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lilac-5ky · 2 years ago

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Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Date with a ghost

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Summary: Being at the bottom of the ladder in your class with a non-combat oriented technique, you are prompted by Gojo to summon a dead sorcerer as a learning experience. However, when none other than Fushiguro Toji appears in your room, you find yourself practicing more than just your cursed technique.

Tags: Student!reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18, Toji early 30s), Oral Sex (both f. and m. receiving), Manipulation, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Pet Names (princess, baby, etc), Cowgirl, Toji being a horny asshole that gets redeemed at the end? Sort of.

Word Count: less than 6k.

“But, sensei, is this really necessary?”

You tilted the sphere between your fingers, sizing it up. It weighed no more than a baseball ball did, yet its price must be comparable to that of an entire stadium. A cursed item among cursed items given to a mere grade 3 sorcerer who barely stood out amidst the renowned prodigies of Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was a waste of both time and effort and yet the white-haired man before you begged to differ, eyes glinting a vibrant sky-blue hue from underneath his dark shades.

“Doubting your favorite teacher, Y/N?” he chuckled only to sulk a second later when you asked him what deluded him into thinking he was your favorite.

Undeterred, he continued “I feel like a broken record here, but do yourself a favor and have a bit more confidence. Graduation is two months away, don’t you wanna prove your worth till then? It’s not too late to climb a couple of steps up the ladder. You could easily shoot up to Grade 2. Look at the rest of your class—”

A firm albeit reassuring grip latched itself onto your shoulder, gently twisting you in the direction of your classmates.

The heatwave must have gotten to them for good, blood boiling under the vicious sun rays. Their sleeves and pants were rolled high above their elbows and knees respectively, foreheads glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that dribbled down their necks.

Just looking at them made your skin crawl with uneasiness.

You didn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would willingly trade the shade of these blessed pine trees for the scorching furnace that the schoolyard was, but when you stopped paying attention to their clothes and took in their blissful expression, you felt a lump swell in your throat.

The two of them were practically beaming, giggling, and prancing around the water fountains without a care in the world— and why should they have anything to worry about when they were Grade 1 at seventeen? A Kamo and a distant cousin to the Zen’ins, both guaranteed to walk a path strewn with rose petals since birth. No trial or tribulation whatsoever.

Your teacher’s voice was muffled into white noise while you were busy shooting daggers at the duo, part of you wishing to join them in their harmless idiocy, and another silently praying that in your next life, you’d be lucky enough to be born into one of their clans. No one questioned the value of a Kamo. No one went against a Zen’in with an inherited technique.

“So, we good? Tell me I didn’t waste 15 minutes of my precious time for nothing.” His fingers squeezed at your shoulder, causing your attention to shift.

You had no idea what he’d been saying, though you’d sat through plenty of pep talks already to guess the gist of it. “You have potential, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down like this. You can do it!” All empty words without real meaning. Worthless. Not everyone had what it takes to become the next Gojo Satoru. Some people were born to be stepping stones for others, and you were perfectly fine with it. No half-assed aspiration would spur you on.

“If I do this… will you leave me alone?”

A Cheshire cat grin spanned from one corner of his mouth to the other. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake Gojo for an overzealous teacher whose earnest goal was to see his students succeed. Not you. You’d spent enough time in his presence to know that his whole “Teacher of the Year” shtick hid an agenda of its own. It was a matter of time to find out what his true motive was.

“What’s the plan?”

“Now we are talking,” he sang in glee. “Very simple, really. You just hold this between your palms and channel as much cursed energy as possible to its center. The ball will absorb it like a magnet and continue drawing from you until you have a clear picture of your target. Then, assuming all goes well and you don’t pass out,” a quiet “What?!” was overwritten by his voice, “you’ll get your very own date with a spirit. Isn’t that exciting?”

Nothing about your expression screamed excitement, eyes squinting in slits and bottom lip quivering into a frown. “And who’s my target, exactly?”

“A Zen’in sorcerer,” he said.

“A Zen’in sorcerer you say,” your eyes wandered again to that soaked blockhead in the distance, the black mop he had for hair flapping left and right. “Ain’t the one over there good enough?”

