you were still not accustomed to royalty.

"Whatever you need my sweet princess, I'll see you in evening" he kissed your forehead and left soon after. As instructed layla came for you and she showed you around the palace, whenever you passed by someone else in the palace, you'd get a set of glares, some looked with envy and others looked at you surprised. "Wow they are not used to having mortals around here I see" you chuckled and layla smiled.

"What's in there?" You asked her as you passed through the corridor, there was a huge entrance towards a room or something and it made you curious "That's Prince Loki's humble abode" she answered you and you were surprised "No I am in his chamber" you walked towards the door and it was unlocked so you opened the door. When you went inside, you could tell it belonged to Loki, the walls shimmered with gold and glitters, his bed was made perfectly and had green silky satin bedsheet, the duvet was the colour of his armour.

"That's just a Guest chamber as far as I know" layla told you and you were so confused. Loki told you, that was his room. Why would he lie? Your gaze fell upon the portrait hung right over his bed, it was a portrait of him with a woman sitting on his lap, both smiling and both seemed happy. Now you knew loki have had several relationships before you so it wasn't really a surprise but then you walked closer to the bed and that's when you felt your world spinning.

The woman in the portrait, though dressed in her Asgardian attire, looked exactly like you, same hair, same eyes, same skin color, for a moment you thought that's what it was, a portrait of you and him that he may have gotten made, but then you read the words written on the edge "For My love Sigyn, Today and forever"

"Who is that layla?" Your voice trembled as you spoke and she walked closer to you "I don't know much, I'm fairly new here my lady, but I heard my mother saying that prince loki used to be married once, so it must be his wife sigyn, she passed away, did he not inform you of his past?"

He didn't, he should have but he didn't, You ran out of the room as soon as the realisation hit you, he didn't fall in love with you because you were anything special to him, he followed you relentlessly and didn't give up because you looked like her and you reminded him of her. He was still in love with her and you were a walking talking reflection of her, just a vessel, you were being used.

As you reached your chamber, you broke down, you changed out of your asgardian attire and you worn back the clothes you came with. You can't be his second option, you'd always be beneath her, the only reason he ever wanted you was because of your looks, not your personality or how you were as a person, he fell in love with your face that's it.

You ran through the bifrost and you asked heimdall to send you back, he was hesitant at first but he could tell you were utterly distressed about something and maybe it's for the best, you were just a mortal afterall and you were lied to. So he agreed to send you back. And you were gone

When you didn't make it to the royal feast, loki got worried and he made his way towards the chamber, when he went inside he found your dress on the bed with a note on top of it , his eyes filled with tears as he read the note.

"I'm not Sigyn loki, I am not her and I would never be, you lied to me, please leave me alone and don't come for me again"

He snickered as he crumpled the note in his fist.

"Apologies my darling, but I won't lose you again"

#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader insert #prince loki

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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Yandere Profile - Link (Legend of Zelda)

ABSOLUTELY YES. MY BOY. LOVE OF MY LIFE.

As some of you may know, today is the release date of Skyward Sword HD for Switch!! So I decided to release this one now in honor of that :3

NOTES:

I went towards the idea of a Princess!reader because that just opens the gate for sooooo much potential. I'm leaning heavily towards the ZeLink interactions in BoTW and Skyward Sword just because those games have the most interaction between the two.

Also! This is great bc it gives me the opportunity to explore an idea I've actually had a long time! I've always thought about how many opportunities there have been across the games for Link and Zelda to be kinda like "haha well seeya later" and just... bolt, run away from everything, abandon their roles and responsibilities and all that. Like, if OoT kid Link got her before Ganon did and ran, if SS Link just decided to get her on the bird and bolt before everything went down, if botw Link was just like haha what if we ran away from everything together... jk... unless...?

And final note, Link is a great pick for the very traditional yandere -- sweet and : ) but can snap into darker personas. I really liked writing this bc I tend to have more self centered yans and less of the "worships the ground you walk on" type of yans like I think Link would be, so it's a nice change.

As usual now the nsfw section is divided by a ---- line.

TWs: fem reader, heavily implied Zelda!reader, stalking, murder, very brief mentions of gore/dismemberment of rivals, manipulation, very brief suicide mention, themes of reincarnation (I’ve been told this can be triggering to some people so just in case)

TWs (nsfw section): noncon, somnophilia

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Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 4 Brutality: 8.5 Physical capability: 8 Mental/emotional instability: 7 Restrictiveness: 6 Sexual sadism: 5 Stubbornness: 8

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

The primary trait of Link that any darling -- any person, really -- would notice is that he is, well, quiet. He has always been a man of few words, and really, he often doesn't know exactly what to say. On his own, at a first glance, he really does seem like a gentle, humble spirit, someone who blends into the background pretty well, who isn't particularly prideful or reckless or aggressive.

Which is why, to be honest, he might sort of evade the gaze of most people -- he doesn't stand out. You remember him as the boy that smiled at you now and then, it's a soft, gentle sort of smile, one that you feel conveys nothing but the utmost innocence and contentment with the world. You know he's pretty good at fighting, but doesn't get into fights needlessly, he's accomplished and respected, but has never been the guy everyone is talking about -- he's in the background, against the wall. Never speaking, always looking out, sometimes at the sky, sometimes carefully watching people. Sometimes you see him, gaze blank and tranquil, and wonder what he's thinking about. Whether he's the village boy in the time of Twilight, the trained and honored warrior that slept for many years, the boy that came down from the sky -- you can't help but feel at ease around him, safe, you can't help but find him endearing and pleasant.

Yet, you always seem to notice him. Other people... forget he exists, sometimes, he's so quiet. You never do, for whatever reason.

When he needs to get something across, he prefers to express himself through actions, not words. If you lived in Skyloft, or Ordon village, you might find problems mysteriously solved, work suddenly done that you don't remember doing. That fencepost outside your home that broke has been replaced overnight. A village child went missing and he comes back a few hours later with them in tow. Always humble, never demanding or expecting thanks, he tells you in his quiet voice that he's happy to help you.

And should you ever ask him for anything, he'll drop whatever he's doing to help. Anything for you, he says with a smile, which makes you feel a bit guilty when, honestly, you're not even sure you're remembering his name right.

And yet, sometimes, you feel so at ease around him it seems unnatural. He seems so easy to trust. You feel like you've known him forever. And sometimes you feel... for just a split second, less at ease. You find yourself randomly stiffening at his calm, sweet voice. You find yourself looking around when you're alone, as if you feel someone is there, and for some reason, his face flashes through your mind. Sometimes when he looks at you, you feel sort of cold. It's almost like invoking a memory you don't have, like some kind of learned instinct you can't recall a reason for. But those moments are fleeting, they come and go before you can even process them, replaced by warmth and comfort.

If you do spend time with him, if you find yourself gazing out your window when he's training, the next thing you notice besides him being quiet and sweet is that he's strong. It's almost ironic, how all the other knights or village boys are so aggressive and rowdy all the time, many of them taller or bulkier, and yet, none of them could ever dream of defeating Link. Not one can match his agility, speed, prowess. Such a pleasant, calm person, with so much skill, strength, and power, but that power is so rarely seen exerted. People marvel at his talent, they say it's as if he has the experience of lifetimes and lifetimes of battle in his blood.

And it's why you feel at ease when he's assigned the task of guarding you. His capabilities are unmatched, and yet you'd never fear any harm to you from him. Both of those traits put together make him the best candidate to protect you.

Of course, you do find yourself doing most of the talking. Sometimes you find yourself rambling to fill the silence, and you fear you're annoying him, but when you stop he raises an eyebrow and asks why you got so quiet. Did he do something wrong? He seems to worry about that a lot -- has he done something bad? Has he made you upset? Are you mad? At first you think he's worried about his position security, but after a while you realize he genuinely worries about it.

And when you do continue your ramblings, you're surprised to find he remembers your words -- every little thing you say. Things you don't even remember telling him. He asks you about that relative you mentioned one time, his eyes light up and he walks a bit to the side because look, it's your favorite flower over there, he'll get it for you. It's impressive, really, how he manages to remember such things. He must take his job very seriously.

