#also metal is HARD to shade

[dispensorfan]

Req??? Open???? MORE LONGARM PLEASE HE'S SO 🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠IN YOUR STYLE

AAA THANK YEWW he's one of my favorites i love him sm (and his story is super interesting)

[frost-the-ice-dragon]

Missing scene from Master of Destruction

[maukiki1]

hiiii can u draw Jack… he’s very cunty I love hum

Jack realness

[bunnys-kisses]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.

[ranacr0ak]

guess who’s redesigning her moth characters again????it me

[team-frightfur]

<3

Anyway A+++++++ pic, made my night made my day, I think I wanna adopt him, son...., he's such a son, candy flavoured, trans coloured, cute...., smol...., lives on the edge..., better played with Lunalights give Isis the Fluffals.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; kiss-proof lipstick review

warning/s: very fluff, fem reader, youtuber/streamer!kidd, shy!s/o, modern au, most nsfw thing could happen is an abrupt makeout

note: based from this -> post, smaller italicized texts are sub-bullets

kidd as a youtuber that normally does metal covers with his band (heat, killer, and wire)

has about a solid following of 100k subs bc they're just so cool

that is until his viewers asked for his makeup tut bc he always looks so bomb

his viewers have also requested fit checks like what he wears in a week

kidd forgot to mention that he has a s/o, which mildly upset a certain demographic who was ahem thirsty for him

you as his gf doesn't really mind if he talks to himself in front of his phone or camera on random times, but he always tells you a quick warning beforehand bc you sometimes appear on the bg of his vids/streamer

i also think that at some point, kidd does game streams bc he's lazy to edit. his fanbase supports any content he does whether it's just yap streams or food streams or band rehearsals

i feel like he always aims for competitive games that are pvp like MK, COD, league, etc. it just feeds his ego, and he enjoys trashtalking 😭 riling his opponent up and all that

it's all so funny, which explains his fanbase that tolerates his insufferable temper and jokes. it takes a certain kind of humor that other people might take as offensive

but the second he got sponsored by a punk make-up line, a pr box arrived at his doorstep bc he rarely checks his emails

he'd ask you to do a makeup stream with him, but you were too shy about it. especially after being the final boss of a certain demographic that is attracted to him 😭 but you never told him that. knowing him, he'll probably flip all of them off and cause drama

he'd start up stream, poorly introducing the products. you laughed to yourself at how bad he was at complimenting or kissing ass to the brand he legit has never heard of😭

kidd knows how to apply his makeup; shadow, liner, and lipstick. he tried on a purple and red shadow combo and his usual full eye liner.

his stream at that point became very chill, his fans loving every bit of his craft and how focused he was doing everything. especially at how he looked like afterward

"now we got- kiss-proof lipstick? they sent me a shit ton of fuckin' shades!" he showed a whole box of liquid lipsticks. laughing at the ridiculous amount.

his fanbase requested a test of the kiss proof on his palm, showing interest in the product

but kidd had different ideas. it might be a good way to hard launch you already.

his ig and twt already had pictures of you during dates, but your face was always hidden most of the time

"a test on my palm? oh boy, i have a better idea for that."

he'd call you, "babe! baby! c'mere a moment, i need ya a bit."

his chat would go: "babe?!?! omg hard launch?!", "omg here is his s/o!", "OH GOD KIDD YOU SLICK CHEEKY FUCK!"

you'd be scared for a bit, but kidd looked really excited. besides you also want to check out his makeup products.

"are we gonna do it together?" you muttered lowly, referring to the review

"kinda." he shrugged. "i just got one lil job for you, you'd love it promise."

you were skeptical at first but oh well. kidd lets you pick the lipstick of your choice, which was a bright red. it always looks good on him.

the chat was highkey going crazy when your body from neck below was showing

they also noticed how kidd started acting differently, he spoke softly and he had this meek smile while looking up at you

he lets you apply it on him. you were now seating with the seat he pulled to let you down. the chat now being able to see you. you waved a hi shyly, and man the view count started going up

twt was already full of you guys 😖

kidd then fanned his lips, waiting for the product to dry.

"ok, what's next?" you asked, popping the lid close

"this." he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you on stream. holding the kiss pretty good in there, smirking through it as he did so, before sucking on your lips open

you were too flustered and frozen but he even had the audacity to angle his head the other way to continue kissing you

it was pretty fucking lewd, he was really getting in there

but you, you melted from his lips and his firm grip on your nape

the chat and stream lagged at the amount of chats and view counts increasing exponentially

once he pulled away after a good 2 minutes, he turned to the screen and said, "so? it really is kiss proof, aye?" he bursted out laughing at your reaction which was the same when he started kissing you 🤣

the chat also went hysterical, both from freaking out with the both of you and your reaction

you honestly didn't mind, you half expected it. it's kidd we're talking about🤣 because kidd did it as a flex and as a fuck you to his haters (especially those who were targeting you)

you had to excuse yourself which resulted to even more comedic response from kidd at how cute you are. you were burning red btw

you later come back to tell kidd and chat that you're okay, and you plan to get back on him for that

JASDHSAJDJSAJDSA I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! JUST DID THIS LAST NIGHT

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

The creator had a:

sea streaked child

WC:800

Cw: reader is said to breastfeed but isn't written doing so

Checking the blinds to make sure they were clean, remaking the ruffles so they are even.

Furina had spent her entire morning jittery walking everywhere in the palais mermonia.

Now across the room she is digging in between the blue roses hiding any less than stellar bloom under one of its prettier sisters.

Changing the tea set on the table in the middle of the room, cerulean blue, cobalt blue and sky blue swapping places faster than Neuvillette can pay any mind to.

She sighs, looking defeated at the sets and almost begging them to tell her which one is supposed to be best yet for one second the teapots looked like mocking faces. Throwing herself on a loveseat the room starts to feel smaller and she isn't even totally sure what tea to serve.

“Breath” neuvillette says from the desk, ever since he took over the leading role in Fontaine he spent more time between pages of legal documents, if that is even possible “they are arriving for a simple chat to check on the general management of the region”

“How do you even expect me to be calm when they themselves asked for my attendance for this meeting!” she sits up wobbly, the soft swirling getting worse “I can't even remember what cake you told me they liked… this is going to be a mess”

“Their grace has quite the sweet tooth, as long as what you planned doesn't have coffee it's going to be alright”

“Why no coffee?”

“miss furina… they gave birth a few days ago, it’s disadvised to breastfeed and have caffeinated drinks” seeing her nod and her little ahoge bobbing along he feels the need to confirm “that not only includes coffee and variations but also most teas” and with that she jumps to her feet, quickly excusing herself to make some changes.

“That child…” he sighs as he reviews the documents he wanted to show you and a rough overview, his head resting against his hand and a finger between his teeth. Feeling the door whining softly he laughs from the bottom of his throat “back soon early?”

And as his heart skipped a beat as you spoke “Oh, my, I know I am 30 minutes early but I thought you would like to meet me particularly” you walk deeper inside the room, past the meticulously fixed flowers that you wouldn't have noticed the mistakes on and past the three teapots on the table, each a slightly different shade of blue. Now standing besides neuvillette and facing the documents he just noticed the bundle of white cloth you held onto.

“Did the crops get better with the method I recommended? It left me worried when I left”

“The production got better, if you want to check the report is here” he offers the three papers stuck together by a metal clip when he notices that doing it with a single hand might be hard “if I might help you” he positions his arms to grab the baby and you let her between his arms

“Let's hope she stays asleep, she is such a colicky baby” you whisper but as soon as you finish the sentence she opens her eyes and starts wailing “my goodness…” you sigh deeply.

“Let me take care of it, just focus on that” he stands up and tries to mimic what he saw parents do with their small children whenever something upsetting might come up during the trials and small children would cry.

He grabs her neck and head with one hand and her legs with another, cradling her like you. As he was swaying softly the blanket covering her hair slid down to show pointy ears and softly cartilage mixing on her thin white hair.

“Is she…” but is soon shushed by you, pointing at the door and then to your ears, the message very clear ‘someone might be listening’ but he keeps his eyes glued to you only to catch you mouthing a soundless yes. His hands cradle her head onto his neck, soft blue cartilage sneaking past his fingers.

Now soothed, you two find comfort on the soft sound of passing the pages and Cordelia's breathing, the baby's name he would later find out.

“NEUVI I managed to get a cheesecake and fontas did i save this?!” Furina pushes past the door, holding a full size strawberry cheesecake and hugging three fontas against her chest but seeing you head on thinking you weren't on Fontaine yet “HIYY”

The screech caused Cornelia to get startled and start wailing “Miss Furina.” neuvillette says sternly, almost like a father telling off his daughter. But the only thing it caused was for her to see him hugging a baby suspiciously similar to him which didn't take her long to join the dots.

“OOAH!”

“Furina please stop scaring my daughter!”

[crevicedwelling]

I see at least one cool bug a day, and usually many more, but it’s not because I live anywhere particularly rich in strange, wonderful creatures (I live in an unremarkable corner of Pennsylvania, USA) or spend all of my free time looking for bugs (well, just *most* of it). in my experience, finding interesting bugs is less about actually locating them and more about looking closely at tiny things you’d otherwise ignore!

this very long post was compiled over a couple days in late July, although I spent less than 10 minutes at a time searching. there’s a lot of fun creatures just out in the open.

plants are always a good place to start when looking for bugs, and I chose this small fig tree (Ficus carica) with a mulberry sapling friend. feeding on the sap of the fig and mulberry is the first group I’ll take a look at, the planthoppers:

these two are flatid bugs, Metcalfa pruinosa and Flatormenis proxima. flatids are slow-moving bugs that can be approached closely, but once they get tired of circling around stems to avoid you they may launch themselves into a fluttering flight with spring-loaded rear legs.

Aplos simplex, a member of the related family Issidae, also likes fig sap. its “tail” is actually a tuft of waxy secretions, which get shed along with the bright colors when it assumes a lumpy, bean-shaped adult form.

cicadellids, or leafhoppers, are just about everywhere on plants, but can be hard to approach without scaring them.

Agallia constricta on the left is a tiny species that feeds on grass, but many were scared up onto the fig by my footsteps. Jikradia olitoria is a much larger species that does feed on the fig; juveniles like this are curled, creeping goblins while adults’ rounded wings give them a pill-shaped appearance.

this big, pale leafhopper belongs to genus Gyponana. it’s tricky to get to species ID with these.

Graphocephala are striking little hoppers that eat a variety of native and nonnative plants. G. coccinea is the larger, more boldly colored one and G. versuta is smaller but more common locally. they’ll sit on the tops of leaves but take flight if you get too close quickly.

another group you’re almost guaranteed to encounter are flies (Diptera). these are a very diverse group, so much more than houseflies and mosquitoes (though I did run into both)

where I live, any plant with broad leaves is almost guaranteed to have a few Condylostylus, long-legged flies that come in shades of blue, green, and red. despite their dainty physique, they’re agile predators, typically feeding on other small flies.

next, a few hoverflies: the ubiquitous Toxomerus geminatus and a Eumerus that I’ve been seeing a lot of this year (but maybe I’ve just noticed them for the first time). syrphids have varied life histories, but most adults drink nectar and many of the larvae are predaceous on aphids.

the metallic green soldier fly is Microchrysa flaviventris, nonnative here. Coenosia is a fun example of a “fly that looks like a fly,” with big red eyes and a gray body, and you might think they’re just another dung-sucking pest, but they’re actually aggressive predators! this one seemed to have nabbed itself some sort of nematoceran fly, maybe a fungus gnat.

many flies are very tiny, just millimeters long. the first two little fellows are lauxaniids, while the last one, an agromyzid leafminer Cerodontha dorsalis, burrows through grass leaves as a larva.

while moths and butterflies (Lepidoptera) are drawn to plants for their flowers or to lay eggs, many small moths can easily be found resting on or under leaves during the day.

these first two are tortricids, many of which are flat, rectangular moths resembling chips of bark or dead leaves. the apple bud moth, Platynota idaeusalis, feeds on a wide variety of hosts, while this beat-up old Argyrotaenia pinatubana would have developed in an edible tube nest of pine needles.

Callima argenticinctella feeds in bark and dead wood (a resource used by more caterpillars than you’d realize!) while the last moth, possibly an Aspilanta, is a leafminer.

although beetles (Coleoptera) are famous for their diversity, I didn’t find too many on the fig. the invasive Oriental beetle Exomala orientalis resting here can be found in a wide range of colors, from this common tan to to deep iridescent black. the other beetle is a Photinus pyralis firefly, sleeping under leaves as fireflies do.

a few spare hemipterans: a Kleidocerys resedae that blew in on a wind, and below, the mulberry whitefly Tetraleurodes mori feeds on its namesake host. as for Hymenoptera, I saw manny tiny parasitic braconid wasps and various ants attracted to the planthoppers’ honeydew excretions—always worth checking underneath roosting hoppers for things having a drink.

a couple handsome spider boys were scrambling through the fig seeking females, a jumping spider Paraphidippus aurantius and an orbweaver, Mecynogea lemniscata.

and to round it off, a young Conocephalus meadow katydid and a Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina.

there’s 31 species of arthropod in this post, and I probably saw some 45, not all of which stayed for photos. if you walk slowly and look closely, you can see a sizeable chunk of your local biodiversity in under fifteen minutes! of course this will depend on where you live and what time of year it is, but there’s almost always more cool bugs out there than you’d expect, even on just a single plant.

