#because how would he know otherwise? there was nothing else to teach him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lazycats-stuff · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, first I just wanna say, big fan of your writing. Second, I just watched Kengan Ashura, and I was wondering about a batfam x male brother reader who is not a vigilante, but is terrifyingly good at fighting. Of course the batfam doesn't know that, but they find out accidentally on patrol one night. Any of the family members accidentally sees Reader going into an abandoned building and wonders why he is out this late. They follow him and find a crowd of people in suits and one of Bruce's managers standing there, and it turns out that Reader is an underground fighter for Wayne Enterprises with an undefeated record and makes billions of dollars because of fighting. They watch him fight out of curiosity and are shocked at his skill and at the fact that he is better than any of them, and that he uses a style none of them know (please make it Niko style with Kure style combined - Reader developed it for himself in secret). After the short fight, where they see Reader being bored because his opponents are weak, the batfam listens to the conversation between Reader and Bruce's manager (Reader's employer for Wayne Enterprises - and underground fighting), they find out that Reader's nickname is Baba Yaga (or The Boogeyman, or Ogre - whichever you prefer) and that he is the reason why Wayne Enterprises has been able to get so much real estate and why the profit has been so high the last 2 years. They run home and wait for the Reader to get back. They confront him together with Alfred and Reader just pretends not to know anything until they attack him to prove he is lying and he just mops the floor with them without getting a single scratch. Cue shocked faces and Damian begging Reader to teach him his style.

You can finish how you want. Sorry if it's long, and thank you for writing.

Okay, I've never heard of Kengan Ashura, since I'm not really a manga person, but since there is no plot related to the actual series I need to abide by, I'm comfortable doing it, I just need to do some research, so no worries. I'll do it.

And yes, I'm alive everyone.

Also, could not find a better GIF, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) fights underground. Bruce and the fam find out.

Warnings: mentions of fights, nothing explicit though. Again, no explicit fights. It's said he fights, but no explicit description.

In a house full of vigilantes who are brilliant at investigating and discovering things, hiding secrets of your own is not an easy task. They were all observant, even when not in their suits and when they were not on patrol. It is not easy to shut off the part of the brain that keeps you alive, after all.

But, if you live with those people long enough, you learn enough how to keep your secrets underneath the radar and you learn how to move past those people. (Y/N) has learnt that the hard way, but he learnt it regardless. He had to if he wanted to keep it all a secret. And now, what would that secret might be?

(Y/N) was good at fighting. But not just good.

He was terrifyingly good.

Better than his brothers and better than his father combined.

Why was that a secret? It should be a good thing to be good at fighting, since he is the son of Batman, after all. The problem lied in the fact that he had a style that was never heard of. And he fought underground for Wayne Enterprises. That made him billions and it was on a secret account, one that Bruce didn't know about, otherwise he would blow a gasket.

And besides, the money was just an added bonus. (Y/N) liked fighting, so money wasn't needed. But Jesus, was it a nice touch to keep fighting. He had a scheduled fight anyway. And it was tonight, so he had to make sure to wait that everyone else went on patrol. And that's what he has heard at the moment.

Shuffling around the rooms, chatter about the criminals and soon enough, all of those footsteps and chatter moving to Bruce's study. And then nothing. (Y/N) has waited for an hour longer before he snuck out of the manor, ready to go fight tonight. It's been a while and he needs to get this restless energy out of his system. He got to his car and started driving.

This time he was hoping that the opponents would be somewhat able to withstand him and give him a challenge. But those opponents are rare unfortunately and it made (Y/N) a bit bored. But hopefully, tonight would be fine.

It was a few hours into patrol now and oddly enough, it was all fine. Usual Gotham villains were quiet and just wanted a peaceful night in, it seems. The only crimes they stopped were some muggings, break in and maybe some crimes they had heard over the Gotham Police radio. It was easier to follow rather than to wait for something to wait.

At the moment, they were taking a small break on a random roof top, just resting their feet and talking about stupid things and the most random things they could think of. They were bored beyond belief, but they knew that they couldn't end patrol early because of two words, what if?

What if one of the Gotham villains tries something and they are already back at the Batcave? What if they can't reach the place in time?

There were far too many what ifs for their comfort.

Damian was glancing around, always on alert, when he paused and had to do a double take. He stood up, now sure that (Y/N) entered an abandoned building.

" Why did (Y/N) just enter that old building? " Damian questions and everyone looked at him confused. What is that supposed to mean?

" What do you mean? " Dick inquired, wondering what the hell he was talking about. " (Y/N) can't be here. He's at home. "

" No, he just entered the building. " Damian pointed at the said building, which made Bruce stand up to get a closer look.

" So... We are going to go inside? To check it out? " Tim wondered, clearly not sure on what to do in this situation.

" Well, that depends on how sure Damian is that he saw (Y/N) enter, " Bruce said, glancing at Damian.

" I am absolutely sure father. I would recognize my older brother. " Damian crossed his arms and scoffed. " Now I'm insulted, " He muttered, making Dick chuckle.

" Alright. I say we get in there. " Bruce jumped off the ledge and glided down, landing silently onto the ground in front of the old house. He looked around as he waited for his sons to come down. Once they did, they silently made their way inside. They could hear lot of noise and they moved onto the big beams.

It gave them a nice view of the floor and it wasn't really a shock as to what it was.

A fighting ring.

The only odd thing?

There were men in suits. And Bruce did a double take when he noticed one of his managers. What the hell passed through his mind, wondering why his manager would be here?! What the hell was he doing here?!

But once he saw (Y/N) enter the round circle made by men, shirtless, hands wrapped.

Why the hell is his son even here!? Why is he fighting?!

Bruce was perhaps speechless for the first time in his life.

" What the fuck? " He muttered to himself, wondering what the hell was going on.

He watched as an opponent stepped into the circle, ready to face (Y/N).

Bruce wondered how much would (Y/N) survive, since he wasn't the one who was trained by him. Bruce or anyone else didn't train him, they simply trained him to have at the very least some sort of self defense.

Bruce nearly fell of the beam once he saw (Y/N) fighting. It was... Bruce has never seen anything like this before. He doubted that Ra's even had knowledge of this fighting style. This was... Incredible. Bruce had to be honest, this was just... How and when did he learn this? Who the hell taught him?!

Damian had the exact same train of fought.

Bruce kept observing, making sure to remember as much as possible. But there was something that was noticeable to him. Two different style, clearly something that he tailored to himself. Bruce noticed the tense up muscles, both in defense and offense. Then the sheer agility... Quick movement...

And redirection of the opponent's moves... What the hell was this? And with minimal effort too... Bruce tilted his head as he watched. This was incredible.

And since when is he so flexible? What the fuck was going on in his manor, Bruce thought as he kept watching his boy fight.

Then there was clear clawing at the opponents eyes, going for the neck...

Bruce couldn't believe it.

He had to figure out where he learned this. He needed to know.

But he couldn't do it here. He signaled to the boys to get moving back home. Bruce would deal with it later, but paused when he heard (Y/N) speaking to one of the managers, well, (Y/N)'s manager.

" You couldn't have brought in more skilled opponents? " (Y/N) leaned on the wall, arms crossed and Bruce was sure that he could see that frown on (Y/N)'s face, even though he couldn't see the face of his son.

" It's not my problem that you are leaps and bounds above them. " The executive said, adjusting his tie.

" You need to get me better opponents. "

" Is that the way you speak to your manager? " The man chuckled and Bruce could only sense the eye roll from (Y/N).

" Well, when your Boogeyman is getting a lot of money rolling into Wayne Enterprises, I would like to think that I can speak to you the way I damn please. "

Bruce's eyes widened as he listened in, adjusting his position on the beam.

Big profits that created a spike were 2 years ago and they kept growing... Underground fighting was the reason why there were even more money rolling in? What the fuck?

" Well, I do pay you well from what we earn, don't I? "

" Well, you have to if you want to keep the Boogeyman.. Besides, why did you give me that name? "

" I didn't name you that, everyone else did. And besides, it's a scary nickname that fits you. " The manager said as he stood up straighter.

" Anyway, I'm going home now. I have to make sure that dad doesn't see this, " (Y/N) murmured, making the manager nod.

" If Bruce finds out about this, we are all doomed kid. Have a good night. "

" You too. "

Bruce and everyone else were waiting for (Y/N) back at the manor, making sure to get there before him. They informed Alfred and have decided to confront him once he gets home. They dressed out of their suits and were waiting in the living room, all pretending to do something to seem natural in their behavior. Not like they are trying to confront him.

And oddly enough, the night is young anyway, so they didn't need pretend to be asleep.

(Y/N) came in, saying hi to everyone before going to the kitchen to get a snack. He already showered at the old house, curtesy of his manager.

" Evening (Y/N), how was your night? " Bruce looked up from a magazine, something he just picked up randomly.

" Eh, peaceful. "

Bruce and everyone else glanced at each other. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

" Ah. So we didn't see you in that abandoned house? " Damian started and (Y/N) tensed up for a bit before relaxing.

" No, must have been someone else, " (Y/N) said nonchalantly, keeping his composure.

Everyone slowly migrated to the kitchen, ready to slowly confront (Y/N).

" Are you sure? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) nodded.

" Of course I'm sure. "

And so they all attacked him at the same time.

And (Y/N) reacted, of course.

By wiping the floor with them. Completely and utterly.

Bruce was shocked and Damian was starstruck. Tim, Dick and Tim slowly moved away.

" What the fuck? " Jason muttered.

" Language, " Alfred stated, trying not to show his shock.

" (Y/N), you need to teach me! " Damian now followed (Y/N) around, clearly trying to get into his good graces to teach him. (Y/N) just wanted some peace in this insane household.

" Who taught you all of this? "

(Y/N) simply ducked into his room, avoiding everyone. Not tonight. Nope. Nope. Not gonna happen.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

323 notes · View notes

after-witch · 8 months ago

Text

Horrorfest: Apples [Yandere Shinigami Light Yagami x Reader]

Title: Apples [Yandere Shinigami Light Yagami x Reader]

Synopsis: The inhuman thing that calls itself Light Yagami won't leave you alone.

For Horrorfest request: Reader thats haunted by Shinigami Light Yagami please!

Word count: 800ish

Notes: yandere, stalking

“Leave me alone.”

The words come out bitter and soft, like a piece of fruit that’s been sitting at the bottom of the fridge for far too long. They smush inwards like overripe flesh underneath your thumb, from the weight of the creature hovering in front of you, the inhuman thing that refuses to go away for good.

Sometimes he leaves for a few days, a week, even a month or two. Long enough that you think he’s finally gotten bored or died–can Shinigami even die?--and you’ll never see him darken your doorway (literally and otherwise) again.

But then he’s there, an unwanted flicker. Standing by your bed. Sitting on your professor’s desk, a prim smile on his face. Waiting behind a shelf at the grocery store, in the gap between open boxes of cereal. Intruding on your everyday life with his awful extraordinariness.

“Aren’t you even the smallest bit grateful?” He asks, not for the first time, shifting towards you. He’s too close. When he speaks, his breath hovers, smelling of apples and rot.