Shaping a cone around his mouth, Gojo yelled at the top of his lungs for the kids to wait up so they could play together. The duo cheered excitedly, shouting some sort of inside joke you knew nothing about right back at him. Wasn’t the first time you were excluded, and it certainly wasn’t the first time you questioned how this man came to be the world’s most talented sorcerer, either.

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his smile softened as he lowered his voice. “The Zen’in I’m talking about has been dead for a little more than a hundred years now. Unfortunately, his name is erased from our logs,” of course it is “but that shouldn’t hinder you too much. He was an immensely powerful sorcerer with a great amount of cursed energy to back his technique up. An anomaly, if you like.”

“What kind of technique?” “The ten shadows technique,” he answered. “Out of all the Shikigami users, he is perhaps the strongest there’s ever been.”

“Stronger than you, sensei?”

The way his nose scrunched made you regret asking, knowing that a haughty declaration was dangling from the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a never-ending spiel of self-praise.

“And why should I invoke him in particular?” you quickly changed the subject. “I thought our goal was to hone my spirit-channeling technique and increase my cursed energy flow while we’re at it.”

“That we are doin’, but why not kill two birds with one stone? A new ten-shadow user has risen. I’m sure whatever trick that old dog has up his sleeve will be useful to our little Meg—” He feigned a smile of innocence at his slip. “All you gotta do is chit-chat him into giving you some info. Toss in a few compliments, butter him up. Shouldn’t take more than a few words to convince him, spirits are dying to be summoned— Oh well, unfortunate choice of words. What do you say? You’re in?”

Your groan was all the answer he required to beeline straight to the water fountains, his chirpy laugh echoing from afar. This guy, you huffed, examining the crystal ball anew. There was no way out of this. Either you did his bidding or you’d be forced to endure the obnoxious sound of his voice all summer long.

“Couldn’t you have chosen anything more cliche than a crystal ball?” you snarled, convinced he hadn’t heard you.

“Ouija board was already taken,” he warbled unexpectedly, voice meshing with that of your peers as they ran around in circles, dark-colored uniforms turning darker with every splash of water. “Besides, this has a bit of pink in it,” he referred to the rosy shaded base. “Much cuter than a bunch of rusty letters, right?”

You groaned as you shoved the item into your tote bag, making no mistake to talk out loud again as you turned on your heel. A pinch of jealousy punctured your chest, relieved by every step you took away from the scene and away from the fun the three of them were having.

“Looks like we’re having a date with a ghost tonight.”

It was a quarter past twelve when you decided to put that little experiment to work, the coast clear of overbearing parents and annoying little brothers who wanted nothing more than to disrupt your so-called “studying session”. As far as your family was concerned, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (Tokyo Jujutsu High for short) was your average educational institution that had somehow recognized the value of your mediocre grades and scouted you when you were still in middle school— no questions asked from either side.

You wouldn’t go as far as to call your own family a bunch of dimwits, but the signs were all there. A teacher merely four years older than you were, his odd sartorial decisions only second to his eccentric personality. A class made up of four students dramatically and suddenly decreasing to a party of three. An unknown man in a suit and tie driving you back and forth between “emergency study dates” in the dead of night. The lack of studying material in your backpack as opposed to the exams you constantly stressed over. Your unreasonable reaction when your mother stored a cursed tool in with the silver cutlery.

Even if you straight up walked to them with a banner that read “I exorcise curses”, you doubted they’d have anything more to say than a plain “Good for you”, not because they were stupid, but because they simply didn’t care at all.

They didn’t care enough to bat an eye when seven-year-old you tugged at daddy’s trousers, whimpering about a squid-like creature sneaking in your closet, and didn’t care enough to try and justify the stream of water flooding down the corridor. They didn’t care that your imaginary friends were more akin to monsters, and they didn’t care about you being away from home 350 days a year. It was convenient not to. That’s how they were able to drink their woes away at the local bar on a Thursday night with a clear conscience, having offloaded that pest of a brother at your grandparents’ for the fifth consecutive night.

Poor kid. If he wasn’t so despicable, your big sister instincts might have kicked in and raised an objection, though as things currently were suited you best. Rituals required focus, and you needed to make sure no one would bust through the door and interrupt your conversation with Mister Whatever-his-name-was.