[hinako-supremacy]

@mashedpotatosinacup

I'll make you understand

[genericpuff]

the Underworld is the only godly realm that was built on capitalism

So what's Olympus built on? Socialism? Are the gods and nymphs there living the good life compared to their underworld counterparts? Are Zeus and Hera good monarchs even if they're not good people? Or is it just bad in a different way?

Olympus does still participate in capitalism to a degree (especially considering that they do a lot of buying and selling between the Underworld, ex. Kore isn't the only one who travels for work between realms) but the realm was originally built on offerings and bartering which is a tradition that's still maintained between the gods themselves - and it's a big reason why they care for the mortals at all, because without their prayers and offerings, the entire foundation of their realm and the gods' status as rulers would crumble.

So in that way, the gods in power - aside from Hades who is an exception we'll touch on in a second - don't really care about the societal institutions of money, because money just doesn't really serve any function for them that the mortals' offerings - and their own abilities as gods - aren't already providing them. The capitalist system that exists in Olympus is more so to serve the residents who aren't being actively worshipped, such as the nymphs and satyrs (though some are lucky to gain recognition in ways that benefits them through offerings) and for budding gods who don't have as much influence in the Mortal Realm yet (such as Kore).

That said, there are plenty of complaints to be made about Hera and Zeus regardless of the economy that exists within Olympus, buuuut we'll be getting into those issues later ;3 As for the quality of life of Olympus vs. the Underworld, there are pros and cons to both, as with any economic system. The Underworld has a bit of a steeper divide between the rich and poor, but living in Olympus comes with the caveats of being in Zeus' territory where life can be... unpredictable, to say the least. BUT the Underworld being built on the free market has provided it with unique advantages through their technological advancements (ex. the existence of cars and cellphones in both realms is largely owed to the Underworld); whereas Olympus has greater access to the resources of the gods themselves due to literally being the home of the King of the Gods who everyone tries to keep in their good graces.

We've seen a mini example of this bartering system already back in Episode 56: Hera telling Kore she was going to help her with her garden wasn't just the Queen dishing out orders, she was telling Kore that gardening would be a sufficient enough trade for having her in her home and feeding her.

She's not offering to feed Kore for free (which WOULD be an honor coming from the Queen), she's telling her "I'll provide you with the company of royalty and good food / wine / etc. in exchange for your gardening services." (that said, it is still sort of a high honor in and of itself considering Hera wouldn't let just anyone tend to her property ;3)

But that brings us to the exception - Hades. The Underworld had to be built on a different system due to many of its gods and goddesses not being commonly worshipped, so offerings and tributes were hard to come by. For Hades especially, how was he supposed to earn the favors of mortals when they wouldn't even dare speak his name? This led to him having to build the Underworld on the value of specific resources - such as the minerals and metals and gemstones found in the Underworld itself - which were later refined into common currency that's now used across the realms.

Fun fact, this is also why Kore is ticked off that the Underworld costs a toll to enter for both shades and gods alike - because there isn't a toll booth to get into Olympus.

The Underworld has truly mastered the art of microtransactions LMAO

To wrap up this fun lil' lore dump, there's a WIP scene I have on the back burner that goes into greater detail on Olympus' bartering systems but I haven't had the chance to work it naturally into the story yet, I'm hoping it'll be included in an upcoming episode soon but it's basically a cute lil' shopping sequence between Persephone, Artemis, and Daphne :' )

(enjoy these never before seen sketches of Daphne sporting Y2K-style fashion LMAO)

[naeverse]

Tangled in his Webs

Art generated by: Niji • Journey Request from: @migueloharacumslut Ask: And I have a request I forgot rather I submitted or not. Mad scientist Miguel x therapist reader Miguel gets put in a psych ward because he got caught experimenting on people and himself trying to turned them in to spider people. He’s been in the psych ward for five years and he needs to be cleared to go back in the world. That’s where the reader comes in to clear him only he manipulates her into thinking he is sane. During their session Miguel becomes obsessed with the reader and little does he know she is obsessed with him too. At night she touched herself to the thought of him. When Miguel get out he finds her. Make the sex nastyyy, hard and rough little choking wouldn’t hurt either. Please and thank you ! 😊 A/N: I really loved this idea and enjoyed writing Scientist Miguel so much. Might write him more lol, but thank you @migueloharacumslut for the idea. Also this is the first part and a second one will be following this one, hope you enjoy!

💉staring: Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Therapist Reader

      🩵preview:  “I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” 

🔬summary:  As an evaluation therapist at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing, you are assigned a new patient—one who is complex, captivating, and dangerously drawing you in more than you ever expected.

⚗️tw/cw (Just for this part): Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Fingering, Masturbation, Psychopathy, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Restraints

🔭Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear)

     🩵Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥼Word Count: 7.7k 

**This fanfiction is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life individuals or events is purely coincidental. It does not intend to diagnose or represent any real mental health conditions. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning. You felt a dull ache and soreness in your throat, accompanied by a pervasive feeling of weakness throughout your body. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead and adjusting to the suffocating sterile scent of antiseptic, you noticed that you were lying on your back against a hard, cold surface.

With furrowed eyebrows, you attempted to sit up, only to be thwarted back by the metal restraints tightly bound around your wrists and ankles.

‘What the heck!?’ 

You thought, panic and fear beginning to grip you. Your eyes darted down to discover yourself clad only in your undergarments—a delicate white, laced satin set—leaving you exposed to the chilling breeze that consistently swept through the well-lit space.

You couldn't remember how you got here; your groggy mind unable to piece together the events that led to your presence upon the metal table. The faint hum of machinery echoed from far away, punctuated by distant murmurs that made your heart drop.

With dazed eyes, you looked around your surroundings to be met with the overbearing shade of a bright white that covered the walls of what looked to be a lab of some sorts. Countertops were lined with an array of perfectly arranged scientific instruments, machines, and beakers.

Shelves held neatly labeled containers, each housing an assortment of chemicals and biological specimens. Despite being well-lit, there were little to no windows present, intensifying the feeling of isolation within the controlled environment. 

The place seemed devoid of humanity, replaced by a location where experimentation and analysis were handled freely without compassion or warmth.

But one thing about the lab really stood out to you: two jars sitting upon the shelves—one full of bloody red eyes and the other with abnormally sharp canines.

The sight almost made you vomit, hastily turning to look away. Your heart and breath were picking up, fear clawing at your being. Although how morbid the otherworldly body parts were, they triggered something in your head.

The more you thought upon it, awareness seeped in like an unwelcome guest; slowly, you began to remember.

The mental facility...

Red eyes...

The flowers...

Sharp canines...

Black glasses...

His release...

Him.

The wine...

Then darkness...

The memories came rushing back so quickly that you weren’t able to keep up, until it all came back to...

Him...

A wave of regret and stupidity overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you felt so worthless.

You should have known...

You should have fucking known...

‘He wasn’t well. He wasn’t fine. You were wrong, so wrong-’

“Good… You are awake.”

The bone-chilling voice of your captor filled the room, sending a familiar chill down your back. With trembling lips, you turned your head to see the backside of a massive male entering the room. His coffee-brown locks styled neatly upon his head, a white lab coat adorning his huge build along with black dress pants and oxfords.

The scientist wore clean attire, perfect for working in the lab, but his outfit was beyond your concern. 

You knew who he was, but you didn’t want to believe it.

You gulped, watching him slap on a pair of white latex gloves upon his large, calloused palms before beginning to inspect the scientific tools that sat upon the nearby counter.

"And here I thought you would have been excited to see me again..." he said in a husky voice, responding to your silence—his Latino accent unmistakable, along with a hint of amusement found in his tone. You felt like an idiot for falling for him, for becoming so fascinated with a madman like him...

But you were still in denial.

You weren’t going to believe it was him until you saw his face...

“T-T-Turn around…” You said hoarsely, the pain in your throat distant underneath the layers of fear and anxiety coursing through your body. At your demand, the large scientist laughed. “Turn around?” He asked slowly, silence following his inquiry, making your body run cold.

Suddenly, he spun around, slamming his palms onto the metal table you laid upon. The abruptness and loud noise made you jump, and a gasp erupted from your lips. His eyes stared directly into yours, holding the same madness that you believed he had cured when you initially met him. But, like before, it wasn’t the insanity in his gaze that made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach...

It was his eyes... 

His teeth...

The scientist’s crimson eyes looked down at you, taking in your discolored skin and half-lidded eyes that were still under a drowsy spell. “I turned around now, are you happy?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Do you recognize me now, dear?” 

Your eyes widened, the look upon your face enough to show the mad scientist that you did, in fact, remember who he was— but you were too speechless to respond, causing the male to chuckle.

“Do I need to give you any more proof that it is I?”

His snickering seemed to reverberate off the walls of your mind as the fluorescent lights of his lab bounced off his razor sharp canines.

With trembling lips and dilated pupils, you looked over his face, your heart breaking more and more because…

It was, indeed, him...

The mad scientist... 

The sexy patient... 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara…

The man you fell for…

White, close-toed wedges clicked upon the mental facility's aged linoleum tiles, the floor's once-bright patterns now a faded, discolored mosaic covered with scuff marks and indistinct stains that revealed the struggles of all who shuffled through the dimly lit corridor. The mental facility, unintentionally, gave off an eerie atmosphere with walls clad in faded, peeling paint and ceilings with bright, flickering fluorescent lights that cast irregular shadows along the cold institutional floor, further giving anyone who traversed the halls the creeps.

You, a therapist meant to evaluate patients for release, were given a new challenge—a patient that held a sadistic background coupled with a remarkable intellect that made many wonders how he found himself inside 'Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing.'

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was your new patient's name, an intelligent scientist who became a little twisted after his discovery of gene splicing. In his pursuit of advancing the human race, he became obsessed with the idea and creation of spider-human hybrids. After many experimentations of creating what is referred to as mutates, he was unsuccessful. Before he could continue with his study, he was arrested and sentenced to seven years here at the institution where it seems he’d made progress.

Whilst you walked towards his cell, taking the seemingly endless halls of the asylum, you looked over his file. Inside were documents containing his personal information, such as full name, date of birth, emergency contact, and next of kin. In the brown folder were also his medical history, psychiatric assessment, diagnostic evaluations, and much more information collected during his time at the institution; however, there were four pieces of his folder that piqued your interest:

Observation logs, Treatment plan, Risk assessment, and lastly, incident reports.

You studied each of the documents to discover the important details that needed to be surveyed before seeing the scientist in person.

_____________________________________ 

Miguel O’Hara - Mental Health File

Patient Information:

Full name: Miguel O’Hara

Date of Birth: 10/13/2070

Appointed into: Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing

Admission Date: 11/10/2099

Emergency Contact: N/A

Next Of Kin: N/A

**The patient has explicitly communicated a desire for their next of kin not to be associated with their mental health treatment, and no detailed information about family members was recorded to respect the patient’s privacy.**

Diagnosis:

Primary Diagnosis: Psychopathy

Secondary Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

Treatment Team:

Primary Therapist: Dr. Jessica Owens, Licensed Clinical Psychologist

Psychiatrist: Dr. Peter B. Parker, MD

Nursing Staff: Nurse Mary Jane Watson, RN

_____________________________________ 

Treatment Plan: 

Medications 

Fluoxetine (Prozac) 

Dosage: 20 mg daily

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is prescribed Fluoxetine to address symptoms of irritability that derives from his disorder of Antisocial Personality. 

Lorazepam (Ativan)

Dosage: 0.5 mg as needed (PRN) for anxiety

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is given Lorazepam on an as-needed basis to manage anxiety-related symptoms or impulsivity.

**Its used closely monitored due to the risk of misuse**

Lamotrigine (Lamictal) 

Dosage: Gradual titration starting at 25 mg, with adjustments based on response. 

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara’s treatment plan included Lamotrigine to help stabilize mood swings or emotional dysregulation. 

_____________________________________ 

Incident reports 

Date: 2/3/2100

Incident: Verbal altercation with another patient during group therapy 

Action Taken: Immediate de-escalation and one-on-one session with Dr. Peter B. Parker. 

Date: 6/21/2100

Incident: Refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education 

Date: 10/3/2100

Incident: Refused to attend scheduled group therapy and became verbally aggressive towards staff members

Action Taken: Security staff was called to ensure the safety of other patients and staff. Miguel was later engaged in a one-on-one session to explore the reasons behind his resistance to group participation. 

Date: 1/4/2101

Incident: 2nd occurence of refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education and therapeutic engagement by Dr. Jessica Owens to address any fears or misconceptions related to his prescribed medications. 

Date: 4/18/2101

Incident: Observed by Nurse Mary Jane Watson of the patient hoarding various items in his room, including non-permissible objects. 

Action taken: Staff conducted a room check, confiscated unauthorized items, and discussed appropriate belongings with Miguel. A follow-up session with his therapist, Dr. Jessica Owens was scheduled to explore any underlying concern. 