You press further away, tucking yourself into the corner between your bed and the wall. The edge of your nightstand digs into the flesh of your upper arm.

“I don’t want you to follow me,” you say, pathetically, stupidly, because you know it will change nothing. It hasn’t before. It won’t know. “Find someone who will be grateful, if it matters that much to you.”

That’s your dream, really. That he will find someone else to follow, to obsess over, to whisper awful things to in the night; dreams of a reinvisioned world, remaking the world of mortals in an image that suits him. You’ll be there, too. Forever, he says, even if he hasn’t figured out how just yet.

But no matter how much you plead, how much you try to make yourself unappealing, this thing–it calls itself Light Yagami, and isn’t that awful, to give itself a human name?--won’t leave you alone.

A clawed hand reaches out and you squeeze your eyes shut. It’s easier not to see him when he touches you. That much you’ve learned. Because when he does, the look on his face gets too tight, too manic. His eyes go a touch red and there’s something inside them that is too awful to bear.

The claw drags down your cheek, resting underneath your chin and tilting it up like a lover would. It makes you sick, this gesture; it’s too practiced, too human. How did a Shinigami know what might make someone go weak at the knees?

And you do–you do–for all the wrong reasons.

“You can learn to be grateful,” he whispers, voice going low, almost gray. “I’ll even teach you how to use my notebook properly.”

Oh, that fucking notebook. It’s what started this whole mess. It was just sitting there, on the park bench. You’d walked by that bench a million times and nothing was ever out of place, but the one day there’s something new–it’s something that’s condemned you to this.

To him.

All you’d done is pick it up. Touched the edge of it, wondering if some kid has left it behind. But instead of a name written on the front, there was only an odd title.

“Death… note?” You’d read–and by the time you glanced back up, he was there, suddenly, in a blink.

Smiling politely and introducing himself, as if he wasn’t some creature that had popped up out of nowhere. Came from nowhere a more accurate statement, if his brief descriptions of his world were anything to go by–a vast gray rotting wasteland.

“You wouldn’t like it there,” he told you once, musing more to himself, you thought, than actually speaking to you. He liked to hear himself talk. “That’s why I’ll remake this world instead.” As if he did anything for your benefit, and not his.

If only you’d passed on by the bench, by the notebook, that day. You might be free from all this.

But you’re not free. You’re here, in your bedroom, trapped between the wall and a god of death.

“Open your eyes,” he says, just tightly enough that you know he’s approaching the edge of his patience. It was much harder to be around him, when he was genuinely angry with you.

Weary, tired, your eyes open, slow and sluggish. You give in, like you always do. What other choice do you have?

“There you are,” he says, claw tracing your cheek, just underneath your eye. “Much better.”

His other hand reaches for yours, covering it with his own, gripping tight.

“Are you ready to write a name in my notebook now?”

#yandere death note #yandere light yagami #yandere #yandere light #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

517 notes · View notes

letsgoletsgetit08 · 6 months ago

Text

ruined

warnings/tags: MDNI!, dubious consent, degradation, praise, corruption, home invasion, unprotected sex (no glove no love, folks!), pet names, name calling, spanking, punishment, ruined orgasm

pairing: stalker!dom!yeosang x f!reader

summary: Kang Yeosang has had his eyes on you for a month now. He decides it's time for you to meet.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: Heyyyyy so this is... something!

Someone (not naming names) requested this and you know what, this is our lord and savior Meg Thee Stallion's internet, I don't have to explain myself.

Kang Yeosang is a stalker and reader doesn't hate it.

If borderline non-con/degradation bother you, turn around and read something else. Thanks! Also, as always, the characters in this story are purely fictional and do not represent the people they are based upon. This is just for fun. I don't think Yeosang is truly a stalker.

ao3 link: ruined

ruined

Yeosang was starting to get annoyed. You were running late. He was nothing if not patient. A quiet man, mild mannered and gentle, at least as far as anyone knew from what he shared of his personality. However, everyone had their limits. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, sure. But he had chosen you partially because of your strict adherence to your schedule. In the month of getting to know you, he had only had to deal with you being late twice. Both of which were accounted for by well-known delays in the public transport system, and the other a thunderstorm.

The memory of how cute you looked, mascara running down your face, damp hair clinging to your cheeks, stamping your feet outside your door in your loose, high-neck dress and tights - he had to resist palming his length through his trousers. That was another reason he had chosen you. He never saw you bring home sexual partners, nor friends. And you were always dressed so modestly. It had surprised him the first time he watched you finger yourself from his position outside your window. Someone so pure, so otherwise untouched and innocent, doing something so deliciously human.

It drove him crazy. In his mind, you were still a virgin, even if he knew you to be in your mid-twenties and it was highly unlikely.

After you had left the next morning, he had jiggled your window like he had learned to do weeks ago, unlatching it and allowing himself inside, his daily routine at that point, greeting your cat as was his habit, before searching through your laundry for the pair of lacy pink underwear which you had been wearing the night before during your scandalous activities. He had taken his shoes off and crawled on top of your comforter, bringing your panties up to his nose for a long, luxuriating, deep sniff. Your scent had gone straight to his already throbbing cock. He had grabbed the pillow you slept on, moving it down by his hips before rolling on top of it, stuffing your underwear into his mouth, and humped the pillow until he came in his pants. Your cat had judged him from the corner of the room. He had gotten up, put your bed back like he had found it, reveling in the idea that his scent would be on it when you went to sleep that night, but you would never know. Corrupting you already, and you would be none the wiser.

He had pocketed your underwear before making his way back outside.

This time, it was time for you to meet him. He had been planning it all week, and you dared to be late. It’s okay, though. He would teach you not to be tardy ever again, and you would thank him for it.

He glanced at his watch once again, a force of habit at that point. Twelve minutes late. Twelve was a good number. Thirteen would be even better. And he got his wish, because as the clock striked 6:15pm, there you were, in a rush, lip stuck out in a pout, tears streaking down your face, clearly having had a bad day at work. Yeosang rounded the corner exactly when he knew you would be there, coffee cups in hand, thankfully still warm enough to be believable.

“Ah, God!” He exclaimed as he bumped into you, coffee pouring down his front.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, “I can’t do anything right today. Are you okay? Let me buy you another coffee.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I promise. I just… nevermind. It’s okay.” He fixed you with his big, soulful eyes.

“No, what is it? I swear I don’t mind buying you more coffee.” You offered, wiping your eyes, trying to become composed.

“It’s not that, I just really like this sweater. It’s stupid.” He blushed, his pink skin shining against his creamy white sweater, “I just live nearly half an hour away, was on my way to my mom’s to help her out. And I just don’t want this to stain is all.”

“Oh, well…” You studied him. He was strikingly handsome, round cheekbones, jaw cut from marble, wavy black hair tucked under a light pink beret, adorable smile, and a soothing deep voice with a slight lisp. Plus, he said he was going to help his mom. You hardly could imagine him posing a threat. “Why don’t you just come inside and let me wash it real quick. I have a big t-shirt you can wear in the meantime. And I can make you coffee to-go.”

“Oh, no, I could never intrude-” Yeosang started.

“No, please.” You started walking up the steps to your door, “Let me do one thing right today at the very least.”

Yeosang pretended to consider it, “Well, I guess if you insist…”

“I do.” You assured him

“Thank you. I’m Yeosang, by the way.” He extended his hand - well-manicured fingernails on long, lithe fingers - grasping yours lightly as he shook it. The first touch of your soft, pale, flawless skin sent lightning bolts up his spine.

“I’m y/n.” You smiled at him before letting go of his hand and letting both of you inside your townhouse.

Yeosang had to remind himself he wasn’t supposed to know his way around, following you hesitantly, breath hitching as your cat wound its way through his legs as he stood in the doorway to your bedroom, watching you rustle through your drawer for a t-shirt big enough to fit him. He wasn’t large per se but you could tell he was well-muscled underneath his sweater.

“Oh, that’s so funny,” You commented, watching your cat greet him like he knew him, “He usually doesn’t like strangers.” You handed him the t-shirt of your choice.

“Ah, cats just always like me.” He explained.

“Well, Haku is a great judge of character.” You smiled, watching Yeosang kneel to pet your cat behind his ears, right where he liked it most.

Yeosang rose to his feet, “I’ll just change in…-”

“Oh!” You stammered, “Um, yeah, the bathroom is over here. Sorry, I forgot you’ve never been here.”

Yeosang couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at how wrong you were as he followed you to your bathroom.

He left the door open a crack as he changed and you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of his glorious form as he changed into your shirt, your feet suddenly glued to the floor, unable to tear your eyes away. Abs like a bar of white chocolate, sinewy muscle packed tight under velvety smooth skin. A pretty birthmark by his eye that you noticed only when he was pulling his head out of his sweater. You could have watched him for hours.

He emerged, breaking your trance, “Fuck, sorry, I wasn’t staring, I promise.”

He laughed, a melodic baritone, “It’s okay. I worked hard for my body, it’s nice to know someone besides me appreciates it.”

You felt heat creep up your neck, “So you don’t have… anyone else?”

He smiled, cocking an eyebrow at you inquisitively, “I don’t.”

“I. Um. I don’t either.” You admitted, though you didn’t know why. He was hot and he was just half naked in your bathroom and you hadn’t had any action in around two years since your breakup.

He looked you up and down, a pleased smile crossing his face, “Hm. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You led him to the kitchen where you left him to go treat his sweater and throw it in the washing machine before returning to warm up your espresso machine.

He stood up as soon as you were pulling the first shot, “Sorry, gotta take this call.” He said quickly as he left the room and went into the hallway.

You could faintly hear his voice, “You’re already over there?” Pause. “Oh, okay. Are you sure?” Pause. “Well I can still come over if-” Pause. “Okay, that works. Tell her I’ll see her Thursday then.” Pause. “Okay.” Pause. “Alright. Love you, too. Tell mom I love her as well. Bye!”

He walked back into the kitchen, pocketing his phone.

You turned to him, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s all good.” He smiled at you reassuringly, “My sister got her days mixed up, she’s already over at my mom’s. I’ll just go on Thursday for her instead. Sorry, I guess this means all of this was for no reason.”

“No.” You smiled, handing him his coffee, “I think I met you for a reason, Yeosang.”

It wasn’t every day an attractive man - with character references from a mom and sister - stumbled into your apartment. You might as well try to make the most of it.

The sweetest smile spread across his face, “Really? I was just thinking the same thing.” If only you knew.

You walked back over to the espresso machine, “I guess I’ll just make the second coffee for myself, since it will be a minute before your sweater is done, can I offer you anything to eat or-”

Crack.

The coffee mug in your hand fell to the ground, shattering into several pieces. Yeosang was there in a flash, “Oh, no! Here.” He knelt down, picking up each piece gingerly before placing them on the countertop beside the espresso machine, “No small pieces. You should be able to glue it easily.”

The two of you were standing sinfully close together. He reached up slowly, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, holding his breath, worried it might be the wrong move.

“Yeosang-” You whispered, leaning in close.

“You’re very beautiful.” He whispered back, thumb trailing over your cheekbone, “I don’t want to be too forward but-”

“Please kiss me.” You all but whimpered.