You’d taken care of all your basic needs —eating a reheated portion of lasagna, cleansing your body of the worldly filth that stained it, catching a rerun of your favorite show’s latest episode, and cursing Gojo for making you miss it in the first place— and were now seated on your room’s floor with the crystal ball nesting between your bare thighs, the cold sensation much welcome on this excruciatingly warm evening where sitting on the fuzzy carpet seemed like the greatest torture imaginable.

It was only March and you were already in your skimpiest outfit of all; a frilly pair of dusty-pink shorts and a matching low-cut tank top dressing your sweat-beaded body. Dark spots saturated the fabric, demanding your fingers fanned it every two seconds. The worst had yet to come. By the time summer arrived, the final thing for you to crawl out of would be your own skin.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you returned to the item at hand. It’d been fairly long since you’d last performed a seance. Your role in the recent assignments was to support your classmates from the sidelines, exorcising whatever lower-grade curse got in their way with the aid of various cursed tools.

The white-haired nuisance could claim your technique was useful all he wanted, but at the end of the day, yours were simply not meant for combat. Best case scenario, after graduation, the higher-ups would put you on a 9 to 5 job, where you could dig whatever intel they wanted from the comfort of your cramped-up desk; away from your haughty classmates, and away from Gojo Satoru.

You rolled your fingers around the globe’s surface, pads tingling with waves of cursed energy as they seeped into the crystal. Slowly, a dark purple aura came to distort its translucence with colors and shapes of various magnitudes. Shadow-like forms gathered at the seams, remnants of pent-up energy colliding and converging with one another at one focal point. All ready to go!

You began mentally chanting the surname of your target, over and over again until the slideshow of foggy faces diminished to that of a select few candidates from the same bloodline. Some, you would imagine had died when they were still in their prime, measly fledglings of sorcerers with eyes retaining that youthful glossiness, while others seemed to have lived enough to see themselves turn into dehydrated raisins with next to zero cursed energy left.

Once you’d gone through your classmate’s entire family tree at least three times, you caught yourself admitting that despite their faults and innate air of pretension, the Zen’ins weren’t particularly hard on the eyes. Especially that one guy whose mug kept reappearing at random intervals, the slanted scar of his lips lingering in your mind well after the next contender’s appearance. There was something about him, be it the lack of aura he emitted or the viridescent hue of his eyes that had you replaying the frame at the expense of your own energy.

You were drawn to him in an inexplicable way that, at the time, you attributed to fate. It had to be him, right? That must have been why the dope you had for a mentor insisted on calling this a date. Even if he didn’t know the sorcerer’s name, he must have known how insanely attractive the guy was, right?

And suddenly, you felt a sliver of gratitude overcome you, eyelids snapping shut with the Zen’in sorcerer’s face as clear as day behind them, while you chanted the incantation Gojo himself had taught you.

“From the murky shroud of oblivion, I invoke thou out the shadows and blight to bask in heavenly light. Through me gain life, and through life gain thine blessed power.”

No more than a few seconds had passed when you heard a thud, your gaze meeting with that of the very man you’d summoned.

The orb barely did him any justice. Not as if crystal balls were ideal measuring instruments, but you’d need about ten more of those to depict his height as he towered over you, the bulky frame of his shoulders casting a large shadow on the wall behind your head. He was dressed in a much more casual manner than one would expect of someone who’d been dead for over a century, with corded veins and taut muscles peaking underneath a black compression shirt, waist accentuated where his hips met with a pair of baggy pants. And once you got to his face— you must have lost track of time staring into the gem-like green orbs of his eyes, considering you didn’t notice the scowl his lips wore until his tone pointed it out.

“The hell is this?” He sounded just like he looked, the bass of his timbre ringing most pleasantly in your ears.

You wouldn’t know what being dead felt like, but if it was anything remotely close to sitting on a dead leg for hours on end, you guessed he’d rather take a moment to adjust over an answer.

His soles circled the tiny space, eyes dancing between the fairy lights on the wall, the moonless sky —and by extension the empty driveway outside your window—, the three Polaroids on your desk that depicted an old family trip to Seoul (your mother silently accusing him from the frame for the crime of wearing his shoes inside the house), and lastly, you. His gaze feasted on your body as if he’d been starved for ages and you were the first oasis in the desert, his expression gradually easing into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got a name, sweetheart?” he asked in a syrupy sweet tone, the nickname he’d come up with making you doubt he’d use your actual name even if you shared it.