Date: 3/21/2102

Incident:  Engaged in a physical altercation with another patient during a recreational activity 

Action taken: Immediate intervention by staff to separate the individuals involved. Both parties were assessed for injuries, and a report was filed. Increased monitoring and a review of Miguel’s treatment plan were conducted to address potential triggers for aggressive behavior

_____________________________________

Risk Assessments: 

Current Risk level: Moderate 

Factors: History of aggression, resistance to treatment, potential for manipulative behavior 

Interventions: Increased monitoring, ongoing assessment for potential triggers 

_____________________________________

Observation Logs: 

Date/Time: 8/16/2102, 2:30 PM

Observation: Miguel exhibited signs of increased irritability during the group mindfulness session. Requested to leave the session prematurely. 

Staff comments: Noted Miguel’s discomfort during mindfulness exercises. Alternative relaxation techniques were explored for future sessions. 

Date/Time: 12/2/2103, 10:00 AM

Observation: Miguel was observed engaging in a one-on-one conversation with staff during morning indoor activities. Discussed personal interests and aspirations. 

Staff comments: Encouraged Miguel’s open communication. Noted his ability to articulate personal interest, fostering a sense of connection with staff. 

Date/Time: 2/15/2104, 6:45 PM 

Observations: Spends most of his time in the facility’s library, engrossed in reading.

Staff Comments: Positive use of leisure time observed. Reading contributed to a sense of routine and engagement. 

Date/Time: 6/23/2104, 8:30 PM 

Observations: Attended the evening group therapy, contributing to discussions on coping strategies. Demonstrated empathy towards a fellow patient sharing personal challenges.

Staff Comments: Noted Miguel’s willingness to engage in group discussions and support peers. Positive progress in developing empathy and interpersonal skills. 

**Miguel O’Hara has exhibited excellent improvement and staff believes he can be released in 2105, instead of 2107.**

_____________________________________

You closed his folder, taking a look at the photo that decorated the front. Like many patients at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing (NYS-MH), Miguel O’Hara didn’t look like a dangerous individual; he was actually quite handsome—with dark, wavy locks that framed his olive, chiseled face and amber eyes shielded by a pair of black eyeglasses; Dr. O’Hara wasn’t a bad-looking guy.

To ponder upon the atrocities, he could have committed for the sake of science was baffling as you gazed at the photo. The more you inspected the image, the happier you became at the fact he was doing better - better enough to be released back into society.

It was why you were here, anyway…

You tucked the folder under your arm and continued your walk towards his room, passing steel doors that lined the corridor, each secured with heavy bolts and reinforced locks to keep the patients contained and prevent them from harming themselves or others. Occasionally, muffled echoes of distant cries and disjointed whispers seeped through the cracks, adding to the unsettling symphony of the troubled minds that dwelled within.

You've walked these halls many times, but there was something about today that really made your skin crawl. So, it was relieving when you finally found Miguel O’Hara’s room, number 209.

Two guards stood on either side of his door, present only for emergencies. With a deep breath and slight adjustments to the white top, black blazer, and bodycon skirt that covered you, you gave each of them a nod and unlocked his door with a key, entering Miguel’s room…

Upon stepping inside, you instantly took notice of the soft, muted tones of blues and greens dominating the color palette, bringing a sense of serenity to the room. The patient's sleeping area contained the normal necessities—a comfortable bed with crisp, clean linens and a modest seating area. The furniture was arranged in an open and uncluttered manner, with personal touches here and there by the patient himself or for safety precautions. 

For his adoration for reading and science, a small shelf was placed inside his room, displaying a few books and a potted plant, offering familiarity to the scientist.

Your eyes shifted to the large, muscular male who sat upon his bed, dressed in a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and slip-on shoes. His massive backside faced you as it seemed he was engrossed in writing, his huge hand moving gracefully upon the page he was working on.

You cast a glance at the camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling in his room, placed there for monitoring and to ensure the patient, and others remain safe. After making sure the camera blinks red twice, showing its activity, you approach him with light steps.

"Miguel O’Hara?" you called out to him in a soft voice, not wishing to disrupt him. All of his movements came to a halt, his body rigid as his large hand placed the pen he was using into the open journal before slowly closing it. You watched him set the book down beside him on the bed, wondering if the handsome male you saw on the photo would be the same seated before you.

It seemed you were watching with batted breath for him to turn around and when he did, the sight of him shocked you and made your heart skip a beat.

You knew from his photo, the male would be gorgeous—so attractive that if he weren't your patient, you'd probably gush over him from afar. But it wasn't his attractiveness that made your breath hitch.

He looked completely different.

He looked…

Otherworldly.

With a cold expression, you stared back at a pair of crimson eyes covered with black eyeglasses, a small smile spreading across his tanned lips, revealing a set of sharp canines. “You must be the therapist that is to evaluate me. Right, Querida?” He inquired with a hum, his deep voice holding a Latino accent. 

You gulped at the intensity of his abnormal scarlet orbs, subconsciously clenching his brown folder in your hands and giving him a nod. “Y-Yes, I am,” you replied, stepping back to give the large male room to stand, and when he did…

He was like a giant…

The bed creaked at his ascent as his massive being towered over you, your head tilting up to maintain eye contact. Choking back how intimidated you were, you gestured over to the small seating area of two white cushioned chairs and a table in the corner of his room. “L-Let’s sit over here to talk,” you proposed, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing down at you like a mere ant before his tight-lipped smile returned.

With an approving grunt, he stepped in front of you; with his powerful, long legs, it took him little to no time to reach the comfort area and settle down into the white chair, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. You followed behind him, moving to sit across from your new patient and shifting into a comfortable position.

When your eyes met the male's, his crimson eyes were already staring at you, lingering upon your body in a way that made you feel like a microbe under a telescope. You gave him a polite smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling that always rose within you when speaking with the patients. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. My name is Dr. Y/LN, and as you’ve been informed, I am the therapist here to evaluate you for your release.” You explained sweetly, watching every part of the patient, who remained completely motionless, simply continuing to stare back at you with an expression devoid of all emotion.

“It’s nice to see a new face, doctor. It can get rather boring here,” he uttered, using his middle finger to push his black eyeglasses up the bridge of his broad nose.

You placed his folder down upon the table, turning it to not reveal his photo on the front; you've learned from past experiences that the sight tended to worry them. Bringing your legs to cross over each other, you clasped your hands, placing them on your lap. “Boring?” you asked with furrowed brows. “Why don’t we speak about your time here first, Dr. O’Hara? Is that okay with you?” The inquiry left your lips in a soothing tone, one that calmed most patients upon hearing it; but with this patient, you couldn’t quite tell—he hid his emotions too well.

“Well, maybe not boring…repetitive is a better word,” he corrected himself. “But, dear, I’m fine with speaking of my time here.” He replied with a smile, placing his hands upon the armrests and widening his stance. Your eyes drifted to run along his inviting toned thighs adorned by a pair of gray sweatpants that did little to conceal the curves of the muscles underneath. 

You also took notice of his posture; taking a mental note of openness from the patient before you asked your question, “Well then, may I ask how you are doing during morning activities? It's stated that you prefer Creative Arts Therapy in the mornings, correct?”

He nodded, his sharp canines peeking out from between his lips as he spoke. “Indeed, mostly during Creative Arts Therapy, I write,” he explained in a deep voice. “I’ve grown to learn that to better settle my thoughts is to put them on paper.”

“And that is an excellent form of therapy that you’ve discovered for yourself, Dr. O’Hara. May I ask, what exactly do you write?” You asked, trying to ignore the faint sight of madness in his crimson orbs. “I write down my thoughts, ideas, and aspirations,” he simply said. 

You hummed, giving him a smile. “How about future plans? Do you write about those?” At your question, he snickered, giving you a wry, dismissive head shake. “I…don’t write much on that,” he replied. “I’ll hate to get my hopes up,” he added in an amused, yet somewhat disheartened tone.

“Get your hopes up?” you inquired, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “May you elaborate, Dr. O’Hara?” The male nodded, his large fingers stroking the armrest of his chair in a deep caress. “I do not wish to anticipate that I will be released early,” his caresses of the chair never ceasing, and his eyes trained on his moving fingers.

You studied him, taking in his deflated voice and how he spoke in a slow manner. Your gaze shifted to take in the intricate motion his fingers moved upon the armrest as there were multiple reasons a patient would do such a thing.

He could be nervous, frustrated, impatient, or simply doing it to comfort himself. Recalling his mannerisms from previously, you could cross out your thought of him being nervous; the way the scientist carried himself was in a way of confidence that couldn’t be faked, so it left you with the last three—frustration, impatience, or comfort.

Without further observation, you couldn’t pinpoint his reasoning for his odd gesture, instead giving him a soft grin and replying to his previous words of anticipation. “I understand your concerns about getting your hopes up, especially considering that you were rewarded with an early release date based on your wonderful behavior as of late,” you sympathized, “So it’s completely normal to feel cautious about expectations,” you said, taking in the abnormally muscular male before you. 

“But let’s explore these feelings, shall we? Let’s say you are released in the next two weeks; what would your life look like, Dr. O’Hara?” you asked, deeply intrigued by his answer.

A moment of silence filled the room after your inquiry, the doctor continuing to make intricate patterns upon the armrest with his finger before his red eyes returned back to you. A nervous chuckle rumbled from his chest—the sound restoring life back into the room. “Ahh, I always get stumped on that question. It's another reason I haven’t written much about it in my journal.”

You nodded, placing your hands upon your legs. “Well, let’s start small,” you proposed with a grin. “You seem to have taken a liking to the hobby of writing while staying here at NYS-MH. Would you like to expand on that?” Miguel gave you a thoughtful hum, his pointer finger continuing to glide against the armrest of his chair. 

“I’ve…always wanted to write a book.” Your eyes snapped from his fingers to rest upon his chiseled face, surprise and amazement present upon your facial features at his desire. “Oh really? And what would that book be about?”

“Genetics, of course.” He chuckled, the mention of his past interest that caused his descent into madness making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes narrowed, the amazement fading from your being. You leaned back into your chair, keeping your composure.

“Are you still interested in Genetics, Dr. O’Hara?” Your inquiry being met with a nod from the patient, one that he didn’t hesitate on responding with. “I’ve worked in the field for almost my entire life and I’m exceptionally good at it.” He explained with a voice of knowledge in a low, deep whisper. “So why would I abandon my hard-earned skills and education?” 

His reasoning on his maintained attachment to the field was an excellent one, but like many things, it could be a trigger; causing the once cured doctor to revert back to his old ways of sadism and horrendous acts for the sake of science. This potential trigger would not only bring harm to everyone once more but erase the hard work that Miguel had achieved at the mental institution to fix. 

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I…understand your desire to write a book about Genetics. It’s an intriguing subject.” You said, preparing yourself to ask a question that would surely strike the doctor. “But considering the circumstance of your past experiments and the impact they had, how do you plan to approach the topic responsibly?” You asked, watching his reaction closely in anticipation. 

After your question it seemed as if everything stopped—froze even… 

You gazed at Miguel taking in his tanned face that stared back at you. His crimson eyes were empty behind his black frames and his posture was completely still in his seat. 

You’ll think he was a statue…

“Dr. O’Hara?” You called out to him which seemed to snap him from his thoughts. His red eyes slowly shifted to you, his tanned lips pulling into a small smile. 

“Responsibility, my dear therapist, is such a heavy word…” He said with a smirk. “But I wish to ask, what compelled you to work with the mental? It’s a challenging profession for those with weaker minds.” Miguel said, casting an odd aura upon the room with his every word. “I should know…many say they are for the discovery of science and when the time presents itself, they get cold feet.” He stated, his finger ceasing its movement upon the armrest. 

It wasn't unusual for a patient to desire to ask you a question, but the way he gazed at you with his intense eyes and how his gravelly voice caused a shiver to run down your spine made you hesitant, which the patient seemed to have noticed. “I only ask since you handle your job so beautifully.” He complimented, his eyes taking in your seated position. “I only wish to know what led you here before me.” The words left the patient’s lips in an ominous manner, however, upon saying such a thing his olive face held a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

His fanged grin, oddly, sent a wave of warmth through your being and caused you to forget your reply to his question. You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your composure and recall your departed answer. “W-well, I…umm… entered this field by the simple fact of being interested in psychology a-and the way the mind works.” You replied once you found the words, unable to hide the stammering of your voice due to how unnerving everything was becoming. Miguel nodded slowly, running his tongue along the tip of his fang, the action drawing your attention. 

“Your interest in the subject of the mind is rather…fascinating.” Abruptly, he leaned up in his seat, resting his elbows upon his knees and invading your personal space. Your heart skipped a beat at his suddenness and at being able to see just how abnormal and captivating his scarlet eyes and sharp fangs were; it caused goosebumps to rise upon your skin at the mere sight. 

“I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” He grinned, the fluorescent lights of his room bouncing off his sharp fangs as his eyes were filled with a hint of amusement, though it was impossible to ignore how it seemed he was toying with you. 

“I…see individuals, like you, as people who have become lost in the darkness and just need assistance in finding the light once more.” You stated, his eyebrow raising and a chuckle escaping him at your answer. “A bold claim…” He said, his eyes tracing your figure and lingering upon how tightly you were now grasping your skirt.  