He obeyed, much to your relief, his lips achingly soft on yours as they explored you, his hand finding your waist, pulling you in close. You could feel him grow hard as the kiss intensified, due to how tightly your bodies were pressed together. He was half tempted to take you right there in the kitchen, but he refrained.

You moaned as his tongue found its way inside your mouth, exploring every inch inside of it. You wanted him.

“Yeosang, please.” You broke off just enough to beg.

“Please what, angel?” He whispered in your ear as his lips made their way across your jawline.

“I want you.” You whined. You gasped as his hands grabbed your ass under your dress, kneading the plush flesh there before bending further down to grasp the backside of your thighs, hoisting you around his waist.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He mumbled into your skin as he carried you to your bedroom, placing you carefully onto your bed.

“It’s just…” You swallowed, “It’s been a while, okay?” You admitted, feeling exposed.

“That’s okay, little lamb.” Yeosang consoled as he began stripping his clothes before reaching for your tights and underwear, removing them in one go, “It’s been a while for me, too. Almost like this is both of our first times again, hm?”

A little odd, but the sentiment went straight to your core at the thought of it, “Yes, fuck. All for you.”

He stroked his considerable length as he situated himself between your legs, kissing up your thighs, “All for me.”

You started reaching for the back zipper of your dress but he stopped you, looking at the Peter Pan collar buttoned all the way to your throat, “No, you look so pretty in it. Leave it on for me.”

Before you could respond, he was diving between your legs, tongue expertly teasing your drenched core, sucking and kissing everywhere except your clit, making you grip the sheets in anticipation. He laughed straight into your folds, the vibrations of it sending shockwaves through you, “Oh, sweetheart. You’re going to have to learn to be patient.”

You whined but accepted your fate, back arching off the bed as his tongue fucked your soaking wet hole, his nose barely skimming your throbbing clit, just enough to make your hips buck, seeking friction. Even with the lack of stimulation where you wanted it, you were soon reaching your release, “Fuck, Sangie-” You gasped in shock as he pulled away at the last second.

“I told you to be patient.” Something dark flashed across his eyes. He cupped your throbbing pussy, holding it in his hand like he owned it. You were a little ashamed as your core clenched pathetically around nothing at the sight and sensation of it.

“Sorry.” You apologized, “I can be good, I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” He asserted before surprising you by plunging two fingers deep inside, fucking you with them at an urgent pace, quickly working you back up to the edge.

“You have to tell me when you’re about to come, okay darling?”

“Okay, yes sir.” You whimpered. He was relentless. Your core ached for more, pulsing around him before you knew you were nearly there again, “I’m close.” You whined.

He pulled his fingers out, bringing them to your mouth. You sucked them clean obediently, resisting the urge to bite them in frustration as they probed the back of your throat and taunted your tongue.

“Such a good little slut.” He praised you, “Here I was thinking you were so innocent, but you’re dirty, aren’t you?”

“Hmmph.” You tried to speak around his fingers. He removed them from your mouth with a slick pop, allowing you to speak, “Yes, sir. I want you so bad.” You begged.

He laughed errantly at you, trailing his fingers down your dress slowly before finally circling your angrily pulsing clit, “I’m sorry, honey. But you were late today and I have to teach you a lesson.”

He moved his fingers down your dripping cunt, gliding some of your essence up to use as lubrication.

“I was-” You were startled at his words, “What do you mean, ‘late?’ How did you-”

“Christ, you really are a slut, aren’t you? I felt how you clenched at that. You like that I’ve been watching you.” He smiled, the dark glint returning to his eyes, his fingers pushing inside of you once more.

“You’ve been- what?” You couldn’t lie. You were getting wetter as the realization hit you and as his fingers beckoned inside of you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

“Watching you, yes. You were right. We were supposed to meet, because I planned it. I’ve been waiting to ruin my gorgeous little lamb for a month now. It was finally time. And you were thirteen minutes late.”

“A month?” You started to panic now, trying to sit up, but he was on you faster than you could react, pinning your arms down above your head, moving them to one hand.

You squirmed under his grip and he slapped the inside of your thigh, “Stop acting like you don’t fucking like it.” He gripped himself in his hand and lined his large cock up with your drenched entrance.

Shame coursed over you as he pressed slowly inside. He was right. You were more turned on than you ever had been before.

“Fuck, Yeosang, it’s not gonna fit, please-” You begged as you realized how full you felt, how stretched out you were and he was only three quarters of the way inside, despite how wet you were for him.

“It’s going to fit, angel.” He growled as he snapped his hips, forcing you to take the rest of him in one go.

“Yeosang!” You called out, half in pain, half in pleasure.

“Hush,” He instructed, reaching into the pocket of his pants he had discarded next to himself on the bed and pulled out a pair of underwear that you thought you had lost a week or so ago, stuffing it inside your mouth. The smell of him hit your nose, mixed with your own and you realized you recognized his scent. From your bedding.

A tear escaped your eye as he slammed into you mercilessly. You didn’t know if it was from fear or pleasure, but what you did know was that all of this was hotter than your wildest dreams. Maybe Yeosang wasn’t the only mentally unstable one in the room. It occurred to you, he would probably like it if you struggled. Or at the very least, it would get a reaction from him. And there was nothing you craved more in that moment than this stranger - this imposter’s attention.

You pulled against his grip, trying to scoot away from him as your orgasm built once more, moaning and crying out in vain, voice muffled with your own stolen underwear.

“What’s that, angel?” He mocked you, “About to come again?” He waited for you to nod “Aw, too bad.” He pulled out once more, flipping you over and pulling your hips up in the air, hand patting your upper back gently as if to indicate you should keep it pinned to the bed.

He had one hand holding your hips, the other rubbed your bare ass cheek softly, “Three ruined orgasms and ten lashes should do it, don’t you agree?”

You tried to move out of his grip, resulting in him reaching down to pin your arm behind your back, “We’ve been over this, princess. You’re not going anywhere.”

Smack.

He reached down and removed the makeshift gag from your mouth, “Count for me like a good little slut. I know ten is a high number for someone as brainless as you. I mean really, what kind of idiotic prey animal lets a predator right into her home just so he can fuck her pretty brains out?”

Another sharp slap, “That was a question.”

“I don’t know!” You sobbed, “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“Aw, no, sweetheart. You’re perfect.” Another slap. “Now how many was that?”

“Three.” You choked out.

He let go of your wrist, trusting you wouldn’t move again, swiping your slit to gather some of your arousal, circling the tight ring of muscle right above your aching cunt. “Good girl.”

He pressed one finger inside. Your pussy clenched at the sensation.

Another slap.

“Four.”

“Relax for me or this won’t be pleasant for you, little lamb.” Yeosang instructed as he readied his second finger at your entrance.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, concentrating hard on relaxing as you felt his digit begin to slip in.

Smack.

“Five.”

He spit onto your hole, adding more lubrication as he began thrusting his fingers.

Smack. Smack.

Both ass cheeks stung but you felt your slick dripping out of you onto the bed.

“Seven.”

He scissored his fingers before adding a third.

Smack.

“Eight.” You gasped at how full you felt.

Pressure at your drenched core had your hips canting back towards the man behind you.

Smack.

“Nine.”

He pressed inside, “Mmh, this sweet, tight little cunt takes me so well now that I’ve trained it.”

Smack.

“Ten!” You sobbed as he began thrusting again, this time painstakingly slowly.

“What a good little whore. There may just be hope for you after all.”

You wouldn’t last long, your walls were already fluttering around him spastically.

“Sangie, gonna come.” You managed, voice weak.

His hips snapped harder, “You can come when I do. Gonna fill you up so full.”

“No, please, I’m not on birth control-”

“Oh, hush, I know very well you keep emergency contraceptives in your bathroom cabinet.” He growled as he gripped your hip almost painfully hard, fingers thrusting in time with his cock.

“Please, Yeosang, no-” You protested, despite the fact that you very much wanted nothing more than for him to fill you with his seed.

His hips stuttered at your outcry, one final buck before he was spilling deep inside you. That was all you needed to finish as well, clenching hard around his fingers and twitching cock.

“There we go, I knew you could wait.”

He worked you through your orgasm before pulling out, collecting all that had leaked out of you onto his clean hand, flipping you back over before depositing your mixed excretions onto your tongue.

“So obedient now, aren’t you? All it took was me to put you in your place, hm?”

You swallowed, “Yes, Yeosang. Thank you for training me.”

“Mmh.” He laid down behind you, pulling your ass to his front so you could feel how fast he was recovering, “Wait to thank me until I’ve corrupted both of your pretty little holes.”

And you did thank him afterwards, insides painted with his cum, feeling sated and content as he cleaned you gingerly with a damp towel - one he had gotten from where he knew you kept them in your hall closet.

He kissed you on your forehead after he got dressed, “You know you’ll be ruined for anyone else from here on out, right, angel?”

You nodded sleepily.

“Mmh, that’s what I thought. I’ll see you again soon.” He called as he left through his typical exit of your bedroom window, a new pair of stolen underwear - the ones you had been wearing that day - stuffed in his pocket.

It really was always the quiet ones you had to look out for.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez unholy hours #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #kang yeosang is a stalker #corruption kink #praise and degradation #ateez fanfic #alternate universe #kang yeosang has a corruption kink

199 notes · View notes

howlingday · 25 days ago

Note

Prompt idea: Jaune puts his girlfriend Nora in timeout by hanging her from the back of her shirt of a hook on the wall and she's to short to get down. Jaune made sure it wouldn't choke her.

"You stay here and think about what you've done."

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Nora thrashed from her position, feet dangling in the air. "I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG!"

"One, yes, I can, and I just did." Jaune held up a finger, making his point, before lifting another. "And two, biting Zwei for taking a bite out of your pancakes is not nothing."

"I was asserting dominance! I eat first! He knows better now!"

"And what about biting Ruby and Yang when they tried to stop you?"

"Zwei is their dog, so they should be punished for teaching him bad manners!"

"And Oscar?" Jaune quirked his brow.

Nora stopped thrashing. "...Okay, in my defense, I kinda blacked out after I bit Yang."

"I'm going with Ruby to the vet to make sure Zwei is okay. Then I'm going to treat her to that breakfast place you like."

"Without ME?!"

"Yeah, without you." Jaune glared behind his pointing finger. "That's your punishment." Turning away, Jaune left her to dangle.

"THIS IS INHUMANE!"

"So is biting people..." Oscar mumbled, rubbing his bandaged arm.

"You want another one, Pinewood Chewtoy?"

"I-I'm not scared of you!" Oscar stammered out. "And even if I was, Ozpin would have my back!"

"Okay, one, you are so scared of me," she rolled her eyes, "and B, Ozpin was totally scared of me. Why else did you think he didn't make me a team leader?"

Oscar was quiet. Not from what Nora said, but more in that special way Oscar got quiet when Ozpin was talking to him. In a few blinks, one of them will come out to respond. One, two, three... "He says, 'Nuh-uh'." Oscar walked away, rubbing his arm.

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN NUH-UH?!"

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

"Sorry again for the short notice doctor." Jaune apologized.

