#corrupted blood incident

[wickedsick]

THE PLAGUE IS BACK!!

[kris-the-kraken]

Happy 19th anniversary to the Corrupted Blood Incident from World of Warcraft!

[pyroflyer23]

NGL the Corrupted Blood plague coming back to WoW is funny to me as a somewhat regular player who didn't experience it back then.

[randomwikiarticles]

The Corrupted Blood incident (also known as the World of Warcraft pandemic[1][2]) took place between September 13 and October 8, 2005, in World of Warcraft, a massively multiplayer online role-playing game (MMORPG) developed by Blizzard Entertainment. When participating in a boss battle at the end of a raid, player characters would become infected with a debuff that was transmitted between characters in close proximity. While developers intended to keep the effects of the debuff in the boss's game region, a programming oversight soon led to an in-game pandemic throughout the fictional world of Azeroth.

World of Warcraft introduced the game region of Zul'Gurub on September 13. The boss of the region, Hakkar the Soulflayer, cast Corrupted Blood on raid participants; the debuff's effects expired when players defeated Hakkar. Corrupted Blood soon spread beyond Zul'Gurub as players reacted to the infection with panic, either fast traveling to heavily-populated game regions or deactivating their animal companions. When those companions were reactivated, they still carried the debuff, becoming disease vectors, while non-player characters became asymptomatic carriers. Player reactions to the Corrupted Blood pandemic varied: some provided aid by healing players or warning them of outbreak zones, while griefers intentionally contracted the debuff to spread it across World of Warcraft. After several failed hotfixes, Blizzard ended the pandemic by performing a hard reset, and a later patch prevented companions from contracting Corrupted Blood entirely.

Although it was the result of a software bug, the Corrupted Blood incident gained attention from World of Warcraft players and disease researchers. Blizzard developed intentional in-game pandemics in two expansion sets: Wrath of the Lich King in 2008 and Shadowlands in 2020. Epidemiologists, meanwhile, took interest in how MMORPGs, unlike mathematical models, could capture individual human responses to disease outbreaks rather than generating assumptions about behavior.

[phosphorescentspaceman]

Marionette aftermath - BOTC aftermath fic

Xephos couldn’t help his quiet, wheezing laughter. Oh gods his friends were hilarious. This game was perfect - honest to goodness. A tear beaded up in his eyes, setting off another, stronger round of giggles. That leaping possession gubbins had been a great addition to the story, he needed to write that plot-point down in case he wanted a repeat. The soft pad of leather shoes on cobblestones drew him out of his giggle fit but couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. 

“Magistrex! Friend - how was the game?” Magistrex let out a huff if laughter, shaking off the lingering aesthetics of his false death, like time rewound. It was a little bit upsetting that he was too powerful to full immerse into the game, but it was nice not to have to revive him each time. 

“Messy, Xephos, in a very fun way! I think you might have hit gold with the Fang gu idea - I’ve never seen more hysteria - and, well - you know me and my games.�� The other man’s image shivered a bit, taking on that inhuman touch he tended to hide. Xephos hadn’t bothered in who knows how long - a little twist here and there stopped anyone from noticing anyway. It was nice to breathe - he didn’t know how Magistrex dealt with it. He sent Xephos a bit of an odd sideways look before pulling this silk handerchief from his pocket. 

“Friend?” The cool silk square was pushed into his hands. 

“You’re still crying, Xephos.”

He jolted, feeling his face flush. “Goodness, how embarrassing. I apologise for the display.” Magistrex just waved him off, looking out to the guillotine and the sobbing dead surrounding it. Xephos hadn’t yet reset the playing field, too enraptured by the success of his story. He dabbled the tears from his eyes, but they just kept welling up. How peculiar.

“Ah, it's like that a bit at the start. Nothing to worry about, you’ll be right.” clapping once, before turning again to Xephos. He opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it, shaking his head with a smile. “Too early to ask about that, I feel.” Xephos didn’t know what he was talking about. It prickled a bit, the same way as his tears, as the bodies on the ground, as the moment when his friends remembered their prior lives but before he wiped their memory of the game. The same way it did when he started to wonder just when he’d been able to do all of this without his lab. 

“Another round, friend?”

“Ah yeah, I could go another. Don’t make me a bloody outsider this time, I’m sick of dying on night two because I’m too suspicious.”

“A minion then?” 

“Ah shite, fine. I’ll make it work.”

[deadpansal]

Silent Hill Ascension

[tamamita]

why do sunnis hate shi'as that much what the fuck is their problem?

Hatred towards Shi'a Muslims is not only a concurrent issue, it's a 1400 year old issue that started as a result of the political unrest that took place following the Prophet Muhammad's (pbuh&hf) death. It laid the foundation for the political schism of Islam. Initially, the Shi'as (or Alids) were just a group of partisans that would only develop their own theology a hundred years later. And then you had those who supported Abu Bakr rise to the caliphate. For Shi'as, we believe Abu Bakr usurped the caliphate due to various incidents, and thus, we rejected his ascent to power. These were the partisans of Ali (a). When Ali (a) eventually became the caliph, he was met with a lot of hardship and opposition by people who either hated him or sought political power. During the caliphate of Uthman, the Umayyads were given unrestrained power, and it was not until Ali (a) became the caliph that he removed them from power for their greed and nepotism. However, Muawiyah, a "companion" of the Prophet, who was intially opposed to him before his clan lost in the final battle of Mecca, was in control of Sham (Syria) and refused to go down, hence a renewed civil strife within the Islamic world. The Umayyads were vicious people who were renown for their corruption and hedonism, and their caliphate was founded on the blood of Imam Hussain (a), the son of Imam Ali (a). For Sunnis, these events aren't particularly important, and Islamic history is often neglected, promoting the idea that whatever happened in the past has no religious or theological significance to Islam as a religion. This is where we disagree because, as Shi'as, we simply can't accept certain religious doctrines on the basis of these people being unreliable. For example, Ayesha, having been the wife of the Prophet, is one thing, but she still waged an unjust war against Ali (a). There is no way we can accept her narrations because she's simply untrustworthy.

Because of the power that the Umayyads managed to consolidate for themselves, superseeding the Rashidun caliphate, there was a state-sponsored campaign with the purpose of supressing any Shi'i resistance against the rule, the Shi'as were among these groups and suffered severe persecution to such extent that even members of the Prophet's family were brutally oppressed. For Shi'as, the Prophet's family are a source of emulation and knowledge, and we have to adhere to their understanding of Islamic theology, this is why Islamic history is important, so we can highlight the root behind the resistance. However, dwindling in power and numbers, the Shi'as ultimately committed themselves to Taqiyyah (concealing one's religion) to ensure their survival. This is how we managed to survive for 1400 years. For Sunnis, the Umayyads and subsequent caliphs are a source of great pride, hence why Syria is considered an important heritage site for Sunnis who regard the Umayyads with great respect.

With that said, the reason there's so much sectarian animosity towards Shi'as is because with history in mind, our tradition of reviling these companions is considered an act of disbelief. Sunnis often retort that these companions are noble people and could not possibly be reviled because they had been in the companionship with the prophet, holding that despite the wars and atrocities committed by these people, we should respect them nevertheless. Either way, Shi'a Muslims have a doctrine called Tabarrah (dissociation), which is extended to those people who have caused harm towards the Prophet and his family. This includes "cursing" them, which is considered one of the most offensive acts and a reason why Sunnis get up in arms when we criticize the companions, especially the first caliph Abu Bakr and the second caliph Umar. Furthermore, our emphasis on the doctrine of intercession has caused much controversy because stricter muslims, such as Salafists consider these acts tantamous to idolatry, hence why it's easier for Shi'as to be considered heretics. The fact that we have shrines is considered blasphemous and there are many instances in which these shrines have been attacked. Shi'as are so reviled that for some Sunnis and Salafists, the difference between a Christian and a Shi'a is that Christians have rights as pertained to their status as "People of the Book", while Shi'as are considered heretics, and ultimately disbelievers. For such a reason, we do not have any rights; our blood becomes lawful to them.

In short, HTS, AS, ISIS, Al-Qaeda and all their Salafist sympathisers believe that the blood of a Shi'a is lawful because we are heretics. We are simply putting up a resistance against them. Shi'ism is not just a branch of Islam. It's one of the oldest resistance movements in the world.

[luminewhosthat]

Hey guys

I felt quite insecure and ashamed to post this,

But I don't think I can hold it back anymore.

I'm from Bangladesh, my homeland, I speak Bangla, it's my mother tongue, and I'm proud of my roots but my family immigrated to America many years ago. But I still care a lot about my country. So recently, there has been a lot going in Bangladesh. Mainly, it's because of its corrupted government. Our prime minister Sheikh Hasina is literally a dictator, if you go to twitter and search about recent news in Bangladesh, you can see that the situation is not that good. Basically, it's because we have a thing which is called "Quota" and it affects the Bangladeshi Government job sectors in a very negative way. This "Quota" is for the freedom fighters who fought in 1971 war which happened in Bangladesh. But the problem is that, even though those freedom fighters are dead, their families are welcome to enjoy the privileges which the quota provides.

Mostly, the grandchildren of these freedom fighters can use the quota to get jobs in Bangladesh's most prestigious job sectors, which has created a huge unemployment problem in Bangladesh. Also, these "so called" grandchildren are now TOTALLY CORRUPTED AND RUINING OUR COUNTRY while enjoying many privileges given by our PM and Bangladeshi students are very mad about it because normal, brilliant students with ZERO QUOTA cannot get into any prestigious job sectors no matter how hard they try!

Thousands of students have also committed sui*ide because they could not feed their poor family who are looking up to these brilliant students so that they can spin their family's poor fate.

From 13 July till now, the students of many public and private universities of Bangladesh are protesting together and risking their lives in order to remove this disgusting, vile and cruel quota system. Unfortunately, given to these current circumstances, our PM still pays no mind to these poor students who are protesting ENDLESSLY and literally DYING ON THE ROAD !!

Sheikh Hasina has labeled these brave students as RAJAKAR/TRAITORS (Collaborators who aided the enemy country Pakistan in 1971)

Our brave Bengali students, male and female, got so enraged, heartbroken by the fact that their prime minister called them traitors of the country just because they wanted the quota system removed. Following that incident, on July 15, at 1 AM, Dhaka University students, Eden Women's College students and many other University students broke down the gates of their hall at midnight and ran down to the streets to protest while chanting "Who are you? Who am I ? Rajakar, Rajakar!!"

Brave men and women who are protesting against this quota, are now being brutally attacked and mercilessly killed by the government party terrorist organization Chhatra League. The students at Dhaka University are now being attacked with stones, Bats, knifes and literally anything that can hurt a human brutally enough. Our government has turned their back on us, claiming that these students are traitors of their own country, and they are selfish because they do not want the quota system to give benefits to only the grandchildren of freedom fighters anymore.

But the reality is, these so-called grandchildren are now dominating 56% of job sectors with the help of money, nepotism and other dishonest ways while the honest student of our country stays unemployed, their talents wasted, efforts unappreciated and thus, they suffer from depression.

I'm not asking that much from my followers, but please, for the love of God, share my post as much as you can. These mass protests are not being seen enough, share and retweet as much as possible, we need to spread these horrifying actions committed by our PM to the world. Shame, shame, shame on them. Shame on our government for turning a blind eye to hundred thousand of these students. The streets of Dhaka have been drenched with the blood of our students; in order to save their lives, we need to spread this news as much as possible. My cousins from Bangladesh are absolutely frightened, their exams have been stopped, teachers are also turning their backs on these students, they have nowhere to go now. My cousin's classmate got her arm broken off by terrorist organization Chaatro League men just because she was protesting against the corrupted system.

Women are getting assaulted, acids are being thrown at these students, violence is now occurring left and right, our PM is a woman and still, she chooses to betray the students and stands still on her disgusting beliefs with the terrorist government organization Awami League supporting her crimes.

On 21 February, in 1952, thousands of students at Dhaka University protested against the West Pakistan in order to establish the language Bangla as the state language of east Pakistan. Thousands of students had died on that day, which is why we Bangladeshis celebrate 21 February as our Mother Language Day.

It seems like history is going to repeat itself yet again.

Shame, shame, shame on them!