“For a little thing like you…” 

Miguel muttered imperceptibly that you almost didn't hear him. “E-Excuse me?” You asked in shock and with furrowed eyebrows causing the patient to snicker, shaking his head. “Just that your view is a unique way of thinking and a…intriguing one, in fact.” He said, leaning back in his chair and adopting a relaxed position once more. 

“It’s really fascinating how intellectual you are, doctor.” He grinned. “Few possess the ability to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts of the mental. I applaud you on that.” Miguel praised, returning back to running his palm along the white armrest whilst giving you his undivided attention. 

In your gut, you knew his recalling of the statement said previously was false, you were certain he said something that was out of the norm. 

But could you have mistaken? 

You took in his face, taking note of how he gazed at you. The scientist was attractive, and normally during your job you were able to ignore that appealing quality and complete the task at hand, but right now, it seems impossible. 

The way his red eyes ran along your body like he was undressing you, made you blush. You couldn’t explain it, but you were stuck between your desires and your sense of reason. 

You were aware of Miguel’s sadistic mannerisms and how there could be a chance he wasn’t fully well as he lets on, it was why you were here, but the longer you spoke with him, the more the task at hand was leaving you. 

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he gave you at times. 

“M-May I ask how have you been feeling lately? Any changes?” You asked, changing the topic and settling your eyes upon Miguel once more to see him smirking. “It’s all been the same, doctor.” He began. “We have group therapies on Wednesday, daily morning activities and indoor activities…” He said, wetting his lips with the swipe of his tongue, the sight causing the tips of your ears to burn red. 

Sometime while he was speaking, you shamefully zoned out to taking in how sexy he looked. 

His white shirt tightly hugged his body, giving one a view of his hardened nipples, defined pecs, and washboard abs. Every curve of muscle was accentuated under the white fabric that teased anyone who saw. The muscles of his legs pressed against his gray sweatpants, and your eyes widened slightly at being able to make out the enormity that rested against his thigh.  The sight causing you to bite your lip…

“Querida?” 

The sexy patient called out to you, snapping you from your trance. “Y-Yes!?” You inquired, clearing your throat and taking a more assertive and relaxed position to try and dismiss your previous lack of professionalism. Miguel snickered. “It seemed you were off somewhere else…and here I thought that was my job.” He joked, causing you to chuckle nervously. 

“M-My apologies. You may continue.” You replied, wishing to proceed as if none of that happened. Miguel smirked, his crimson eyes roaming along your body before his finger began to tap upon the armrest.

“In my leisure, I write in my journal, read, or tend to my plant.” He finished, keeping it short and gesturing to the bookshelf in the room that held a pot of beautiful flowers. You smiled seeing how the black flowers bloomed upon the shelf. 

“May I ask, what is it that you write in your journal?” You asked, looking back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ethical if I asked what you write in your diary, would it, doctor?” He inquired, causing you to instantly become regretful of your words. You casted him an apologetic look. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“No…it’s fine. Your fascination is interesting…” He trailed off, a tap of his finger following your words. You glanced back over at his plant once more, the flower really captivating you. “The plant is family to the Calla Lilies.” Miguel answered before you could even ask, looking over at you as you continued to inspect the plant from your seat. “Hmm…I’ve never seen a plant like this.” 

“Because this plant, in particular, is very rare.” He explained. “Native to South Africa, Escape, is a very rare find.” Miguel said with a fanged grin. “It’s why I made it mandatory that it was brought with me when I was assigned at NYS-MH.” 

You stared in awe at the abnormally black flower. This was your first time seeing a plant of pitch blackness that hadn’t already withered away, but Miguel’s next words grabbed your attention. 

“But one day while tending to my flowers, I hit an…epiphany of sorts.”  Miguel told you, causing you to cock your head in puzzlement. 

His words intrigued you…

“May I ask what epiphany you reached, Dr. O’Hara?” At your question, Miguel gave you a look of appreciation and sincerity. “I understand that upon my arrival, I wasn’t…in the best state of mind.” He said with a sigh. “But after being here, I feel like I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” You asked, bringing a small smile to his lips. “I…believe I’m ready to see the world again.” He answered, giving you a genuine look of certainty. 

His realization filled you with gratification. You reached for his brown folder, believing he had, indeed, improved. The first major step for the patient was seeing that they were initially unwell, which the patient had achieved. 

“I’m greatly pleased with your recognition of this epiphany of yours, Dr. O’Hara.” You said, holding his folder in your hands. “But I believe you are ready to answer some more serious questions.” You said, glancing up at him. “Are you ready?” You asked, seeking permission of his state of mind before proceeding. 

With a nod from Miguel, you opened his folder, pulling out a few of his documents to begin asking more serious questions regarding them. “I’ve noticed in your next of kin that you asked for them to not be aware of your mental treatment.” You began, looking up at Miguel to see him already gazing back at you, his crimson orbs trained on you. The sight made your heart flutter. “M-May I ask how you would cope on the outside without your familial relations knowing of t-the treatments and necessary tools you've learned whilst being here?” At your inquiry, Miguel’s face hardened, his crimson eyes darkening.

“Well, you see, my dear therapist, family can be a bit…overwhelming.” He uttered, tapping his finger against the armrest once more like a metronome; his eye contact never breaking. “I’ve decided to take a more independent route for now.” He explained in a deep, slow voice. “But friends, colleagues—people who don't burden me with unnecessary questions about the past are who I seek.” He said, his voice holding a hint of coldness as his jaw clenched. 

“Because, it’s important to focus on the present and the future, rather than the past, don’t you think…

Doctor?” 

You gulped, his words seeming to have you in a vice. It was as if he had some kind of control over you, all of the rules and regulations you learned whilst being an evaluation therapist at NYS-MH faded from your mind. You couldn’t figure out what you found so enticing about him. 

Was it the way he looked or behaved? How he seemed to speak with such intellect in a tone of voice that could lull one to sleep?   

You were puzzled…

But you were certain something was happening, and it was greatly affecting you and your ability to think clearly. 

You hesitantly nodded, clenching his folder and feeling your cheeks redden once again.  “T-That is correct.” You agreed, not believing what you were saying. “I would understand your desire to look past your previous mistakes and move forward.” You uttered, trying to keep your attention on the patient. 

“Indeed…Mistakes.” He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips, his finger seeming to tap against the armchair after your words. Your eyes looked from his hand and to his face, studying how his coffee-brown locks blowned gently in the breeze from the vent overhead, and to his defined cheekbones and broad nose that made him even more captivating… 

 “Have any more questions for me, doctor?” 

You jumped at his inqury, noticing you were just staring at him. 

What the hell was wrong with you?!

A little disheveled, you fumbled through the folder for the next pages of information you sought, picking up his documents on his treatment plan of medications and his incident reports. “Umm…I-I wanted to ask about your medications.” You began, wetting your lips and holding the papers up to hide behind them. “T-There were two occurrences where you refused to take your medication. M-may I ask why you refused?” You asked, peeking around the paper to see the patient adjust his black eyeglasses upon his face along with the repeated thudding of his finger upon the chair. 

“I must ask, how would you feel if someone took away your identity?” 

“W-what?!” You asked in surprise, lowering the pages hastily. A laugh rumbled from his broad chest, giving you a clear view of his otherworldly fangs that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. “You heard me, doctor.” He stated in a manner that was to be amusing but only made one disturbed. 

“What if someone was trying to force you to be someone else? Someone you are not?” He asked, causing you to chew your inner cheek and ponder his question. “I…I guess I wouldn’t like that.” 

“Indeed…” He replied. “Any creature would despise the fact of forced transformation of oneself. It’s the reason you cannot simply change a savage tiger to being a tamed kitten in your home.” The dark-haired male explained. “It’s because a tiger would always cling to its savage ways, it's what keeps them alive—it’s what they enjoy.”  

“That’s…a great analogy, Dr. O’Hara.” 

“Why thank you, dear.” Miguel replied with a smirk before his old expression shifted to hold furrowed eyebrows and a frown—a set of facial features that instantly tugged at your heart. “But…the true reason I refused my medication was because…” He heaved a deep sigh, biting his lip. “The depressants make me sleepy and tired all the time, and…the idea of having to depend on medicine to stabilize my irritability and emotions is rather disheartening to me.” He said in a sorrowful voice. “I refused them because I believe I can be better without them.” 

You listened closely to his words, taking note of his concerns and feeling rather empathetic. “In all honesty, how would you explain your current mental health condition?” You asked, placing your compassionate eyes upon him. 

He gave you a heartfelt smile, one that made your heart soar. “Like I said previously, I feel better, Doctor.” Miguel said in genuinely. “I’ve seen the errors in my ways and am deeply disgusted by what I’ve done to innocent individuals…t-too myself.” He said, looking away at the ground in shame. 

“I wish to return back into society and start anew.” He replied. “Be the man that I’ve wanted to be—not some madman who allowed his idea to get too out of hand that led to the deaths of innocence.” Miguel professed to you with an emotional and hearty voice. 

You nodded slowly as you noticed his scarlet eyes flicker down to your hands that held the brown folder. “Doctor…

May I?” 

Dr. O’Hara asked, extending his large, calloused hand to you, seeking your palm. Your eyes widened, thickly gulping and looking back up to meet his red orbs that seemed to suck you in—enticing you to take it. 

Physical connection with patients were strictly forbidden, but the sadden look of desperation upon his face led you to take his hand. You placed the brown folder upon the table before resting your hand in his large palm, and instantly yours looked to have shrunken in size. With a fluttering heart and belly, you met his eyes and instantly melted under his crimson eyes. 

“Please, Cariño. I assure you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”  

The patient affirmed, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze, following his heartfelt promise. Your breath caught in your throat at his genuine gaze and words. 

From his evaluation, you couldn’t help but agree that he was ready…

He didn’t utter a word of sadism or show signs of insanity, revealing his first diagnosis of Psychopathy was treated or can be suppressed. He exhibited signs of sympathy for his victims, and also didn’t become angry at triggering questions, displaying that his second diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder was also cured or treated. 

Like he said…

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was ready. 

You gave him a small smile, placing your free hand atop of his as Miguel’s eyes shifted down to your kind gesture and back onto your face. “Okay…I believe you.” You said, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’ll be sure to send in your evaluation report that you are good to go.” You told him, but as an evaluation therapist you weren’t supposed to say, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. 

Giving him a departed smile, you released his hands and collected your things. His touch still burned into your skin and left you yearning for more of him. 

You felt his abnormal eyes on you as you went to the door. Suddenly, upon putting your hand on the doorknob, a cold shiver ran down your back—one that instantly made you come to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unsettling sensation, causing you to bite your lip in nervousness.

“And Miguel…” You called out to him, using his name and looking over your shoulder at the dark-haired male. His tanned, chiseled face held an expression of hidden joy and interest as he turned towards you, his attention captured by your call whilst he remained seated in his chair

You clenched the folder tightly, hastily shifting your gaze to meet his scarlet eyes—the previous feeling of discomfort and unease vanishing.

“I-I hope you keep your word.” You said in a voice full of reverence. Miguel returned your words with a reassuring smirk, his sharp canines poking from over his bottom lip. 

“You have my word, Doctor.  I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

After turning in Dr. Miguel O'Hara’s evaluation report and going home, the scientist was still on your mind.

The way the doctor looked at you with his beautiful red eyes from behind his black spectacles, with a gaze of interest, to the fanged smiles and smirks he gave you—merely thinking about it made your cheeks redden.

You bit your lip, feeling a need to cure this desire for him, but you decided to push it away. You couldn’t feel this way about him…

You couldn’t…

…

..

But you did…

Extremely…

You lay under the blankets of your bed, tossing and turning as every time you closed your eyes to sleep, he would fill your mind. 

Especially the glimpse you got of his package. 

How his massive member was accentuated underneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, revealing how thick and long he was. 

The remembrance made you drool… 

It had been forever since you’d touched yourself. Being a therapist at a mental facility was a rather time-consuming job, and you weren’t really interested in the many men who tried to get your attention.

Until him… 

Why did it have to be him of all people? 

It was a guilty pleasure, that was for sure—to have fallen so hard for this doctor, your patient who had many wounds that still needed healing.

But oddly, his wounds only pulled you in even more…

You bit your lip, allowing your hands to begin roaming along your body, imagining they were his calloused ones—remembering how his large hands practically engulfed yours when holding his hand, and how rough they felt.

Oh, how good it would feel if they were the ones touching you. 

Giving your clothed breasts a squeeze through your shirt, you moaned softly. Despite his past of being sadistic and cruel to others, you imagined him being gentle with you—caressing your body and touching you in a way that stole your breath every time. You arched your back as your thumb barely flicked over your pebbled nipples, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Your panties were heavily drenched in your juices due to your core's insistent pleas for stimulation and touch. Finally satisfying yourself, with a sharp tug, you pulled your panties down, freeing your pulsating pussy. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, hastily getting into a comfortable position on your back and allowing your legs to fall apart. With closed eyes, you allowed thoughts of Dr. O'Hara to guide your movements. 

His massive hand ran along your abdomen, teasing you with his skilled fingertips and trailing lower. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers brushed softly along your throbbing bud and soppy folds, spreading your juices along the sensitive area.