"It's no problem, but I do ask that you keep your... 'neighbor's dog'," there's no way she bought that, "from biting Zwei here. Especially with how sick he is."

"Wait, he's sick?" Ruby asked.

"Mhm, he tested positive for Cavewolf Skin," she explained, "which is kind of a blessing in disguise, honestly, since his skin and hair is so thick that he should be relatively unharmed. Though brushing will require a lot more time and effort because of it. There's no real cure, though I would recommend shifting to a different shampoo for his baths." Zwei gave a whine.

"So, Zwei is completely fine otherwise?" Jaune asked.

"In terms of the attack, Zwei is fine. Your 'neighbor's dog', though," still not buying it, "will need to be more careful. Cavewolf Skin is harmless to human through physical contact, but ingestion may be a different story. Like, say, if a human swallowed a clump of loose Zwei hair..."

Jaune's skin felt cold. "What would happen then...?"

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

Downtown Argus was being ripped apart. Stomping down the streets, a girl covered in orange hair attacked anything that was the color yellow. Yellow cars were flipped over. People wearing yellow clothes were thrown through the air. Even the yellow rubber ducks were... Well, actually, they were okay, because they were made of rubber.

At the stature of Pyrrha, she raised her fist high to strike... Then stopped and apologized profusely because defacing a monument like this one would be an insult to both the memory of that person and everything they fought, believed in, and died for. Still the rampage continued, and civilians were advised to steer clear of the rampaging girl downtown.

"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUNE!" Bellowed the girl with orange hair and a chunk of wall to her back.

#rwby #nora valkyrie #jaune arc #ruby rose #oscar pine #nora's arc

69 notes · View notes

iamconstantine · 5 months ago

Text

arcane characters as college staff

Mel

History professor

Refers to all students by (honorific) (surname)

Nothing but praise on ratemyproffesor

“I didn’t like history until I took Professor Medarda’s class”

Doesn’t write scholarly articles, just giant ass books that she pumps out almost every year somehow

Quickly responds to emails. No response = its in the syllabus

“Is there any make up work I can do to get my grade up—“ Absolutely not

But if you go the writing center you can get extra credit

Every year her students ask for an extension on the final project and every year she gives a long and furious rant about how the project was visible online from Day 1 and they had all semester to work on it

She has a beautiful office that looks like a miniature library and she only sees students by appointment

Jayce

Physics professor

Is a prolific author but somehow can’t figure out how to set up the course online

Prints cheesy physics memes

Every zoom meeting begins with 1000 messages saying “professor Talis we can’t hear you your mic isn’t on” every. time.

you can come see him in his office any time, door’s always open

but his office is so messy you probably won’t be able to sit because he has a stack of papers on every chair

“Everyone got this question on the exam wrong so I’m going to give everyone credit because that means i didn’t teach it properly”

Always throws an end-of-year party at his place

Caitlyn

English Literature professor

would win best dressed of the staff, always shows up in the slacks-and-blazer fit

“To understand why the narrator wears red shoes, we need to take a look at the sociopolitical state of Edinburgh in 1864.”

if you reply to a discussion board post with just “I agree” you’re not getting credit and it isn’t up for discussion

Never reads contemporary fiction. The “newest” book she’s read is The Great Gatsby

“We’re not having a party but if you want to bring snacks and soda to the last day of class that’s fine”

Covers a lot of authors but it somehow always comes back to Emily Dickenson

Is that teacher that assigns 400-page books every week

Constantly publishing in lit journals (rumor has it she writes steamy open-door romance books under a pen-name but no one has confirmed this)

Ekko

Art professor

You have to actively screw up to get a bad grade with him

He wrote thousands of letters to the board until they caved and gave the class a proper kiln

“Write a three-page essay explaining why AI art is not art and insisting otherwise is spitting in the face of humankind. Double spaced. Due Friday 11:59”

Throws back coffee. Has a coffeemaker in the studio. Two of them.

“Hey guys some of you are submitting assignments at 2 in the morning. It can wait until the next day. Please get some sleep.”

He’s created awe-inspiring pieces but if you just wanna paint a frog wearing a hat he’ll say “that’s cool”

Says he knows who banksy is but will never tell

He gets way too deep in the zone. Once reached for his coffee cup while painting, drank paint water instead. Didn’t notice.

Jinx

Chemistry professor

If you email her the response will be “k” or “no” and nothing else

Waits until twenty minutes after the class begins to email everyone that class is canceled

Never wears a coat, goggles, or gloves. But will call out students if they don’t

takes 5 years to post grades

“Look I’m not remembering any names. Too many. If I’m talking to you I’ll just point”

Puts a meme on the projector every day. Mostly incomprehensible. Picture of a horse on an beach and it just says “Zimbabwe”

lowest score on ratemyprofessor

someone creates a website called ratemystudent and administration has no proof that it was her because technically the students with bad scores being the same students that get bad grades in her class can be coincidental

Viktor

Biomedical engineering professor

Only professor who still uses chalkboards

First day of class is first day of class. No reviewing the syllabus, turn to page 34 in your textbook.

Puts things in the syllabus to catch people who use ChatGPT. If you’re caught, you’re removed from his class. Immediately. You will not get to plead your case.

Most of his cited sources are himself

Literally begs students to thrift their textbooks online instead of buying them from the school. Provides free PDFs as often as he can.

He reads journals every day and will write personal letters to authors he disagrees with

If a student asks a particularly dumb question he’ll step out of the room for ten minutes to compose himself and then resume teaching like nothing happened

Not a professor, works at the on-campus gym and leads clubs

Constantly curses without batting an eye. Students will leave class with their very uptight professor then come to the soccer club where vi walks in like “sorry I’m late guys i had a motherfucker of a headache this morning”

Please don’t ask her about anything that isn’t club or sport related. If you ask for directions or how to get in contact with student services she’s got nothing

If she refs for a game and you’re on the opposing team you’d better watch yourself. She will rip you a new one if you break any rules. One time a player grabbed one of her member’s mask during a game and he left crying after Vi was done with him

Students run into her at the local hangouts a lot but it’s never awkward. just reminds you not to party too hard before the game tomorrow

Leads pretty much every club but dance. Wouldn’t admit it but she has no sense of rhythm and refuses to even do it as a student

You can call her coach or captain or just Vi, whatever you want. But if you call her Violet she’ll stare you down until you correct yourself

Heimerdinger

Anthropology professor

Spends the first day of class getting to know everyone. “We’re going to go around and give our names and a fun fact about ourselves!”

Gives the “Nacirema” assignment and can’t wait to tell everyone the catch

His classroom is filled with artifacts. Don’t ask about any of them because it will take up class time

If you can’t make it to class he sends really nice responses saying he understands, then checks in when you come back

The only thing that puts him in a bad mood is the “why do anthropologists study dinosaurs if anthropology is about people” question. He’s old and tired

Keeps thinking about retiring, keeps changing his mind

Silco

Political science professor

His classroom is bare and blank. No life. Just fluorescent lights and chairs.

Brags about how few people pass his class

Very strict on attendance. Too many absences and you’re out.

If the assignment is due at 11:59 and you turn it in at 12:00, it’s late

“I am quite interested to hear why you believe you are deserving of a higher grade when you’ve spent less than thirty minutes attending all of my classes combined. Please, continue.”

Will straight up roast other professors no problem. Encourages students to pass it along

He encourages debate but the only thing students debate about outside of class is whether he’s hot or creepy af

Final project is a choice between A) A ten-page essay on why there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, or B) a presentation on why the country is doomed

Vander

Education professor

Makes his own series of Crash Course-esque videos

Comes to class in jeans at best. Sweats, sometimes.

He has one coffee mug that says #1 Dad and he refuses to use anything else

He puts fun questions on his exams, like riddles. If no one gets it, he actually gets sad

Whenever he erases the whiteboard he always misses a spot. He’s that professor.

If he catches you plagiarizing, you get one pass before he reports it. But you have to come to his office so he can tell you how disappointed he is and how much potential you have

He gives a seminar about how worried he is for the future of education and the wellbeing of the next generation and everyone leaves feeling guilty. Everyone.

Make a pop culture reference in class and everything will grind to a halt so you can explain it to him. Visuals help.

Sevika

Librarian

If you play music in the library she’ll walk up to you and just go “are you joking”

Have a phone call on speaker and she’s hanging it up for you

There’s signs telling you to be quiet every three feet

If you see her outside of school no you didn’t

She’s in charge of leading classes on accessing academic databases and she fucking hates it

Somehow knows where every book is down to the shelf. She’ll tell you what you’re looking for before you can finish your sentence

technically she’s supposed to do a walkthrough before closing for the night but if you can’t read the library hours on the signs it’s your fault if you get locked in

#Arcane #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #viktor arcane #jayce talis #jinx arcane #silco #vander #heimerdinger #sevika #ekko #Mel medarda

95 notes · View notes

creeperman247 · 7 months ago

Text

alright, so, we all know that the ending to the whole phyrexian arc was really disappointing, but honestly one of my biggest gripes is what they did with urabrask.

the phyrexian praetors were twists on the stereotypical color roles; elesh norn turned white's order into tyranny, vorinclex turned green's nature into a "perfected" nature, jin-gitaxias turned blue's desire for progress into a desire for progress at any cost, etc. urabrask took reds emotion, most commonly anger, and turned it into emotion, most commonly compassion, which is a super interesting direction to take it. he shut off weapon creation from the rest of the phyrexians, he sheltered the mirrodin rebels, he even went as far as to think that compleation should be a consensual process, that if it truly was perfect, everyone would become willingly compleated eventually, and that the other praetors forcing compleation upon people was a sign they didn't really believe in it. he shows that, unlike what basically everything else would lead you to believe, the phyrexians are not inherently evil. (it is also important to note that despite what wotc seemingly really wants you to think, compleation isn't "a fate worse than death," at least not when consensual, it is shown that compleated people maintain their original personalities and memories.)

so, what did they do with this incredibly unique character (who is my favorite character in the entire lore honestly)? they had him lead a revolt that went nowhere and got him killed, doing nothing in the process. what a massive waste.

so, here's my idea on how the ending should have gone: urabrask leads the revolt but is outnumbered and overpowered. however, instead of being killed, he escapes and flees the plane through the planar gate (perhaps with the help of one of the compleated red planeswalkers.) he ends up hiding and/or on the run for a while, and then the whole "phyrexians invade every plane" thing happens. a bunch of planeswalkers kill elesh norn like in the current story, but this time elesh norn isn't stupid and the phyrexians don't shut down just because she's dead. however, her dying gives the rest of the planes hope that this is a winnable battle, and they begin to push back. this then gives urabrask and the red phyrexians the space to begin fighting alongside the planes to defeat the rest of the phyrexians, and, once the rest of the phyrexians are defeated (obviously over the course of multiple sets with more cinematic battles and such, instead of cramming it all into 1 set) urabrask takes over as the new leader, and ushers the phyrexians into a new age of kindness where they aren't the villains for once. urabrask educates the compleated planeswalkers about compassion and such and undoes the teachings of elesh norn (which really wouldn't be that hard honestly? the planeswalkers don't really have a reason to not believe him, especially more naturally compassionate ones like tamiyo, and even meaner ones would probably listen better once the first few do). if for some reason, people really think important characters like jace being compleated (and otherwise exactly the same) is a bad thing for the story, then there can be come character arcs where some of the planeswalkers realize that they don't actually like being compleated and some people come up with some way to reverse the compleation process, probably with the help of urabrask himself due to the whole consensual compleation ideology. plus, this new story allows for all sorts of followups: instead of the phyrexians just being gone with no chance of coming back because the oil no longer works, you can have the red phyrexians exist as denizens of mirrodin, living alongside the natives, and even as allies in other story things, like having them help fight against emrakul or something. and because the oil still works, there will be leftovers of the other phyrexian factions all over the place, so you could have them reappear occasionally as both major or minor villains.

and of course, make sure to give a few sets that go over the consequences of the multiverse-wide invasion instead of just glossing over them.