He does enjoy giving you such things -- he loves giving you gifts. It's usually things he finds, wholesome little things -- makes a crown out of the flowers you like so much, finds something interesting here or there, while he was off-duty he saw something in the markets he thought you'd like and got it for you. You almost feel guilty, it's so constant that he's giving you things.

Sometimes you ask him about himself, you realize he knows so much about you and you so little about him. He blushes, he rubs the back of his head, he insists there's nothing interesting about him, he wouldn't waste your time like that. It takes time to get him out of his shell, but eventually, he tells you this or that, little stories from his life.

Sometimes you take long walks, you like to get out of the stuffy walls and have fun outside, he accompanies you across Hyrule. Sometimes it feels familiar, you pass places you've never been that give you a feeling of nostalgia, deja vu, a sense that you've been here before.

He’s protectiveness incarnated. Insanely so. He can spring to his feet at a moment's notice and deals with anything that comes for you before they can even get close.

It makes you feel safe, but there's something else there. It's a ferocity that is so contrasting to his normal self, different even from the times you've seen him fight as he trains. It's a glint in the eyes, an aggression in his expression, that almost makes him seem like a different person. And it lingers for a moment, once the creature is dead and his sword hand falls to his side, he turns and glances at you to his side, a hand raised to wipe the blood off his face, and for that lingering second, it's still there, his blank expression and wide eyes -- a ferocity so intense it starts to look like bloodlust, chaos, destruction. And then, it's as if you imagined it. Smiling and telling you it's gone now, you're ok. You're glad he's so truly devoted.

In fact, he's so dedicated to his job that he starts... doing it... outside of his job hours...? Well, today he was given the day off, and you were told to stay inside because you didn't have to go out. He comes knocking on your door, says not to be startled if you hear someone outside your door move or shift or anything, but he just wanted to let you know in case. He'll be right here. Keeping watch. So don't worry. You're safe.

And likewise, he was supposed to have a day off when you were supposed to enter the town. You were assigned two other guards to watch you, since it's a special trip, so you're surprised to find just Link waiting for you. He took care of it, he says, he didn't feel right leaving your safety up to someone else, he doesn't trust them. So they agreed to let him take over for today.

All of this said, he doesn't have to grow alongside you, he doesn't have to be the childhood friend, the knight who guards you. He doesn't even have to have met you. Fate works in odd ways like that. There's a sort of inexplicable instant attachment he takes to you, almost as though it's some kind of destined, divinely inspired sort of thing. He would describe it as saying you feel familiar to him.

He's also, notably, prone to a more traditional trope of what you might call humility whiplash. For the most part, he's got that overly humble, worshipping, "I don't deserve to even stand in your presence" sort of mentality. However, although it's rare and requires a lot of wearing down his mental state, if pushed far enough, he can have brief moments where he snaps into more or less the complete opposite -- entitlement, arrogance, aggression, getting mad at you for the behavior he'd normally take with a smile on his face. Thankfully, unlike some yanderes that have a whole snapping episode towards their darling, his are very very brief, usually only a matter of seconds or a single snarled sentence before he snaps back to normal, wide-eyed and apologetic and telling you I don't know what came over me. It’s... a little frightening to say the least, but you blow it off, tell yourself that hey, everyone has moments like that... Right?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

For the most part, he doesn't need it, he can pretty easily cling to your side well enough to be assured of your safety, and he manages to scare off the undesirables not with a glare, but a smile that's just a little too sweet and far too persistent -- it unnerves people. You hear a lot of people say that something about that guy rubs me the wrong way. Or that he gives me goosebumps for some reason. Even the people he scares away themselves can't pinpoint exactly what it is, all they know is that, despite being reputed as kind and quiet (and maybe a little dense), somehow a lot of people agree that something about him puts people at unease, and that's all he needs. Because they stay away from him, and if he’s by your side all the time, that means they stay away from you too. Why keep you trapped when you can just be isolated?

An aware Link is a a unique scenario. One scenario that's rather... interesting to imagine is a Link that defies fate itself, a Link that decides to be selfish in one of those rare snapping moments of his. Perhaps he makes a decision when everything starts going down, when the chaos is beginning, or perhaps he has somehow managed to gain knowledge of the bigger picture at work, the reality of the nature of your existence and his.

Perhaps he begins to think it's unfair. To suffer again and again. To prove himself again and again, and not always even to reap any benefits, to work so hard and yet still -- still -- you slip out of his grasp. He longs for a life with no tribulations, no struggle, no fights to be fought. He begins to feel like it's what he wants the most. He begins to feel like maybe it's what he deserves. So many lifetimes of struggles, if the higher powers won't give him a reward, he'll take it himself.

And perhaps, for all their higher power, not even the great goddesses themselves would have ever predicted it -- humans are ultimately creatures of will. To defy fate and to run away from destiny -- it wouldn't be the first time a human has tried such a thing. Sure, Hyrule may be destroyed. The people may all die. There may be nothing left. But you know what? He's stopped caring. If you're alive and he's alive, tucked away in your little corner of the world where you've found respite, well, that's all he needs. Even if you're on the run from forces that would want to find you, even if the threat of the final third of the triforce owner looms over your head. He'll ignore it, he'll look away.

You'll live a quiet little life together, a happy life without suffering, without quests and enemies, without strife, without worry. That's what he tells you when he steals you away, lifts you out of your bed one night. Says to be quiet, there's danger outside your door, he's rescuing you. You have no reason to not believe him. He waits until things go down, a castle under siege, but rather than taking you to where you're supposed to go, he climbs onto the horse and starts... riding away. It gets further and further into the distance, and you might ask why, what's going on? You have a job to do, he has a battle to be fought. But he says you're going far, far away, someplace you'll be safe.

But what about the divine beasts, the seals, the Twilight, whatever threat runs in this world in this time, what about the threat of Ganon, you ask? He says it doesn't matter anymore. You were doomed to fail, he thinks, it's either stay here and die, or run away. All that matters is you. And he'd like you to feel the same way for him. You will with enough time, don't worry.

He just wants this happy, quiet life with you that he’s been denied time and time again. It’s all he wants. If fate won’t give it to him, he’ll make it happen himself, and carve out the life he is determined to have, defying even the will of higher power.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He gets it. Really, he does. "Stop following me!" You yell. Well, he understands why you might feel that way, but this is kinda his job. He thinks you're naive. Not that he would ever, ever have a thought that you're imperfect, of course! It's because you're so perfect and pure that you're... less aware of the dangers all around.

He'll let you think you're free, perhaps. He's more than capable of being quiet, quiet is kind of his thing. Watching you from a short distance is easy. Of course, his horse might make a noise, he can't really help that, or he might misstep on a branch or something. And then you turn around and get all mad again. Now you're even more angry. Well, he can also tell your guardians/father, who will encourage you to accept it. You can't help but feel a little bad -- he's just doing his job.

Now, our aware, runaway Link, well, does he really need to keep you restrained? What would you go back to? Certain death, a land destroyed? Sometimes you mention home, and he's quick to remind you that home doesn't exist anymore. His home is where you are. Can't you feel the same way? You found peace here in this little place -- a village far far away. Travelers, you call yourselves. What's the point in going elsewhere? How would you ever survive without him? He's not very good at being subtle or skillful about the psychological manipulation, it's obvious he's trying to scare you into not leaving, but... it still works, because really, he has a point.

He doesn't want to have to use physical restraint, in any case. And for the most part, it's not needed, because one important aspect of your relation is that his job kinda revolves around you (in some incarnations), or, perhaps you live in the same little village, but either way the thing is that his presence does the job well enough -- he's always there, perhaps more so than almost any other yandere. Even when you think you've managed to get away from him for a moment, somehow his face pops up out of nowhere. How he manages to pull it off is a mystery, you swear he manages to find you so well and predict your movements it's inhuman.

But if you really, really pose a problem, a smarter and sneakier darling that somehow manages to keep slipping out of his grasp and running off (you never get away for more than about 20 minutes or so, but nonetheless), you keep trying to run off when he's sleeping (he wakes up in approximately 25 seconds if your presence is absent from the bed, but that's still enough time to run out the front door), every time he turns his head (which isn't often) you're trying to disappear... well, in that case, he can reach a point of deciding more straightforward measures are necessary. He hates to do it, really, at least when he's not yet at a snapping point. But it's for your own good. And he says so, quite apologetically.