You imagined Dr. O'Hara above you, his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smirked down at you, pressing his large middle finger into your entrance. You moaned, feeling his finger filling your tight walls. 

Whimpers escaped your lips at how good his finger felt inside of you, your back arching in desire for more of him. His smirk broadened at your eagerness, as he slowly drew his finger out to the tip before pushing back in, quickly finding a rhythm and keeping at it with each thrust.

Your toes curled, burying your face in your inner elbow as you continued to finger your wet pussy, wishing Dr. O'Hara was here, but imagining would have to do. It wasnt long before a heat began to pool in your lower belly, your breathing picking up. 

"Taking my fingers so well, dear," Dr. O'Hara whispered into your ear, gently nipping along your lobe and throat, his fangs grazing your skin. You whined into your arm, his fingers picking up speed and hooking just right inside your pussy, bringing you to your blissful end. 

With a loud cry, your thighs trembled horribly as your juices spilled in hot spurts, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath. 

Your eyes fluttered close, trying to overcome the buzz that overwhelmed your body after your release. It took a moment, but when you caught your breath and your vision settled, you withdrew your fingers from your pussy, casting your eyes upon them to see that they, not Dr. O'Hara's, were covered in your juices. You exhaled in disappointment. 

Despite how good it felt imagining it was him, you couldn't help wanting Dr. O'Hara in the physical…

"I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?" 

As you lay there, still tinglinh from your pleasurable moment, his words filled your head, leaving you to ponder his question once more. 

Did you believe him to be a puzzle that only you could solve? In the moment, you said no, but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to thoroughly fix him.

Like many patients upon being released, they still faced numerous challenges, including reentering society, finding a job, and avoiding triggers, after departing from NYS-MH.

He was going to need help, and with all your heart, you wanted to be there for him. 

And you were going to. 

No matter what…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of 'Tangled in his Webs.' 😆I really enjoyed writing Miguel in this persona as it was different and honestly fun, especially with him being a darker character. It was rather new for me writing in this manner, despite some challenges here and there, I'm overall proud of the outcome and I hope you are too!

@migueloharacumslut, thanks so much for the request, and I hope you are even more happier that it's to be more than one part, lol. But once again, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 💙💙

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[livelaughlovesubs]

WHATSS UPPP🔥🔥🔥🔥 Anyways :3 can I pretty please request an Akutagawa x reader and Akutagawas reaction to reader/us handcuffing him?? (Also if your uncomfortable with that I totally understand if you dont wanna write for it! I need more subby akutagawa in my life🤤)

Of course you can~ here is your order sweetie!

Dom!reader x sub!akutagawa

Warning: handcuffs, bondage, teasing, otherwise pretty sfw?

‘What a frail boy,’ you thought while sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, arms crossed as you hide something under a pillow. His physic was no surprise to you anymore, though how comes every time you saw him he gets thinner? Yet he still wants to be of service to you. How can you make him work without feeling pity for his poor body? A sigh left your mouth, your eyes glanced over the soft pillow which served as your hiding spot. That’s why you prepared this, to make sure he’ll leave it all to you.

Then your eyes turned again, moving to look at the male standing next to the bed again. His pitch black coat was now placed over a chair, revealing his white dress-shirt. It stood out so much, since the rest of his outfit was dark as well. “Come here, aku.” You commanded, still sitting in the same position as before. He obliged your order without any hesitation, nor did he make a single sound. Slowly climbing onto the mattress as he hovered above you, legs on either side of your figure.

It might have seemed bold at first glance, but he didn’t even dare to sit down onto your lap, only kneeling on top of you while wearing a softer version of his usual expression. His pupils were also raven black, skin as pale as porcelain and cheeks tainted slightly rosy. You stared at him off a second, before reaching out for his collar. Gently, you pulled at his jabot, loosening it up and throwing it onto the floor. Afterwards, you started unbuttoning his shirt. One button after another, without rushing anything. He didn’t say anything the entire time, staying as still as he could for you. Even though he tried so hard to appear unaffected, his breathing hitched and his nervous gaze exposed everything.

“How cute.” You chuckled as you said that, hands working on the last button. He scoffed at the compliment, face twisting into a pout. What can you say, you are never wrong. Right when you were going to pull his shirt off him, he took care of it already, letting the fabric drop onto the floor. Then Akutagawa began working on his trousers, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrists, sighing, “This won’t do, pretty boy. Leave it all to me.”

Before he got the chance to respond to it, he felt something hard and cold pressing against his wrist. Then a clink sound reached his ears, followed by another one. He looked down, eyes widening as the realisation. “What is this…?” Aku asked you, eyes searching for your guidance and explanation. “My, you out of everyone doesn’t know what these are?” You teased, fingers playing with the chain connecting the two metal holes. His reaction is cute, to think the mad dog of the mafia is so innocent. The confused look on his face was adorable as well, actually you liked everything about him.

“I know, handcuffs, but why are you… using them?” Akutagawa kept questioning you, he looked at you like you were crazy. “Sweetie, what is the purpose of cuffs?” You teased him, yanking on that chain a little to make him lean forward. His face was now inches away from yours, and his blush darkened a few shades. “To restrain someone, to prevent them from doing something.” Despite the fact that his heart was fluttering, and his voice trembling, he still managed to answer you. It was a good response, just as you expected from him. “Right, now guess why I might be using these.”

“But there is no reason for you to restrain me.” The boy said, a drop of sweat rolled down his forehead. Now he was looking at you all flustered and blushy. “Then be my prisoner for tonight. Your crime is~ seducing me. Your sentence? Forbidden from doing anything.” You whispered against his neck, raising the hand that was still holding onto the chain high into the air, causing him to raise his arms above his head as well. “What do you say, Ryuunosuke?” At this point he was already a mess, glaring at you like a feisty cat. When he met your playful gaze, a shiver ran down his spine, and he eventually said, “…I- I got it, officer.”

[vincentvalenfine]

bite of the beast

vincent valentine/afab!reader nsfw, 18+ word count: 9400 warnings: canon-typical violence fighting monsters, partial galian beast transformation, explicit piv intercourse, knotting, blindfolded because vincent is a goddamn mess, mostly clothed sex, don't focus too hard on the where and when of setting honestly read also on ao3!

Not every transformation goes as smoothly as Vincent would like it to. That you're there when it goes sideways becomes a prime opportunity to get very close, very quickly.

It was getting to be routine, staying behind with the busted up Bronco while most of the others went off to take care of the important business of trying to save the world, one stop at a time. If anything you were glad for the chances to get some peace and quiet considering how much chatter could go on while on the move. At times like this it was just you keeping watch, Cid doing what he could for his poor airship, and the mysterious Vincent, keeping to himself but never straying too far away.

Ah, Vincent Valentine. He was fascinating to watch, you couldn’t help it. The aloof demeanor had mostly held up during his time with the group, but nonetheless you’d spotted the cracks and what hid underneath, which turned out to be a much kinder, softer man than his first meeting would’ve led anyone to believe. He had a protective streak, a subtle sweetness when he hid his smiles behind the high collar of his cloak, and… well, you hoped he was glancing at you with some measure of interest every now and then.

Finding reasons to get him talking wasn’t easy, but you had managed to garner a few conversations from him, and he always seemed surprised that someone wanted more than a few brief observations from him. But he at least appeared to be warming up, if slowly. Hopefully he wasn’t just trying to avoid any social friction. He was also a hard man to read…

Today’s scenic view was the humid, tangled jungles of Gongaga. The others had gone off down the lone dirt path that led away towards the village, while you had settled yourself in to get some reading done, Cid had gotten back to work on the Bronco, and Vincent… well, he was around here somewhere. Probably hiding in the shade to avoid the worst of the heat.

“Hey, I'm gonna catch a bit of shuteye real quick! You mind keepin’ watch?”

Looking up from your book, you gave a nod and a thumbs up to Cid, who grinned and returned the gesture before retreating to the Bronco’s interior. Well, that left you to be on the lookout for any monsters that might show up - in a remote place like this, the possibility was unfortunately high. Better to put the book away and get some little lookouts summoned up, then.

Picking up the length of rope coiled by your side, you gave the spiked metal hammer head attached to the end a few twirls around before deftly striking a few spots on the ground before you. Each little crater you made sprouted forth a miniature drake in dusty yellow, shaking dirt off their hides before flapping their wings and beginning to circle the Bronco in a broad radius. They didn't need to be strong, just alert in case of monsters, or unexpected visitors.

One of them squeaked out a noise you'd learned to associate with Vincent, somewhere on the other side of the Bronco. The indistinct, velvet murmur of his voice barely reached your ears, but you knew he was distracting one of your sentries from their job. It drew a little grin to your face.

He had shown a surprising fondness for the fiends you could summon to fight on your behalf, and it made you smile every time you caught him interacting with them.

One of the drakes let out a curious trill and your gaze shifted in that direction. The little beast was beginning to make its way into the foliage of the jungle, drawing an annoyed grumble from you - that wasn’t in the instructions at all, but maybe it had found something useful? They did like the scent of mako. A quick glance at the Bronco (Vincent would keep an eye on it while you followed after for a bit, right?), and you coiled your meteor hammer around your arm before hustling after the vanishing drake.

Tangled was an understatement regarding the underbrush of the jungle. You quickly found yourself stumbling over roots, shoving past vines, and cursing the little sentry that had simply gone flitting through the branches ahead without a care in the world. You’d think it would have some willingness to wait for its summoner before flying off! A damn shame you didn’t have a blade to help with hacking your way through the foliage, but it was a bit late to turn back for one and you didn’t want to lose track of your summon anyway.

As you struggled through, a brief flicker of red caught your eye up above and ahead, so brief you weren’t even sure you had seen it. Maybe that was what had drawn your sentry away? With more cursing for each vine and branch that slowed you down, you did your best to catch up with it. At least it looked like there was a break in the jungle ahead…

Which, upon bursting out into that opening, you realized your abrupt entrance was a pretty terrible idea.

While across the clearing there was indeed a mako spring welling up out of the earth with a gentle burbling, between you and it was a trio of Gagighandi just beginning to lift their heads from sleeping. And they were huge too - one of them snapped its jaws at your summon as it darted by, catching the poor thing with only its tail and some of its wings sticking out from the fanged maw that closed with a crunch. You winced at the sight of its lifestream wisping away and began slowly backing up. Maybe if you just moved slowly enough…

Your heel snagged on a root and sent you sprawling onto your back with a whoosh of air from your lungs, followed by a bout of coughing as you struggled to catch your breath. By the time you got it back and scrambled onto your feet, all three of the beasts were staring, long tails swishing behind them.

“Uh - nice lizards…?”

A loud growl was the response you received. Well… shit.

Before you could get your meteor hammer twirling, a trio of shots rang out that forced the beasts to leap back from their resting places, dirt spraying from the impact of bullets. You glanced up with wide-eyed surprise as a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the canopy above you and twirled neatly midair before taking another series of shots to force the fiends further back. His landing was impeccable too, seeming to hover just a moment before his sabatons touched down in front of you, facing forward towards the threat. Vincent glanced over his shoulder to you and gave a slight nod.

“You shouldn’t be so careless about wandering off alone.”

You couldn’t help but huff as you readied your weapon, “It’s not my fault the little bugger decided to go exploring!” He didn’t respond aside from a slight hum, though you were certain you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he returned his gaze back to the Gagighandi that were now readying themselves to attack. Vincent had bought just enough time for you to prepare for a fight though as you stepped up beside him, and you began spinning the head of your hammer at the highest speed you could muster before slamming it to the ground.

Dirt exploded outwards, and with it the craggy, rocky shape of a golem hauled itself up out of the earth. You’d put more effort into the summon and this one was a good ten feet tall once it clambered to its feet, its ‘voice’ the scraping and gnashing of rocks as it lumbered towards its opponents. It would make a good shield to tank all the blows while you and Vincent took potshots from a safe distance.

At least, that had been the plan in your head until a fourth, even larger Gagighandi pushed through the trees, over the mako spring entirely with a single step. Oh, that just had to be mako mutated! Its gaze locked onto you as your body suddenly began to stiffen up - shit, Stone Stare was a bitch, and you knew you didn’t have a Soft or Remedy on you. Maybe it was time to try and book it before you both found yourselves petrified and eaten…

“Hm.”

Vincent’s voice drew your gaze, and you looked to find him withdrawing a golden Soft needle from a pocket with two gauntlet claw-tipped fingers. Without hesitating he flicked the item at you - it pierced your shoulder before you could think to reach for it, and you heaved a sigh of relief as the magic loosened up your tightened muscles. Okay, now was definitely the time to book it-

“Do not move.” His velvet voice was dark in warning, and you couldn’t help gaping as he stumbled forward suddenly. The beasts in front suddenly seemed uneasy at his approach, even more so as the sudden snapping of bones and popping of joints filled the clearing alongside Vincent’s voice choking out a scream. Oh, okay. Damn. It took an eternity and an instant before his form exploded outwards into the nightmarish beast you’d only seen once before, when Cloud and the others had beaten it down into submission with great difficulty. This was going to be intense…

The Galian Beast roared.

The Gagighandi recoiled briefly, before the largest one gave a shrieking hiss in response and lunged.