You set the ball aside and hopped on your feet, standing on somewhat more equal ground, though not equal enough to completely diminish the difference in height. He was massive, and you were still processing the kind of person that possessed the power to end this man’s life.

“Name’s Y/N,” you extended your hand. “You must be master Zen’in, nice to meet you!”

He merely glanced at your gesture, leaving you to embarrass yourself without a single qualm. “No one’s called me that in some time,” he expressed wryly. “You know about me?”

You nodded, wiping your palm against your shorts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a spirit act all high and mighty, a Zen’in at that. “Who hasn’t heard of the greatest sorcerer there’s ever been?” you chuckled, Gojo’s bootlicking advice coming in for the clutch. “You are somewhat of a legend in the Jujutsu world. The one who mastered the ten shadows technique like no other.”

“Is that who I am now,” he pondered out loud, his index briefly scratching his jaw. “I guess I am,” he grinned with confidence. “That why you summoned me? Wanted to meet with great ol’ me in person?”

“Something like it,” you admitted, finding it hard not to smile back. “I just so happen to be acquainted with this idiot who’s a big fan of yours. Had me use my technique for a passing grade.”

A low hum prompted you to continue. “He’s a real pain in the ass,” you groaned. “Calls himself ‘the strongest’ and acts as if he’s ‘teacher of the year’ when he forces me to fish out intel like some lackey— Actually, you might have heard of his family name before, they’ve been around for ages. Gojo,” quickly adding “Satoru.”

At the sound of your teacher’s name, the man’s eyes widened, his darkened pupils blown with an emotion akin to rage. You weren’t sure what great calamity the Gojos had brought upon him in his previous life, but being familiar with their descendant you doubted they put much effort into it.

“The six eyes is your teacher?” he asked, not giving you enough time to question how on earth he knew that title before he pitched in another question. “So, ya just a kid, huh?”

“I’m not!” you objected. “Turned 18 a while ago.”

“A while, you say?” he arched a brow.

“I’m closer to 19 if anything,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“19,” he mocked, his droopy eyelids incapable of hiding the way he sized your figure up.

You didn’t even think to put on a bra before the ritual started. Just like you could vividly picture what his pecs looked like under his clothes, your flimsy outfit left little to the imagination, the sweat that’d shimmered across your collarbones and cleavage working in your favor.

“Nah, you are right. No kid could ever have a body like that. Plump and ripe in all the right places,” his tongue lapped over his bottom lip, salacious stare prodding at what your arms kept hidden. “That’s a woman’s body, no doubt.”

Heat spread from your chest all the way to your cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t because of the room’s overbearing heat. Your toes sunk inside the carpet, thighs awkwardly rubbing together. You’d found yourself in such a position before, yet never with a boy like him— never with a man like him.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, your fingers hesitantly sliding down your elbows.

He took a step closer, lacking hesitation as he lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb gently caressing it.

“Gonna let me look at the rest, baby?” his other hand encompassed your hip, the size of his palm alone making you feel oh-so small and fragile before him. “I’ll make ya a deal if you lemme. Tell ya anything you wanna know and more— heh, I’ll make sure ya pass with flying colors.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

Depriving you of the chance to deny his advances, the man slotted his lips between yours and pulled back almost instantaneously, overjoyed to catch you leaning into his touch for more.

You weren’t sure why this was happening— why you were letting this happen. He was a stranger who barely qualified as being alive, and at the time of his death, he was closer to your father’s age than yours. But he was there, and he was paying you attention, and the way he spoke to you as if he already knew your answer ahead of your mouth had warmth spiraling to the lower parts of your body.

Rather than giving in to your pouty lips, the man whose name you didn’t even know cupped your breasts in both his hands, calloused thumbs making quick work of your nipples as they peaked below the drenched fabric, rolling the sensitive buds into full hardness.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he praised, kneading at your supple skin almost adoringly.

The straps of your top slid down your shoulders, and you felt the ghost of a smile press onto your neck, his warm mouth smearing wet kisses right to where your neck and shoulders connected. You bit back a sigh, your breath audibly strained.