But it's not so bad, it's not like you're being chained to a wall or anything. For one, he got leather ties so you'd be more comfortable, but more importantly, as your guardian, he figured the best thing for you to be tied to would be... himself. Think of it like friendship bracelets! It's just... got a 5-foot chain connecting them. This way you can't sneak off at night, and you won't get too far when he's distracted. It's a safety measure.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

He's a learner. At first, it's easy. Honestly, he is a rather naive, gullible boy, sometimes he reminds you of a happy dog with his bright eyes. He likes to believe the best of people, give them the benefit of the doubt in all circumstances, and that goes double for you, who he believes can do no wrong.

And even when you do lie to him, it's still not wrong. You didn't do anything bad. Clearly there has simply been a misunderstanding, and you thought you had to lie. Or perhaps you simply forgot a detail or were confusing something with something else. It wasn't malicious on your end, he knows that.

He's actually significantly smarter than he lets on in practical knowledge, though. Those dungeon puzzles pay off, you know? He's got pattern recognition down. So over time he learns how to distinguish when you're lying to him or attempting to deceive him, and sees through it increasingly well.

And yet, he doesn't really... get mad over it, most of the time. Again, he's just capable of deluding himself into believing there's a reason. He believes so strongly in your goodness that he finds a way to interpret everything you do as out of benevolence. So you snuck out the window and didn't tell him you were going for a walk because you just wanted to get away from his suffocating presence for once? You were just thinking of him. You didn't want to burden him and wanted to give him a break. Well, that's thoughtful, but don't worry, he doesn't need a break. He thinks it's precious you're so considerate of him though!

You don't tell him you were talking to that person, and you lie and say no when he asks, because you don't want him to worry, and because you underestimate how dangerous others can be. He's told you a million times and you don't listen, but that's ok, it's because you're just so pure you see the best in everyone. Everything you do is good.

Because he perceives your lies, he will still work against and around it. He won't confront you on your lies, he'll just make sure to deal with the situation -- you lied about sneaking out, well, he'll just keep watch and be ready to meet you outside next time. You lied about talking to a person, well, he'll just have to make sure they stay away from you instead.

If you're trying to trick him, he just plays along until necessary. Smiles and nods. He gets the suspicion you're planning a break-out when he told you he was leaving to go get something from town... rather than saying so, he just decides, you know what? Why don't you come with him? Oh, you're feeling sick, you tell him it's ok, go without you? Well, he can't leave you alone then! Because you're clearly not and just trying to get him to leave... or, as he says, he can't just leave you alone. He'll go another day.

He's fairly manipulable when it comes to praise and affection. You can easily Pavlov him into certain behaviors or patterns with just the slightest words of praise and affection. He's not a very outwardly expressive person, tends to stay quiet, but you can tell how he feels inside when you give the slightest praise, a hug, a kiss on the cheek -- you can see that soft hint of a smile and tell that inside, he's basically melting, even if it's not obvious to most people. And, much like the lying, he’s honestly often aware of it, but he just can’t help it.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He tries to get you the things that he feels will make you happy. Your happiness is incredibly important to him, and he usually thinks about how any action he plans to take might affect you, spends a lot of time debating choices of things to do or say and try to determine how each one will affect you and choose accordingly.

As such, he goes out of his way to support the things you want to do. Have a hobby? He'll find the best materials available. Want a book or a food? He'll obtain it through some means. Even if procuring it involves a side-quest-y set of mundane tasks or scouring the world for 70 of this and 50 of that to exchange it for the item from an obscure specialist, it's all worth it.

The only thing he just doesn't give up on is the constant vigilance and insistence on being by your side more or less every waking second. And every sleeping second. And just every single moment you're alive. It's for your safety.

This is actually one of the things he can get a little nasty about when it comes to how he deals with it, because he quickly has the bright idea that if you don't get it, he'll make you understand. Of course, he can't actually risk you getting hurt, so he stages it. Allows you to sneak off, or at least think you have, and walk right into the path of those monsters he lured, or the people he hired to intimidate you. Of course, it's only natural that he shows up at the last possible second, right on time to save you. You should expect that, after all, it's his responsibility to protect you, of course fate works out perfectly like this. See, he was right, it's so dangerous, and without him you'd be dead. Hopefully you grasp that now.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

His is mostly related to vigilance. Where are you? Who have you been talking to? Who was that person you were talking with just now? What did they say? He's not nosy. He just cares about you. It’s in the job description. You ought to understand just how much certain bad people would love to find you and hurt you. That's why he has to know.

This isn't our modern world, so there's no phones or tracking devices to speak of, just himself, which, well, might as well be a tracking device since he never seems to have difficulty finding you. Sometimes you're not sure how he does it.

He tells you that you don't have to be with him 24/7, but you will be, even if you don't realize it. He's aware enough to know that you'll feel suffocated and get mad if you're aware of his presence all the time, so he gives you your "alone" time, aka, the "follow her quietly from a 20+ foot distance" time. It all feels the same to you. Well, sometimes you feel eyes on you, but you shake the feeling off as paranoia.

So it's not so much that he sets rules and reacts when they're broken, but rather, he works his way around anything you might do so well that he doesn't need you to follow his rules, or really, you take them more as suggestions. But honestly, that's kind of worse. It's enough to drive a darling to the brink of a mental breakdown very quickly. With Link you will inevitably become paranoid, nervous, you feel like you're going insane because he manages to pop up everywhere, he always knows what you did when you did it and you have no idea how it is even conceivably possible for him to know some of the things that he knows. He confronts you very plainly and quietly, often sweetly, asking why you did this or that or telling you it's ok, you don't have to hide anything, surely there’s a good reason, and if not, he forgives you anyway. In a way, it's worse than an angry confrontation. You begin to feel like he's omnipresent, like he can read your mind, and it truly takes a mental toll and affect you worse than any normal yandere's concept of punishment.

This ultimately works out well in his favor. The more you just do what he wants, the less it feels like a violation or intrusion that he knows these things, since he was there with you, it makes sense, and you continuously get bent to his will.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Ah, and thus we get to that brutality rating.

It would be unthinkable to think that any sort of scum would even dare. Even he isn't worthy of being with you, and someone else thinks they could be? So, he more or less views "rivals" as an offense. When they're threats, well, he's allowed to deal with them. When they're not, well... he has a wonderful reputation. If he says he overheard that person planning usurpation or assassination, that they realized he was listening in and wildly attacked him, everyone will believe him. Even if the death seems a little... non-immediate. And uh... frankly... overkill. How exactly... did those limbs get perfectly severed during equally armed combat? And was it... really necessary... to kinda spill entrails all over like that? He'll apologize, of course, he was just so outraged by the thought of someone hurting you or your family, you know? You notice his eye twitches a bit as he says it.

He has a lot of... bottled up frustrations, which we'll touch on in the nsfw section as well, but it tends to manifest in those two ways: sex and violence. Rather than exerting stress and anger and frustration as it comes, he lets it fester. He tries to maintain being the noble, humble, self-sacrificing person he feels he should be. That is... difficult to do for a long time. People expect a lot from him, even in timelines where he's not necessarily realized as the hero quite yet, he usually has a lot of responsibilities. But then you tack on the whole hero thing? The weight of the world is sometimes, quite literally, on his shoulders. Do you have any idea the kind of stress that comes with that knowledge? It's not pleasant. And it quickly bottles up, a very very fragile bottle set to eventually shatter in a matter of time.

On a longer sort of quest, he just kinda... leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. Enemies don't actually just poof out of existence the way they do on-screen, you know. Anyone coming across an area he's just been through is met with literal piles upon piles of corpses, sometimes monsters, but sometimes people. He takes a very scorched earth sort of policy when it comes to dealing with things.

He's able to easily get close to people, with that sweet face and puppy eyes and lithe body, people don't really feel on guard around him nor intimidated. That makes it significantly easier to infiltrate enemy hideouts, earn favors, and work his way in to be able to commit mass murder more easily. Granted, no one thinks too much of it because they *are* truly enemies, after all, they *did* need to be taken out and well, if the rulers can choose to either send a group of ten soldiers or just one guy and get the job done equally well either way, they'll go with the latter option. No one thinks anything of it, except the occasional person who laughs and says something to the effect of remind me to never get on your bad side, haha! He gives that sheepish, sweet little smile, and jokingly tells them that yeah, better not.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

For you, nearly impossible. For others, at a hair trigger.