#magic the gathering #phyrexian #phyrexian praetors #elesh norn #urabrask #vorinclex #jin gitaxias #phyrexia: all will be one #long post #mtg story idea #mtg spoilers #<just in case someone hasnt seen the phyrexia story yet somehow

77 notes · View notes

artemismoorea03 · 1 year ago

Text

DP x DC Prompt: I Couldn't Just Let Him Die

So one thing I don't think is touched on enough is the fact that Danny never wanted to be a hero. Like, yeah, we all know he didn't want o be a hero and he makes a joke about it but when we actually think about it this was a life he choose because nobody else was there to help. The main reason?

He didn't want people to get hurt.

Something Batman would relate to.

Now, while I love the idea of Danny absolutely beating the shit out of Joker or any villain who absolutely deserves to have their shit rocked by a kid who is only 5'5" and weighs at most 120 pounds, when we actually think about Danny's character what's more likely? Again, no hate to any of the people who do those fics, keep it up, I love seeing Joker get his just deserts.

But hear me out.

Warnings for fighting, violence, and DC typical weapons.

There was a new meta in Gotham and he was driving Bruce crazy. This kid showed up out of the blue with absolutely no information on him anywhere online or otherwise with tech so outdated not even Oracle could hack it. The only thing Bruce knew about the kid was that he called himself 'Phantom' and that he was a teenager around 14 years old.

Other than that the kid had been a pain in the ass.

Muggings? Phantom took care of it by saving the person then lecturing the person until a Bat or police showed up then literally vanished.

Fires? Phantom would fly in and out of burning buildings repeatedly with no care for his own safety. No mask, no fire protection, nothing but the thin suit he wore.

Kidnappings? Don't worry, Phantom had it handled long before Batman could even get the call to help! EVEN WHEN IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN KIDS WHO GOT KIDNAPPED!

Granted, Phantom never got in the way of a fight but the amount of evidence that was lost due to what he was doing and how he was doing it was inconvenient. Fingerprints got wiped, evidence of what started fires were covered in an unmeltable ice, kidnappers took off the second their captive was freed and were practically untraceable after that.

It wasn't until a massive Arkham breakout that he actually got to properly meet the kid. Every prisoner had broken out and the city plunged into madness as heroes ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Villains against heroes, criminals verse vigilantes, villains verses criminals - it was a madhouse.

Batman could hardly keep track of it all but when one of Penguin's men threw a bomb into a crowd and it landed near Joker's feet there was a long silence. It was like the city had fallen silent all around him as Batman tried to get to the bomb.

Joker was a villain.

Joker had hurt his family, killed millions of innocents including his own son, but he was sick. He didn't deserve to die.

Apparently Phantom agreed because he flew faster than Batman could track him shoving Joker away from the bomb before encasing the bomb in ice.

"Hey! What's the big idea shovin' me, bub?!" Joker said, seemingly forgetting about the bomb that was still in the kids hand. Joker walked right up to Phantom, glaring down at the shorter male who just looked at him. "Think you're some kind of hero?!"

Phantom blinked, "I feel like answering that is a trap."

Joker grabbed Phantom by the front of his shirt, "A funny guy, huh? Think you can out joke the Joker?"

"Again. That feels like a trap. I'm not trying to do anything, Clowny. But I wasn't about to let you die."

Joker glared, "Why?"

Phantom slipped out of Joker's hands somehow, much to Joker's confusion. "Because that's not who I am. Criminal or not, I'm not going to let you die if I can protect you."

"Who says I need protection?"

Phantom held up the bomb again with a deadpan look. "Lucky guess." He said, then suddenly noticed something to his right. "Oh, gotta go. Later Clowny."

"IT'S JOKER!" Joker shouted after Phantom as he flew away. "Batman! Teach your baby bats some manners!"

"He's not mine, Joker." Batman said, marching over, grabbing Joker's wrists and cuffing them behind his back.

Not yet anyway. But with a mentality like that... maybe this pain in the ass could learn a thing or two from a Bat.

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

340 notes · View notes

crownmemes · 2 months ago

Text

Hannibal Sentences, Vol. 1

(Sentences from Hannibal (2013-2015). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Everyone has thought about killing someone, one way or another."

"I understand it's difficult for you to be social."

"Where do you fall on the spectrum?"

"Can I borrow your imagination?"

"You have a very specific way of thinking about things."

"Has there been a lot of discussion about the specific way I think?"

"Take your time. When you're ready to talk, we'll talk."

"You know you're not supposed to be in here."

"I'm beginning to suspect that you're investigating me."

"I need you to help me with a psychological profile."

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?"

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind."

"Please don't psychoanalyse me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalysed."

"Maybe we shouldn't poke him like that. Perhaps a less direct approach?"

"Perception's a tool that's pointed at both ends."

"I would apologise for my analytical ambush, but I know I'll soon be apologising again and you'll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly."

"I don't find you that interesting."

"I see you as the mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by."

"I'm not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head."

"You've never killed anyone before. It's a lot to digest."

"Therapy doesn't work on me."

"Therapy doesn't work on you because you won't let it."

"Did you come all the way down here to teach me how to shoot?"

"Therapy is an acquired taste which I have yet to acquire."

"This is unethical, even for a tabloid journalist."

"You've been terribly rude. What's to be done about that?"

"I don't think we've ever been alone in a room together, have we?"

"Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?"

"Killing must feel good to God too - he does it all the time - and are we not created in his image?"

"Eating her is honouring her, otherwise it's just murder."

"Are you beginning to appreciate my lack of sympathy?"

"He is an intelligent psychopath. He is a sadist. He will never kill like this again. So, how do we catch him?"

"I'm a journalist. I want to tell the truth. Your truth."

"If you tell me what you know, I can help you fill in the blanks."

"There was plenty wrong with your father, but there's nothing wrong with you."

"There's no such thing as getting used to what you experienced."

"I can undo what I said. I can also make it a lot worse."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #specific;#crime drama;#filmtv;#hannibal;#hannibal lecter;

36 notes · View notes

idyllic-affections · 2 years ago

Text

to be quietly loved.

summary. what would dan heng be like as an older brother?

trigger & content warnings. mentions of injury and nightmares.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, found family, very slight angst if you squint. dan heng (including il, towards the end) & younger sibling figure!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. i just remembered i have free will and can write fics about who i want to whenever i want to (/lh) so i wrote platonic dan heng content!

dan heng would be very quiet and subtle in his care. he is undoubtedly a fantastic brother! but his love language is very quiet, only noticable to those who pay close attention.

his gestures of care are quiet, and his words even moreso, but... well. it's fitting for someone like him.

he pays attention—very close attention, actually.

if his sibling seemed interested in something (perhaps their gaze lingered somewhere too long), or if they offhandedly mentioned a potential new interest to him, he would make a mental note of it.

his sibling might find the book they've been wanting to read or the cool ring they saw in a shop's window sitting in front of their door on the express a day later. <3

he's not the kind of brother to bully his younger sibling LMAO

he would rather do things for them—little acts of service to show his love in a wordless way—rather than bully them into doing things for him.

another way dan heng subtly expresses his care is in battle. he always has their blind spots covered. it's... a bit more obvious than his other displays, but really, it doesn't matter. what matters most is his sibling's safety.

and if they haven't left their room in a while? whatever the reason may be, mental health or physical health or any other reason, he's leaving meals by their door. he sends them little texts throughout the day, giving them the opportunity to seek support if that is something they need while also not forcing himself into their safe space if they just want to be alone for some time.

of course, his quiet nature does not mean he doesn't verbally express his affection. he does, but only in the soft moments in which he is alone with them.

(march would relentlessly tease him otherwise.)

late nights spent reading together in the archives, observing the stars together when everyone else is asleep or otherwise occupied... moments like that.

additionally, moments of hurt.

especially moments of hurt.

if his sibling happens to have nightmares about their own past, much like he does, he will offer them the security of his comfort and support. he'll always be there; that is one thing he can safely assure them of.

(maybe he'll live longer than they will. maybe he won't. either way, he will be there for as long as he is able.)

he offers to reassure them over text if they aren't really comfortable or ready for physical contact, but he will also offer to let them spend the night in the archives with him. whatever puts their mind at ease.

dan heng is always willing to hearing their story if they are willing to share. maybe he isn't quite ready to reciprocate that same vulnerability yet... but he does reassure them that his lack of openness is not because of them or something they did. it has nothing to do with them. they'll be the first to know when he is ready, he swears it.

or if they get physically hurt... he's there in an instant, finishing off whatever monsters dared to harm them and then rushing them back to the express to get their wounds treated, even if it really isn't that serious of a wound. he sees blood and goes into worried mode immediately.

he spends a lot of time with them while they're recovering, to the point where welt and himeko will teach him how to clean and rewrap their injury.

if it was preventable, something they could have avoided with just a little more patience and awareness, he will absolutely scold them for their lack of care, but...

he thinks they've already suffered the natural consequences of their actions, so his lecture on safety is very short.

"...Sorry, Dan Heng. I know I should have been more careful."

"You should have," he agreed, gingerly rewrapping the gauze on their arm. The gash, as a consequence of taking a rather brutal hit from a member of the Antimatter Legion, was healing well. "...I forgive you, though."

They smiled, leaning their head on his shoulder. He adjusted his position slightly for the sake of their comfort. Their weight provided a soothing reassurance that they were alive and well. He still recalled the sheer terror that had struck his chest when they cried out for him in the midst of battle.

"I mean it, [Name]. Be more careful next time. What would have happened to you if I wasn't there?"

"Probably something bad," they admitted, reaching over to his freehand and mindlessly toying with his fingers. "Thank you for being there."

Dan Heng sighed, freehand tenderly raking through their messy hair. "I will always be."