“Bet you wanna be touched, hmm?” he continued, finding the sweet spot you didn’t know you had, and pressed on, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh coaxing a purr from deep within your throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shudder. “That why you’re dressed like a slut? Wanna be treated like one, mm?” his lips parted again, tongue lapping over the delicate bruise his teeth left as he pinched your nipples harshly. A moan was ripped from your slack jaw, the insult he carelessly threw adding to the slick between your thighs.

“Sounds about right,” he smirked. “Well, I’m not complaining. You’re a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”

He didn’t ask for permission before he tugged at your shirt, your breasts spilling out with a single bounce. You saw him wet his lips once more, fingers seizing your now-exposed nipples and lustful eyes admiring them up close. You hadn’t noticed how close he was standing until his hips bucked against yours, alerting you to how painfully hard he’d gotten underneath his pants. The six-year-long refractory period his body was subjected to was far too cruel— though you wouldn’t know about that until much later.

“Tell me,” he requested, pausing just so he could look you dead in the eye. “Have you ever done this before?”

His lips traversed the valley of your breasts, rough palms sliding languidly across your ribs and waist. You could see him hold you like that while being inches deep in you. Slamming your frail little set of bones against your desk’s wooden surface. Pounding your hole for your parents to return to their precious daughter bent in half by some stranger. Bruising Gojo’s star student until the smug smile was wiped from his obnoxious mouth for good.

All those reasons made you nod at his question, not caring that he’d be ten times rougher because of your white lie. If anything, you looked forward to that.

“Sure you’re not lying to me?” he read your mind like an open book, the elastic of your shorts being torn away from your body. “Won’t be mad if y’are. I love myself a sweet little virgin. Love how whiny their voices get. How,” he lowered himself onto his knees, palm pushing you to sit on your bed “cute their little tight cunts look all stretched around me.”

His hot breath fanned over your soaked panties, index lazily rubbing back and forth between your clothed slit, the added friction sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine.

“You really aren’t one, are ya?”

You shook your head repeatedly like a bobblehead doll, propping your weight onto your elbows as he lifted your legs on his shoulders, the reality of his choppy raven hair nuzzling to your thighs finally hitting you.

“You said all you wanted to do was look, right?” the finger that was hooked around your underwear stopped. “That was the deal…”

For a brief yet conscious second, his eyes bore into yours with such spite that you thought you’d completely messed up. Only a virgin would dare say something this stupid. If he wasn’t bound to you by the ritual, he’d be out the door the moment you spat those words, you knew it, but then his knuckles brushed over your abdomen to find the hand that clenched onto the sheets, and you realized that wasn’t the case.

“Deals get altered and terms renewed all the time,” he mumbled distractedly, deeply inhaling your scent on his nose, while your fingers unfolded between his lips. You gasped, the sight of him fucking them in and out his mouth —tongue slithering right in the middle and saliva dribbling down his chin as he popped them out— enough to hypnotize whatever sense out of your brain.

“I’ll make ya a new deal,” he hummed, gently directing them to your mouth as if he beckoned you to do the same. A smirk tugged at his scar as he watched your pink lips obediently part and round around your own fingers. He didn’t let go until he heard you choke, secretly plotting to replace them with something else—sooner, than later.

“My technique is what interests you, right? How about instead of telling you, I show you?”

You tried to remove your hand, but he shoved it back in, his true colors pouring into a devilish smile. “I’ve had enough of your voice. All you gotta do is sit back like the good little girl I know you are and keep your legs nice and spread for me. How’s that?”

The only thing your head could manage was pathetically bob up and down in agreement, your fingers stuck in your mouth like a damn pacifier, while your cunt pulsed at every single word he uttered; derogatory or not. Were it any other guy talking down to you like that, your knuckles would be leaving an impermanent imprint on his cheek. Were it any other guy treating you as if you had no volition of your own as if you were just a toy for him to break, and you—

There wouldn’t be any other guy for you ever again. He’d make sure of it.