[lushrue]

there was something angry and dark festering inside of simon. (afab!reader, nsfw, mdni)

he noticed it for the first time when he went out with the rest of his team to the pub after a particularly difficult mission. everyone had their own way of coping with stress. price had his cigars, puffing away and coating his lungs with tar. gaz had alcohol, bourbon and tequila burning away in his stomach to soothe the cold grip of disappointment in himself. and johnny? johnny had women. birds of all different types, sizes, occupations. simon was convinced he didn’t even look at who it was he was snogging in the corner of the bar. as long as she was warm and willing, he was on her.

that’s when he felt it, watching johnny suck at some poor girl’s face like she held the nectar of the gods between her lips. simon had never paid much mind to getting a woman of his own. with his family life, he’d found it hard to put stock in anything akin to a committed relationship. too many things could go wrong. after all, as he reminded himself every time he came close to a woman, he had anger baked into his DNA. the desire to sink his claws into something and rip it apart until he was bloody was too tempting. he’d ruin whatever he touched, so why bother?

still, as much as he tried to deny it, he was a mere mortal. flesh and blood, hormones and urges. testosterone flooded through him the same as any other man. the sight of his sergeant indulging himself made the beast within him rear its ugly head. it was like a devil on his shoulder, whispering to him that he could have that too. he could dig his fingers into the soft plush of a woman, feel her curves and let her gentle caresses soothe the storm that never seemed to let up. ever detached, he weighed the consequences against the reward. sure, he could satisfy this hungry thing that ate at him every time johnny spoke of a new conquest. but it would mean corruption for whatever poor thing his eye landed on. he couldn’t do that to someone he knew, someone he’d have to face again.

a few nights after the incident at the bar, simon got a card for an escort company from price. “in case y’need it,” he’d said. unbeknownst to simon, his captain had noticed, seen the hunger that was building steadily in him. he remembered that same hunger building in him as a young man. lust for blood and lust for flesh was hard to distinguish in the civilian world. besides, he couldn’t have his best lieutenant unfocused. simon held onto it for a couple days, flipping it around in his fingers between rounds of paperwork. each time he skimmed over the phone number in pretty cursive writing, the beast inside him clawed at his bones, begging to be noticed. when he finally worked up the courage to dial the number, he hung up the moment someone answered the phone. it was too much, too fast. especially when he could just give himself the pleasure he was craving. so he set the phone down, grabbed his headphones, and opened his laptop.

moans and gasps echoed in his ears, a manufactured sex scene playing out on the screen in front of him. he’d barely paid attention to the setup; something about a pizza delivery guy and not having money, one of those cliches. his hand wrapped around his aching cock, thumbing at the tip as he watched the woman’s face. her expression was one of false bliss, played up for the camera and the enjoyment of spectators. simon could see right through it. he gritted his teeth, his calloused hand dragging painfully against the sensitive and dry skin. he tried to squeeze himself, milk any bit of moisture or pleasure out, but nothing came. it wasn’t the same, his hand no substitute for the sweet warmth of a woman wrapped around him.

after a few minutes of tugging at himself painfully, he slammed the laptop shut, tucking himself back into his cargos. this wouldn’t do, not at all. it didn’t feel the same anymore. the beast within growled, demanding sustenance. simon cursed under his breath and picked up the phone, dialing the escort company again. this time, he wouldn’t lose his nerve. he’d faced much scarier things than a phone call; he just had to remind himself of that. a woman who sounded like she smoked several packs a day answered the phone, rasping the name of the company and asking what she could do for him.

it was simpler than he imagined to book an escort. set a date and time, agree on a neutral location, put his list of boundaries on file, and sign a few forms to send back. easy enough. he was silent about his “date” to his teammates, not wanting the questions to flood in. this wasn’t a woman he was planning on keeping. hell, he figured she wouldn’t want to be kept anyway. all the better for him and the thing festering inside.

as much as he tried to deny it, nerves were building as the day of his appointment approached. it was one thing to see it done on a screen, it was another to make his body cooperate. simon had never experienced performance anxiety. if someone didn’t like his skills, fuck ‘em. his talent spoke for itself, the kill count in his file more than impressive. but this wasn’t killing. this wasn’t a battle, this involved no bloodshed. this was tender, intimate, gentle. this was letting someone see his soft underbelly, exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself and handing them over on a silver platter. he fought it down, swallowing it and forcing it back into the dark recesses of his mind to be dealt with later.

he showed up to the hotel, hoodie pulled up over his head and balaclava obscuring his face. this may be someone he’d never see again, but he wouldn’t take the risk. not when just seeing his face could damn someone to fates unimaginable. he stepped up to the front desk, muttering his last name and the room number they’d told him to request. he hated the way the girl behind the computer screen gave him a knowing smile as she handed over the key. strangers didn’t need to know his business, especially when it involved things as sensitive as this. he brushed it off with a gruff “thanks” and drug himself up the stairs towards the second floor.

he pulled out his phone to check the time, jaw clenching as he stared at the clock. he’d sat too long in the car trying to work up the courage to get out, and now it was his scheduled appointment time. he’d planned to give himself at least a few minutes to stand in front of the door and decide if he really wanted to go through with this. it was an out, a chance to tuck tail and run before anyone got hurt. he’d paid in advance anyways, so who would it hurt if he backed out now? himself. he’d just be hurting himself. two sharp raps on the door and a sweet voice called for him to come in.

that’s when he saw you, all dressed in his favorite color. a tight crushed velvet dress, heels sharp enough to kill a man, hair framing your face just so. the beast roared, clawing at his chest and begging to break free. it thumped at his ribcage, the bones prison bars containing the darkest parts of himself. he rubbed at his chest to soothe it, swallowing thickly as he shut the door behind him. you smiled, lips stretching to a thin red line over your teeth. “mr. riley?” you asked, pushing yourself off the mattress and standing to face him. “simon,” he muttered gruffly, feet planted firmly in front of the door. he was frozen, an utterly unfamiliar feeling to him. his next steps were always carefully planned. if he didn’t know exactly where he was going, someone who spoke in his earpiece did. this was all him, though. he was fully in control of his actions and it made him viscerally uncomfortable. no one to blame but himself.

“simon, then,” you say, taking a few steps closer to him. he tried to step back to keep the distance, but the door behind him stopped him in his tracks. nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. you looked so clueless, he thought, so oblivious to the fact that you were locked in a lion’s den. you stopped your advance, giving him a wide berth. he wasn’t the first man you’d booked that almost looked afraid of you. most of the time, the men you serviced were too shy or too awkward to find a woman to give them the time of day. “you can call me crystal.” not your real name, obviously. you were too cognizant of your safety for that.

“crystal,” he repeated slowly, trying the weight of it on his tongue. simon would’ve almost preferred not to put a name to your face at all. it would only make him more guilty for tainting you with his bloody hands. “you know the rules?” you asked, a bit more business than pleasure. he nodded curtly. they’d made him sign contracts and waivers, agreeing that he wouldn’t cause any bodily harm to whatever poor bird was assigned to him for an hour. he was legally bound to treat her nice, he reminded the beast. not very many pretty girls in prison. “good,” you reply, staying planted where you were until he made to move. “we can get started whenever you want. clock’s ticking, y’know.”

simon hesitated, taking in every inch of you that he could see. he tried to tell himself that it was threat assessment, an ingrained skill that everyone he met was subjected to. still, he couldn’t shake the sense that he wasn’t looking at you as a soldier. he was looking at you as a man. he was thinking about sinking his teeth into those supple curves, jowls dripping red. he wanted to dig his claws into the plush of your breasts, find the heart beating underneath all of it and take it for his own. mouth dry, he stepped forward, inching the smallest bit closer to you. you take it as an invitation and match his pace. you were close enough to touch now, dilated eyes looking up at him. prey, meat to be devoured.

slowly, simon reaches out, letting his bare hands brush against the skin of your arm. you shiver at the light touch. heavy petting was what you were used to, hands that sought to dominate you and bend you until you strained with the pressure. this felt exploratory, like he was testing the waters. he held his breath as his palms stroked over your elbows and forearms. if he looked too closely, he could see the blood from his hands staining your soft, pretty skin. this is why we couldn’t do what johnny did, he told the beast. trails of blood follow wherever we go.

“never done this before, huh?” you ask, keeping your tone even and light. no judgement, no pressure. simon grunted in reply, too mesmerized by the way your dress clung to your body. he could see the contours of you, the malleable skin across your stomach and the fat that clung to your hips. of course he’d never done this before. if he had, he wouldn’t be staring at you like a work of art and a piece of meat all at once. your hand snakes up, grabbing his and pulling it away from your arm. he tenses at your touch. he’s not exactly sure what he expected, but you touching him caught him off guard. your fingers close around his and you pull him towards the bed in the center of the room. it wasn’t the nicest; the sheets definitely needed a good deep clean and the mattress was likely stained with all manner of unmentionable things. but people didn’t do things like this in five star hotels.

you sat down on the bed and kicked your heels off, pulling your feet up and resting your weight on one hand. simon watched it all, eyes fixed on your every move. his hands flexed at his sides, aching to reach out and grab you. the beast was roaring for things to move faster, but simon tamed him. he didn’t want this to be over so quickly. the strap of your dress slipped off your shoulder, exposing more bare flesh to him. saliva pooled in his mouth, transfixed by the sight of you. he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d seen clean skin in person, unmarked by scars or tattoos. the mirror gave him no reprieve from it, reminders of all the battles he’d won written across his skin.

“take it off,” he muttered, not even looking at your face. you tried not to feel slighted by it. some part of you had almost expected him to be different by how nervous he had seemed walking in. but there were some things that never changed, you supposed. you reached back and undid the zipper on your dress, adjusting yourself on the bed so that you could slip it off. you hadn’t worn a bra, just underwear and a very skimpy pair at that. simon’s eyes trailed your hands as they peeled the dress off, then snapped up to admire your body. it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined it’d be. all supple skin and soft curves, the occasional stretch mark here and there. signs that you were human, that you were a real, tangible thing that he could claim for the night.

he wasted no time putting his hands on you, standing over you and squishing you in his hands. he squeezed and prodded, testing what areas made your breath hitch. you felt like a science experiment, observed and appreciated but not admired. you existed because he willed it and for no other reason. finally, after squeezing every inch of skin he could grab at, he looked at your face. not once had he touched anything above your neck. his gaze roamed over you, his thoughts taken over by the beast. he recalled all of the faces he’d seen play out on his laptop screen, imagined what you might look like with those blissful expressions. could he really make you do that?

as he took a seat on the mattress beside you, his hands drifted up to your breasts, pressing at your nipples with his calloused thumbs. that earned him a gasp, your lips parted deliciously. when he brought his pointer fingers up to pinch, that got him a whine. the blood rushed to your cheeks, simon’s cock stiffening at the sight. your heart was beating, blood was pumping. he could feel it under his hand. even with your profession, he perceived you as a saint. the crimson in your veins wasn’t tainted like his was, spilled at the hands of dogs hungry for power and control. no, you were pure. poor thing, you didn’t even realize that he would corrupt you from the inside out.

he pulled at the hardened buds on your breasts, the slight sting of pain making you hiss. “gentle, simon,” you chided, putting a hand on his wrist. with great effort, his touches eased up. his hands roamed downwards, pupils blacking out the color of his eyes as he stared at you. his full attention was on your face now, watching your reactions to each touch and stroke. it wasn’t until he got between your legs that he found what he was looking for. it was a familiar expression on your face as his finger dragged up and down the folds of your pussy through your underwear. mouth slack and hanging open, eyes closed in bliss, head thrown back. he could feel your moisture soaking through the fabric. this time, though, it hit him differently.

this wasn’t manufactured, and he wasn’t detached from it. he was making this happen. he caused those little whimpers to fall from your lips, he caused your eyes to screw shut when he pressed his palm against your heat. it made the beast grumble in satisfaction, belly aching for a good meal. he clumsily pulled your underwear to the side, trying to find the sweet spot that would make you melt. he’d heard it spoken about, that it was notoriously hard to find, but he was sure he could do it. his thick fingers prodded around, pressing and stroking while watching your reactions. that was when you realized it; he was a virgin.

the nervousness, the impersonality, it all made sense now. he really hadn’t done this before, not at all. you gently grab his wrist, dragging it up towards the top of your folds and positioning his middle finger over your clit. “i think you’re looking for this,” you say, cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink under the blush and foundation you wore. he looked down at his hand, as if committing the placement of it to memory, before stroking his finger over the damp skin. you shivered, pleasure easing over you. that seemed to spur him on, his pace speeding up and becoming rougher. the pressure was almost painful and you shook your head, reaching down to hold his wrist again.