For the most part, he conceals anger well until, as aforementioned, it bottles up and bursts. The truth is he gets irritated virtually all the time by other people. People who talk to you. Look at you. Smile at you. He’s actually rather easily annoyed even when you’re not involved, but again, he’s good at hiding it until it builds.

His rage has a commonality with his calm -- it's quiet. At least, at first. When it's directed at others, his eyes narrow. It's the telltale sign that someone has ignited his rage. It burns on the inside, it starts off as a spark that builds and builds and grows larger and larger until it's a blazing fire that consumes everything in his path. It's a loss of composure, a rare moment of complete loss of self-control. From his own perspective, it feels like he's not in control of his own body, it's all a blur happening in front of him and when it's over he's looking down at his own hands, unable to process his own actions, sometimes unable to remember them.

But it's violent, merciless, unforgiving. It does not yield to begging, it does not leave anything alive unless forced to. You remember the first time you realized how unnatural it was, how shocked you were at how he did something that certainly went against the code he was sworn to follow, the very first time you felt truly afraid of Link. It was a walk in town -- someone called out to you, spitting obscenities about you and your family, your lineage, threw something at you -- he caught it in his hand and crushed it, and quickly, without a word, advanced on the offender. And, to make a long story short, you had to prevent him from beating a man to death in public in broad daylight. He was forgiven by his superiors, but even they seemed shocked. You had to pull him off, and when he jerked his head around to look at whatever was stopping him -- before his face softened as he recognized your own face -- the split second you saw the burn of hatred and fury in eyes that were normally so soft and loving, was nothing short of unsettling, you still recall the chill that ran down your spine.

And honestly? It's terrifying. And the first time, it's shocking. Sure, you knew he could fight. You've seen him fight off monsters, bokoblins and lizalfos and the like. But something is different about seeing the blood of a human being run down his sword, dripping onto the ground, to see the bodies and the blank, numb gaze on his features he always has after it's over. The absolute lack of hesitancy he has to run human enemies through before they even have a chance to explain themselves, how unbothered he seems by the carnage left in his wake. The way he turns back to you, drenched in red and smiles, tells you it's ok, you're safe now. There's no need to look so scared.

And it changes how you view him, in the long run. Less of a guardian angel, more of a guardian dog, one that defends your name when you never asked him to. Pleads to tell him not to fall on deaf ears -- you just don't understand why it has to be this way, he says, you can't comprehend the threat they posed. From the sweet boy that leaves you flowers and repairs and instead leaves a wave of destruction in his path you would not have thought possible.

Directed towards you, though, it's entirely different. He tries his best to have patience with you, no matter what. He smiles, he tries to make excuses as to why you'd say this or do that, why you'd feel a certain way, and he's rather good at deluding himself to give you the benefit of the doubt.

But when it reaches an end, when he can no longer lie to himself, when you push it to a point that you truly make him mad, it's more of a snap. The times he'll lay hands on you in a truly violent way are rare, and as aforementioned, very brief. It's usually not so much of actually a blow, so much as a grab. He just can't get what he's trying to tell you through your thick head, so he stresses it, trying to make you understand as he grabs you by the upper arms, shaking you with each word, and he only stops when he sees the pain and fear in your eyes, drawing his hands back at lightning speed. He saves you from some danger very narrowly, one of the few times he lost track of you for a moment and had to frantically search before coming across you being attacked. What would I have done if something happened to you? Don't you understand that? He's so lost in the relief it takes him a moment to feel you beating on his arms in the embrace, choking and wheezing that you can't breathe, that his grip is so tight it feels like he'll snap you in half. He draws back again, and he apologizes, but it will certainly happen more than once.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Above. Like, so, so, so far above. He feels like he doesn't even deserve to look at you. Of course, neither does anyone else, so he's just, you know, stepping up to bear the burden of wrongdoing to keep people even worse than him away from you.

So it's less that you're just above him so much as you're above everyone. He's actually, perhaps surprisingly, a little bit of a pessimist about the world. The world is full of so many terrible people and so many horrible things happen that he's borne witness to. It's a "world cold and hard, (y/n) soft and warm" sort of thing. You're the one good thing, the thing that makes him happy, the ultimate source of comfort he has, and he has to prevent you from being defiled by the evil of the world, keep you innocent and sweet (even if he's just deluding himself to think you are those things in the first place).

This ties into, again, how he interprets every action you take as good and benevolent -- he has the "you can do no wrong" mentality. Even very blatantly malicious things, he'll interpret in a way that makes you somehow still come out a perfect, innocent angel. If you do harm to others, well, they simply deserved it. You did something technically wrong, but you knew no better, or you were desperate. You can't be held responsible for any of it. And if you're mean to him, well, he probably did something to make you upset.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Sort of a duality. Yes, he's very persistent. He thinks about it all the time. Every time you yell and try to run and hurl nasty insults at him, it hurts far more than you realize. He doesn't let it show on his face or in his voice, but it really does, and it gets to him sometimes. He's hyper observant of every little thing you do, your body language, your tone, the way you look at him, and the slightest of differences can change his mood internally, although it tends to look the same outwardly.

He makes little mental notes of it -- today she didn't flinch when I touched her shoulder. Today she didn't frown when she saw me coming. Little things like that will make his entire day. Likewise, the inverse kills him inside. He aims to make every day one of the former days, where the littlest signs of acceptance or even kindness and affection give him a sort of high that makes him feel like he's floating.

He tries his best to do things that he thinks will, well, earn love. Every opportunity to do something for you, he takes it. Everything he sees he'd think you'd like, he buys (or steals, or... loots from a dead body) for you. On and on that idea goes. And although he doesn't say too much, when he does speak to you, he usually has something nice to say. He views it in a formulaic way -- ironically, think about it like those collectibles in overworlds. You get enough of this or that thing, and once you have enough, you can go talk to this or that person and donate them all and get a reward, right? He's accustomed to viewing things that way. Love should be the same way. If he just completes enough tasks and gathers enough items, eventually he'll unlock your love.

That being said, even if it doesn't happen, much to your despair, he just... doesn't. Give. Up. He doesn't quit. No matter how many times you tell him, it doesn't make a difference. You can tell him you'll never love him, and it's like it goes in one ear and out the other. He keeps trying. And he never, ever, ever stops trying. What did you expect? The boy's been fighting the same enemy over and over across lifetimes, needless to say his spirit has build up some persistence.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Bonus: Zelda/Triforce of Wisdom Darling

And don't worry. If it all goes wrong, when he fails, those divergences in time where the hero is vanquished and evil wins out -- it's not the end. Somehow, that's the feeling he gets, holding your little lifeless body up, running hands across your cold skin. Somehow, he feels oddly calm. Like it hurts, but it's ok. Like he'll see you again. Maybe not soon, but one day. This time didn't work out. But the next one will.

And that's the feeling you'll always have. Every time you meet him and you feel like you've met before, the lingering memories when you wake from your dreams -- flying through skies and sailing on oceans, a child, an adult, a boy you've never met, or one you've known all your life, but it's always the same face, the same voice, the one right beside you in the waking world. You sometimes wonder if he has the same feelings, the same dreams, the same sense of something greater than yourselves at work, the sense of being just smaller pieces in a much bigger picture.

The sense of permanency, that each other is all there will ever be -- regardless of how it makes you feel, regardless of how that scares you, sometimes you feel like you can never be free. Sometimes, when you think of running away, those dark moments when you think of even escaping from life itself, it feels futile. It's as if you know it would never hold him away forever. As if death is insignificant. Perhaps in this lifetime, you'll become aware of why that is, or perhaps not.

With other obsessive lovers, just the idea of til death do us part is a terrifying thought. But, for Link, not even death can keep him away from you. Your suffering is already determined by the will of higher power, for the sake of a greater good.