He ripped the fabric into a single shred and tossed it over his shoulder without caring where it landed- your bedside lamp. He looked down at your pussy, debating to himself whether to start with his tongue or fingers first, calculating the time it’d take for him to prep you for his cock down to the last second. He might’ve been a lot less nice than he pretended to be, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

“Let’s see,” he tipped forward, the way his forefinger slipped between your folds without any resistance whatsoever bringing you shame. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, his digit triumphantly pulling out and smearing your slick all over your puffy lips. “Is that all for me, sweetheart? So fucking wet just for me?”

Your hips bucked forward as an answer to his question and he thought he wouldn’t mind taking things slow for once— see how much you could take before you came completely undone.

“Girls like you make the best fuck,” he cooed, voice echoing right through your core. “Surrendering to the first sweet word they hear.” His thumb circled your clit, flicking at the little bundle of nerves. “Leaking at the slightest of touch.” His middle and ring fingers joined in the action, burying themselves as far inside walls as your tight hole let him push. “Breaking so easily.” He drooled, coating your entire pussy in his thick saliva before allowing himself a taste, tongue lapping at the mix of juices straight from the source.

Your thighs clenched around him, muffling the lewdness of a whimper as he looked up at you, his smirk loosening with every kitten lick across your flesh. You wanted to say something, to call out his name and moan for him, but it all felt so unpracticed— similarly to how unpracticed your cunt was when it came to the girth of his fingers; much bigger than yours, more experienced too. He reached depths you didn’t know existed, bringing your body such pleasure that had you writhing for more, hips slamming against his face.

He groaned, his own arousal throbbing against his lower abdomen, begging him to get this over with. “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

You felt your cheeks ignite anew, the eyes you’d fallen for at first sight overflowing with lust, convincing you it felt as good for him as it felt for you.

“Can’t let ya do that,” he parted your folds, fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue darted between your lips, his nose intentionally nudging the pink nub with each deep stroke against your spongy spot. “Gotta earn it first.”

You stared at him like an idiot, wondering to yourself if somewhere between his refusal to shake your hand and his eagerness to quench his thirst with your body you’d passed away because that was what heaven ought to feel like. That was what angels ought to look like.

“Got something to say, princess?” his eyes shot up and he gestured for you to unlatch your mouth.

“S-so pretty,” you whispered.

“What was that?” his ears perked up, not because he hadn’t heard you the first time, but because he could do with some affirmation himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… f-fuck—” a yelp punched its way out of your lungs as he folded you in half, pinning your thighs onto your stomach, and crawling onto the bed right after them.

He’d had enough of this little game.

“Good girls shouldn’t cuss like that. Six eyes didn’t teach ya that?”

Holding you down with one hand, he dived back into your pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a furious pace that had your upper body tossing and turning, the first unregulated moans ushering him to keep going. His tongue toyed with your swollen bud, the squelching of your cunt growing significantly louder from this angle, reverberating throughout the four walls of your bedroom. You were close, and so was he to getting his dick wet with all the mess he’d helped create.

His mouth watered just at the thought of his seed being the one to dribble down your thighs instead of his spit. He could picture you in one of those cute blue-navy skirts hanging from your closet and hoped you weren’t a tights person. He wanted to see you off to school every morning with your thighs sticking together so deliciously that anyone smart enough would understand how meticulously he’d fucked the brat out of you—

If only there was a mirror for you to see how stunning you looked. All fucked out and writhing, disheveled hair stuck on your tits and forehead while you nuzzled to the pillows, your shaky voice calling out to the surname he’d left behind. Would you still do that if you knew he played you like a fiddle? If you knew he was no esteemed Zen’in or sorcerer, for that matter, but a man hell-bent on ruining you for his own sick satisfaction?

Your body reciprocated his vile thoughts, your pussy fluttering around his digits. “Gonna cum for me?” he panted, forcing your legs to the side lest he missed a reaction.

Neither of you realized how his one hand had sneaked into his pants, stroking his veiny cock closer to the ecstasy he craved. Precum leaked hot out of the reddened tip, his thumb frantically swiping it over his length in sync with his thrusts. He’d stopped listening to your pleas and instructions. He fucked his fingers in you as he pleased, slowing down only when his balls began to dangerously tighten. Only then did he tear his fingers away ‘cause God forbid he busts his load in his palm like some fucking untouched teenager— regardless of how obscenely pretty you appeared for him or not.