“here, let me help you.” you drag his finger over your clit, moving it in small, slow circles. at first, simon had been frustrated with you stopping him. he wanted to drink in your bliss, roll around in the pride of causing you pleasure. but then he saw the way your face twisted, and he couldn’t be angry anymore. you were helping, making sure this happened with you instead of to you. the beast couldn’t get to you like this, and the thought of that soothed him.

he continued his motions, his focus switching between your face and the arousal seeping out of you. your noises were music to his ears, moans and breathy whines that had his cock twitching in his pants. he was fully hard now, tip leaking just at the sounds you were making. porn had nothing on this. nothing could compare to bringing those noises about by his own hand. his digits slipped down to your dripping slit, running his finger through your folds and gathering some of the wetness on his finger. he held it up to his face, studying it almost, before slipping the finger under the mask and into his mouth.

you were salty, just as he expected. but there was a sweetness under it, something uniquely you. he could drink it in forever and never be sated. the balaclava he wore suddenly felt constricting, like it was in the way of his pleasure. he wanted to dip down between your legs and drink you up until the well ran dry. grabbing the fabric under his chin, he rolled it up over his nose and laid flat on his stomach. his head positioned between your thighs, he looked up at you with feral eyes. he was begging wordlessly, his gaze conveying what his words couldn’t. i need this, i’m starved, let me taste the nectar of the gods if only for a moment. with a nod of your head, he dove in.

his tongue was uncoordinated, lapping at your pussy like a dog. still, the broad strokes and pressure against your folds felt nice and you gave him a moan as a reward. the saccharine taste of you coated his lips and chin, almost in tears whenever he let a drop fall to the sheets. it wasn’t to be wasted, liquid gold that he had the sole pleasure of enjoying in this moment. he suddenly understood the allure of keeping something like this caged up in a two story house with a white picket fence.

your gaze drifted to his head between your legs, watching the way his eyes screwed shut with the simple privilege of tasting you. you idly wondered if he’d ever even tasted a woman. all signs pointed to no as his tongue prodded at your entrance, testing the waters and waiting for some indication that this was the right thing to do. a gasp rises from your throat as the tip of his tongue slips into you. it was thick and rough, stretching your walls just enough to make you keen. your hips jerk towards his mouth and he takes it as an invitation.

the beast purrs, a rumble in his chest that vibrates against your sensitive skin. it finally got to feed, to devour, to consume. simon’s fingers grip your thighs tightly, tips digging into the soft flesh and turning you a pretty shade of purple. the pain didn’t even register as heat shot up your core and straight to your head. you let yourself fall back against the mattress, chest heaving as his tongue plunged in and out of you at a brutal pace. he didn’t know what he was doing, that much was certain. there was no artful flicking of the muscle, no eye contact to make you feel special. this was pure instinct, messy and animalistic.

simon wouldn’t be sated until he had gathered up every last drop on his tongue, but the flesh was weaker than the spirit. his jaw ached and the way you were shrinking away from his touch made him think you were growing tired of it too. he knew the pain all too well, the blisters he’d given himself on his sensitive shaft from tugging at himself too long. no matter how long he would stroke and pull, the beast still roared. now, it was deliciously quiet.

he pulled his mouth away from your glistening pussy, grunting with satisfaction at the way your skin glowed with his spit and your juices. he wondered how lovely his cock would look all shined up by your mouth, but he wouldn’t do that to you. it would be enough to corrupt your cunt, all pliant and ready for him. your precious mouth could be spared.

simon unzipped his jeans and pulled himself out, pumping his length in his thick hand like he’d seen the men on the computer do. he almost wished he’d talked to johnny before all this, asked a real person to tell him how to do this. maybe it was exactly like the scenes he watched in the dark of his room, or maybe it was completely different. not knowing made him hesitate, hand tightening around himself at the base. you lean forward and suddenly your soft hands are on him, emptying his head. “we’ll go slow,” you coo, stroking over the pulse point on his wrist. 

you lay back against the pillows, spreading yourself out for him. his eyes rake over every inch, his cock painfully hard and twitching at the sight. heat builds under his skin, sweat pricking at the back of his neck, but he can’t bring himself to get undressed. it was enough that he was pawing at you, letting himself be vulnerable and giving as much as he took. revealing scars, tattoos, things that had meaning so deep it was etched into his soul, that was just too much. you reach down and part your lips with your fingers, letting him see your arousal. a string of slick and spit stuck to your fingers, glistening in the warm light of the motel room.

simon’s chest heaved, his hand caressing himself without conscious thought. all he knew was that you were pretty, beautiful even. a bead of precum drips from his slit and he groans at the delicious moisture it provides. touching himself rarely felt this good anymore. you smile, reaching over into the nightstand and pulling out a condom. you tore open the package and looked at simon, asking silently for consent. when he nodded, you rolled it over his length, taking your time to stroke over the skin. the beast rumbled in disappointment at the latex separating skin from the warmth of you, but simon rubbed at his chest to soothe it.

you lean back once more, spreading your legs and planting your feet on the mattress. “whenever you’re ready.” simon leans forward to meet you, planting his hands on either side of your body. he bucked his hips, the thick tip sliding through your folds and gathering up your wetness. you moan and he answers it with a pleased rumble of his own. each press of him against your clit makes you keen. for once, you don’t play up your pleasure. it’s for his benefit, you tell yourself, so that he knows what feels nice to a woman and what doesn’t. it helps that despite his nervous movements, his fingers are incredibly precise once they know where to go. his cock is no different. “use your hand to guide it in, it helps.”

simon nods and follows your instruction. it’s like taking orders, and that’s something familiar. he prods at your hole, watching the way your eyes flutter shut at the pressure. it feels good for you too and that spurs him forward. he sinks into you, going slowly and letting himself enjoy each delicious inch. you’re warm and wet around him, hugging him so nicely. the sound you let out when he bottoms out in you makes him twitch, his whole body shuddering. he’s embarrassingly close to orgasm already, his core tightening as he tries to hold himself back.

as much as you want him to pound into you, to make you see stars and forget your own name, this isn’t about you. all your focus is on him, his pleasure, his enjoyment. you reach up and cup his cheeks, still half obscured by fabric. “let go,” you whisper, your thumbs stroking over his face. tears prick at the back of his eyes and shame bubbles up. his breath shudders, eyes glazed over with unshed tears and pure lust as he meets your gaze. “it’s alright, simon. let yourself feel good. you’ve earned it.” 

letting go was scary, and he hesitated, the thickness of him sitting heavily inside you. it was almost uncomfortable, so you rock your hips to get some friction. he hisses, the muscles in his neck tightening. his head shakes frantically. he can’t hold it back anymore; you’re too warm, too soft, too gentle. he has to corrupt, to paint you red with the blood he sees staining his hands in his nightmares. it’s in his blood, he tells himself. a primal urge, he can’t help it. his hands roam your body, squeezing and scratching and pulling as his hips begin to move just as quickly as his head.

words of warning start to form on your tongue, but before you can say anything, his hips are stuttering, muscles twitching with his release. your ears were ringing from the sudden intensity, but you saw the words “i’m sorry” form on his lips. you weren’t sure what had happened to him to fill him with so much self-hatred, but you pitied him all the same. he pulled away from you, peeling the condom from his length and tossing it in the trash bin. his hands flex as he stands from the bed, tucking himself back in his trousers.

simon hadn’t known peace like this in a while. his head was quiet, the beast wasn’t thumping at his chest anymore. he felt like a man, an imperfect human, rather than a monster. when he looked down at his hands, they looked like anyone else’s. he didn’t see red, didn’t feel the warm stickiness of blood that always seemed to be there. you’d cleansed him, and he wasn’t quite sure how you’d done it. he looked at you for a moment as if to speak, then pulled the balaclava back over his face. “thanks,” he muttered gruffly, rubbing at his chest to commit the lightness to memory. then he was gone as quickly as he’d come. just like a ghost.

you’d tried to call after him, tell him that he still had time left if he wanted it. he didn’t seem to hear you. you noted the clock, though, counting the minutes he still had left. and the next time he called, you blocked your calendar with the extra time. the two of you had plenty left to explore.

[atyourmerci]

† Corruption †

Read pt.1 here

†

Summary: After that fateful night when Abby stumbled into your room and began her demise, she follows you into the showers to reconcile her sins

Warnings: smut, MDNI, switch!abby!?!?, switch!reader, heavy religion play indisone, fnv, cunnilingus, dirty talk yurrrr, no use of y/n

A/N: sorry this took 4ever I just really wanted to get this right and I still don’t love it but I must feed my babies. I mightttttt make a pt.3 that’s up to yall but either way I’m going to work on some other stuff so please send in recs!! (Also I know hotels don’t have communal showers just shut up and enjoy the porn:))) 

†

Your vision went blurry, plunging you into a coma that kept your breathing synchronized until you couldn’t remember anymore. Maybe all the heavy breathing took you out, maybe God was retaliating at your corruption of his loyal follower. Either way- it was a good way to go out.

When you woke up, severely late at that, there was no sight of Abby, she was gone like the wind. In any normal case, that was what you preferred. The useless banter, awkward cuddling and sentiments were far beyond you. But this felt different- she- was different. Not in a way that you couldn’t have her, an unforbidden love tragedy, but in a way that she altered every being in you. She fucked everything you knew.

Days went by with no interaction; you both avoided each other like the plague. She probably condemned herself the moment she left; fuck she was already in suit of redemption mid orgasm. You avoided her because you knew you couldn’t stop yourself. This wasn’t her way of life- it was yours. Sure, she initiated it, but you reveled in it, got off on it, desired more.

Your thoughts were selfish, self-indulgent, downright merciless. While your days were spent avoiding your unrequited love, your nights had grown breathless as your hand was shoved deep into your panties trying to get yourself off to thoughts of Abby, to no avail. It felt like your karma for fucking God’s favorite devotee. You wished she would hear your aimless attempt, swoop in and return your favor. But she never did, of course she didn’t, she feared her own fucking reflection.

After a week of thoughtless days and sleepless nights you decided to shove the night as far back as possible, stop ruminating on the idea of her. That’s all that night was, a desperate idea of what she could be without moral. That wasn’t the Abby anyone knew, and neither did she.

Friday was terrible, there was an attack at the camp and a few soldiers were pretty bad off. Since you were the only medic, you were tasked with treating multiple injuries at once, scaling them at the urgency of attention. In a sick way, you hoped Abby was hurt. You wished you could have tended to her, even in that light, any way you could get your hands on her.

The only sight of Abby was her bringing in wounded soldiers’ bridal style into your med tent. When she first arrived, it was the first words either of you had spoken in a week, only for her to bark at you about the incident and return with additional members. After she had carried all of them in, she stood and watched you tend to them for a second before you aggressively whipped back to her with a, “I got it, stop breathing down my neck.”

You weren’t trying to be harsh with her, but the last thing you needed was her presence in the wake of this monstrosity. She had already clouded your every thought, and this was not the time to finally have her at the tips of your fingers again.

After hours of stitching, compacting, and amputating wounds you were spent. Blood trailed up and down your body, caked in sweat and dirt. You were barely mobile at this point, but the thought of going to bed decorated with the blood of your friends was unnerving.

You set off to the communal showers in the middle of the rundown hotel, it was so late at this point that you were guaranteed a peaceful shower uninterrupted by any needy suitors. You removed your blood adorned clothes, dropping them to the cold white tiled floor and started the rusty shower head.

The hot water drowns your skin as blood and dirt trail down your body into the drain, you let it soak in your tired flesh as you let the day out of you. You let your fingers run through your tangled hair when you hear a creak of the door open, causing a heavy sigh to linger out of your breath.

The last thing you wanted to do was having to entertain the presence of someone else so you decided to ignore the rustling, continuing to wash through your dirty locks.

Your peace was faltered as you left a breath coming from behind your neck, heavy in almost a pant. You feel strong hands whip you around to face your attacker, and shoved into the cold back tile of the wall sending you into a gasp. Abby stood before you, already stripped of her clothing, the water fell in between your bodies and into your open mouths.

Her hands still gripped at your waist, “touch me and don’t make a fucking sound,” she aggressively whispers low enough so no one could hear, as if it wasn’t the middle of the night, or that the water wouldn’t muffle out any noise, maybe she was that scared of being caught.

“Abby if you think this-“you begin to protest when she cuts you off by pulling you in by your waist to kiss you like a woman starved. It had only been a few days, but she gripped onto you like it had been years, years since she let herself go out of morality. You wanted to stop yourself, tell her you wouldn’t live this lie for her, but your body had a different agenda, it ached for her touch, anything she would give you.

She pulls away from you to simple mutter out a “please,” and you were convinced. It was like a parasite had wormed its way into you, you had gotten just as starved as she was. Without a beat you sunk to your knees as the water flooded your vision, the only sight was her sticky floods pooling between her muscley thighs. You attacked her pussy with your lips spewing a guttural moan out of her lips, she gripped onto your soaked hair for leverage. Her grip on your hair was almost painful but you couldn’t stop lapping her slick into your needy tongue to stop her.

Abby was already shaking from the overstimulation, you couldn’t pace yourself, you needed her to cum for your own validation, to know how much she needed you. Even if she never touched you, you were still fulfilled by the act. “F- fingers pl-ease” she says muffled by the water drenching you. You turn up to watch her plead tongue still deep into her slit, mascara running down your face as the water pelleted your eyes.

“D-ont look at me like th- this,” her mouth agape, she looked like she was crying, maybe she was, maybe it was the hot steam. You run a fat strip from her leaky hole up to her clit never leaving her gaze, she couldn’t look away and neither would you. “What are you going to do if I don’t Anderson?” You say with a cocky smirk and drive your tongue deep into her cunt again making her shake.