The battle was swift and terrible in its duration, and you were glued to the ground with fascination and a small measure of fright - how could something so massive move with such speed and agility? Your golem was giving its best to the smaller fiends, but its time was suddenly up as the Beast wrapped golden claws around it, lifted it high, and smashed it down upon the monster with more force than you could imagine. It stood no chance of surviving and crumbled away to dust afterward, while the great lizard stumbled back with a dazed look before screaming and lashing out with teeth and claws once more.

In less than a minute the smaller ones had succumbed to gaping wounds from the Beast’s claws and axe-tipped tail, and the larger one was well bloodied with a front leg dangling uselessly while it struggled to grapple with its foe.

You held your breath as the two strained against each other’s bulk… and then sighed in relief as the Gagighandi was wrenched from its feet and thrown down, the Beast descending upon it to tear it apart rather messily.

It was eating the fiend… well. It must’ve worked up an appetite during that fight.

You froze as it suddenly halted in its meal and lifted its head to look at you, bright eyes eerie even in the sunlight that filled the clearing. Your breath caught in your throat, gaze darting away to the ground to avoid staring. The last thing you wanted was for Vincent to feel threatened and turn his attention to chowing down on you instead. But aside from a low rumbling noise that seemed to roll through the air and your bones alike, the sounds of flesh being rent asunder and eaten resumed for another minute until silence fell over the clearing finally.

You were nervous about looking again, but you dared to anyway and found the Beast sat back on its haunches, licking the blood from its claws and face.

Those red eyes turned your way again, and you felt pinned by them. This time the Beast shook itself and dropped its head, another low rumble intermingled with a note of pain as its massive frame shuddered and began to shrink. Oh, thank goodness, he was changing back and you wouldn’t have to play hide and seek with the Beast.

You looked away again, out of courtesy this time, and waited again until the sound of footsteps told you Vincent was back to himself. Or at least that was what you assumed, but another surprise awaited when you looked.

“Vincent?”

Almost normal, but not - the Beast’s tall horns still curved up over the dark mess of hair, his eyes seemed fever bright with energy, and he carried himself several inches taller than usual on golden clawed feet like the Beast. More obvious still was the long tail that swayed behind him, bearing that golden axe like a macabre banner. With his face still speckled with blood, his expression was troubled, alarmed even. The claws that tipped his fingers seemed to be shaking as they rose to his face even at this distance, one that was being closed fast by his uneven steps.

“You need to leave,” he huffed out in a hoarse voice, the velvet traded for harsh gravel. He sounded frightened - you felt a bit frightened yourself at the unexpected change, but steeled yourself and shook your head after a moment.

“No, it’s alright. I want to help you, if I can.”

His expression twisted with fear - not for himself but for you, clearly. You mustered up your courage and took your own steps towards him, tilting your head slightly as he took a fretful step back in response. He really was scared of hurting others, of letting the Beast get the better of him… well, you needed to prove that fear wrong, then. It was only right to help him.

You kept your pace steady, tucking away your meteor hammer as you went, and offered him a smile when you grew close. While Vincent was already a relatively tall man, the additional height now made him tower over you the closer you got, though his hunched posture hid some of that height and made him appear like a distressed cat of sorts, especially with his tail swishing about erratically.

“You shouldn’t… I don’t want to-”

“You aren’t going to, don’t worry about it. Let me just take a look, okay?”

You were close enough to reach out and touch him, but he shied away from your hand with a sound caught somewhere between a whine and growl. Talk about stubborn; you heaved a sigh and stepped closer still, too close for him to lean away when you placed your hand on his arm. “See? I’m fine, you’re not hurting me. Let me help out.”

He let out a ragged breath, still looking fearful, but as you stood there and nothing happened he seemed to slowly relax. You smiled at him again to reassure him, letting your hand rub up and down lightly to prove that he wasn’t about to go attacking you just because of a touch. A low rumbling began to build in his chest, subtly different from the warning rumble the Beast had given you before… some kind of purr, in a way?

Vincent looked nervous still, and a touch confused by his own reaction, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he seemed to be unconsciously leaning in now, dark hair spilling over his shoulders - the ends had taken on a deep red hue unlike usual, and you found yourself watching his face, realizing it matched the color of his right eye. The left eye was more vibrant than ever, and his gaze seemed to draw you in, the muddled swirl of emotions in his eyes beginning to settle down as he watched you in turn. The furrow in his brow slowly eased away, his expression softening as he halfway hid behind the collar of his cloak. Was he… starting to blush?

You couldn’t help reaching up with your other hand and touching his cheek to see, the warmth of his skin quickly intensifying under your fingertips as his eyes fluttered closed. The rumbling grew louder as well, and in a sudden movement his right arm slipped about your shoulders to drag you up against him, a squeak of surprise escaping you in the process.

“Vincent...?”

His eyes flicked open quickly, an intensity to their gaze different from the fear he’d held before, pupils dilated and a frenetic energy setting them aglow. It was your turn to feel a measure of confusion as he leaned down, his exhales ruffling your hair with a few deep breaths.

“I did not notice before,” he murmured as if to himself, low voice back to rich velvet. “Your scent… it is pleasant.”

And now it was also your turn to blush, words catching in your throat as you struggled to come up with a response to that. You came up empty-handed, even more so as his nose nuzzled down against the crown of your head. His rumbling was especially loud when you were pressed up against his chest like this, and the combination of sound and touch was flustering you almost unbearably. The feelings you had begun developing were now suddenly unfurling with a vibrant, giddy warmth in your chest, but with it came an unbearable twist of nerves. Was Vincent really comfortable with this, or was it the Beast affecting his behavior? Would he shy away as soon as he realized what he was doing?

“Vincent, I-!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask, as he brought his face down to yours and blocked any further words from escaping your lips with his own.

His movements were hungry, surprisingly bold from someone otherwise so reserved - you found yourself melting into the kiss in spite of your worries, stomach flipping about with giddiness and hands having no choice but to grab onto the front of his cloak to keep themselves in check. His own hands had no such concerns apparently, clawtips pricking through cloth as he drew them down your sides and settled on your hips with a light squeeze.

That rumbling of his still going strong, his height had him stooped over until his grasp started urging you down toward the ground. You couldn’t help but oblige, especially considering the strength in his grip that made it feel like he was doing pretty much all of the work to move you.

With your back quickly meeting the ground, you were properly pinned under him now. A gasp escaped you when one of his hands left its perch to slide up underneath your shirt, claws dragging delicately along your skin and drawing a shiver from you. The uncertainties you wanted to voice had nowhere to go, swallowed by his mouth needy against yours every time you tried to speak them.

One of his thighs slid itself between yours. The warm leather pressed up firmly to your crotch drew a surprised moan from you, another noise muffled by his lips still hungry for your own. The hand that had slid upward beneath your shirt this time drew downward, the same light scrape of clawtips provoking another shudder before they caught on the cloth further down.

Vincent’s lips paused just briefly as if he'd found something to hesitate over, but the moment was fleeting and he renewed his fervent kiss while his hand tugged insistently at the clothing in his way. You found yourself doing your best to oblige his efforts by lifting your hips up with a wiggle that helped send everything sliding until it met with the thigh still pressed up against you.

That drew a brief growl from him for having gotten in his own way. A quick lift of his leg moved it out of the path of your clothes on their journey downward before he settled it right back into place, this time rubbing up against bare skin. You couldn’t help moaning again, especially when the hand still holding onto your hip drew you up along the length of his thigh. Trailing slick as you went no doubt, the friction quickly set your guts ablaze with need and had you squirming in short order.

Your hands tugged sharply at his cloak in an attempt to draw him closer even though he was limited by his own height, having to curl his back to both kiss you and keep his leg well-positioned. Another low rumble built in his chest, and he finally freed your lips to instead latch onto your neck with both lips and the lightest press of fangs. That made you gasp and go still, pulse fluttering against the warmth of his lips and tongue that laved over your skin slowly. It wasn’t a threat - it was downright possessive, claiming you for his own. The thought of it made your legs weak, and it was a good thing you weren’t standing on them right now. Still…

“V-Vincent, is - are you…?”

He paused for longer this time, giving you a chance to catch your breath in spite of the thigh still held between yours and the tightly coiled desire in your gut begging for him to keep going. Finally, with a grunt that betrayed his internal struggle, he withdrew his mouth and took a deep, ragged breath. His head lifted just enough that you could meet his gaze again, still fever bright and burning with a mix of emotions. Desire, chiefly, but tempered with his growing uncertainty, and a touch of fear. That same fear as before - he didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone you.

“Tell me to stop if…” he uttered hoarsely, the rest going unspoken. It would be too easy for you to do just that, to likely pretend this never happened if you were both so inclined… but he’d swiftly drawn out feelings that would have otherwise taken their time to grow, and possibly hastened feelings of his own as well. And you didn’t want to see what devastation looked like on his beautiful face.

Despite your nerves you raised a hand to touch his cheek once more, watching his eyes slide shut the same as before. This time you trailed your fingers down to his lips, brushing over them slowly and watching a shiver pass through him as he sighed. As they parted slightly for the motion of that sigh you gently slipped your thumb between them, watching his eyes flicker open with surprise and confusion - he clearly had no idea what you intended. He looked nervous as well, as if afraid he might suddenly bite down for no reason. You wanted to soothe that fear, running your thumb over the neat line of lower incisors to the much sharper canine that protruded upward and testing its sharpness with a light press. The action made him shudder, closing his lips around your thumb tentatively with the tiniest touch of his tongue tip to your skin. It was so comparatively shy when just moments ago he’d been licking your neck, you couldn’t help the amused smile that set his face flushing with embarrassment. He was so pale, it was impossible to miss it.

“I’m… more worried about you, okay? I’m good with this if you are.”

His eyes darted away, as if aware of how much they gave away about his feelings. Likely a whole flood of them about being afraid, of insecurities you weren’t privy to that would nonetheless give themselves away if he looked for too long… all of it at war with the Beast’s instincts that pushed him in more simple, primal directions. Even without making eye contact you could see his internal conflict.

You curled your fingers under his chin, using a gentle grip to draw his face close to yours again.

“I already liked you, Vincent. I don’t know if you felt that way too, but… if you don’t want anything that’s okay.” Heavy words to have to say in such an intimate position, but if it would make his choice easier then that was what you needed to say.

Another shudder ran through him, eyes closed to avoid looking at you for the moment before he seemed to summon his strength. His lips worked around your thumb with a brief sucking motion, tongue stroking gently over the tip before he tugged just a little to withdraw from your grip, licking his lips while he found his response.

“If you would accept a monster…”

You leaned in to kiss him, setting your own pace this time. He briefly stiffened with shock, then slowly began to relax down against you. This was less about urgent desire, more careful exploration as you gave him a proper feel for what you wanted him to have. His movements were cautious in return, but a soft rumble was beginning to build in his chest again as his gauntleted hand found its way up to your cheek and ghosted the sharp tips along, back over your scalp pleasantly.

A sigh escaping through your nose, you settled your hand on his shoulder to hold him closer, even still curled over you as he was. It wasn’t near the level of intensity which he’d brought to bear just earlier, but this kiss was pleasant in its own right, giving you the chance to grow confident with the new closeness… though it still didn’t prepare you for his thigh slowly shifting, as if testing whether he was still allowed to be so intimately pressed to you.

He needed the encouragement, so you gave him a soft little moan and parted your lips for him, the openness causing a brief hesitation before he accepted the invitation to send his tongue exploring. The hand on your hip flexed, digging clawtips in just for a moment before easing up and starting to draw them up along your side, giving you the freedom to move as you wanted to. You took the opportunity as it was given and began canting your hips into his thigh with another moan, this one muffled by his careful, methodical mapping of your mouth.

When he was in control he was so cautious, so nervous about making a wrong move that you were starting to miss the dominant eagerness of his bestial impulses, but figuring out how to get him to loosen up without scaring him… that was the challenge. And you wouldn’t be able to find out without a little experimentation.

You hadn't yet tried to touch any of his new ‘additions’, and decided it was time to give it a go; your free hand shifted upward, first to stroke at the messy black hair spilling over his shoulders. He hummed quietly, another deep rumble swelling from his chest, and that encouraged you to continue petting for another moment or so. Then you rose further, pausing at the base of one of his horns before touching the craggy, tough surface. Vincent’s rumbling stuttered for a moment, exposing his nerves once more.

You withdrew for a few seconds, just enough time to catch some deep breaths and whisper to him, “You're okay.”

He shivered, then gave the slightest nod and tilted his head towards your hand, the surprisingly broad girth of his horn pushing into your palm. It wasn’t wholly rough in texture, a few smooth areas found by your fingertips, and with a quick breath before leaning in to kiss him again, you gave it a tug to pull him closer. Vincent growled at that - another shift in demeanor, his teeth now latching onto your lower lip with a harsh nip. You gasped, another moan fluttering out, and tugged again to provoke him further. That seemed to bring him right back to his earlier mindset, and once again his movements grew hungry, taking the previously careful pace and ramping it up to a feverish rush.