In truth, it’s the goddesses who made him this way intentionally -- it’s designed to ensure your safety, even at the cost of your suffering. Again, for a greater good. Sure, you may live one lifetime to the next desperately locked in the same cycle in which your freedom and will is stripped from you, but in the end, it serves a purpose.

Nor will he change -- perhaps this one this time is a bit more spirited, more calm, more pessimistic, more optimistic... but in the end, at their core, they're the same soul, with the same will deep, deep down. The same drive to find you and protect you. The same love for you, an all-consuming love that destroys everything in its path to you and leaves ruin in its wake.

And if fate should one day keep you apart, should things change, for whatever reason, it’s unable to change him. There's another force even more powerful than fate determined to keep you together. The only thing more unavoidable, inevitable, and unescapable than fate, is Link himself.

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

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

In moments of passion, he changes a bit, unlike other more submissive yans who stay consistent in their reverence and desire to please.

You see, after a while, being as lenient and tolerant and flexible and completely devoted as he is... constantly self-sacrificing in so many ways, to you, to Hyrule, to the world... some frustrations build up. It's a big, big bottle of emotion, all tucked away and festering, getting greater and greater and eventually it has to explode somehow.

His reservations and inhibitions fall away. Perhaps a darker, more selfish side comes out. Perhaps that's why he's so rough. He knows he'll regret it later, the bruises from how hard he grips, the marks from the bites, but the hormones and the heat takes over. He'll feel bad for defiling you. He'll apologize. And he'll do it again. And again. And again.

But once the resolve crumbles, it topples. That is, he can't partially maintain it -- if it's partially gone, it falls apart completely. He lets go, so to speak. And when he lets go, you find that underneath that carefully constructed resolve and willpower that holds him back, he can be a very, very rough and possessive lover. In his normal state, he wouldn't dare think of you as a possession, or as something he's even worthy of. He would like so, so much to think that, to feel like he's allowed to -- but he doesn't. He chastises himself for even having such a desire. But in those moments, when his resolve is gone and his brain isn't thinking quite too clearly, he might even have to audacity to say "mine." Even if it's not true, not now, maybe it will be. He would like that so much. His and his alone.

And in a moment of clarity, he might even throw away the inhibition on purpose. The more selfish side, the same Link that drags you away from your destiny -- he's already forsaken his responsibilities, hasn't he? Why care anymore about the structures that no longer exist, your status and his, if there's no kingdom left? He likes that it happened, even. This way, this time, you can throw off those titles, those roles. Without your status, your title, there's nothing stopping him from making you his. And you will be his, and nothing more. It's all you need to be. So he doesn't have to care anymore about any of that, he doesn't have to stop himself from going wild. Biting into every little spare patch of skin, covering your body with marks that make him feel comforted to see.

As far as drive it's a bit of a two-sided duality. Outwardly he's not a very sexual person at all, blushes and stutters and averts his gaze at the slightest mention of suggestive topics, tries his best to be Respectful(tm) by always looking away when you're in a compromising position, or your skirt flies up, etc etc. Given how constant his vigilance is, he has a tendency to accidentally walk in on your changing or bathing, except unlike with many yanderes, it's genuinely an accident. Not that the image doesn't stick in his mind, nor does he wish he hadn't gotten to see, but he does feel guilty, and it was genuinely unintentional. He kinda freezes up, so it takes a moment for him to actually snap out of it and run out.

That being said, he quickly develops something of a masturbation addiction when he's younger, it starts as more of a stress reliever than anything, He's so sweet and always feels bad about talking about his problems and feelings, so that and, well, violence are the only ways he can get it out. Thus he learns to channel stress and nerves into sexuality, and once he has a real living body and not just his hand, that dependency on cumming to relieve it doesn't change.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Particularly so, yes, cares quite a bit. And it takes a while for him to feel comfortable. Even consensually, the first few times he touches you for several months, he's got trembling hands and stays quieter than ever, constantly freezes up every time you move or make a noise because he thinks he's done something wrong. He has to be coaxed into feeling more comfortable before he gets used to it, but he will build confidence over time.

As addressed before, though, if he's pushed and pushed and pushed long enough, you can get a darker side to come out. This is most likely something that would only occur post-kidnapping in a distant time, once he's far away from any possibility of consequence and destruction has set in to the world around you. He starts to get a little bitter, if you've been mean to him. It all builds up. Don't you get that he's literally saved your life? That he devoted every waking second to you? Isn't he kinda entitled to some thanks? The cycle of time never rewards him. Even the figures he helps over time rarely give him more than a verbal praise and thanks, maybe an item here or there, and then disappear. His role feels thankless. He starts to feel like he deserves something, something tangible, in return.

Surprisingly, though, he actually does not take the route of guilt-tripping or emotional manipulation or gaslighting his way into it like a lot of the sweeter yanderes when he does have that snap. His snaps/breakdowns are rather extreme in terms of how much of a polar opposite they are to his normal state, rather than just a slight bend of his normal personality. Rather than taking the route of most yanderes like himself, he just gets directly physically forceful. Still somewhat sweet, though, reminds you he loves you, he'd die for you, you're his entire world. You'd argue that doesn't really change the actions, but considering how frightening he is in that state, you're not dumb enough to vocalize that.

The guilt consumes him alive afterwards. Like, immediately afterwards. He's still panting and twitching and buried inside when it sets in. That being said, he doesn't get to stuttering and profusely apologizing, like he does over smaller offenses. It's all done and he can't take it back, so he just kinda collapses and says nothing. He's not the best with words, you know. It's an odd mixture of guilt and, honestly, a bit of satisfaction and relief. It feels like letting go of some self-imposed burden, that feeling of finally surrendering to some deep want, even if it comes with a lot of remorse, the relief of finally letting go does have a good feeling as well... and because of that, it’s another one of those barriers that, once broken, can’t be built up again.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

In all honesty the boy is, for the most part, a fairly gentle and vanilla lover. He doesn't really need anything special to get off -- he's easily excited and cums very very easily too. Just the prospect of getting to stick his dick in you in any capacity is enough to make him nearly burst at the thought honestly.

In general, as aforementioned, he's very very cautious and gentle to a point, but has a tendency to get actually kinda rough once he gets into it. The thing is, the roughness aspect is actually unintentional. He's one of those boys that is a little bit unaware of his own strength, doesn't process exactly how hard and fast he's going. He just gets lost in the feeling, kinda enters a dazed lusty haze where he's less aware of his actions. Doesn't realize he's literally got an iron grip pressing your head down on his dick or into the bed until you start flailing your hands because you can't breathe. Doesn't realize how hard he was gripping until he sees the bruises on your arms and hips later. That sort of deal -- poor thing is just unaware and doesn't have enough blood in his brain to think straight.

Biting

Surprisingly a really big one for him. (Remnants of a past life cycle with some lupine experiences perhaps?) In all seriousness, he could not explain exactly why if asked, it's one of those "I just like it" sort of things. It feels like yet another way to conjoin the two bodies, pulls you close. The marking aspect is also nice. Granted, he feels guilty afterwards, tries to help it heal. He has that same duality where moments ago he was this intimidating beast of a human being, rough and growly and jerking you like you were weightless, and now he's back to this bright eyed softie stuttering while he apologizes.

The guilt is mixed with a bit of enjoyment, though. It's constantly conflicting -- sure, part of him understands it's embarrassing and will help you cover up, but part of him doesn't want to, he wants people to see. Part of him looks at the marks and tells himself internally to never do that again, and part of him sees them and just wants to give you even more. It's a constant internal conflict, poor thing.

As far as a place, he likes the neck and shoulders best, simply because it's the most visible and it's the most passionate ones to create, when your bodies are tightly locked together. That being said, though, he also has a thing for biting at the insides of your thighs. It's another one of those I just like it sort of things.

Sometimes, when you're asleep, or pretending to be, you can feel him trace the bite marks with his fingers, softly running them over the circular pattern, just enough to barely ghost over your flesh.

Somnophilia

It puts him at ease. This one is particularly prevalent towards the beginning of your relationship, before you really know... how he is. He has this image of you as so pure and he couldn't bear the thought of defiling you with his horrible horrible thoughts. The guilt eats away at him for a while, but eventually he just can't hold back, but how could he ever do anything to you and risk consequence? So... the solution he comes up with is waiting until you sleep.