With an angered grunt you feel your hair being pulled up so that you’re back to your feet, you let out a wince from the pain before she throws you back onto the tiles, this time you had been too worked up to feel the chill of them on your skin. She places her left hand onto the titles next to your head, the veins in her arms bulging from using them to pull all of your body weight by your hair.

Her chest is flesh with yours that you can feel your bodies breath’s heave back and forth, eyes drilling into each other. “Fingers.” She demands. You didn’t realize you were so in shock by her aggression your hands were pinned at your sides, you moved them down her chest slowly, feeling every chiseled-out crevasse on her. Her breath only becomes more rapid as you draw your fingers closer to her aching cunt.

She whimpers out a “fuck,” as your fingers reattach to her clit, rubbing slow enough to relieve the pain but not enough to get her off. You watch as her head finally drops, and her arm shakes next to your head. Her cross was laid messily on her chest, flipped backwards, you hold back laughter as you think to yourself how God couldn’t watch this right now.

“You like getting fucked by a girl huh Anderson?” You dip your head closer so that you’re in her ear now, “you touch your little pussy every night since I made you cum, yeah?” You taunt and tease her as she whimpers into your ear. “St-op it,” she begs with her head nuzzled into the crook of your neck in a way to almost hide herself.

“Its okay baby, tell me how much you like getting fucked like a godless whore,” you start to circle her clit harder and faster so you can watch how much she likes it. All she can spit out in return is a desperate “fuckkkk,” and you know you’ve broken her. “D- don’t let me cum- I- I don’t deserve it,” she moves her head so you can see her now and begins panting on your lips.

“oh no Im going to enjoy watching you break again,” you say back with a wide grin, reveling in her desperation. You’re ready to dip your fingers into her dripping folds when you feel her free hand travel up your thigh. Her hand finally meets your cunt and she grips it harshly causing you to buck your hips into it.

“A- abby what are you d-doing?” Every emotion hitting you like a ton of bricks. Why was she touching you? This wasn’t her thing, not her job, that was your job. Would you be able to stop her? Control yourself? Let her have you? Why did she feel so fucking good when she was barely touching you?

She continues pulsing her palm into your aching cunt, “just let me try,” she breathes out against your soaked lips. Your fingers begin faltering at her clit, you try continuing your pace but it slows as her palm rubs against you.

She follows your lead by tracing her thick fingers through your slick folds, you bite down on your bottom lip to hold back from exposing yourself. When she begins circling your clit you can’t help but to whimper a choked out, “fuck just like that,” she was doing so well already.

She seemed pleased by her work, letting out a moan that followed your own. She was getting off on your pleasure instead of her own at this point.

You are barely able to keep your pace on her clit anymore, so engulfed by the feeling of her rough fingers on your swollen clit. She removes her fingers from your clit to move your hand off of her own clit, moving it so your palm lay against her chest.

She returns her fingers back so that only you are being pleased by her. You couldn’t believe that this was the first time she had done it, she felt like she was made to touch you, circling your bud like it would bring her to salvation.

Words were barely at the forefront of your mind at this point but you needed to ask her, “di- did you do all of- fuckkkk- ju- just to fuck me?”

She pierces her bright blue eyes into yours to make herself clear, “I worship you,” she says as she dips her long, thick ring and middle fingers deep into your cunt, immediately inching your g spot. The palm of her hand grazing your clit to give just enough friction.

All you can muster up to respond with is a guttural scream that rips through you, causing to use the hand that was placed on the wall to cover your mouth quickly. “Shhhh pretty girl I know I know,” she coos.

You bring her fingers into your mouth for leverage, anything to keep you from losing all control. Her pace quickens as she feels your walls clenching around her dripping fingers. How the fuck does she know you’re close.

As you begin nearing your climax, your mind runs free from all morality, she begin corrupting you just the same, driving out what you knew and replacing it with only her.

You didn’t even know you were doing it, not until she moved her fingers out of your mouth to understand you, “abbyabbyabbyabbyabby” with your eyes rolled, head slack on the tiles you begin worshiping her, praising her ever being like a mantra.

What brought you back to consciousness was the heavy breath and the ringing of your own name in a mantra beside your ear. You had never repented before, but she had begun her reconciliation along with you. If this were to be your religion, you’d give into her over and over again. At your knees to serve her, punished at your wrong doings and give penance for your sins.

“Serve me with your completion, give your god what she deserves,” she demands. You couldn’t disobey your savior, she showed your needy body mercy, and you must obey her.

It all hits you like a wave, all you can see is white as your body trembles under her. You can’t recall screaming but she moves her hand over your mouth. Your entire body shakes as she rides you over your high, kissing your forehead as you bite into her fingers, never letting up on her pace until she knows you can’t take it anymore.

As all of your limbs give out she slowly moves her fingers out of your abused pussy, picking you up before you fall straight into the hard tiles. She gently places you onto the tiles in front of her, holding you by your waist as the water floods from above you.

You try to mumble out something but she stops you with a quick “shhh I’m going to take care of you,” as she begins to wash out your hair gently. You lean your head into the crook of her neck and she lays peppered kisses from your shoulder to your neck.

“Please don’t run off again…” you muster up as she threads her fingers through your hair, “you’re all I know.”

“You’re all I have.”

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson2

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch16

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, so much goddamn smut like I need help, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation

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"Fangs that secrete enough venom to paralyze whomever I bite, could be useful but also disgusting to get close to others. Hm, no change to body from producing said venom. Fascinating."

It had been two days since the incident. Miguel had reassured you that he was fine, but then proceeded to lock himself in his own lab to run tests on himself.

"Talons on both hands and feet, allowing me to climb walls. Not the exact same way as (Y/N), this is far more violent since my talons could be used as weapons."

Miguel slashed against his desk.

"Wood nor metal can stop me. Not to mention, physical body mass has increased. Height increased, muscles strengthen and-"

Miguel stopped as he looked down. Withholding a chuckle, he returned to typing down his findings. Miguel stood in front of a mirror, taking in his now stronger appearance. He could lift over ten tons his weight, much like you.

"Side effect, eyes have become a red color and are sensitive to light. Senses have also increased, allowing me to hear, feel and even sense what others are thinking. Needs to be trained and nourished more to use in field."

"Miguel? Can I come in, please?" You asked, knocking against his door. Miguel threw on his lab coat, hiding his information,

"Yes,"

Planting himself on his seat, Miguel watched as you entered his lab. That bright smile on your face as you saw him. Miguel covered his mouth, smirking towards your blush towards his chest. Hopefully you won't tempt him too much.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've been cooped up in here for two days. I brought you some food," You said, holding up your cute little lunch bag, "I can put it aside if your not-"

"I'll eat it. I skipped breakfast," Miguel motioned you over.

He watched as you skipped over, opening your bag. He hid his smirk as you stared at his broken desk before continuing to get the lunch out. As you did, Miguel tensed as a new and strange scent caught his nose.

"(Y/N), are you wearing a new perfume?" Miguel asked. You tilted your head,

"No? Do I smell?"

"No, no," Miguel furrowed his brows finding the scent sweet, "Why don't you feed me? I'm starved."

Miguel resisted a groan as you took your place on his lap. The scent was getting stronger as you fed him. Miguel couldn't even focus on the food. Staring into your eyes, Miguel felt something almost primal in him act up.

"(Y/N), come to my place tonight."

"Okay," You agreed so easily.

It was difficult, but Miguel held back and behaved himself. He couldn't help but feel around your waist, needing to touch you. This had to be his Spider instincts kicking in. It had to be, what other reason would Miguel have the strong urge to fuck you?

"Miguel, you sure you're okay? I worry,"

"I'm fine. Just come to my place tonight and wear something that will excite me."

Leaving you with a peck, Miguel returned to his studies of himself. Now that he was a superior human like you, he could begin his plans for domination. To begin his plans to expand his rule of superior humans.

"Now, to test my stamina."

----------

You were on cloud nine. Was tonight finally going to be the night? Miguel just told you to wear something that would excite him! The amount of sexy new panties you had were going to finally be put to use!

Nearly squealing in joy, you hurried to your office to finalize some work before heading home. As you made your way to your office, you stopped in front of Aaron's shrine that some of the workers put together.

It was a shame. Aaron seemed like such a nice guy. To think that he was the one who caused the explosion and almost hurt Miguel. Miguel had told you everything about the incident so that you wouldn't worry.

At least Miguel was safe and sound.

Shaking the thought away, you hurried to finish you work. All that mattered was that Miguel was okay. Although, you were worried since he locked himself inside his lab. You wondered what he found that had him cooped up in there.

Recalling his strange behavior recently, you tried to think if anything in the explosion could have affected him. It sucked since you weren't as smart as half of the people in this building.

"I wonder...if I should wear perfume?"

---------

Miguel sat on his couch, waiting for you to arrive. He had done all the testing he needed in order to know that it was time. Miguel was going to make sure you didn't leave his apartment until you were pregnant. He didn't care how many hours it would take.

You belonged to him.

Catching that familiar scent in the air, Miguel stood and hurriedly opened his door. There you were, standing there with a shy look on your face; your scent oh so sweet. The dress you had on was tight, exposing your breasts ever so slightly.

"I'm not taking you to dinner," Miguel told you as he pulled you inside, "But good job on listening to me."

"O-Of course," You nearly stuttered as you fell against his chest, "Um, Miguel...have you been working out?"

Ah, so you finally noticed. Miguel just smiled as he grabbed your hand, gently biting your fingers. You scent getting stronger, causing Miguel to act more rashly. Thoughts of breeding you began to cloud his judgement.

"(Y/N), you'll do anything for me...right?"

"Yes,"

"Good girl,"

---------

You weren't sure what was coming over Miguel. He was acting a little strange, but it wasn't like you were going to question him. Miguel's hands were all over you as he brought you to his couch. You couldn't help but grow excited as you thought of what was to come.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as Miguel kissed you. His hands were firmly on your waist. Each kiss grew more and more aggressive and hungry. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, exploring everywhere as he pinned you to the couch.

"Irresistibly sweet." Miguel groaned, his hands stroking up your thighs, "Unable...to think straight."

"Mhm, Miguel?" You muttered between kisses.

You gasped as Miguel picked you up and carried you to his room. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, feeling your panties get damp. This was escalating to an exciting point. Once in the room, you yelped as Miguel threw you on the bed.

"I don't care if you cry, I'm not stopping."

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. If your pussy could talk, it would be swoon right now. You took off your dress as Miguel removed his shirt. Sitting before Miguel in your underwear and bra, you were waiting for his orders.

"I've had you wait long enough. Lay down and spread."

You bit your lower lip and did what Miguel said. You were a little embarrassed since you knew your panties were soaked. You gasped as Miguel hovered over you, kissing you again as he took off your remaining clothes.

You arched your back, moaning into the kiss as Miguel started to rub your clit. His pace grew faster the wetter you got. Your body was getting hot and needy. Miguel's mouth was all over your neck, sucking and biting, leaving as many marks as he could.

"Hah~ Ah, M-Miguel~" You cried out, trembling in pleasure.

"Who do you belong too?"

"Ah~ Ah~ Y-You, You, Miguel!" You whimpered.

Miguel's fingers had dipped into your cunt, pumping inside of you at a fast pace. Tears had started to form, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst. Right when you felt yourself about to cum, Miguel removed his fingers.

"M-Miggy! P-Please!" You begged.

You whimpered as you watched Miguel lick his fingers for the first time. His pupils were dilated and filled with lust. This was a first and new look. Miguel grunted as he took his pants off, revealing his dick, which seemed bigger than before.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

Miguel grabbed your legs, throwing them over his shoulder as he positioned himself. His breathing was irregular along with yours. Miguel's dick poking right at your entrance, begging to be let in. Begging to fuck you.

"Fuck, say it again." Miguel demanded, pinching your clit. You arched your back, squirming slightly,

"Miggy~"

With a sharp cry, Miguel slapped his hips into yours. Your body shivered as you cam from insertion. His dick slamming right inside you, stretching your gummy walls out. His tip smashed against your cervix.

Miguel grunted as he gave you no time to rest from your climax. His hips were rough as he slapped himself into you. His dick bullying your cunt with no remorse. You flung your head back, crying out in pleasure as Miguel's dick rammed into you.

"Miggy~ M-Miggy~"

---------

Miguel felt sweat roll down his forehead as he held your hips. Why did he have to wait so long for this? You were made for him. Your pussy was sucking his dick so well. The sloshing sounds it made as you cried his name. Everything was perfect.

Groaning lowly as you cam again, Miguel felt you squeeze around him so much. Webbing your hands to the bed post, Miguel kept focus on what he was doing to you. The rim of his dick around forming a white ring from your orgasms.

"Made just for me. My perfect match." Miguel grunted, fastening his pace as he felt his high coming, "Sucking my dick so well. You just want my child, don't you?"