Vincent’s mouth pulled away from yours and found its way to your neck again, and this time you felt no need to disrupt him, shuddering at the fangs dragging along thin skin like he wanted to make a meal of you. At this point you wanted him to do just that, consequences be damned - you’d look good with his bite marks all over you, no doubt.

“Vincent, please..!”

Another low growl escaped him, lips and tongue working their way downward to the join of neck and shoulder where muscle would make a nice, safe place to leave his mark. But he was holding back it felt like, the sharp points pressing down but not quite hard enough to break skin, and combined with the growing tension in your gut as you continued working yourself against his thigh the wait was almost unbearable. A whine slid from your lips - and he hummed in amusement, tongue glazing over the skin caught in his mouth almost lazily. Dammit, he was actually teasing you!

“Please,” you rasped, “I want it.”

He let go in order to speak, exposing damp skin to his exhaled breath and making you shiver. “You will have to be specific.”

Specific - fuck, that’s just embarrassing! You huffed indignantly, about to start pouting when his thigh began pulling away suddenly. On reflex you clamped down on it with your legs, giving him an almost offended look. That provoked a low huff that could’ve been a laugh, and he dipped his head back to the base of your neck, nuzzling with just his nose to take in your scent again.

There was a low thudding off to the side, and craning your neck over you caught a glimpse of that new tail of his, the gleaming axehead thumping against the dirt. Wagging his tail… dammit, that was so cute you could almost forgive him for being a tease right now.

You groaned a little and gathered your words. “Please, I… want you to bite me.”

Vincent hummed again, and then in one swift motion opened his mouth to bite down firmly, fangs sinking through skin with ease and causing a warm burst of pain. You couldn’t hold back a little cry, one that suddenly pitched upwards with surprise and pleasure as his hand found its way down and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your clit. Those claws wouldn’t be a good time in such a delicate area, yet he’d found a good enough work-around to set you writhing even while he remained firmly latched on.

The heady mix of pain and pleasure made your last few ruts against his leg rushed and jerky before you hit a swift climax, gasping his name as you clung tightly to him and rode out the waves.

His hand remained in place until you were limp on the ground, though at some point during your orgasm he’d withdrawn his fangs from your skin and had settled into licking at the blood that streamed from the wound. The bite mark ached, throbbing in time with the receding pleasure in your core. Even then the only thing you regretted at the moment was not doing anything for him in return so far, and as you worked on catching your breath and wits both you gave his horn a light tug to try and bring him back up for another kiss. He resisted for a moment with a soft growl, closing his mouth over the mark he’d left for one more taste, then allowed you to redirect him.

There was something both wicked and irresistible about tasting your own blood on his lips, and even though you’d just come your guts were already growing tight with desire again, this time for more than the thigh he was slowly withdrawing from between your legs.

You kissed him needily and he pushed back in kind, the occasional lap of his tongue trying to catch what blood he was smearing across your lips. His fangs nipped in turn and had you whining petulantly, free hand seeking its way to one of his belts and giving it a tug. Vincent shuddered in response, hesitating for a moment as if arguing with the Beast’s instincts before giving in and arching his back up to let his hips more evenly drop down against yours. One of his hands found its way to your hip to bring you up against him as well, and the distinctive bulge trapped under tight, warm leather had you squirming with want, legs quick to hook around him and give you leverage to grind up against him.

This time he was the one to moan, a deliciously soft, wanting noise that sent your desire out of control, tugging again at his belt like it was a handle to steer him with. Dammit, if only there wasn't so much fucking leather in the way-

“Wait,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips, and you pulled back to give him the room he needed. He looked so conflicted again, even with pupils blown wide open and a thin strand of spit still trailing from his lips down to yours. As much as you wanted to drive the uncertainties from his mind and kiss him breathless, you didn't want to scare him away.

“Take your time, Vincent. I can wait.”

He took that time as offered, trying to slow his breathing down and closing his eyes for the time being. You dropped your hand from horn to hair and started petting gently - a soft rumbling rolled from his throat in response even as his cheeks grew pink from the affection. His hair, though messy, was still silky to the touch and honestly a pleasure to comb your fingers through.

Finally, he gave a shaky sigh and opened his eyes to look at you once more, still fraught with uncertainty but also holding a measure of desire… a touch of affection? You could hope that you weren’t mistaking lust for its less common counterpart. You'd gotten this far with him, though.

“I am… not sure this is right. I'm still - half a beast. You couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what? Stop you? You're the one stopping yourself right now.” You gave your hips a brief grinding movement up against him and watched his lips part for an airy moan - so damn beautiful, both to look at and listen to. Again, he had to close his eyes, this time to escape your smug little smile. He was too easy to rile up behind all that aloof calmness.

“Or if you mean I couldn't possibly want this - I do. I want it a lot.” Surprisingly your voice didn't crack, even though you felt like it ought to from such a confession.

Vincent opened his eyes again, this time with a flustered confusion so clear in them you couldn’t resist leaning up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose, making his eyes cross just briefly and prompting you to giggle. Further confused by that, he frowned - pouted really. “I don't understand… why you would accept such a thing.”

“Because you're still you. And… it's kind of hot? Not that - you're still handsome normally! Just-” And now you were the one blushing while his expression grew more confused, as if he couldn't even conceive of being called handsome, let alone hot. Your words died on your tongue with embarrassment, suddenly struggling to look at him directly and turning your head aside only to peer from the corner of your eye. He only seemed further mystified by your response, averting his gaze with a soft murmur, “If that is your opinion.”

Opinion? Oh, no, that wouldn't stand, you needed him to know it was a fact.

“I mean it, Vincent, you really are. If everyone didn't already have a million problems to deal with, they'd probably be staring at your pretty face a whole lot more.”

At those words he sunk behind the comfort of his cloak collar, not that it hid how red he was turning. You could face him again now that your focus was on getting him to understand how pretty he actually was, lifting up again to kiss his forehead this time. “And being a beast or a monster or whatever you feel like you are, that doesn't change what I think or feel about you… I'm not turning away.”

When you sank back down you found him looking almost distressed, as if he didn't know what to do with genuine affection. He dropped even further behind the collar like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. You snorted, hands finding their way to his cheeks to gently coax him out of hiding, slowly but surely until you could see his pouting lips. His face was still incredibly warm under your touch, only growing hotter when you drew him down into a kiss - gentle and affectionate this time to reassure him that you were being honest about everything.

Slowly he melted out of the confusion and embarrassment until he was pressed down against you once more, that rumble of his beginning to pick up when your thumbs stroked over his cheeks slowly. What a complicated mess of a man you’d picked out by accident… hard to say no to such a pretty face, though.

Confident he was getting back to the right mindset, you carefully moved your hips against him and found yourself rewarded with another moan of his, caught by your mouth so it vibrated against your lips. Keeping one hand cupping his cheek and caressing it with your thumb, your other hand made the journey back down and slid between your hips and his, paying no heed to the stickiness as you began looking for ways to get all the damn leather out of the way. One belt slowly unbuckled, a war of attrition against the pieces keeping his skin from touching yours began but paused when one of his hands snagged your wrist; you blinked your eyes open and caught him staring right at you, still so intense. This time he didn’t pull away though, and just gave one of his little hums before lightly nipping at your lips. You ended up squeaking, briefly forgetting your attempt at undressing him at least a little.

That gave him the chance to grasp your other wrist and bring them both up over your head - his long, elegant fingers even with claws now tipping them were perfect for catching both wrists in one hand and pinning them to the ground. Oh, no fair! Now you had no chance to get at him properly, and you made your displeasure known by squirming up against him with a muffled whine.

The friction made him groan, but what followed was an even more delightful sound: a low, rusty sort of chuckle escaped, like he hadn’t really laughed at anything in forever. But it made a pleased chill roll down your spine. He pulled back and you chased his lips as far as you could, prompting another soft little laugh from him that made your stomach flutter from how nice it sounded.

“Impatient, aren’t you.” Vincent said it as a statement instead of a question, and you decided (very maturely) to stick your tongue out at him.

He raised an eyebrow, snorted, and used his free hand to caress your cheek in a mirror to your own actions earlier. You couldn’t help leaning your head into his touch even with clawtips prickling against your skin as a reminder of his current form. It didn’t matter - at this point you trusted him not to hurt you (at least, not any further than you had already asked for).

“Close your eyes. Please.”

At his request you nodded, sliding them shut and relying now on your sense of touch to keep track of him. His hand trailed its way down onto your neck, to your chest and further down over your stomach. The light nature of his movements made your stomach suck in a bit with ticklishness, but thankfully he didn’t seem to think of pursuing such a reaction and kept moving downward. As his clawed fingertips hit the bare skin of your lower half and trailed over your mound you began shifting with poorly restrained desire, only to find yourself disappointed when he slid up along one of your thighs and carefully disengaged your legs from holding onto him.

“Vincent, please…”

“Be patient.”

That was a subtly commanding kind of tone, and not a request. You nodded again, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from opening your eyes when he hadn’t yet said you could. His hand left you and you had to start listening for what he seemed to be doing next - the subtle but distinct sound of a zipper struggling along its path, a sharp inhale from him, and the rustle of leather sliding against cloth.

So it was a surprise when the hot, sticky weight of his cock dropped down onto your mound. Your breath hitched as you tried your best to gauge girth and length from what you could feel… and it felt pretty damn big. It had to have hurt like hell, trapped under those tight leather pants. All sorts of thoughts flew through your mind, from how badly you already wanted him to bend you in half to whether it would even fit in your mouth if he let you try. You swallowed, trying to get them under control so you could say something.

“Can I touch you…?”

Vincent was quiet for a moment, then huffed as if faintly annoyed. Maybe he’d momentarily forgotten your eyes were closed. “You may.”

His grasp on your wrists eased up just enough to let one of your arms slip free, though he kept the other caged for the time being. One was all you needed really, bringing your hand down and carefully setting it down where you felt his cock atop you. As soon as you made contact a quick breath followed by a groan left him, the girth under your fingers twitching eagerly. Damn, he was pretty thick, though you mapped out a taper as you slid along its length to the tip. It reached a slender point rather than a human-like head… another Beast trait, it seemed. Sliding back the other way, the thickness of it became somewhat daunting the closer to his hips you got, especially considering how long it felt as well. The heat radiating from him was especially intense too, but the way he kept twitching and shifting under your hand was irresistible - you felt reasonably sure you could handle this, given some opportunity to adjust.

Before you could get too handsy you felt him grabbing your wrist and drawing your arm back up to be secured again, prompting a little whine from you that was followed by an amused huff from him. “I told you, be patient.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, hoping it made him smile. “Can I open my eyes at least?”

He paused for a longer moment than felt comfortable, and you were about to open your mouth to retract your statement when he finally murmured a response.

“I would… prefer you not to look. Please…”

You kept your mouth closed, thinking for just a second before nodding in agreement. He was always buried under those layers of his, it seemed likely that he had some sort of issue with his self-image that would no doubt be made worse by his partially transformed figure. It was probably miracle enough that he had exposed himself this much.

“Okay. Could you blindfold me then, maybe? So I won’t look by accident.”

Vincent gave a grunt of affirmation, and after a few moments passed a piece of cloth draped itself over your face, still warm with body heat - wait, was this his headband? It smelled like him, tickling your nose with how it draped over the tip, and cracking your eyes open just a touch confirmed your suspicion with the red fabric that blocked your view. You blew some air through your lips to push it up off your nose, giving him an awkward smile that rewarded you with a soft hum.

“Hold still,” he commanded in advance, then released his grip on your wrists so that he could deftly fold the cloth and tie it around your head. You considered being bratty for a moment, but that could chase him off, or delay what you wanted so badly… better to behave right now for your first time.

One hand shortly resumed its post keeping your hands up and out of his way, while the other slid back down your front, slipping past his cock and carefully sliding two fingers between your folds. Though you moaned, you held still to avoid any accidents with the claws that were so easily capable of causing a nasty scratch on such delicate skin. They only lingered for a few moments, and you realized he was catching some of your slick to lube himself up with, retreating without any harm done. From where he was touching you it was easy to feel him shudder; he didn’t seem all that eager to touch himself, but it was necessary considering he was still holding your hands hostage. His slick covered claws grazed over your stomach briefly and provoked a small shiver from you, and now you felt safe enough to squirm under him impatiently, hoping to at least distract him from his own body. You managed to win a small hum from him at least.

“Vincent, please, I need you.”

His lips pressed to yours for a brief kiss that you chased after again, a second hum of amusement leaving him. Though he gave another little shudder, you felt the slim tip of his cock press up against your folds and held your breath, hips tilting up slightly in an attempt to coax him into continuing.

“I do not… know if I will be able to stop myself,” he whispered by your ear, sounding almost guilty about the admission. “If you do not want this…”

“I want it. Every last inch,” you replied fervently, and swore that you could feel the blush burning on his face in response. You turned your head to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his lips. A low sigh escaped him, and he withdrew from kissing range in spite of your pout, though your expression shifted as his cock began to push inside. Already wet from your first orgasm, the light coating he’d given himself to start with made the initial entry easy enough. Halfway was where the stretch began, your pulse pounding in your throat and eyes fluttering behind the cloth covering them, a stuttered breath rattling out of you. Fuck. Maybe every last inch was a minor exaggeration.