Once he regained his composure, words made sense again. Harder. Faster. More. He hated being told what to do but absolutely loved how pliant you were. A people-pleaser, he bet. Going above and beyond what was asked of you, bending and breaking into whatever molds others force you to fit. He could work with that. Shape you into a mold only he could fit in.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how much prettier y’ can get.”

His cock twitched as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, your sweet face contorting with pleasure, lips swollen with how hard they’d tried to contain the last bits of debouched decency.

How cute.

He set your legs down and moved up to meet your face with his, a wave of genuine softness rushing over him as he thought to kiss your lips tenderly, hushing whatever emotion had you spasming. You were so sensitive. Even if you’d been with another guy before him, he doubted they knew what they were doing— not like he did, anyway. He’d make you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear what a dirty slut lived just next door from them.

After a short while of his stroking your hair and whispering filth into your ears, he decided he’d been good enough to get his trick. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, grinning like a little kid as your smaller palm traced the outline over his pants, knowing full well both hands would do nothing to cover his girth.

He’d really missed this— so much that he didn’t mind letting a grunt out in appreciation, certain that more would follow.

Your eyes met, the spark in them telling him you understood what he expected you to do, and even if you didn’t, he’d teach you. He’d teach you everything, snatch you from that piece of shit and make you into his star student, so long as you kept touching him and let him do all the things he’d spent the last thirty minutes fantasizing about.

Everything and anything, all for you to take—

The thoughts that failed to reach your ears along with all traces of the man whose weight alone -up until a moment ago- threatened to crush your body into a fine powder evaporated, the smooth sound of his voice replaced by the crude breaks of your father’s car as he pulled into the driveway— your mother’s kitten heels soon clicking atop every step they climbed.

Shit.

A/N: I actually intended for this to be a one-shot, but I guess it sort of ended on a cliffhanger so, oops. Lemme know if I should write a second and final part, or if you have any Toji ideas/requests ♡

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elfryona · 6 months ago

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Guide to picking up a plural system, for singlets

We've all been there. You're chatting with a cute plural girl and wonder if you have a chance with all of them. Maybe you've found an easily manipulated caretaker. Maybe an endogenic maid stole your clockwork heart. Maybe you met a front-stuck Tsukihime introject. Either way, you've got no better choice than following a guide by someone entirely underqualified to write one.

Before you start

Before you head system-chasing, I need you to hold your horses. You can't just go after a plural girl the way you'd go after a singlet trans girl, faking desperation and empathy. You need to relate to a system, and there's a quick little exercise for that:

Imagine a girl in your head. What does she look like? Don't just think of the broad strokes, like her figure and hair colour. What do her palms feel like to the touch? What kind of socks is she wearing? Is her neck thin enough to wrap your hands around?

This may take a while. Don't worry too much. If you can't come up with a whole new girl, you can borrow a fictional girl you're familiar with, too! Just don't skip any steps.

When you're ready, think of her personality and her voice. What would her most defining traits be? What distinct mannerisms does she carry with her? Is she soft-spoken, loud, or something in-between?

Now give her a name and introduce her to herself. Tell her who she is, what kind of person she is, and let her know that she'll live with you in your head from now on.

How to start talking

You've just invited a girl into your noggin, and you might be wondering why I made you do that. Unfortunately, that's just beyond what a singlet would understand—trust the process, and everything will work out grand.

Before asking out a plural system, you have to practise talking to a headmate. Thankfully, you don't need to look for another system for that—after all, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of their entire community?

No, you're going to practise with the new girl in your head.

I want you to remember the feeling of presence you get when someone you like is in the same room as you. Now try to feel that presence from your new friend. Some find it easier if you materialise her in a place in your head—others would rather feel her presence on the outside, like a ghost or some kind of hat man.

Now talk to her about anything you want. Remember, you need to entertain a lot of headmates to date a system—handling one girl is the least you can do! Ideally you want to give her your full attention for 30 minutes to an hour every day, but in any case, involving her in your daily routines will help a lot too! After all, she might want to front someday. Don't worry about that, though.

Actually getting a system

By now, you might've been doing the previous step for two weeks, maybe even a month. You're probably growing fond of the new girl, and she has definitely replied at least once, even though she's still struggling with language.