"Yesh~ Y-Yes~" You cried.

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he slammed his hips into you, finally releasing his first load. After months of waiting, Miguel was finally breeding you. Slowly removing his dick just to admire his first work, Miguel cussed lowly.

"Perfect, but so wasteful. Do you want to disappoint me?" Miguel hissed, watching his cum drip out of you.

"N-No,"

"Then drink every last drop."

--------

You cried and whimpered as Miguel pinned you into mating position, fucking you relentlessly. His dick hitting your cervix, causing you to gasp and twitch with every thrust. Your cunt unable to stop wanting Miguel as he made his dick at home inside of you.

Your vision was starting to blur as your mind grew fuzzy. This was only something you could only dream of. Miguel's dick bullying your cunt. It felt so good. So right.

"Drink up."

"Mhm~"

Shivering, you moaned as you felt Miguel cum inside you once more. It was so hot. Taking a moment to catch your breathe, you slowly regained your vision as you looked up at Miguel. He had a wicked smirk as he looked down at you.

"M...Miggy~" You whispered tiredly. Miguel just chuckled,

"Awe, tired already? We've only just begun."

--------

Your face was pressed into the bedsheet as Miguel fucked you from behind. You could barely feel your body anymore since it was so sensitive. Each thrust made your body shiver and your pussy clench. You were so fucked out that you couldn't even think.

"My stamina outranks yours by a mile. It's only been an hour and you're tapping out already? Hm, I suppose I did go overboard for your first time," Miguel muttered.

"Mhpm~ Ah~" You moaned, cumming hard as Miguel slapped his dick into you a bit harsher.

"My mating instincts have finally passed as well. Just don't expect any rest any time soon. You will be caring my child. The future of humanity."

You just babbled nothing but nonsense as Miguel gave you one last load. Unable to keep yourself awake, you felt yourself knock out.

---------

Miguel sighed as you fell asleep. He turned you around, watching the mess of a work he did. He definatly went overboard, but you had to get pregnant. Fixing you on the bed, Miguel lifted your hips and legs up against the bed frame, wanting to make sure his cum stayed inside of you.

"Lyla, keep track on (Y/N)'s health. I want any updates of bodily changes."

"Yes sir, also your suit is ready."

"Hm, I suppose tonight is a great night to start my reign of terror. While I'm out, I want you to start transferring all of (Y/N)'s information and paperwork to this address."

"You haven't told her that she will be living here,"

"(Y/N) will agree...and if she doesn't, I'll just fuck the idea into her."

"Understood."

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[acapelladitty]

Batman: Arkham Session #1

Summary: After an incident at work, Edward Nashton is assigned to Dr. Jonathan Crane for psychological assessment. A decision which places both men in the firing line.

One half of an exchange with the incredible @skxtchyghost who has the absolutely amazing art half of this little encounter here!

Fic Masterlist /// Link to A03

From the moment he laid eyes on him, Jonathan Crane could tell that Edward Nashton would be less than an ideal patient. From the way that he lounged carelessly in his chair to his casual gaze which swept along the many achievements and objects which littered the walls of Jonathan's office.

Every inch of the lanky frame screamed difficult and Jonathan found his mood worsening as he shifted past the meagre introductions which had been shared.

Jonthan flicked his eyes over the notes he had been provided from the incident report as his left hand rose to adjust the bolo tie which hung loosely around his throat.

"You destroyed a workstation in a fit of," Jonathan lifted the top sheet of paper from his clipboard as he quoted the report directly, "obvious rage while using considerably inappropriate language. These are not the actions of a rational man."

Unapologetic, Edward spread his hands in a wide gesture as a defensive smile stretched across his lips.

"I'm the only rational man in this city."

"Oh?"

Really having a limited interest in whatever nonsense Edward was about to spout, Jonathan made a quick note on his clipboard - ready to simply diagnose him with some asinine anxiety disorder and throw some medication at him to quell the worst of his obvious symptoms.

"The others are so willing to ignore the corruption," Edward continued with a growing irritation, "how unbearably stupid and foolish the criminals that rule this city choose to be."

"Harsh allegations."

"Only because the evidence is routinely destroyed. Weeks of work erased in an instance because a particular name would rather not be associated with the actions investigated." His tone snappy, Edward was clearly not at peace with his treatment and Jonathan frowned at the sudden emotional outburst. "Weeks! Good work. No recognition. Only a sharp reminder that our job is to catch real criminals."

"I can imagine the frustration."

Something in Edward's expression shifted and Jonathan tensed as he took in the change in body language, the immediate aggression which crawled into his leaning frame and clenching fists as Edward met his gaze without flinching. It was an open challenge and Jonathan would not back down as he accepted and adjusted his glasses to allow him to keep Edward's attention.

"You bore me. Don't feed me the words I want to hear, Doctor."

"Interesting. Do you see me as your enemy?"

Wary but slightly more interested in his patient, Jonathan asked the question with the smallest of smiles.

"Yes. Your work is as corrupted as mine even if your corruption comes from a more personal insistence."

Jonathan's blood ran cold.

"I do not know you, Mr. Nashton. Neither do you know me."

He couldn't know.

No one knew.

Especially not a jumped up technician from the GCPD.

No.

He was just fishing for information, attempting to claw back the control of the situation by fabricating infor-

"Your purchasing history is interesting, both online and in your role within this asylum." Edward grinned, his body language relaxing into something almost smug. "Meaningless to a layman, but a small touch of research and critical thinking goes to show just how dangerous the various chemicals and research papers you collect could be. Pair that with the increased reports of catatonia which patients under your care have been reduced to and we have something approaching a pattern."

"Mr. Nashton, these delusions do nothing to further yo-"

Rudely, Jonathan found himself cut off by a childish wave.

"Your business is your own and I have no reason to care for any of the degenerates in this building. My work is almost finished and I have my own important business to attend to. Where our paths cross is that I require a clean bill of health to leave my job with the appropriate supports in place."

Smiling widely, his glasses pushed tight against his eyes, Edward perched his fingers on the light-coloured vest which covered his shirt as his cheap shoes tapped a soft rhythm to the carpet. Opposite him, Jonathan felt much more uptight - the shift in dynamic having put his teeth on edge as the urge to regain control of the situation tempted him into dangerous territory.

"You're blackmailing me." Jonathan gritted out.

"If you choose to view it as such then yes. I choose to view it as a mutual exchange of services." Shrugging, Edward caught his hands between his knees. "You clear me, and I erase some of the more unsavoury purchases that you have unsuccessfully distanced from your name."

Seeing each other plainly, Jonathan abandoned any pretence of playing the game and his expression soured into open distaste, regarding Edward with contempt.

"And what guarantees do I have that you are speaking the truth? One word from me and you will be locked away with the worst that Gotham has to offer." Flashing a cruel grin, filled with yellowing teeth, Jonathan tilted his head. "I could have you in a shared cell which houses violence that would easily end a man like yourself."

"All my information is due to release at a specific time if I am not available to prevent it. Risk it all and see."

Reclining once more, Edward presented his hand before himself as he investigated his nails with a forced nonchalance.

"So, Doctor Jonathan Crane, how are we going to move past this?"

[mrsackermannx]

trust me with it | choso kamo

choso has experienced so much of what it is to be human already, but you're slowly making him realise that he's far more human than he thought.

word count: 7k

tagging: (ya’ll interacted with my interact to be tagged post back in November🥺) @meownotgood @sixpennydame @tomuraslut @romantichomicide95 @cathybarn @c-h-e-r-r-i-e-s @whatthefucksatan @loveackermannn + @p00pdev1l (have to tag you my beloved <3)

tags: 18+ canonverse choso kamo x fem!sorcerer reader, minor manga spoilers, (nothing plot wise is mentioned other than yuuji and megumi reuniting/implied culling games arc/ post shibuya incident arc), loss of virginity (virgin choso) but still soft dom choso, corruption kink too I guess?? choso has a big dick, breeding kink, size kink, slight praise kink, belly bulge, unprotected sex, use of "human/little human," light love confession/confession of feelings-so sex with feelings? low-key self indulgent, not beta read, vvv intense sex, possessive/smitten choso (slightly yandere at the end??)

author’s note 💌: (nov 23): hope this isn’t a little too ooc, ive been dying to write something for choso and this came to me so i had to write it! virgin characters are my faves to write🤭(june 24): I HAVE HAD THIS SAT IN MY DRAFTS SINCE NOVEMBER AND WANTED TO SET IT FREE😭😭😭

Choso had been plunged into a world of the unknown from the moment he met you. Before you, he liked to believe that one hundred and fifty years of existence meant that his wisdom would always be the indispensable weapon against which he truly feared—the unknown, and the humanity of his heart.

He was hardly a stranger to continuous, repetitive loops of thought but it felt as if his brain had rewired itself. Not even his inner world was safe from the insatiable need to be near you, his own thoughts searched for you when they dared stray elsewhere. 

He thumped the tile before him, hot water scalding his back as he willed his hopeless blood to answer him. It was acting on its accord all the time, his heart nothing but frenzied beating in his chest, not even his body in his own control anymore.

The need to be near you, to feel you and touch you in ways he couldn’t even explain was going to be his undoing tonight. Sharing a room with you seemed to send equal prickles of fear and excitement through him.

You reached out for your reflection in the glass as if you’d throttle it but chose to reach out and trail patterns against the window instead. You wrote nonsense for a few moments, before cursed energy started to zap through your fingertips in minute electric pulses. A shower normally reset you after a day like this, but you supposed this was a rather special circumstance. 

You were glad to be alive even though you didn’t feel you deserved it and the weight of your fellow sorcerers still slugged down your shoulders. The responsibility for your students was an ever present taste in your mouth. You eyed your tattered uniform beside you, all too grateful for the hotel robe Choso had insisted you wear after he picked apart the suitcase left by the last guests. It was soft and fluffy, perfect for how light your body felt after your shower and admittedly around Choso.

You gripped your stomach, the guilt demanding to be free. Your head was still fuzzy from how hot you’d had your shower, as you’d yearned to wash away all that had happened. But that would be a dream, “Satoru, I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered, laying your forehead against the cool glass.

Thankfully the wailing vibrations of a nearby car alarm rattled through the glass and then your ears, dragging you from the dark edges of your mind. 

You peered down below at the scene, squinting to figure out the cause of the chaos. Cackles of maniacal laughter followed sounds of crumbling concrete as your eyes darted from fire to fire. When one was extinguished another rose up in its place. Yet the neon lights of Tokyo still shone, a loyal audience and an ever present reminder of what life used to be like. 

It was pure anarchy, like waking up from one nightmare and going right back into another. Yet the world was not ending and then starting again it just kept ending instead. 

You weren’t sure what was worse, the hell out there, or the one in this room? Choso wasn’t quite sure either, he thought as much as he watched you intently from the doorway of the bathroom. He found he could often do so and never tire of it because there was a fluidity to your movements that calmed him, something that reminded him of water, like warm waves somewhere safe. 

He liked that about you, he liked a lot about you. 

You glanced at his reflection in the glass, and resisted smiling at how he watched you so attentively. Concern knitted his features into something soft and more approachable than the expression he usually showed everyone else.

He was so cute and serious all at once that it was infuriating. He towered over you in height and his hands dwarfed yours, every feature of his face was dark and perfect, and maddeningly symmetrical like he was crafted in heaven, like some kind of dark, beautiful, fallen angel. 

But nothing about Choso was what you expected, that you learned early. He might have looked intimidating, but he was careful and patient, he stopped to admire flowers when he thought nobody was watching, he didn’t always say a lot, nor did he smile often, but he had an array of expressions that always managed to move you in some way.

You sighed. You resented how he’d managed to send the usually calm waves of your heart into a frenzy, a full blown tsunami. 

But you couldn’t hate him, it was impossible. Not when every interaction you had together, you treasured so sincerely. You casted your mind back to just nights ago, when you were sitting together on a roof in some district, sharing konbini raided food together under the stars. He held his onigiri out to cheers with yours, a phantom smile on his lips before he took a bite. 

Or when your hand brushed his as you were walking back and he frowned at how cold it was, clasping it immediately on instinct with his large, warm hand. You tried to shake his grip but he shook his head and clasped it tighter, urging you to keep up with his pace. You didn’t argue it any further.

Then just this morning after passing through what used to be a department store. You all but yelped when you felt something hook around your throat from behind. But a hand landing atop of your head quickly stopped your thrashing, “It’s just me.” You heard the glimmer of his smile, turning with one of your own.  

He was still smiling, simply as if he was so fond of you that words were futile to express the depth. Your throat went dry as he adjusted the scarf on you, “I found this,” he murmured, before continuing ahead, turning to beckon you when you stood there frozen. 

This person often acted without words and out of pure kindness and it baffled you. You knew what he had done and what he was capable of, but every wordless gesture, reassuring nod, and the warm brush of his fingertips against yours had you rethinking everything about love. 