He tests the waters to see how heavy of a sleeper you are. Calls your name at increasing volume, lightly runs his fingers over your hair, pokes your face, whispers in your ear, runs his hands over your arms. Just to see what makes you rustle, if anything, so he knows the limits. If it turns out you're an incredibly light sleeper, well, unfortunately that means he's limited to just jerking off to your sleeping form, but that's ok. Just seeing your soft face and the cute way you breathe, the slightest way your lips open, that's enough for him.

If it turns out you're a heavier sleeper though, well, he tries to fight the temptation, but ends up going further. Slowly climbs onto your bed, careful to make the weight shift as gently as possible. Slowly pulls the covers back. Runs his hands up and down. It's a lot better when he can actually see your body as he jerks off, honestly. If he's feeling particularly risky, he might press your thighs together, feel how soft your skin is to his cock, how nice the squeezing pressure between them is.

He gets easily lost in a haze, though, so he inevitably ends up accidentally cumming on you and has to frantically find a way to lightly dab it up without waking you. He panics quite a bit, but that doesn't stop him from doing it again the very next night.

Overstimulation/Forced Orgasm

It just means he's doing a good job, really. Sure, you squeal and kick your feet back and forth and tug at his hair, but that's just because it feels good. Orgasms equate to love and feel good, right? Sure there's a little bit of pain when you go overboard, but then it just leads to feeling even better, right?

It's kind of an irrational compulsion rather than a logical goal, though. He just has an impulsive need to feel you quiver and spasm and clench, it basically gives him a chemical high hit and a wave of reassurance, makes him feel good in both the physical sense and the emotional sense. The first one sends him into this compulsive need to feel it over and over and over again, as many times as he can. It's another one of his internal conflict things -- sure, he knows it's hurting, but he just has to get one more. Just one more. But of course, every time turns into "just one more" when he's been saying that for half an hour now.

And, to be honest, it kind of gives him a pride boost to think he can make you cum against your will. How many people struggle to achieve that even when both parties are trying? It makes him feel good in an adequacy sort of way, he feels needed.

Size Kink/Distension

You know, there's a well-known thing among the male-lovers in this world when it comes to size. It's never the arrogant, loud guys, it's never the social butterflies, it's never the tall guys, it's never the beefy muscly guys. No, they're not the ones that end up somehow bestowed with absolute monster cocks. It's always the soft, lean boys who don't talk much. And they're always painfully unaware of it, too.

He's no exception. Not to the size or the complete lack of awareness. He hasn't spent a lot of time around guys his age too much, he's always been the one sent for some special task and ends up out in the wilderness by himself on journeys, or, in some lifetimes, accompanying you most of the time. He doesn't know what the average dick looks like, so he has no idea he's far above average.

This might sound like a plus, and of course in some ways it is, but also he doesn't think about the fact that the average body isn't properly equipped to handle it. You're supposed to just kinda put it in, that's how the sex works, right? Poor thing, especially if it's entirely consensual sex, he's just kinda ???? because why are you in pain? What is he doing wrong? You have to eventually explain it's literally just his body, not something he's doing.

That being said, naturally, he's a humble person, but hearing you say that does kinda... make him feel good inside. A little bit proud. He's not a person who takes a lot of pride in many things, so he likes having this one thing, and quickly notices you can visibly see it through the bulge it makes in your stomach. Especially if it's in a position where your back is pressed to his front, every little movement creates the bulge, so expect to get a lot of that.

He doesn't really bring it up much or talk about it when he's actually fucking you, it's more like, as with many things, something he's quietly aware of and silently enjoys a lot internally, even if it's not voiced.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Yes and no. It has to do with his overactive protection instinct. What if something happened or went wrong? He couldn't take that. He couldn't lose you.

At the same time, he likes kids, and he's very good with them, very patient. And over time, realizes that a kid would be the perfect tool of manipulation, and besides that, isn't it a beautiful thing, an ultimate manifestation of love?

So how to work around that... Ultimately, what he decides to do is have a kid... Just not by blood. There are plenty of orphans in Hyrule, wandering the streets and the wilderness, picking one up is easy. ...You wouldn't leave this poor child to suffer out there, to fend for themselves, would you? Nor would you leave him to take care of it by himself... Right?

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Oh, it's not like he thinks of it that way. He would call it... a reminder. You put yourself in danger again? You tried to go back again? You were gone and for ten whole minutes he didn't know where you were? What could the solution to this issue be? The only thing his brain can really come up with is making sure you need him. Making sure you're content and satisfied here with him so you don't go running off.

Thus we return to the forced orgasm thing -- see, you do need him. It feels good, right? You say it hurts, and maybe it does a little, but ultimately you wouldn't be cumming if it wasn't good. No one else can ever do that. No one else knows you like this. No one else was made for you like this. You can't replace him. You need him. And he can keep going as many times as it takes until you see that, too. Even if he gets milked dry, he has a mouth and hands for a reason.

And by "until you see that," I mean until you say it. In his more... emotionally intense moments, he gets a bit insistent. He needs to hear you say it. Admit it to yourself. And to him. That you need him, that you depend on him, that you'll never leave again. And don't think your patience and tolerance can stand a chance of outlasting his -- it will keep going until you say it.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

He's one of those wholesome type of boys who goes with something sweet. He says maybe your hair, your face, your skin, your eyes. It's all so comforting. So familiar. Of course, not to say that he doesn't like your less wholesome mentionable parts, but he wants to be chivalric about such a question, and feels answering that way would be too disrespectful.

In his unspoken thoughts, though, he likes the hips. It's a part of you he can grab onto and hold you close with. He puts his hands there a lot and holds tight, like he feels like at any moment you could slip out of his grasp. And, I mean, it's nice to look at, can't forget that.

#atml #scheduled post #yandere x reader #yandere legend of zelda #yandere link

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yisony07 · 3 years ago

Text

Alternative advices

"So, young soul, what brings you to this humble and deep abode of mine?" asked that old shaman dressed in purple cloaks with star touches. She spoke in an almost ghostly voice, as if she were a ghost.

The place had dark walls decorated with stars and various magical symbols and smelled of sweet smoke. Kenneth didn't know what had gotten him into this situation, but he was already there, and he wouldn't back down.

"You see, ma'am, I have a slight problem... It's this man, Harry, I can't help but get nervous when I'm around him, I really love him so much: he's so kind, always there for me..., I'm very much in love with him, but something prevents me from talking with him normally and..." he stopped when he saw the shaman raise her hand for him to stop.

"Don't worry, young soul, I know exactly what you need." She got up from her small seat and went to one of the boxes on one of the shelves, took it and returned to the seat. "I didn't think this would be the time to unleash this magnificent item, but I think it will serve you well, young soul." She opened the box and took out a mask, which he handed to Kenneth. "I trust you will put it to good use."

"Uh... thanks?" Kenneth muttered unconvincingly. "But how is this supposed to help me?"

"It's a magical item... It will do its thing when you put it on. It will feel strange at first, but don't be afraid... It's all part of the process" she replied slowly and ethereally, watching him condescendingly.

"O... kay".

Kenneth looked at the back of the mask and noticed a green glow. He looked at the old woman again and she nodded. Small drops of cold sweat fell on the mask, and the shine was more noticeable. He took a deep breath and placed the mask over his face.

A green smoke emanated from the mask and began to completely cover his body; Kenneth felt the mask spread around his head. He didn't know how to feel himself. "It's part of the process," he reminded himself, for it was uncomfortable, yet strangely arousing.

When the mask covered his entire head, Kenneth sensed something strange. His head burned gently, as if the mask was clinging to him like a second skin. Everything was blurred for a few seconds, and when his vision returned to normal, a flame lit up inside him. Strongly, he inhaled all the smoke created around him, and when his lungs collected all the gas, a new figure stood in his place.

"I'm booming!!" he said in a tone as excited as it was seductive, noticing his new deep, manly voice. He looked at his new body, took out a mirror and saw his reflection. "Now that's more like I was asking for." he tossed the mirror off-screen, and a cat's yell sounded. "Thank you ma'am…!" he took some bills out of his pocket, placed them on the table and shot out, breaking through the wall. "Oops! Sorry." he said he taking out a pencil with which he drew on the wall and restored it before leaving completely.