Vincent was going slowly enough not to hurt you, but he also wasn’t stopping even as your walls flexed around him. His moan was tinged with a growl, his hand clasping your hip now, fingers still sticky with your juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, swearing you were almost at your limit when you finally felt his hips settle against yours. How he fit all the way you weren’t sure but the stretch of him, length and girth both was almost too much at once, legs shaking from from the overwhelming sensation tinged with just a little pain. For the moment it was good enough to take one shaky breath after the next, waiting for your body to adjust to his cock pushed so deep inside you.

Finally, you gave a small nod to him. “Slowly - please…”

“I will try,” he replied. He sounded just as breathless as you felt.

The intensity of it eased as he slowly withdrew, giving you the chance to catch a few deeper breaths, and the second slide in was just a little more bearable even when he pressed to the hilt again. Your legs were still trembling some, and you doubted they’d be of any use for the next few hours. He’d probably have to carry you out of here, and if he was still caught in this form then there’d be questions to answer and probably a lot of suspicion and fuck, you were letting him rail you right out in the middle of nowhere in the open-

Vincent kissed you again with renewed hunger, and his slow thrusts began to pick up speed in short order, chasing away the thoughts beginning to derail you with each burst of intense sensation every time he stretched you out. A series of soft cries and moans went straight into his mouth unheeded, fangs nipping before his tongue brushed your lips and coaxed your mouth open for him once more.

He was starting to rumble again, short intervals interrupted by his hips now slapping against you with increasing roughness. The hand on your hip kept you to his rhythm without fail, and as it tilted you up further for his convenience the changing angle helped his cock find just the right spot inside - your voice choked on how much pleasure came from the repeated presses along and against your g spot, overwhelmed once more and feeling another climax come crashing down through you.

But in spite of the shuddering and writhing beneath him, Vincent’s thrusts continued relentlessly right through your orgasm, snapping in and out with enough force to push your breaths from you. He definitely wasn’t about to stop, likely couldn’t stop even if he wanted to when the Beast’s instincts were probably driving him toward a very simple goal: mate.

His mouth remained ravenous pressed to yours, his grasp somehow still relatively gentle on your wrists despite his otherwise rough treatment - some part of him was at least doing its best not to hurt you, though the rest of him was making sure to fuck you as thoroughly as possible. Another orgasm built up quickly and rolled through your body, overstimulation already starting to take hold as he still kept up a brutal pace while your walls spasmed around him and you were starting to lose track of where your legs had gone off to in spite of being attached to you. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer, could he? 

The already snappy rhythm grew even more frantic as if he’d heard your thoughts, and what had become a bearable stretch suddenly started to become more intense again - was he starting to swell up? Oh, fuck, did he have a knot? You couldn’t speak up with him still devouring your mouth greedily, and even if he wasn’t the intensity of his pace was leaving you mostly breathless anyway. It was all you could do to simply try to brace yourself as the last several thrusts first tested your body’s willingness to stretch just a little more, then sank to the hilt one last time with a slight pop that made your head almost jerk down against the ground and sent stars through your vision for a moment.

His knot continued to swell for a few more seconds to firmly lock him in place, and the deepest rumble you’d heard from him yet rose from deep in his chest, hips jerking forward against you while spurts of cum surged hot and deep inside.

Vincent finally released his grip on your wrists and withdrew his mouth, breathing hard and fast the same as you. With your mouth free you could gasp for air, shaking from the intensity of the stretch that you had no choice but to endure right now. Though your limbs felt like limp noodles, you blindly lifted one trembling arm up to try and touch him, though it seemed to take a longer moment than expected before his warm cheek settled against your palm. You quickly urged him close to you again, seeking any sort of diversion to help occupy your mind.

“Bite me again, please.”

Your voice was just as shaky as the rest of you, and the tone of it seemed to spur him into action quickly - he dropped his head down to the opposite side of where he’d bitten before and quickly sunk his fangs into your shoulder. The warm, sharp stab was a welcome distraction even as it made tears well up, and you made no effort to stop them from leaking down the sides of your face and soaking into the bandanna still keeping you blind. Your hand slipped around to the back of his head and tangled fingers in his hair to hold him there, a low whine in your throat as his tongue lapped up the blood spilling into his mouth.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever before the stretching eased up. With a lewd, slick sound you felt his knot finally pop free along with a gush of fluids - you couldn’t stop the moan that slid from your lips, muscles fluttering weakly as he withdrew and gave them the freedom to relax. The empty feeling was both a relief and made you wish he would sink right back into you, but you knew that you probably couldn’t handle a second round after such a rough first time.

Vincent groaned quietly against your shoulder, teeth pulling free and tongue licking slowly at the puncture wounds he’d left behind. He was trembling a little himself now, and you wondered if it was from being just as overstimulated as you, or if his half-transformed state was taking a toll. Or maybe he was just coming back down from the Beast’s instincts and realizing what he’d done… you couldn’t find any words to try reassuring him with, but you could at least turn your head to kiss the messy dark hair draped between your lips and his forehead.

A thin sigh escaped him, and then a grunt of pain - you felt the claws on your hip beginning to shrink. The rest of his bestial traits were following suit no doubt, and you did your best to soothe him through it by petting the back of his head and nuzzling your face against him gently. What had to be his horns disappearing was giving off a grinding sound that made you wince in sympathy. That had to hurt.

“Vincent, are you okay…?”

You couldn’t bring your voice above a whisper even if you wanted to, but this close it wasn’t really necessary anyway. Another grunt, and he began to lift his head up away from you, seeming to pause for a moment before his hand left your hip and there was the soft rustling of cloth and leather, then a distinctive zipping before you felt him carefully pulling off the makeshift blindfold.

Compared to the warm darkness now everything was quite bright - you squeezed your eyes shut to adjust to the sudden light, slowly squinting them open to finally get a look at him again. The horns had vanished, and his eyes no longer glowed with energy aside from the usual yellow ring in his left eye. Instead they were dark with concern, fear, guilt, and his face was tucked down to hide behind his cloak collar as if he couldn’t quite handle being seen yet.

“I hurt you,” he mumbled.

“I asked you to,” you countered, watching surprise flicker across his expression. “And I enjoyed it. You don’t get to feel bad about something I enjoyed.”

He had the grace to blush about that, his gaze flicking further down your body briefly before a much more vivid red overtook his face. Oh, yeah, you had to be a total mess down below… with a soft sigh you pushed yourself up on shaky arms and watched him rear back nervously in response, eyes looking well away from you now.

“I’m gonna need some help, Vincent. I don’t think I can feel my legs right now.” You made the admission with a measure of ruefulness, and he gave a small cough as if he’d almost choked on his spit. “I-.... Very well then. I will… help you clean up.”

And with an abrupt swiftness you were suddenly up off the ground, aloft in his arms and clinging to the front of his cloak in surprise. You could still feel his cum oozing out of you, silently hoping you weren’t going to drip all over his nice leathers… but he didn’t seem to be thinking about it, merely securing the clothing dangling off your ankles as he set off. Hopefully to find some running water for you to wash up with, because you sure as hell didn’t want to put your clothes back on yet.

At least there wouldn’t have to be an explanation for why Vincent had half a transformation going on anymore. No, you’d just have to explain instead why you weren’t about to go walking around outside the ship for the next couple of hours. Boy was that going to be interesting.

(Worth it.)

[tojjist]

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and  cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet  Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant. 

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand  reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette  from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.��

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his  direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual,  that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words. 

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to  your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought. 

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17. 

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact. 

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances. 

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store. 

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,”  he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late. 

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response. 

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

[dorianpavus]

Panel from Hell Info Roundup

We got a release teaser trailer!

CHARACTER CREATION/CUSTOMIZATION

Character creation got a revamp! More efforts were made to explain things to someone who hasn’t played D&D before, or one who hasn’t played other Larian games. Classes now also have unique animations when you select them.

Choice options now have a corresponding icon, so you can see what you’re selecting.

There are more available faces to choose from.

Dragonborn and half-orcs are playable at launch.

Warlocks are now able to call on their patron for insight and advice.

New sliders have been added for Maturity (adding wrinkles), Freckle Quantity (and intensity), and Vitiligo Pigmentation.

Horn Customization! Now you can change their color and tip color.

There are scar options.

More hair and beard options! As well as more options for hair colors (including greying) to have tri-colored hair.

Strong/buff body types added!

Piercing options have been added.

Heterochromia option has been added.

Dragonborn can customize their face, crest, chins, and jaws. Skin color options include metallic, almost duo-chrome shades. For white dragonborns, there are also pearlescent effects. Dragonborn Draconic Bloodline sorcerers will get a unique scale pattern that changes color based on your ancestry.

There is also a selection for genitals, which they did not elaborate on, but was selected as ‘default.’

You will meet a character that will allow you to reset your class and respec your abilities.

The team went back from Act 1-3 to make the game more reactive to your choices. If you’re playing something odd or unique, the game should react to it.

THE DARK URGE

They are the new Origin Character, and they are avatar-only; they can only be played by you, not recruited.

You can fully customize their race and class.

They do not know who they are; they are waking up, and the only thing they know is “the bile of their liver, the gushing of their blood, and their ruined body telling them: you’re going to kill and kill again.” They are meant to be a dark counterpoint to the story.

Has unique scenes and storylines unlike anything else we’ve seen thus far.

They have dark impulses and thoughts that tempt them; you can play as embracing it or trying to resist.

At 4:36:55, we have some gameplay of them from early on in Act 1.

KARLACH

She is an Origin Character, and you can recruit her or play as her.

Born and raised in Baldur’s Gate, was sold to slavery in the Hells, and managed to break free. She has an infernal engine for a heart.

She’s a barbarian who has a special rage animation/effect.

Curses a lot.

At 5:20:00, there’s a bit of extended gameplay and one of her romance scenes.

OTHER/MISC COMPANIONS

Many of the companions are good-aligned, including Karlach, Halsin, Minsc, and Jaheira. For evil companions, there is Minthara, who you can recruit in Act 2 depending on your choices.

Wyll has gotten a complete overhaul. Much of his dialogue has been rewritten, and he “can go in two directions” much earlier in the story. He wants to kill Karlach at the beginning of the game, and how that unfolds is up to you. 

If you kill your companions, you can hire Hirelings. There are twelve (one for each of the classes), and you can customize and respec them.

Companions will join your camp and be able to come with you along your journey; you don’t have to choose between them, but can swap them out as you see fit. If anyone leaves or isn’t able to be recruited, it will be by your own choices or the narrative.

When you’re playing as an Origin Character, you’re not a mystery to yourself. You’ll get unique scenes and information that you may not otherwise get with them as your companion. For instance, when you go to sleep, you might have nightmares about your past.

A scene relevant to Astarion’s backstory was shown at 4:25:57.

ROMANCE

They tried to show “two people genuinely struggling through a hard time and supporting one another. And you’re not going to be the same person in Act 1 as you are in Act 3. Neither is your partner. Your relationship is going to have to grow along with the game’s story.” 

At 4:46:10, they have a video where they discuss this and show scenes from the romances. 

How you treat your companions will be reflected in how they treat you. Whether they want to be in a relationship with you, whether they leave your party, or even try to kill you -- all depends on your choices. 

“Sometimes it’s actually better to have an argument, and challenge your partner about their way of thinking.”

Some characters will happily share romantic partners with polyamory; some of them won’t.

Characters may have very different romantic endings based on what happens during the game and how you treat them or what you did with them. There’s not just one scene that’s the same for all playthroughs.

You can still romance people on “evil” playthroughs, so long as you play your cards right.

Mature content warning! There is a romance scene between Astarion and Halsin that the audience helped select at 5:32:49. Wowza. Worth getting banned from TikTok? 

COMBAT

Multiplayer is up to four people, with split screen. 

There are 3 difficulty modes: explorer (or easy), default, and tactician (hard). Tactician mode gives enemies base buffs, but also hand-crafted difficulty increases to encounters. 

The “brutal AI” from tactician mode is supposed to feel like a DM that is pushing you to your limits, which manifests in ways like attacking your squishier characters, or trying to break casters’ concentration.

At 5:44:28, there’s a video showcase on the Monk class. Two minutes later, at 5:46:13, there’s some combat gameplay showing off monks and the different difficulty modes.

STORY AND CINEMATICS

At 6:00:40, there’s a video showcasing cinematics, with various clips from the game featured (lots of enemies/creatures shown). 

They estimate that running through the main story will take about 80 hours, but it can go multiple times that length if you actually take your time and explore. 

174 hours of cinematics doesn’t mean you’ll see all of them; it’s more that there’s so many permutations and reflections of the choices that you made, that you might not even see them all even if you play this game over and over again.

MISC

When you go to camp, you are now able to wear “camp clothes” rather than your armor, which can be toggled on and off. You can find various clothes in the world, and apply dyes to them. You can wear them outside of camp if you want to as well. 

Cloaks are added.

The devs prefer not to think of this being a story told to you, but rather a story they are telling with you. Though there are many themes, trust is a big one: who you can trust, why you can trust them, and why the world should trust you as well.

There’s an unboxing of the Collector’s Edition at 6:14:26.

There is a very heavy spoiler chunk of gameplay from Act 2, starting at 6:20:42, which closes out the stream!