His deep voice settled through your body and calmed your rising nerves. He’d only said your name but it sounded like the unmistakable call to come home, it made you feel like a child again.

You were still standing at the window, then, he thought, no doubt thinking of other sorcerers, of Satoru, at least you knew Yuuji and Megumi were safe, only a few doors down.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, soft footsteps growing close until his body heat somehow billowed against your nape.

It was easier to face yourself than him right now, so you dared not meet your faces in the reflection staring back at you. “What are you thinking about?”

You wanted to speak but found yourself trembling, silent tears rushed to embrace your palms, staggering where you stood you tried to cover your eyes, but Choso was already there. You felt his strong arms lock around you, stilling the tremors that shook you. You stiffened at first before you melted, the hard pieces of you pooling to his feet like wax. 

“What are you doing, Choso?”

“I felt like it was right,” he whispered, resting his chin upon your head. Instinctively his hands cupped your cheeks, swiping away the warm tears rolling there. “You stopped shaking.”

You couldn’t breathe now for entirely different reasons, being handled so tenderly seemed to make you even more tearful. 

The commotion of the fighting in the distance seemed to unsettle you more, making Choso exhale suddenly through his nose. “I…wish you didn’t have to see that.”

Your lips parted, “I don’t want to think about anything anymore Choso,” you croaked. “I don’t want to think about anything.”

“Can you think about me?” he bashfully asked, stroking his hands through your hair. “I just want to help you.”

“I don’t want to burden you, just go to bed, okay?”

He stiffened against you, unhanding you to head over to bed.

“You don’t have to fight how you feel around me. I’m not one of your students.”

“I know.” You refused to let yourself crumble anymore around him, it was too dangerous, for so many reasons.

“We have to rest so we can fight,” he murmured. You turned to find him gesturing again to the space beside him. You sighed and he countered you with an even louder one. He crossed his arms as you smirked at the sound, “Don’t be stubborn. You need to sleep.” 

His bluntness was something he did to lessen the burden of talking at times, but when he spoke to you it felt as if he did it to protect your heart. It was obvious he didn’t always know how he should say things before others, but with you it came easy. 

You let out a bitter laugh, wrapping your arms around your cold body. “You know, Choso? The more time passes, I can see that you’re an older sibling.”

He decided to take that as a compliment, humming in gratitude before continuing to pat the empty space beside him. “Then listen, come here and sleep. You can’t sleep over there.”

He cocked his brow at you, “Can you?” 

“Listen, I don’t care what Yuuji says, alright? I don't trust you.”

You immediately covered your mouth as if to take the projectiled words back. You turned back quick enough to see the frown on his face before it was gone before he impassively said, “At least trust him.”

Your eyes held each other's gaze until you refused to be lost in the beautiful unsurety of those dark brown eyes. So you stared back at the moon instead, wondering how you found time crumbling into nothing whenever you looked at him. You were trying to ignore the pangs of your heart, asking it why it had chosen now to fall for this half-human, half-curse you found so utterly captivating. 

Even with your back to him the reflection of him was clear beside you, not willing to leave your side. He was wearing whatever clothes the last guests had left. A black t-shirt and some loose sweatpants, and his hair was loose and silky at his shoulders from his shower, and his skin was still flushed from it, too. 

The image beside you, and the reality behind you caged you in, forcing you to face your true desires and the guilt that was tugging at your gut. He was innocently offering you space beside him to rest and your mind was everywhere else. You couldn’t ignore how seductive he sounded when he spoke this late at night, or how the sight of him reclining against the headboard with his thighs slightly spread like that was so sexually charged it was making your thoughts run wild. 

Without his usual clothing you could see how thick his biceps were, and how broad his chest really was. You longed for him to touch you, to hold you, to explore you so he could learn what being human really meant.

His aura and general demeanour was so undeniably strong it had you wondering how much longer he’d play this game with you, and what he’d do to you if you gave him the opportunity. But a part of you also doubted that he felt that way about you, or anyone for that matter.

“It’s cold over there,” he pressed again, no malice at all, only concern. “Yuuji told me that I'm naturally warmer, it must be because my blood circulates differently…So, you really should come and sleep here next to me.” 

You were freezing in your robe, unwilling to put your tattered uniform back on. So, you finally abandoned the window ledge, “What are you gonna do if I do?”

His face furrowed, “Whatever you want me to do,” he sounded more like he was asking. He'd been around you long enough to pick up on the slither of the nuance aching to be acknowledged.

“I’d rather not hear you complaining any more beside me though.”

“Whatever.”

He cracked you a half-smile, happy to see you finally listening to him, even if you were being a brat about it. “Good.” 

You were sure you caught his gaze on your thighs as you neared the bed. You’d been chalking it up to him being curious, but the way his eyes had lapped over your bare skin tonight held something you could feel in your core. 

“Do you think I don’t notice when you do that? Earlier, too?” you blurted. 

His eyes darted to the door as if he planned to escape or as if Yuuji was about to burst in and declare that he room with him instead, rather than the tall black haired boy he’d been attached to the hip with since they reunited.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Yuuji respects you-“

He looked up at you, those dark eyes alight with something reminiscent of relief and perhaps yearning? His unwavering gaze sent flutters through you, it was like he was taking in every detail and leaving everything else alone.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d acknowledge my question at least.”

He pouted, noticing how your arms were tightly folded and how you were looking down at him with an indecipherable emotion. He hadn’t quite figured that one out yet, he thought, but he liked the look of it on you. It excited him somewhere, somehow. 

“Choso?” Your voice was a soft, hypnotising hum whenever you said his name all honeyed like that.

His mouth went dry as he really took you in. How the moon was creeping in to illuminate your skin, drifting down your throat to where your blood pumped. He briefly questioned whether all of these feelings were because your blood was special? How was it that you glowed like the sun and the moon had gifted you their light? Why were you so attractive to him? 

The bathrobe was much too big for you, the sleeves large and encasing your wrists, but it cinched in your waist. You had such an attractive shape, one that was so different to his own. He’d spent far too long trying to conjure up how you must look in his mind, but he could never form the image. Clothes were always in the way, taunting him, teasing him. 

“Choso!”

“Yeah, yeah-“ His eyes widened as you closed the gap between you both, kneeling tentatively in front of him. He quickly brought his legs to his chest and turned away from you. 

You scoffed, “You’re the one that wanted me over here so bad.”

Blood was thundering in his ears and his skin was burning so hot he feared he was about to explode into a thousand different pieces. He needed to hold himself together because he felt like if he looked at you he’d be doomed. Maybe his worst worries were true, he couldn’t be around humans like you, at his core he was nothing but a curse. What if you caused his body to show him yet another reaction? One that was weird? One you would hate?

“I know,” he mumbled, curling up on his side, he appeared to be shaking slightly, as he rocked his hips every few seconds. He was trying to elevate the pressure building in his lower half that was making him feel like he might burst. “I still do.”

You sighed, leaning over his body to assess his face. “Now you’re just worrying me.” You rested your hand on his forehead and he groaned. 

“Why are you burning up like this? Were you not supposed to shower or something? I don’t see how you’re any different from us in that regard?”

He groaned into his fist, “Ever since I lost my brothers, and I met Yuuji. I've been feeling and experiencing things I never have before. I thought the worst and the best were over. But now, you?” 

He was groaning like he was in pain. “I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

“Hey, calm down.” You bit your lip, “Take what? Should I get Yuuji?”

He quickly shook his head.

“Then I guess I’ll keep my eye on you tonight.”

The bed dipped beside him as you laid down, curling your body up like his. He froze, staring at you and your mouth, your lips looked so soft, he ached to touch them.

“Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s not like I don’t trust you.” You paused, “You’re interesting, Choso. I’m just intrigued by you. I don’t know what you think of me, I guess that’s why I want to know why you stare at me like you do?”

His brows pinched together.

“Like earlier?”

“Was I?”

You nuzzled closer to savour the sweet treat of his scent. It was nothing and everything human all at once; sweet, and vaguely like metal.

“Maybe Yuuji hasn’t told you this…but like, you can’t just stare at people's bodies so obviously.”

“Their faces are better?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Got it,” he said slowly, but then he noticed you had nothing under your robe. He wondered if your nipples were hard because he could see goosebumps spreading over your skin.

His eyes settled on the space free from your robe. “And I…was staring at your body?” 

“Yeah.”

Your eyes followed his, watching him grow more shameless by the second. With every doubt you had, a shaky breath or a small noise would escape him, that had you questioning if he felt the same desire for you. Seconds felt like minutes, as Choso allowed his gaze to roam freely of you, as you allowed him to. 

“And…you don’t like that?” he whispered after what felt like forever, making your heart beat faster with all of these stolen whispers.

“You don’t like when I stare?” 

Time slowed and all other sounds ceased to exist to him, he could hear every bat of your lashes, and every hesitant swallow. He was watching you so carefully he barely blinked. “I want you to tell me why.” 

Then you did it, the thing that confirmed everything for him as you clenched your thighs together, ever so slightly. His own were locked firmly together, as he could feel something was happening there that he couldn’t explain. Maybe you were experiencing the same thing, he thought. He didn’t want to grapple with doubt when this might be the only time he had with you like this.

“It’s just not something you should do,” you finally replied, curt and crisp, but the way your voice shook suggested anything but. He could feel the heat emulating from you now. You were on fire, too, or at least he hoped you were, because he was finally at bursting point. 

“I want to show you what you do to me. Do you want to see?”

Your lips parted to speak but before you could he was sitting up and gesturing to the thick bulge in his pants. 

“This. This is mine,” he whispered, leaning in so his breath brushed your neck. “You know what’s happening to me, don’t you?”

You throbbed and pulsed for him, weakened by your desire. “You really are getting used to this whole human thing admirably fast. It’s endearing, honestly. You want sex and you’re already figuring it out?-“

“I don’t want to just get you pregnant-“

The tension broke with your laughter, “That’s not all sex is for, Choso. There’s many ways to do it, did you know that?”

“There’s another way?” 

“Choso, if I show you, you can’t go around telling everybody, okay?”

“Is it special?”

“Not every time. But it can be. Shall I explain first?”

“Yes.”

“People have sex because it feels really good. When a man and a woman have sex, yes, they can produce life. But people have sex mostly because it feels good, are you understanding me here?” 

He nodded, “It can be called fucking too. Sex is sometimes called fucking.”

He leaned closer with his eyes glued to your lips. “How did you know that’s what I wanted?”

You swallowed as he studied your face so intently, “Because you’re hard, right?”

He frowned in confusion, rushing to check his stomach, “Where?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, “Oh you’re too sweet. Sit back.”

He let go of your hand and leant against the headboard awaiting your next move. You couldn’t help but wonder how long he could remain this composed? 

You carefully lowered yourself on his lap, watching him wince, you knew it was because his cock was probably growing more sensitive by the minute. Due to his abilities, his blood was in a frenzy everywhere.

“You’re curious, aren’t you? About my body?”

Your words were all he needed for his body to act for him, as he reached and ripped your robe open and apart, “Choso,” you stammered, “you should have asked!”

His hand cupped your throat carefully, thumbing your thudding pulse point. “I knew you wanted that. Your heart has been beating like this since you laid down. You want to show me your body too, and you want me to touch it. Explore it. Don’t you?”

He smirked at you, and he looked so gorgeous it hurt.

“You want sex, don’t you? But are you sure you want it with me? I don't know what to do.”

You lifted his chin and smiled, making that primal part of him go even crazier, “It’s okay. I still want it with you, Choso.”

In the rush of the moment he suddenly realised what he wasn’t laying his eyes on, and he gasped as he finally did, though all to himself. “I can touch you?”

You nodded and he worked the robe down your arms, he was mesmerised, brown eyes glimmering in the low light. His breath growing heavier at the sight, “You’re so soft,” he stroked you so gently it turned you into mush. His hands rose up and down the dips of your curves, over and over as he appreciated the unique shape of you. It seemed like he wanted to commit your every breath to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” he said under his breath as he cupped your breasts, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs. “They’re so beautiful…You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned forward to rest his face in your breasts, locking a hand with yours. As he listened to your frenzied heart and toyed with your nipple, mesmerised by your body. 

You ran your fingers through his hair and he moaned softly, pulling away to touch and grab at you all over again. His eyes locked on yours, watching the way you were getting worked up from his every touch. He noticed how much faster your heart beated when his hand stroked down your centre and neared lower. So he paused at your abdomen. 

“You’re…exquisite.” His eyes were in yours like they always were, intense and full of anticipation. “Here, this part of you too.” He was flushed all the way up to his ears. “What do I call it?”

You smirked, “My stomach?”

He was trembling, trying to contain himself. Shaking his head, he asked a wordless question. You smiled, and he took that as assurance to venture further, cupping the hot heat between your legs. “You look so pretty like this, when I’m touching you here,” he whispered, watching your teeth sink into your lip as your arousal drowned his fingertips. 