'It is the least I could do for you.'

he's very protective in that way. he genuinely doesn't know what he'd do with himself if something happened to them when he could have done something to keep them safe. he would never forgive himself, really.

he'll also teach them to fight for their own safety, if they don't already know how. if they do? he'll spar with them and help sharpen their skills.

dan heng does his best to not leave his sibling unprepared. he knows deep down inside that he cannot always be there. he wants them to be prepared to defend themselves, to be able to survive without his presence and support.

and when he does finally ackowledge and accept his past...

man.

he's even more protective, if that is even possible. it's some kind of instinct within him, like the way a mother feels inclined to protect her child, or how a lion does to its young. he feels an inexplicable pull, a need to keep them away from harm.

dragon instincts, basically.

he would literally obliterate anything that posed a threat to them fr. he also hates seeing them wounded in that form. he hates it normally, but in his vidyadhara form? it ignites some kind of deep-set anger and worry in him.

aeons forbid they were ever seriously injured.

the things dan heng would do in their defense would... not be very pretty.

on a fluffier note, i just know he gives really secure, safe hugs, especially in his vidyadhara form. if something happens to frighten them? well. his arms are always open. he's always there to comfort and reassure them, even if it happens to be something silly that scared them.

he'll also let them braid his hair in his nonhuman form if they ask nicely enough! he doesn't even try to hide the style when its done. he just walks around the express with it, even if march and stelle and himeko all giggle a little about how cute it is or how well it suits him. welt just smiles knowingly.

overall 10/10 he is a wonderful older brother <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸#platonic hsr #platonic hsr x reader #hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #platonic dan heng x reader

420 notes · View notes

arceus-insanity · 4 months ago

Text

My Hero Academia vs Assassination Classroom: Becoming Teachers

Now I recently saw a post going on about how people dislike Deku becoming a teacher in chapter 430. And another user chalked it up to Westerners' disrespect for teachers vs Japan's great revere for them, plus shipping discourse

And while I feel that those definitely don't help, I do feel that that isn't the balk of why a lot of us hate it. It also reads as one of those elitist takes in fandom where they are talking down to those who don't agree with them

Now I'm a Westerner, and I hate Deku becoming a teacher. It's not because I don't respect teachers, and when it happened in Assassination Classroom I was all for Nagisa Shiota becoming a teacher. I would have preferred to see him and/ or Karma become assassins but I was still satisfied with how it ended. So why is that? Especially because we know Hori was a fan of Assassination Classroom, prototype Bakugou was based on Karma for crying out loud.

Achieved vs Happenstance

A big part of it is framing, everyone in 1A, 1B, and basically everyone else explicitly want to be heroes, or at least something adjacent to it. That's why they are in the hero course, and Izuku Midoriya especially has a one-track mind for heroes until the surprise reveal. He was constantly told no, pick something else, for a decade but was still hyper-focused on being a hero leading up to the show. Nor do we see or otherwise learn that he has other developing interests. There's a ton of fanfics and headcanons of him helping his classmates with school work or even just their quirks, but there's nothing in canon. The only character who does anything like that is Momo Yaoyorozu. The vast majority of 1A and once again especially Izuku Midoriya are only interested in being heroes. Izuku is also the only one who didn't become a hero (until years later) despite the need for them totally going down and them being paid per arrest.

Meanwhile, no one in 3E the end class, chose to be an assassin, Kuro Sensei just decided that he was going to teach that class, and the world needed him dead. A lot of students explicitly have other interests and none of them have a personal interest in being an assassin past killing Kuro Sensei. Yes, Nagisa Shiota is shown throughout to be surprisingly good at assassination work, and he is explicitly given an offer to join the world as an assassin. But when he gets the offer he asks himself do I really want to do this. We also learn via the little girl who suggests the career to him in the first place, that he has been tutoring her. We also get to see how he takes the uniqueness and skills from 3E into his teaching job.

So in short the premise of Assassination Classroom is much better suited to have it's characters enter very different fields to begin with.

Better Focus on Academics

Yes, My Hero Academia takes place largely in a school, but they don't put any focus on the school part. Whenever they're doing something in class it's either big combat test or self-directed training. And in the later seasons, more and more time got taken up by the big-name pro-hero fights. The two teachers we see the most of, both have bad teacher tags on Ao3 and I have seen numerous takedowns of their teaching skills accurately citing the series.

Assassination Classroom however has school and studying as a constant theme throughout the series. We see 1E being taught both standard school stuff, and learning various assassination techniques to achieve their goal. Kuro Sensei also makes it very clear that if they are just going to bank their futures on killing him and winning the money, then he sees no point in staying around for them to do it.

Getting it Regardless vs Earning Respect

One ongoing issue I have with MHA is that I largely got into the series because I thought that it was going to criticize societal issues. Instead, it ended up doing a 180. Now this mostly applies to the pro-hero worship, largely because once again there is barely any time dedicated to the actual academic part of the show. But with both the teachers and pro heroes their failures and shit behaviours aren't treated as reasons to lose respect, making any respect for them empty. This also leans into the very real issue of roles that come with unconditional respect, will attract people who will abuse it.

Meanwhile, 3E came into the show without this innate revere for teachers, because their past teachers especially in their school have actively screwed them over at every turn. Karma is even elated at the idea of killing a teacher after his last one betrayed him. Nagisa Shiota was being very blatantly abused at home, and Kuro Sensei is the first teacher to stand up for him. The teachers of 3E have to earn the students' trust and respect. When Bitch Sensei treats them like shit when she first joins, the students return the favour, she has to apologize for her poor behaviour for the class to give her a second chance. So when it ends with the students having a deep connection to their teachers and a renewed appreciation for school it's because that respect was fucking earned. Also, the principal who created this system set up 3E to be abused and sabotaged them every chance he got, got fired for his shit leadership aka actions have consequences. They also didn't feel the need to excuse the bullies shit behaviour either

So in one setting, we have authority figures constantly being shit but being revered anyway. And the other, where the respect has been lost and needs to be earned back, thus the respect they get has a much stronger foundation.

Side notes

Deku sucks at explaining, I've said it both on my main and AU blog, but Deku is horrible at explaining. One of the main aspects of teaching, and he sucks at it because he overcomplicates and goes off on tangents, plus mumbling. If it was just his thought process, it would be a mildly annoying but harmless habit, but he does it when talking to people

Also, Assassination Classroom has a way less bloated cast, allowing us to actually get closer to the characters.

#bnha #bnha critical #mha critical #mha #bnha meta #my hero academia #mha meta #boku no hero academia #anti deku #assassination classroom #assassination classroom meta

67 notes · View notes

musicfeedsmysoul12 · 14 days ago

Note

Ok, I had an idea, Trans Izumi, quirkless, and she is essentially Kim Possible, teenage super spy, and for fun, let's add Dad for One.

"We have three interesting applicants this year," Nezu declared. The principal sat at the head of the table, ignoring the lone board member shooting daggers with his eyes at the mammal. Ever since the exposure of the corruption in the Commission, there had been restructuring of Hero Schools where the heroes actually running the place got a bit more of a say in the school, versus the Board having the power to make all changes.

The UA School Board was not happy, more so when Nezu's changes to the Hero Coure Application Exam actually yeilded better results then the old ones.

"Who?" Shouta asked, sipping his coffee.

"Hatsume Mei, Soul Rody and Midoriya Izumi," Nezu cheered. Shouta choked on his coffee, coughing hard as Hizashi (who as usual was tipping back in his chair) fell backwards. Nemuri's mouth dropped open in shock as Thirteen yelped. Everyone else was in similar situations, shocked by the news.

"As in the teenage hero?!" Shouta demanded.

"Technically she isn't a hero Shouta," Nezu cheerfully reminded him. "She's a 'helper'."

"She's a vigilante!" the board member snapped.

"Come now Hayakawa, you know that's not true," Nezu taunted. "She's a Quirkless teenager, she can't be charged with anything." Unsaid was a reminder that it had been Midoriya and her team who exposed the corruption of the Hero Commission, and caused the power in society to shift a bit. That was why Hayakwaw was protesting, the man furious of the lost power.

Otherwise, he'd be all over it Shouta figured. Midoriya and her team were famous. It started when on a vacation to Otheon, Midoriya destroyed the cult Humarise, exposing their plans. She had been twelve.

And it kept going. The girl kept rising in her deeds, joined by her friend Soul and later their tech support Hatsume. The exposure of corruption (though Shouta privately doubted they got rid of it all but they got most of it) was just one of their many deeds.

"What about that supervillain obsessed with her," Hayakawa asked.

"You agreed to let All Might teach here despite the various villains who'd love to target us," Nezu reminded the man. He felt silent, fuming. "I reached out to Midoriya and her friends about this, as she does still take missions. She expressed that she's always wanted to be a hero, and while she technically is one, she would like to go to UA for heroics anyway. Her missions will still be on going, but she can do online school and have a teacher accompany her if needed."

"Other kids will be jealous," Nemuri said, blinking out of her shock.

"Midoriya knows this, and offered the potential of a 'assistant' on her missions. Kids who would do good with what ever she and Soul are tasked to do." Nezu grinned. "Any objections?"

"Heard anything yet?" Hisashi asked as he poked his head in to his daughter's room. Izumi was painting her nails, her friend Hagakure Toru flipping through a magazine while pointing out fashion.

Rody was playing some video game on the TV in Izumi's room, while Mei looked a second away from making a bomb given her chuckles as she tinkered with something.

"Nope," Izumi said as she blew on her red nails. Hisashi nodded and retreated from the room, heading back to the kitchen where the other parents were waiting.

"Nothing?" Eddie Soul asked, the man playing cards with Hatsume Kyoko.

"They say no," Hisashi said as he sat down at the table.

"Well," Hatsume Tony (he took his wife's name when they married, citing his father's abuse as a reason) began, "it's been a few days."

"True," Hisashi sighed. "How is getting custody of Toru coming along?"

"Pretty easy," Kyoko said. "It's disgusting how they treat her just because of her Quirk."

"She has us now," Tony said viciously. Kyoko nodded. Hisashi hummed, running a hand through his hair.

"What's the next date for the bet?" he asked.

"Next month," Eddie shook his head. "Roro and Lala both agreed."

"I'm telling you, those two will only get together after a big incident where they finally realize their feelings," Tony disagreed.

"They took down Humarise together," Eddie said.

"And? That's how they met. I bet you anything, those two will only get together after I dunno... a robot seduces Izumi as a ploy by Dr. Drakken to demoralize her," Tony said.

"...Have you been watching cartoons again?" Kyoko asked her husband.

"Nah, that's something Watanabe would do," Hisashi said. He refused to call his old college classmate that stupid title he insisted on. "If he does, I'm frying him."

A loud shriek echoed from upstairs. None of the parents flinched. That was 'happy teenage girl shriek'.

"WE'RE GOING TO UA!" screamed Izumi. Now that? That they reacted to with cheers.

#bnha #bnha au #Rody is Ron #lol #I debated who I wanted as ron #and then went: PINO AS RUFUS #Hisashi got custody and took Izumi to Otheon while working #yes this would end up RodyDeku #all Kim Possible villains are around #solely cause it's funny #they have beef with this girl and get offended when other heroes show up #excuse me where is Midoriya?

21 notes · View notes

lilacxquartz · 1 year ago

Text

Those Late Summer Nights I Chapter 10

satoru gojo x f!reader × suguru geto

plot: you moved to tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. as you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

chapter summary: you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed with how much attention you had to divide between so many people and then in the midst of it all, something went terribly wrong.

warnings: dubcon

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

10. Just “Friends”

Back home at last, you chose to lay in bed until around four in the afternoon as you muddied your own mind with conflicting thoughts—trying to, hoping—to make sense of everything that had happened so far.