In Harry's house, who lived alone, it was very quiet. He turned off the television and was about to close the window to go to sleep, when a box suddenly came through it, almost hitting him.

"What the...?!". Harry looked out the window quickly, but he didn't see anyone, so he closed it and walked over to the box, a solid greenish-beige color, that had ended up on the floor. "Why would someone send me this?"

Harry opened the box and someone appeared.

"What the hell?!" Harry yelled in astonishment. "Who are you? And give me a reason not to call the police!"

"Wow, wow, wow... We don't have to go that far, pretty boy." The masked man walked over to Harry and gently placed him on the edge of the bed. "I'm just a person who wants to be more than just your friend and I received... a little boost" he explained pointing to his face. "Do you see this green face? Sexy and magical just for you, dear." He flexed his muscles and they adopted the words:

Be my boyfriend (next to a heart pierced by an arrow).

Harry blinked several times, trying to process everything. Suddenly his mind clicked. "K-K-Kenneth?"

"Ding, ding, ding, ding!!" That sound rang out as the words on his muscles shone, as if Harry had hit a game show. "That's right, so..." Masked Kenneth climbed on top of Harry's body with a grin. "Do you accept?"

Harry felt heat all over his body. "Yes…" he whispered.

And with a kiss, one story ended and another began.

#he-mask #loki mask transformation #the mask #themask #the mask transformation #gay #the mask trasformation #male tf #male transformation #gay tf #gay transformation

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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

Text

𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐚

✞𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✞

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Dark Content, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3,175 [Link to Ao3]

Tags: Darkfic, sacrelige, coercion, corruption, dubcon and noncon elements, intonations and parallels to incest, but not actual incest (ie. ‘Father’ Shouta), choking, age-gap, oral, Priest!Aizawa, Virgin!Reader

From Chiwhorei: Aizawa is where this all started, so it’s fitting he is the subject of my anniversary fic. To everyone who’s followed me along this journey despite the long bouts of radio silence, to everyone that’s participated and supported this collab, to all of my lovely, devious friends— truly, completely, thank you for this past year. Xoxo.

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.

** ** **

There’s not a soul awake this late.

The rosary wrapped between twitching fingers feels like a hot lashing against the skin. The glass and metal itch in your hold, the devotional was a gift for your confirmation-- it holds a decade of sins.

Your family has been asleep for hours now. Slipping through the back door as soon as you’re sure. Nineteen. A legal adult. Yet the only way to leave in the middle of the night is in secret. The cool, summer air hits your cheeks, it’s still for a moment. It’s so quiet, you feel like you’ve mistaken the real world for a snow globe. Static— in the moments after all of the glitter settles, all of the quiet, iridescent tears laying at your feet. It waits, patiently, until someone comes by to shake it again.

Moving into a cramped dorm room a few hours away, your childhood home feels bigger every visit. It’s bigger because nothing fills the space inside. There’s nothing but tense words and the clatter of silverware against dinner plates. Your father reminds you of an old briefcase— stern, rigid leather, unmistakably empty; your mother’s rose garden smells like poisoned wine.

Roses and leather, the combination suffocating enough to repel you in the hours you should be unconscious.

The walk from your parent’s house to the church is the most familiar thing in the world. Down to the cracks on the sidewalk and mossy steps leading up to a set of large, cherry doors. So routine it almost feels good for you.

There’s not a soul awake this late, you decide, that must be why you’re here.

That must be why he’s up too.

Pushing open one ornate door just enough to peek inside, you’re met with that distinct waft of incense and dusty missals. It smells like every Sunday morning and Easter Vigil, it smells like home.

Only votive candles light the space around you, flickering with intentions from fellow parishioners. You wonder if there’s one burning for you.

You know where to find Father Shouta, and suspect he’s waiting. He can trace every step from your parents home to the front gate. You open the confessional booth and crawl inside, the wooden space around you is cramped. It smells like incense masking cigarettes. Kneeling into the leather cushion, you face the screen partition.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was,” the memory has you falter, “three months ago.”

You remember the last hollow confession like it was yesterday. You were back in town for spring break. After mass that Sunday, your dad told Father Shouta how deplorable it was that your friends had tried, in vain, to drag you to the beach a few hours away from campus. “A week of drinking and sex, not for my daughter.”

Shouta met with you that evening and you cried your sins to him. How you had been dared to kiss boys at a party during midterms week, how you drank who-knows-what mixed with cheap beer at a frat house. He consoled you then, he told you that God will forgive all transgressions. “Even the sins of a whore.”

The memory makes you want to cry all over again. Yet, here you are— knees pressed to the very same leather, face against the same dusty screen.

He’s so still, so quiet, you jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, “What is it that you’d like to confess, my child?”

Your body aches, stiff and tense to the bone. You breathe in, shallow and suffocated, before you speak again.

“Father, forgive me I—” you can tell his posture is just as rigid, he’s only a shadowed outline and the slightest glimmer of color from his eyes. They warn you, but you ignore the familiar feeling on the back of your neck.

“I have been having impure thoughts. I’ve been thinking about a man,” one more deep breath in an attempt to keep your voice neutral, “a much older man.”

If you could hear a smile, Father’s creaks like floorboards.

His silence prompts you to continue, you knot your fingers together and hold them against your stomach, the Rosary tangled in between threatening to cut off circulation.

“The boys in my youth group, the ones in my classes— they’re all nice but,” you leave the second half of the sentence to rattle around in your mind, “but they aren’t you.”

“Impure thoughts are one thing, sinful, but,” his voice is indifferent, cold, “the true sins are ones of the flesh.”

“I- I haven’t,” you start to stutter, trying to defend yourself, “I haven’t done anything, Father.”

Despite himself, he laughs.

“It’s true Father,” you wonder why you hadn’t just stayed at home, “I’ve only ever kissed a boy— it wasn’t even a real kiss. I’m still a virgin.”

From the screen, you can only see him in fragments. Little cutouts of a dark figure and sickeningly bright red eyes. The color peaks through like pieces of a puzzle, chasing through the patterned wood before you can catch that he’s stepping out of his side of the confessional booth.

“It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss,” each word is mimicked, emphasized by the tap of his shoes against the tiles below, “no, of course it wasn’t. Not with some boy.” Your legs are unsteady as you stand from the kneeler. There’s nowhere to hide, Father has you trapped in a toy box. Just for him to play with.

“Of course that wouldn’t have satisfied you.”

The door to your side of the booth creeks open just as your back hits the wall. You can see his face for the first time in months, you trace the features illuminated with candlelight. Father Shouta’s face is strong, even more sharp with his long, black hair tied back. His presence looms over where you’re sunken into the booth. Even standing and puffing out your chest, he’ll still be able to look down at you.

He bares his teeth. You know this by now, stupid little girl, you know he likes to play with his food.

Long fingers grip the small door frame and curl around the wood like an omen, his body slithers into your personal space until he’s only an inch away.

“Lust, greed, what is it that you want?” Each vowel cradles a hearty dose of poison, the consonants bite away and spit you out. Your skin feels raw under his attention, “You can’t atone for sins you’re not really sorry for.”

Those same fingers slide up either curve of your neck, he crawls from shoulder to jaw, slowly. So slowly it seems like he’s trying not to get caught. He holds steady against your skin, thumb rubbing lightly at your bottom lip. You must have just fallen asleep after your parents went to bed, that stale, poisoned house even lulling the restless. You must be dreaming right now.

“Don’t make me ask again.” His timber hits the three walls and brings you back to the present. There’s no rest for you, only a weak answer to his question. What is it that you want?

“I want to be a humble servant of our Lord.” Your voice shakes, battered against your throat on its way to meet the stiff air.

Father’s lips are on you, he traces the words of Luke over your trembling mouth, there’s only a breath of space between you,

“No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other,”

The hands holding your cheeks move down to circle your neck, each long finger lays a trap. He tightens around the skin, just enough to make you forget how it feels to breathe freely. He could do anything to you right now, and your cries for help would be swallowed by stained glass.

No one can serve two masters.