“My pussy? You’re touching my pussy,” you whispered. “Do you like it?” 

He nodded eagerly, “This is where I put mine?”

“Do you want to?”

He nodded again, “Can I…look at it? Closer?”

“You can do what you want with it, Choso.” You cupped his face, leaning close. “I want you to do whatever feels natural to you.” You kissed along his jaw as you spoke, he quivered at each one. 

“I think you’re more human than you give yourself credit for. A curse might have had its way with me by now and I know you must be bursting to try these new things as they come. So we’re going to do something special first.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna kiss. Kissing is done in all kinds of ways, you kiss your family on the cheek, normally. You kiss lovers on the lips. You kiss people you have sex with on the lips. It feels really good. Got it?”

“You’re going to show me though, aren’t you? You’re going to lead me.”

“Yeah, you ready?”

He nodded, “We’ll close our eyes, and then I’m gonna kiss you, got it? My lips will touch yours, and then you’ll let nature take its course from there. Don’t worry about being too rough with me,” you eyed his hands that were now resting at his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I’m a sorcerer, remember? It would take a lot to do that.”

“Then come here and give me your lips.” He tugged your mouth onto his, your lips meeting his eager ones, you thought he’d need a second to adjust to the sensation, but in a single second you were being slammed down onto your back. He clutched your face in his hands so he could kiss you without any distractions, it felt like he’d never let go. Everytime you moaned, he would too, like every kiss bonded you closer together.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting years for this, rutting his clothed cock into your naked, wet centre. You slid your tongue against his and he started to grunt, and his skin grew so hot against yours you wondered if he might set you both alight.

He was quick, and eager, pulling away to rip away his shirt, but earnest as he grabbed and then placed your hands on him. You made sure he felt your desire too, kissing all over him, finding that sensitive place just under his ear to suck and kiss. But then he was fighting you, just so he could kiss down your throat to get your tits once more, learning and learning.  “I can kiss anywhere?”

“Yeah,” you moaned.

His eyes darkened with lust as he gripped both your breasts, running his teeth all over them and sucking until your blood rose to the surface in the shapes of his lips.

“I saw a lifetime when I saw you. I saw you, and I felt it all. I thought that was your technique, that you were going to lure me in and kill me with your beauty. I was wrong. Thank you for giving me your body. Trust me with it.”

He was gasping against your skin, running his hands up and down like you were about to disappear. And if his words were intense, his actions were even more so. “I want to kiss you forever.” 

You had no idea what to reply to him right now, but there was something so beautiful about how direct he was, he loved his brothers, he knew of emotions, like love and admiration. He knew what he felt for you and he could put it into these words.

Falling for this man was hardly unusual when what you felt was so real. 

“I trust you, Choso. I want you to kiss me for as long as you want to.”

“I can kiss here then?” he said, throwing your thighs over his shoulders as he gripped your hips and leered at your pussy.

“It’s so wet,” he hummed in awe, before he closed the space and kissed it. He let out such a loud groan you had to shush him, but then that was just it. He was sucking all over so your juices could dance through his taste buds. He was licking and sucking on your pussy with so much zeal you were surely louder than he was. 

Choso was learning fast. He knew that you surely couldn’t be this wet like this all the time, he gathered it was because your body was readying itself to take him. Which also meant you wanted to take him, he wanted to take you. He’d yearned for you, he’d adored you. He adored this.

“I could do this forever,” he moaned, the grip bruising on your hips, as he locked you firmly in place so he could explore you. “Those noises of yours. Don’t stop. You won’t stop. I’m telling you not to stop them.”

“Yes Choso!”

He never thought the sound of his name could taste so sweet. He was groaning into you, sucking and licking until your swollen clit rubbing against his lips caught his attention. You prayed he’d be gentle as he spread your lips and looked at you, awaiting your reaction as he gave it a softer flick of his tongue. You shuddered so sweetly, squeezing his shoulders and tugging on his hair. 

“That’s a sensitive part of you, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself, a grin on his lips, “My sensitive little human.” 

Your eyes widened at the words and he watched as more slick oozed from your throbbing sex. He laughed again, the deep sound reverberating deep in your core, he was so beautiful, so hypnotising. He brushed the hair from his eyes and kissed along your thighs, still keeping you spread. 

“I’ll be gentle with you. I won’t break you unless that’s what you want.”

The pleasure you were experiencing from a half-human half-curse should have been illegal, it probably violated some sorcery law somewhere but you didn’t care. Not when he was somehow saying and doing everything to make you tick. 

He kept licking and sucking until he found what you liked, and noticed the way you were shaking, the way your thighs were squeezing him tight so he didn’t stop. You gripped his hair, moaning his name as you came, the sweet taste filling his mouth until you had to forcibly push him away.

“Don’t keep your sweetness from me. That was all mine,” he grunted, travelling up your body with kisses. He took your face in one hand, his voice softening as he looked at you beaming in your afterglow, “Did I give you too much? Can’t take anymore of me?”  

You shook your head, barely able to catch your breath. “You made me feel so good, Choso, you gave me an orgasm. That’s important in sex, to give your partner orgasms, it’s what just happened.”

His thumb rubbed your lower lip, marvelling at the subtle mark he’d left from biting it earlier, and he smiled, “So you keep stimulating your partner until they can’t take anymore, releasing themselves on you.”

“You catch on fast.”

He grinned, kissing you deeply as he rutted himself into you. “Show me what to do,” he said breathlessly. “I need you, now.”

“Fuck Choso your cock, I can feel it.”

You started to tug down his sweatpants, taking the time to admire how broad and built he was, he really was no different from a human at all. He moaned with every press of your lips on his skin, he’d made them so swollen, kissing and biting on them like he was ravenous.

You released his cock from the confines of his pants and gasped, frozen at the sight. “Are you scared of me? Is it different?”

“No, it’s amazing…” you licked your lip, “It’s just so big.”

The warm weight of his hand landed on your stomach, he rubbed there, reassuring whilst also obviously trying to calculate this himself, “But you want it, don’t you?” he murmured, soft, “So we can make it fit, can’t we? We have enough of this together.”

He was so clumsy as he touched himself it made your heart swell, gathering the slick that was pooling down his cock. He took it, and made sure to cover your pussy in it, pausing when his finger slipped inside of you with ease. But then you moaned so deliciously he found his jaw growing slack, eager to keep pleasing you. 

“That’s why you’ve got this little hole haven’t you? It stretches to fit things inside, so it’s going to fit me inside like it’s doing right now.”

You quickly nodded, beyond fucked out by this man as he continued to stuff his precum into your pussy. “Yes Choso.”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grunted, stuffing in more of his fingers to fuck you even better. “Naked and free.” 

“You can put it in now, Choso. It’ll fit. I want it.”

“Because you want me don’t you?”

“Yes Choso.”

You watched him, gripping the base of himself and aligning his heavy cockhead to your opening. His face was lost in pleasure, lost to every sensation, he was beautiful like this too, you thought. 

“Only me?”

“Only you, Choso.”

“Then let me see everything,” he whispered against your forehead, large hands folding you and spreading your thighs wide. “You’re so beautiful. I want to see it all.”

“Please be gentle,” You whimpered, feeling him start to push in, you braced yourself, hanging on to him tight. 

He groaned into your cheek as he felt resistance from you, no matter how good you felt he’d rather die than hurt you. “Is there another way?”

“Lie down.”

He did as you said, watching in awe as you were quick to straddle him, oozing slick all over his thighs. You still wanted him just as much as he wanted you and that excited him to no end. Even if he was a challenge and clearly more than you were used to.

You hovered as you aligned yourself with his cock, and he moaned as you finally touched him. And as you sunk yourself onto his cock he gripped your hips so tight you yelped, before your voice melted into a moan in unison with his.

“More,” he whimpered, as you stopped halfway, panting at the sensation. “Let me in.”

“Trying, Choso.”

“I want to feel all of you. All of your pussy.” His voice was low, and close to breaking as you throbbed on him. 

“That’s it,” he stroked his thumbs in comforting circles, “Are you going to let me feel you?” 

You quickly nodded, teeth sunk into your lip. His voice was as arousing as his cock, “Give me a minute, Choso. I can do it.”

“Does it hurt?”

You nodded and he pondered for a moment before he took his thumb to your clit, rubbing until you moaned. Then slowly, naturally, as if your body was melting into his, you made your way down the thick inches of him.

“You’re doing good, so good for me. You can take all of me inside. You’re strong.” He was so out of his mind he didn’t even know what he was cooing to you, but he just wanted to put you at ease. 

“You pretty little human. Taking my body like this because you want your pussy fucked? Right? You like my cock inside you? Stretching you out?”

“Choso!” You groaned as he fully bottomed out, hands landing on his shoulders for support. “I love it, you feel so good. You’re making me feel so good.”

He whined at your words before composing himself, his lips trailing down your skin. “I am? Are you too weak now? Do you need me to help you feel good? Yuuji said you were a good teacher. He was wrong,” he taunted, kissing the side of your face as he gripped you.

His hands sunk into your ass as their final resting place, appreciating the softness there too, “You need to show me what to do, just once.”

“I can’t,” you whined, tears of pleasure flowing down your cheeks at how full you were. “Look at yourself. Your cock is so big.” You breathlessly gestured to your stomach. 

His eyes widened as he pushed his palm onto your belly, feeling how deeply he was penetrating you, “You have to use me and make yourself feel good. That’s all, Choso.” You barely managed your words, eyes barely open as the pleasure he was giving you threatened to break you apart. 

“I understand. Leave it to me,” he groaned, kissing your neck, as he started to move you off and on his cock, “We move together until we orgasm. You’ve never had a cock like mine so you can’t move, huh?” 

He experimentally snapped his hips into yours and you whimpered so loudly he soon followed. Although he knew nothing of what was lewd and what wasn’t, he somehow knew that the sound you’d made was nothing but filth and that he’d done something you’d desperately needed. 

He did it again and again, until he was drilling up into you and delighting in all of the sounds you were making, gasping from how good you felt. “Choso, your cock feels so good inside. It’s the best.”

“Then you never need another one, if only I make you feel this good. No other cock will ever feel the same,” he grunted, “You’re mine now, you beautiful woman.”

You kissed him messily in reply, barely able to form words as he fucked up into you until you were shaking and moaning into his mouth because you were coming all over him. “Then you’re mine, Choso. I showed you this, how to feel good. It won’t feel good if another human do-“

You gasped as his hand slammed over your mouth and you were on your back once more. He was folding you whilst holding back on finishing in minutes and he didn’t even know how impressive that was.

“Don’t say it. I don’t want another human near me like this. Only you. I told you, I saw you. I saw everything. I know that I’m different. But I can fuck you better, I know I can. You like what I’m doing to your body. I know, I know, I know, you do,” he chanted as he groaned into you, balls smacking hard against you as he ravaged you. 

All you could do was hold tight and brace yourself as you whimpered. 

“Mine, mine, mine. So, so, beautiful,” he grunted.

Tears pricked your water lines at the intensity, you felt so loved, and safe in his embrace like this. 

You could feel him twitching inside of you, and you could see him holding back. “When you orgasm, Choso. Your cum will be different, it will be messier than mine.”

“Is that the stuff that breeds you? It’s going to shoot inside you, isn’t it?” he stammered. “You don’t want it? How do I control it?” 

“You can’t, but that’s okay, I won’t get pregnant, I take something for that. So when you feel like it’s getting too much, give in. You can let go. You’ve already done so well.”

“I can fill you up with my seed?” He stretched your arms above you to take both your hands in a single clasp, cupping your chin with the other. 

“Look at me. Why won’t you get pregnant? Because I’m not fully human?”

There was a sadness in his eyes, but it was being blown out completely by his desire. 

Why was this man so hot without realising it? His brow as all furrowed, his face flushed, fucking you so hard it was now dawning on you how loud you both were being. “It’s a pill I take,” you moaned as he slammed into that spot inside that had you creaming on him again. “I-I told you.”

“Then I’ll pretend,” he grunted, gripping your hips hard as he fucked into you like he was trying to breed you.

“Like I’m going to fuck my seed into you so I can keep you forever. No man can have you if you’re filled with me.”

“I want your cum, Cho!”

“I know you do! You’re a needy little human taking my cock even though it’s too big for you, wanting my cum to fill up your pretty little hole.”

“I want it, I want it,” you moaned into his ear, wrapping your arms around him tighter. Your voice only made it worse, he pinned you down even harder, kissing and licking up your tears. 

He was whimpering now, all of the pressure building in his core, he could feel it, the very sensation you were talking about. “You’re lucky I haven’t split you in two with my strength. But you take it, you take me in your pussy, waiting for every last drop of me.”

The loud smacks of his hips on yours were no louder than your sounds. He was fucking you like he’d never get the chance again. 