You weren’t quite looking forward to socialising with someone new, but you figured that if they were Shoko approved, then it was likely absolutely fine, so come the correct hour, you unstuck yourself from bed and entered a better state of mind.

Shoko introduced you to an equally nervous looking woman around her age standing right behind her. She was quite pretty, you thought as you looked at her; long dark hair and a scar over her face, kind eyes overlooking her features.

“This is Utahime,” Shoko said as she introduced you to her, “and Utahime, this is [name].”

You both awkwardly said that it’s nice to meet each other as you got settled on the sofa, Utahime brought out a couple of beers from a plastic bag as Shoko opted for a glass of wine instead.

“Any preference?” Utahime asked you, trying to be polite.

“Beer would be nice,” you accepted, not quite feeling the mood for heavier alcohol so soon.

She nodded accordingly in response as she cracked open two cans, seeming quite happy to share.

The conversation for the most part was carried initially by Shoko as you both carefully crossed the barrier in getting to know each other while you resisted the urge to spill too much of your trauma too soon, avoiding a repeat of the last time you spoke to new people.

When full comfort had been achieved, a mutual annoyance for Satoru emerged after a while of talking. Nothing too accusatory, but Utahime’s history with him seemed to paint him as a leading cause of her own stress while Shoko joked that he caused her smoking habit.

You didn’t really have a strong opinion on him just yet, but it was interesting to get to know him through the opinion of others. You wondered it with even Suguru before, thinking about the side he allowed you to get to know—thinking if Satoru was doing something similar to you.

Utahime and Shoko clinked their glasses and cans alike, announcing cheers for a peaceful evening and new company, because Shoko was right—you both did get along.

This newly formed comfort however was relatively short lived as soon as Satoru entered through the door, the celebration seeming to have been some type of summoning ritual for him instead.

“Hang on a sec,” Shoko said as she suddenly sat up, “how’d you get a key?”

She didn’t like that Satoru could just enter her apartment, choosing to come and go as he pleased. Her home was a sacred sanctuary for her own approved company and if he wanted to visit, he’d have to ask the same way as everyone else.

Utahime stared in mild disbelief, now wondering if she had managed to somehow hex herself as she stared bitterly off into her drink.

“Aww, don’t act that way~” Satoru purred as he continued to stroll inside, his hand arrogantly extending to reach out for someone to take hold of it, “we just need an extra person to get our usual table, otherwise they’ll just sit us at the smaller, worse table again.”

“Tough shit. I’m not abandoning Utahime to go be a table filler,” Shoko replied as she rolled her eyes, her hand playfully slapping his own away from her sight.

“I’m not going either,” Utahime replied.

“I-I can go otherwise?” you offered, presenting yourself as a sacrifice. You didn’t actually mind as it felt awkward enough already to third wheel between Shoko and her friend, since you could give them both a chance to catch up as you reconnected with the two people you already were familiar with.

“Don’t stoop to their level,” Shoko said, catching onto your wrist as you stood up, “let them suffer.”

“Ah, but she offered~” Satoru sang, tugging you away to the front door.

“I-It was nice to meet you, Utahime!” you called out as you quickly found yourself dragged outside into the stairwell, barely having time to grab onto your bag and shoes.

Suguru stood outside as he waited, his back leaning against the wall with a knee bent to balance himself.

Satoru walked down first as you followed, Suguru closing in from behind as he watched you go downstairs. In truth, this was his plan all along because he knew that Shoko would be occupied with Utahime and when Satoru showed up at his own place wanting to hang out, he knew that his friend was still burdened with clan responsibilities so he could still end his night with you—if he could help it.

He still felt some conflicting feelings about you getting closer to Satoru, which was exactly why he chose to hang out with him tonight in tow, wanting to keep tabs as to what you were up to at all times to make sure that nothing else blossomed beyond that kiss.

He did seem to understand though, that you didn’t think that the kiss itself was genuine so in his mind, what he was doing was closer to prevention; ensuring that Satoru didn’t try to talk you into doing anything else.

(While Suguru himself talked you into other things.)

You continued to walk in between the two of them to the bar, fully unaware at what festered away in the back of their minds. Suguru’s hand brushed on and off around your hips, guiding you a certain direction as you passed through thicker crowds. Satoru on the other hand occasionally would pull the two of you in as he walked and talked, sensing that you didn’t pull back as much anymore.

In reality, you were slightly buzzed from the maybe two cans of beer you had. They were tall cans and you didn’t quite care to push either of them away, leading them both to have the same type of curiosity invade their minds; could they go even further?

You settled off into the booth you got to know them both at on the night it had all began, sitting opposite with an empty spot beside you instead. Suguru ordered a bottle of sake for a change, pouring the three of you a glass each.

The topics of discussion were trivial for now, at least the ones that you could keep up with anyway. Things like your opinions on Utahime and the discussion of what Satoru was up to for the most part of the day occupied the conversation.

Then at some point during it all, Satoru got a phone call that he couldn’t avoid, zoning off into the distance as he talked himself through it.

“Just my luck,” Satoru sighed as he ended the call, “I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow.”

His tone sounded a little resigned but he tried to smile through the annoyance he harboured, refusing to sour the mood. He didn’t want to be constantly away, especially not during what was supposed to be his time off—but he wasn’t in a position to refuse his responsibilities either.

“Think they’ll bother you this much when work starts up again?” Suguru asked him.

“Probably not, no,” Satoru replied, “I’m probably being pestered so much because they know I have time to spare.”

“Must be difficult being so important,” Suguru teased him.

“You know me, the strongest and the most important,” he continued to joke even if his demeanour did continue to dampen.

When he left, the staff asked you both to downsize to a smaller table anyway to make room for the other customers as the establishment quickly filled out with more and more customers. Suguru didn’t really mind this development as he continued to top you up more, slowly drinking his own glass as you continued to finish off one glass after another, finding yourself a little bit too tipsy to think properly.

It was then that he moved just a little bit closer, playing the current situation into his hands with successful ease this time.

“You know, my place isn’t too far from here,” he spoke deliberately, allowing dangerous words playing off of his tongue in a tempting melody, “Shoko’s probably still busy with Utahime, probably best not to disturb ‘em,” he leaned a little forward as he spoke, “feel like relaxing at mine for a bit?”

You hesitated initially, wondering if by accepting that you were accepting something that you shouldn’t be. You didn’t want to lead him any more than you already had, either.

“I have my own room at Shoko’s you know, I can just wait it out there,” you replied, trying to establish a boundary right away.

“Yeah but, you wouldn’t want to impose right? Besides, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, [name],” he continued to say, coaxing you into his reach, “it would be just for a little while, we’d both sober up and I’ll even walk you back.”

“I mean…” you continued on as you started to slightly panic, your gut instinct telling you to pull away.

“I do this all the time with Shoko and Satoru,” Suguru continued to lie, knowing fully well that he doesn’t really allow anyone into his home, “I just think you need to relax a bit, that’s all.”

“B-but, doesn’t it seem weird if I go back with you while I’m this drunk?” you asked.

“Why would it be weird?” he asked, his voice hushed, as if he didn’t want to be heard by others.

“B-because, like, I don’t know-“

Suguru interrupted you as you spoke, trying his best to remain patient while he had you all alone, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. We don’t do anything bad, we’ll just watch a movie or something to wait it out.”

“B-but-“

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked you, seeming a little colder.

“I-I mean, I guess I do…” you considered it again, foolishly trusting him to not do anything just because he said that he wouldn’t, the alcohol clouding your judgement.

“Just to unwind, yeah?” he repeated himself, luring you in. “It’s not like I’m asking you to spend the night, right?”

“R-Right.”

Still, some type of danger lurked. You were agreeable right now, drunk and easily swayed. Some type of looming threat filled his all too promising tone, seeming almost deceitful.

Your own gut instinct was telling you to reject him a second time, a third time if you really had to do so—but you didn’t do a single thing.

Instead, in the peak of your inebriated judgement you chose to trust him because he was your friend and because he promised you something so simple and yet so major.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

At least not like that.