The scream caught in your throat meets his wicked smile, it fizzles into little more than a whimper. The small booth you’ve been trapped in is burning hot, you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The last ounce of courage, of restraint, tumbles out before you can catch it.

“Who do you serve, Father Shouta? God or the Devil?”

He answers you with a thick tongue finally pushing into your mouth. He smells like perfumed oils and votive candles, he tastes like sugar free gum and Seven Stars.

His grip around your neck is the only thing keeping you on your feet, you’re sure if he were to let go you’d melt into the floor below. Father’s lips against yours are a siren, dulling all other senses, rendering you malleable to his will. Whatever his will may be, whatever it is that he wants from you— you’d let him have it anyway.

He breaks away, the kiss that’s felt like hours disappears far too soon. Your body jolts forward of its own volition, trying to connect yourself to him again. You’re sure you look desperate, but you’re too intoxicated to care.

“I serve only myself.”

Father lets go of your neck and you’re allowed the first deep intake of breath you’ve had since walking into the church. You swallow hard, looking back up to him. He scares you, he always has, but that fear draws you towards him.

Does a moth know what the flame will do to it? Does the moth know their fate?

You feel like crying, really crying, but all that comes out are a few frustrated tears. Father leans over you once more, eyes trailing the tear waxing over your cheek, “You’re a wretched little girl.”

Is that why they fly towards fire, because they like the burn?

** ** **

You step forward in line, it’s almost your turn. Mother first, she’s always thought of Father Aizawa as such a “charming young man''. The notion always made you scoff, in reality he’s only a few years younger than your parents.

Your dad is behind you, he’ll give him a friendly handshake after the service and remark how beautiful the homily was. Today, he spoke of the devil tempting Jesus. You hung on every word.

Mother steps aside and makes the sign of the cross, you’re next. A sheep guided by the dutiful shepherd, a lamb onto his slaughter.

Your chin tilts upwards, eyes locked onto your part-time captor. He only has you for a few seconds this time, but his attention is a hallway— every door is a pitfall. Aizawa’s gaze turns red when he looks upon you again— a bright, bloody, captivating red. You’ve convinced yourself it’s a trick of the light. But you see them in the dark too.

“The Body of Christ,” his voice is a welcome mat in front of an asylum, holding out the wafer and obscuring one painfully beautiful eye.

“Amen.” You know you’re part, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Father watches as your eyes close and your mouth opens, a quiet obedience, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Your fingers tingle with how tight you’re holding them together.

He places the Body to your awaiting tongue. It tastes like a harsh nothing that will stick to the back of your throat for the rest of mass. You take Christ in pieces, letting it start to melt into the roof of your mouth.

Shouta brushes your bottom lip before retracting. It’s subtle, an accident— the smallest touch of chilling skin. No one notices, the earth doesn’t stop on its axis for anyone else. You step aside and follow your Mother back to the wooden pews like nothing out of the ordinary stirs in your heart.

You feel Father’s eyes on the back of your skirt. They feel red.

“Your sweet girl here has offered a helping hand getting prepared for a youth retreat the church is hosting next week.” After mass, the stop to shake Father’s hand is inevitable, a pleasantry every parishioner makes time for before shuffling out for Sunday brunch.

He speaks over your quiet, “Good morning, Father Shouta,” right as your family turns to leave, almost as if he had been mulling over whether or not it was worth a mention. He regards them with a veiled casualty, never once looking at you.

Father’s face is kind when he wants it to be, laying a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades, it's a feeling of comfort you can’t help but lean into, “We’re discussing how to remain chaste in a sinful world.”

The word ‘chaste’ is pinched into your spine and despite yourself, you smile. A heavy heart has found home at the bottom of your stomach, but you can’t let on to the sick churning in your gut. Your parents gleam with pride for their daughter. A perfect example of a good Catholic girl.

“I’ll have her meet at my office this evening, is six okay?” His question sounds like your dowry, talking past you and asking for your parents permission.

Your dad shakes Father Shout’s hand once more, delighted at how his diligent parenting must be the reason you’ve found yourself in holy favor. Said ‘parenting’ is definitely to blame, but not in the way your dad assumes.

*** *** ***

The walk through church and into the sacristy is like a meditation in fear, every step begging you to turn back, to run home like a scared child. You tread steady, feet searing on hot coals until you’re met with the sound of Father Shouta just beyond the threshold.

“You’re late.” Something sinister fills Father’s quarters as soon as you open the door. It’s scary how offhandedly he can lie. You’re at least ten minutes early, the evening toll of church bells will signal the hour. He wants to see if you’ll stutter, if you’ll argue. You stay quiet, busying your hands with the hem of your skirt, fingers lifting it slightly before you remember who owns the eyes sitting across the room. They look golden from here, a honey you could drown in. You cough at the feeling of sugar in your lungs before collecting yourself and awaiting instruction.

Seemingly pleased with your docility, he smiles wide and crooked. It’s bound into a book he will whisper into you page by page. It’s written in a language only he knows.

Shouta motions you farther inside, leaning back in his seat. He corrects you when you move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, waiting with little patience as you settle against his side instead. Your posture is stiff being this close, being this alone.

His facial hair is trimmed neatly, small scars litter his face, the most pronounced a jagged trail under his right eye. From the dim evening light, you see a shadow of loose hairs make a pointed crown around his head.

“St. Teresa of Avila,” Father starts, tapping his fingers against a small stack of papers, “what do you know of her?”

You’re disarmed, the question seems so innocent-- not a note of ulterior motive detectible. Even so, your guard remains high. His intentions need no subtext.

“St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headache sufferers,” you’re struggling to see the point, but Father prompts you to continue, “she was a Spanish nun, she wrote about a prayerful life,”

After another moment of measured silence, you grow even more tense, “Father Shouta, forgive me, I don’t understand,”

You’re hushed with a laugh, the small collection of papers placed in your hands. The first leaf is titled with large letters, “The Life of Teresa of Jesus.”

“I’d like you to read the section I’ve highlighted.”

You shake, thumbing through until you find a block of text traced in bright yellow. You scan its contents, but are quickly interrupted by Shouta’s next request.

“Out loud.”

There’s no escaping the toy box.

His stare is unwavering, giving you no room for objection. They’re not soft like honey anymore, Father Shouta’s eye’s are harsh, bloody gemstones.

You know better than to keep him waiting, adjusting in your half sat position on the side of his desk, you begin reading with hoarse inflection, “In his hands I saw a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip I seemed to see a point of fire. With this he seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.”

Wincing, the words sound like a stranger in your ears. After every sentence, Shouta’s fingertips inch closer to the end of your skirt, right above the knee. You’d be stoned for this kind of hemline at home, but with Father it seems to be exactly the sacred skin he wanted to see.

His hands move, unwavering, as you continue with the annotated paragraph, “When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire with a great love of God.” Fingers stop their gentle assault before adding pressure to your inner thigh, he peels apart your legs with a wordless prompting to keep going.

“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.”

By the last several words, Father Shouta’s lips are centered in between your open thighs, you feel tears frozen in the duct. You want to pull away, to escape, but his lips hold something you’ve never been this close to.

“Piety is a virtue,” you can feel the hot breath against your most intimate planes of flesh, “but our God is one of pleasure too.”

His kiss feels like branding. An aimless, confused lamb seared with the mark of its owner.

You cry out, loud and broken, when his mouth meets the cotton covering your pussy. Shouta uses his pointer and middle finger to move the fabric away.

No one has ever seen these parts of you, kept locked away for your future husband until now, sitting in the heart of your family's church, writhing from even the slightest touch.Hips buck of their own accord, and you’re granted one last open-mouthed lave against your twitching cunt. His tongue peaks out slightly to catch your clit before pulling away.

You move as if possessed, falling to your knees in front of your Father. Your mouth opens, that same quiet obedience, and his finger brushes your lower lip again. “No one” you think, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fingers wrapped into the back of your hair, “no one can serve two masters.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

But there’s not a soul left in sight.

✞ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞: All writing is chiwhorei’s original content, please do not repost or modify. Do no read my content as asmr. Do not recommend me on TikTok.©️

#aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader smut #heavenly bodies collab #chiwhorei.bnha #chiwhorei.fics #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: sacrilegious #tw: corruption #tw: age gap #tw: darkfic

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