“I wish I could breed you. Then everyone would know, I’d know. That you’re mine, all mine,” he was rambling as he came, holding you tight with his tongue down your throat. 

You felt the insane amounts of cum spurting inside of you until the noises were so lewd it was near comical. Until there was so much cum he was slipping out of you and coming all over your stomach and the sheets too. Your name laced in every breath.

He groaned out your name, falling into your arms so could put him back together again. You kissed wherever you could, praising him through your breathlessness. You both rested for several of these precious moments. It seemed like the night had finally calmed outside of the hotel too, as had you both, after purging what had been brewing between you both since you’d first laid eyes on each other.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, running his lips across your jaw.

“No, not at all.” You continued to soothe him, running your hands through his hair. “But now we have a whole lot to talk about. I wouldn’t normally fuck someone so soon that I saw a future with.”

He made a little hmph sound, “Why?”

“It normally comes after getting to know someone.”

“We’ll have all the time in the world for that,” he said gently, flipping you below him as he caged you beneath him. 

“Won’t we?” he urged, folding up your thighs as he guided himself back inside. His voice was desperate all over again. “So,” he leant close, his lips brushing yours. He tried to resist, but gave in to taste your lips, taking the time to kiss you with so much unbridled affection it made your chest hurt. Before he finally spoke again, “So, stay alive for me, and I will for you.”

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

[theskit]

Sticker AU

Important!!!

Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Part 8

《Prev Next》

Once Tim, Bruce, and Damian had returned from patrol Saturday night, it hadn't taken long to catch on that they'd all had an encounter with a mysterious, sticker wielding stranger.

It still sent a small wave of humor through Tim to recall how Bruce had looked, walking through the cave with a sticker proclaiming how many 'goodies' his utility belt had before he'd used an anti-adhesive spray to remove it and the rest of the 'evidence' without risking its destruction.

Damian was still quite adamant that the sticker placed on his katana sheath belonged to him, regardless of if it went with the rest of them into an evidence folder or not.

Pooling their information hadn't resulted in much of a physical description. Tim himself hadn't seen them at all while 'young with blue eyes and dark, possibly-black hair' and 'a sensed presence approximately equivalent to a 12 year old Dick or 14 year old Tim' was not exactly a unique description. Also, he did not need yet another reminder that he was shorter than any other Robin of the same age, thank you, Bruce.

Bruce *had* managed to bring back two blood samples that, while proving a match to each other, were stubbornly refusing to match with much *else*. Including normal human DNA.

The samples somehow had an incredibly mangled DNA strand. Some of it seemed to be *missing* or appeared to be merged with something that the batcomputer outright refused to identify on the first scan. Or the second. The third spit out a partial match to *Lazarus Pit water*. At which point the samples, which had degraded at an exponentially fast rate, were no longer considered by the computer to be a viable DNA sample to analyze.

They couldn't even definitively say the person in question *had* a meta gene, regardless of the odds being in favor of it, (or extremely good stealth tech no one had ever even heard of before) what with the, the, swiss cheese *nonsense* of a DNA strand the analysis had spit out! If the sample on the sticker didn't pull the same results as the ground-collected sample, Tim would have bet money on it being corrupted with something to prevent identification on purpose.

As it was, if the person those blood samples belonged to was not an incredibly sick individual, given the DNA irregularities and the sheer speed of degradation, Tim would be very surprised.

Or they possibly had ties to the League of Assassins, with the partial Lazarus Pit match, though admittedly, the light-heartedness of the stickers made that an incredibly low chance.

This discovery had not proven helpful in getting Bruce to calm down about a young, possibly ill, possibly LoA-adjacent, probably-meta child running around Gotham in the middle of the night, stealing from and pranking every vigilante they came across. The fact that Damian was almost as fixated on finding the child as Bruce came as somewhat more of a surprise, considering. All he would say on the matter was that the level of stealth displayed was quite admirable and worth investing in. Like they needed *more* assassin-trained children running around.

Ugh.

Alfred had eventually been forced to banish both of them upstairs to rest, giving Tim a look that he was choosing not to interpret at the moment. Tim was fine, it hadn't even been *that* long since he'd last slept.

Besides, disregarding the dead-end of the blood samples, there was more than enough information yet to be sorted through.

On top of trying to comb through any possible camera footage in the areas around the incidents, the hotel the sample was found at provided marginally more information. If you counted finding out that a large ghost hunting convention had been scheduled for the long weekend and most of the hotels around the area were booked with *hundreds* of non-local participants to then check up on as a positive information gain. They couldn't even say the hotel the blood samples were found at was the hotel the person in question was staying in. They only knew for certain that it was where the communicator had stopped working.

Plus, the strange way the signal had wavered before cutting out, and the way some of the cameras he had been checking showed nothing but static, pointed to a possibly quite sophisticated piece of jammer technology. Which brought back up the stealth tech option and *more* investigations into where it could have been obtained and who could be producing advanced tech like that.

At least that made the stickers make marginally more sense if they were bought at or created for the convention, though he had already tried to do an online search for the stickers and come up empty handed.

Batman and Robin would be heading out later that evening to see if they could find any new leads or possibly encounter the sticker kid again while Tim continued to track and filter information in the cave.

Stretching a bit and taking a large swig from the not-exactly-Alfred-approved cup of coffee he'd smuggled in, Tim cracked his knuckles and got back to work.

Danny was perfecting his thousand-yard stare off into the distance as his parents corralled yet another poor sap into debating ghosts with them when Jazz swung by the booth to check in. "Hey, Danny. How's it going?"

Danny slowly turned his head to look at her with an expression of immense suffering as he slid a sticker over to her.

Taking a peek at what she'd been handed, Jazz snorted a laugh. "Fair's fair, little brother. Yesterday was my day at the booth, today's yours. Chin up! At least we'll be taking it down and packing it up tonight and tomorrow we can just wander around for the last bit of the convention before we leave."

Danny sighed, "Yeah, at least there's that," he responded glumly. Hopefully, tonight's vigilante adventure would make up for this...

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter @liandrin @jaguarthecat @russetfur1128 @purefrickingspite @oakskull @idfk-man10 @vythika96 @molasses-being-slow @satisfactionbroughtmeback @serasvictoria02 @tkiesai @breesperez139 @dhampir-princess @redhoneysugarorange @gildedphoenix @iglowinggemma28 @f4nd0m-fun @therandomartmaker @mandyne-1001

[thewertsearch]

AA: there was another half by scourge in two parts AA: one part three symbols AA: and the other AA: five AA: why the scale was tipped in this way between sisters AA: i cannot say!

Well, Bec's code was originally implanted in a Seer, so maybe Terezi’s brain is just better-suited for carrying gene sequences. It is one of the most obviously cerebral classes.

Four codes, each born from a separate Vriska Incident.

This is why Scratch was egging Vriska on so much. He was contributing to his own creation.

AA: each fragment would be transcribed in our rulebooks AA: sealing the collaboration between rust bloods and blue bloods AA: completing the code for our sessions architect

I still can't tell if each code is a fragment of MEOW, or if MEOW is only one of the four sequences that created Scratch. I certainly hope it's the former, because if Scratch's MEOW has been tampered with, his abilities might differ from those of a normal First Guardian. We'll have no idea what he's truly capable of.

This isn't the first time I've been confused by Scratch's origins, either. There's a small discrepancy in the comic, concerning the nature of the cueball he was (presumably) spawned from. I haven't brought it up before, but since this scene appears to leading into Scratch's creation, it may be my last chance to speculate.

So - the cueball. The magical little orb that Scratch is a dead ringer for. Barring the surprise introduction of a second white sphere in this infodump, it's the only item in the comic which would create a cueball-headed First Guardian. Franky, if he's not made from the thing, it just raises further questions, and I think it's essentially confirmed.

And it makes sense, doesn't it? The cueball can answer any question, so it clearly has access to some wellspring of absolute knowledge. Clearly, it's the reason for Scratch's omniscience... right?

Well, no! That's the problem! The cueball's omniscience is completely redundant, because the MEOW code already contains an omniscience gene!

According to the Scratch loredump, any 'intelligent' host for the MEOW code will be granted near-omniscience. Scratch didn't need the cueball, provided his humanoid component was sufficiently clever. Considering Scratch's own analytical personality, this was obviously the case.

Like - you get what I'm saying, right? Scratch's omniscience has two completely independent origins. It's an extremely strange discrepancy, and I'm not sure what it could mean.

The best theory I currently have is that Scratch arranged this himself, to give himself an advantage. Maybe having two sources of omniscience makes him even more knowledgeable than his peers? It would be very Homestuck for some characters to be 'more omniscient' than others.

AA: there was another fragment […] AA: an additional eight symbols AA: from a wild card source i suppose AA: it came from a timeline not meant to happen

Wh- Gamzee interfered in the creation of Scratch?

...fuck.

This is why Scratch is so uniquely malevolent - because Gamzee injected some foreign DNA into his sequence, creating a mutant First Guardian, with motives transcending the planet he was ostensibly made for.

I suddenly understand jack shit - but there's one thing I am sure of, and that's who to blame. A powerful, neutral Sgrub NPC was corrupted into joining the cult of English, and he has to be the one pulling the strings here.

[starlightshadowsworld]

There’s been multiple characters in Bungou Stray Dogs that have been called “angel.”

Shibusawa called Atsushi the “angel that will save me.” Yosano was called the Angel of Death. Mushitaro called himself the Angel of Murder.

Ango is the angel Dazai refers to when he tells Sigma an angel is how he’s able to reach the outside world.

And while not referred to directly in Stormbringer Chuuya’s corrupted form resembles that of an angel.

Fukuchi (chapter 90) tells Tachihara that he is an angel but Tachihara is not. And explains what it means to be an angel.

“Now who are the angels? Those who don’t dirty their own hands, who don’t bear the filth. And send their inferior humans to the battlefield.

Those who, bearing no responsibility, crave nothing but the honour, riches and pleasures. They hold the reins of the people. Heavenly beings that’s others hands cannot reach.”

Fukuchi’s correct Tachihara doesn’t fit this criteria of being an angel. But neither do any of the characters I’ve listed.

Atsushi is the one who gets sent into battle. He does not control anyone and sees those others view as inferior, as people who need help.

And any time something goes wrong Atsushi blames himself for it.

Yosano sent soldiers to there deaths during the war, absolutely. But the second she realised the true weight of her actions she tried to stop it.

It was out of her control and Yosano still shoulders responsibility for it.

Chuuya has been on the front lines since he joined the Sheep. He enjoys the thrill of the fight sure but his fights are usually in service to protecting his family. Be it the Sheep or the Port Mafia.

Chuuya’s always been placed on a pedestal but he never put himself on one. And on multiple occasions Chuuya’s chosen to protect even if it could cost him everything.

Mushitaro tried to convince himself it was all for his own pleasure and amusement. But he only dirtied his hands for an old friend who’s long gone.

Same with Ango who dirtied his hands for Dazai. He took responsibility for the Dragons Head incident. And even with everything at stake Ango cautioned Chuuya against using corruption.

Even Fukuchi himself doesn’t truly fit this description.

Fukuchi’s dirtied his hands sure but happily uses others to do it for him. He tried to convince Akutagawa to kill Atsushi because he didn’t want the blood of more children on his hands.

The fact Fukuchi uses the vampires to begin show he has a hold on others. Along with his reputation that really carried things for him. His motive is peace sure but he’s already decided how many deserve to die for it.

Much like the politicians he’s criticising in the statement above. But I guess it’s fine when he chooses who deserves to live or die.

The only other person I can think of who fits this criteria the closest is Fyodor. Makes sense considering he’s probably the one who spoon fed the motto to Fukuchi to begin with.

But it is interesting considering Fyodor has only ever been referred to by others as a demon. Though he himself probably thinks of himself as an angel. One that will purge this world of abilities, of sin.

Despite possessing one himself.

Fyodor can dirty his hands but like Fukuchi prefers to use people to fight for him. He doesn’t see anyone as his equal not even Dazai. And he manipulates and brainwashes his way into controlling others.

It makes sense that in Fyodor’s eyes he is an angel. Though there is one thing Fukuchi mentions that the rest possess more than he does.

And that’s to be an angel means to suffer.

Fukuchi definitely suffered from war. But he says his experience with torture is from the torturers side. He has not suffered for his own mission of peace.

He’s never lost anything he didn’t plan to lose. Prior to Fyodor showing up Fukuchi was dying exactly how he wanted too.

Ango’s suffered. Mushitaro’s suffered. Chuuya’s suffered. Yosano’s suffered. Atsushi is suffering. Fyodor literally wouldn’t have gotten to this point if he hadn’t suffered.

Fukuchi by his own criteria is an angel and yet it puts him even closer to the demon himself. Rather fitting for a man who thought his quest to end a war with a war would make him a hero.