(Would he?)

~~~

The walk back with Suguru felt strangely quiet but it was relatively a short journey just as he had promised you. He kept your body steady as he walked you back to his home, keeping you from tripping over your own feet.

To some extent, he wondered if he should actually be taking it this far with you given that you couldn’t even walk straight—but he wouldn’t be forceful, he’d only go as far as you’d let him.

His place was probably the most central out of all of the places you had been so far, not counting Satoru’s place as you hadn’t yet been there.

Suguru continued to carefully handle you as he sat you down on his bed, his movements feeling all a little too personal and calculated. His hand drifted back to your thighs to test the waters of your own lacking sobriety as his other hand swooped in to meet around your waist.

“So, [name], I’m sorry but I gotta ask you something,” he spoke up after a short moment of silence, doing his best to continue to keep his tone as kind as possible, not wanting to scare you in any way, shape or form.

“Huh?” you replied, suddenly catching onto the idea that he might have wanted something from you, only just now registering that his hands were on you, too.

You were still trying to keep as soberly passing as you could be, but the strange mood and the new environment felt disorienting, even if you had already been in here before.

“You haven’t been with anyone, right?” he asked you as his eyes locked onto yours, the question he asked you seemed important to him for some reason. “You’ve not slept with anyone?”

Usually, he didn’t even care about this sort of thing—but something about you being being one was making him go crazy, in an almost possessive kind of way.

It felt wrong for him to admit it, but he felt entitled to you—not just for a quick fuck either, but something permanent.

He wanted you.

“Yes, but don’t laugh-“

“—I’m not asking to make fun of you.”

“Then why?”

He sighed as he looked back at you, wondering if it was best to just let you fall asleep or to take you back to your apartment and forget that this conversation almost ever happened.

But something told him to hold onto you, wanting to see just how far it could all go.

“I have a dilemma with you, that’s all it is,” he admitted, scooting a little towards you so that he sat closer. It was difficult for him to get the right words out as he had to find a reasonable way to explain that he didn’t want others to get close to you, to make you understand exactly what type of madness was going rampant through his head.

It was difficult to form something coherent that didn’t sound like he wanted to use you, because that wasn’t his intention at all.

“A dilemma?” you asked, your words slurring against your tongue.

“Don’t get with anyone else,” he asked you, the hold he had on your thigh seeming to tighten as he talked, his other hand pulling you closer as he dared tempt something he might regret, “it makes me unwell just thinking about it, I don’t even know why.”

Your words initially got caught in your throat as you failed to produce a response—even currently drunk, you understood what he was trying to imply.

And yet, not a single word could come out.

“Don’t hate me for saying it, but,” he sighed again, not letting you move let alone get away, “I want for you to allow me to…”

“No,” you finally choked out, not letting him finish off his sentence that he barely got to begin with. You understood what he wanted to ask you and you weren’t ready, even when this drunk, you knew that much.

Suguru stared at you as he took that rejection somehow in continued stride, fully well having anticipated that exact answer. He never once expected you to directly accept his offer, knowing that it would be insane for you to do so.

Instead, his plan was to actually ease you into it; to build up a gradual acceptance on your side, to get you close to him before anyone else could.

Dating was too slow—he wanted to get to you sooner, before you could catch onto what’s going on, before you could simply just leave.

It was wrong for him to do so, he knew it, but his own desire was overwhelming his sense of reason and he had to do it, or else he’d actually do something he regretted.

So to him, this was a more diluted path.

“Look, I’m the only one who really gets you, right? I’m the only one who can look out for you properly,” he continued to say, “and I’m the only one who would stick around with you after, [name], because let me make one thing abundantly clear—this world is cruel.”

You continued to zone out as he spewed out words he thought you were genuinely considering when the reality was that you were trying to keep yourself from passing out in his company.

You knew exactly where he was going with this, you weren’t that unaware and oblivious, his intentions were apparent from the very moment he put his hands on you in the car but you weren’t still entirely sure how he went from ignoring your texts from days on end, to wanting to get in bed with you.

Something must have happened last night, otherwise why else did he know to ask you certain things?

“I’m just saying, [name],” he said as he pinched your chin, making you face him directly, “Satoru got a taste, but he didn’t appreciate you, did he?”

“I-I mean n-no, but-“

“—did he make you feel anything?”

“He never meant to.”

“But don’t you want to feel something, anyway?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Because, I want you to feel things.”

He didn’t give you a whole lot to work with, nor any time to think for yourself as this conversation continued back and forth. His body continued to otherwise slowly towards you the same way, regardless of what you said, his lips seeking yours out as you moved back in retaliated discomfort.

Suguru continued to play the part of someone who appeared reasonable, nodding and pulling back to respect your decision. He was going to get to you either way, so your rejection didn’t hurt him because as long as he got with you before Satoru did, then he will have won.

He reconsidered his options as an almost unhinged expression manifested on his face, tightening his hold on your body as he surrendered to a flow of worrying ideas.

You internally panicked as this all unfolded, doing your best to perhaps foolishly hold onto his friendship while also pushing back on his advances, entering a point in your own psyche where you had no idea what you truly wanted either.

Certain words stuck, like Satoru stealing your first kiss and the fact that you felt nothing from it. Shoko got the title of your first real friend and Suguru sported the title of your first date, even if it was platonic. To circle back to Satoru, he had the honour of being the first guy you introduced to your parents; so no wonder it all seemed so confusing if he even liked you at all.

Your friends were out here taking away all of your firsts that were meant to be special moments shared with someone you could trust, instead being snatched away by this strange new group of people at every whim.

The lack of it all being genuine except for the friendship was starting to eat away at you, realising that such rapid progression was beginning to hurt you in a way you didn’t truly understand.

But… you were still left unsure.

Was he making such a big deal out of this because he actually cared—or did he simply want to play you, to get into your pants?

As you continued to hold off on his advances, he finally let you go of you to find your own way, intending to just vent to you instead. You’d listen to him whether you wanted to or not, so he took advantage of that opportunity as it happened.

“I’m just feeling some kind of way, [name],” he said, surrendering a chunk of his feelings.

He continued to stare at you, feeling a little guilty as he continued to do so—this damn feeling just wasn’t going away.

“I think I like you and I don’t want to share, that’s all.”

“I-I can kind of get it, I think,” you finally said after a while, giving him an opening of sorts if only by complete accident, “but,” you were to still quick to stifle, “I don’t want to do anything I might regret and that includes with you, too.”

He nodded as you spoke, completely understanding the exact sort of direction to take with you now much to your unassuming dismay; you were simply shy in his eyes, inexperienced and not quite used to this sort of thing and he could work with that—to make you his before anyone else could even have such a chance.

He wanted to stick around, to give into those strange and confusing feelings that have otherwise been eating him alive for the last couple of weeks.

“So, how about we start off slow?” Suguru suggested, moving into closing off the gap with you once again, “I don’t want you to regret a single thing with me.”

“I-I still don’t really know-“ you considered, not quite saying no directly. He wasn’t backing off even if he did drop the subject concerning your virginity, being pushy in a whole other sort of way.

“Don’t you like me too?” Sugur asked you, trying to find something that might not have been there.

“I-I do, but you know, as a frie-“

He cut you off again, not letting you finish that sentence, “Don’t say it. We’ve got something going on that’s better than just being friends.”

“W-we do?” you slurred a little.

“Can’t you feel it too?” he asked, leaning closer again.

“I mean, I don’t know, this is all too sudden for me and I don’t even know you that well,” you admitted, trying not to give into the pressure, you didn’t want to be something temporary or casual to someone you were trying to just be friends with.

“Then get to know me,” he whispered, “nobody else will appreciate you like I do.”

By then, you felt the booze hit your body a bit harder too now that it has had time to simmer; suddenly you couldn’t quite sit still, let alone agree or disagree.

He leaned into your lips without any protest on your end, despite your lacking consent to continue onwards; the smell of stale cigarettes exhaled into your mouth as he finally connected this kiss. His tongue pushing itself into your mouth, wrestling it with your own—your own muscle reluctantly following suit, despite not really knowing exactly what to do.

Your vision blurred as you barely kept up; you never did express consent nor give him the green light to continue, but every time you considered speaking up, your words would either slur or they never made it out of your mouth to begin with.

“Relax, you can keep your mouth still if it’s easier for you,” he said as he pulled back, his dark eyes intently focusing on you, “I’ll lead the way.”

Once again, he didn’t give you an opportunity to reply as he quickly resumed his pursuit of you; his mouth reconnecting with yours as his breath so hot and heavy rippled waves down your chin—his tongue flickering against the tip of your own as it fought back involuntarily, trying to move it away.

You felt as his hand then crept towards your own, grabbing onto the back of it as he slowly guided you into his trousers; straight past the waistband and slipping into an even deeper layer so that you could feel his, his—oh—were you feeling his—?

You froze as you now had a burning compulsion to pull away but your head pushed up against his face as his free hand held your skull in place—fingers weaving between interlocked strands of your hair, bringing you forward and tugging at your lips with his teeth, keeping you tethered to him.

Using the hand that held your own hostage, he moved you in so that your hand filled out with the length of his meat; your fingers wrapping around it as he then moved your hand up and down in a particular motion, encouraging you to keep up.

Maybe this was more than just taking it slow—but fuck, he was so turned on.

“Can you keep that going for me?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerously playful as he clearly was enjoying this moment.

You couldn’t vocally protest in the meantime nor shake or nod as he kept you subdued in a specific sort of state, so you kept it up either way because you were too overwhelmed to break away.

Not that he would allow for you to do so either way.

This was too good for him—he felt too good, so fucking good and he hadn’t even gone all the way yet. He wouldn’t yet. He knew now that he should savour this, to build it up.

He pulled further back from the kiss as your saliva trailed over your chin, webbing between his own—curious to see exactly how you were doing, realising that you might be struggling to keep up as someone with virtually zero experience with this sort of thing, while also wanting to get you used to this sort of state.

You continued to get into it and kept up to his requested pace along his shaft as he finally moved the hand that otherwise kept you glued to him to slip in between your legs, finally getting just a little further. He moved in smoothly, his hands brushing up the skirt and pushing past your underwear—his fingertips finally exploring the slick wetness you kept so well hidden.

To his amusement, he could see just how turned you actually were based on how soaked you were as well as the blush that formed on your face, even if your expression was a little unreadable.

In reality, you were equal parts confused and rosy red from the liquor settling in your system, keeping up but just barely.

You knew that this was wrong, that he never even asked you if this was okay to do, but you’ve also been so confused in this past couple of weeks.

You didn’t know what you were feeling.

“You’re doing so well, [name],” Suguru continued to purr into your ear, “wanna let me help you feel good too?”

“U-um,” you managed to reply, although still not using proper words.

“Trust me, I just want you to enjoy yourself,” he tried to reassure.

There it was; that confusing feeling again. You felt cornered as you considered accepting his quickly approaching advances, even given the position you were locked into. His hand rested near you, delicately parting you using his fingers—his touch was pleasant and warm and he wasn’t hurting you at all, but it still felt so terribly fucking wrong.

So, when he continued to once again move in despite not getting a verbal confirmation, he wrongfully read into your lacking say in the matter as a green light, thinking that because you weren’t screaming no or for him to stop despite your body language gesturing at something different was simply because you were shy.

Oh no, he didn’t even think to consider that you were simply too drunk to comprehend a single thing to begin with.

His fingers continued to slide into your heat, pushing over the opening and searching for something else in particular; your clit from what it felt like, focusing his efforts on there as his fingertips started to trace circles right around it.

Suguru enjoyed watching your reactions, his dark eyes finding light in your expressions and reactions—your own thighs quivering from his touch, trembling as you approached your limit.

He of course wanted to push you even further, wanting nothing more than to see you be needy and to moan his name; to beg him to let him fuck you, but he couldn’t be too greedy, at least not yet.

He’d slowly break you in, convinced that there was something about the chemistry that you both shared; feeling certain that there was absolutely something there, even if you couldn’t quite see it just yet.

So as he continued to gently swirl around your budded flesh and as your breathing quickly grew shallow; cheeks bruising cherry red, your insides coiling from his pressing touch—he too, got sent over the edge just from the sight of you alone.

At the same time though, that invading thought relented, daring him to go just a little further despite you not being ready; wanting nothing more than to taste your neck, to nip on your skin and petal behind lovebites, to push himself deep inside of you and feel just how soaked you were—but, but… he had to refrain, to hold himself back, at least for now, remembering that he didn’t want for you to regret him, so he finally pulled back from you.

His breath shuddered as you finished up on him, his face tightening as he clenched his jaw, eyelids fluttering as he started to finish, remembering to complete the same for you.

You squeezed your legs tight as you enveloped his hand, a rising need to finally seek out release; his circling motions finally coaxing out rolling pleasure as waves of warmth coursed through your body, a reaction that caused you to almost whimper breathlessly.

He pulled you closer as you finished, practically leaning into a hug against your body; his face rubbing against your own as he feverishly kissed you, his hand guiding yours as he finally got closer and closer to—but not yet, closer—to—

“Go a bit faster he breathed into your mouth, demanding release, “be a good girl for me—please, fuck.”

You listened to him as you accelerated the tempo against his dick; feeling a little more at ease from his continued flow of praise and encouragement until you felt his cock twitch, his breath hitch and finally empty himself at the mercy of your hand. Hot white ropes shooting without aim, causing a mess for you both.

He breathed in deep to recollect himself, still leaning against you before finally peeling himself away from you, allowing you to take back your hand and to find your ground again.

Guilt however then started to surface as he saw just how drunk you still were, leading him to finally seek out his own senses as he paused in his own tracks, leading you carefully to the bathroom before getting you cleaned up before returning back into bed with him.

There wasn’t a single chance in hell that you were going back home, even if he were to walk you all the way back and tucked you into bed himself.

He didn’t want a single person to be near you currently, not even Shoko and he trusted her.

So as you fell asleep beside him, your side occupying the usually vacant space against his chest, he felt a new sort of emotion plant itself and bloom, knowing that you were both in trouble if he continued to keep this up, just like that realisation many weeks ago.

Knowing fully well that he still wasn’t going to stop.

Not at all.

119 notes · View notes