Maybe you're feeling ready to ask that cute system out. I'm sorry, but you have to wait a little longer!

Around this point, you might start sensing new, pretty well-developed presences entering your mind. I want you to invite them in and let them stay. Your girl needs more friends, after all!

Maybe these new presences will start talking with the girl in your head. If that's the case, you've developed a self-sustaining system and don't need to put nearly as much effort as before. Or maybe they pick up the slack while your girl is asleep—then talk to them, too! This too will help you score with a system.

How to keep it going

Now you might be thinking: "What the hell? Where's my system? What did you do to me?"

If you're thinking that, I want you to look inside: how many people live in your head? It's at least two, but more likely something like four. You've picked up a system.

Now you'll want to work on letting your headmates take the front. Everyone has their own approach, but it usually involves two steps: letting go of your body, and letting your headmate in.

You can start small. Let go of one hand, and let your most independent headmate move it about. Let go of the whole arm. Continue in the style of a mindfulness session, until it's your whole body getting taken over.

Or if you have experience with dissociation, just let go of your whole body at once! Project yourself into the outside world or retreat into the headspace, while your headmate takes over. It might feel like you're blending with them a little, but that's to be expected near the beginning. You'll get better with practice!

Once you get good enough at giving up front and end up in a sufficiently stressful situation, one of your headmates might end up stuck in front instead while you're locked inside your head. If this ever happens, you need to tell your new fronter to slide into my DMs before the headmates inevitably cannibalise what's left of your identity. No, I can't save you from getting snuffed, but I do know how to pick up a plural girl.

#i wrote this in a feverish haze past midnight #it's probably as poorly written as it is insane #but it does work as a guide. almost everything in this post is from the tulpanomicon or from systems i know

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lnkedmyheart · 2 years ago

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Okay so minimafioso on twt brought this up but this art has everyone hanging on threads like puppets around Fyodor.

And if you look closer all of them are hanging in ways that show that they are obeying the laws of gravity, limp, and doll like with their hair and clothes all hanging off in the correct angles.

And then you have Chuuya who is hanging upside down but his doll isn't limp. Yes he is a gravity manipulator but he is being controlled like a puppet with no autonomy on a string so why isn't he limp? Why is his hat not falling off? Or his coat and hair? Why are they perfectly in place?

Also like, everyone is strung up and the body parts pulled up are all held up by strings but Chuuya only has one leg on a string and the other is still perfectly positioned despite not being held up by anything.

Chuuya's doll practically looks like it is standing upright. But if Chuuya is a puppet he shouldn't have control over his ability like that. Maybe it's just me but the doll also seems to be fully aware and looking straight at Fyodor, being the only one whose head is not in a natural position for his body (everyone else is).

And the whole speculation with Chuuya having broken out of Fyodor's (Bram's) control. We know Chuuya was really exhausted as a vampire when we first met him. He was heaving and sweating, something no other vampire in my memory was shown doing (I could be wrong about that though). And he's not someone who'd get exhausted easily. We also know Chuuya has managed to power through corruption and not only recognised Dazai but also actively searched for him in his corrupted state and controlled his strength to not take off his head with a punch in that state.

We also know that words can have some effect on the vampires like Aku remembering his promise to Atsushi which could imply something because we got Dazai's words invoking their unbreakable bond followed by the last panel where we saw his eyes showing a seemingly fully lucid Chuuya.

And then we either dont see his eyes and fangs at all or he is entirely missing from the scene. He hasn't even hissed and shit. And he had left the control room he and Fyodor were in long before Fyodor gave him the order to kill Dazai. Also Dazai dragging himself right to the camera to let Fyodor know exactly where he is.

Idk about anyone else but that bitch is planning something.

#soukoku #skk #chuuya you little bitch #what are you doing

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literaila · 6 days ago

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all I want for Christmas is knowing how the atf! Family as a whole spend Xmas together (or New Years, idc) and also how Gojo x reader celebrate it alone 👀

“no, satoru,” you say, for what is probably the thousandth time ever.

you should really start capitalizing on these moments. keep a tally and make him pay you for each mark he gets. each time you have to teach him how to listen.

you’d be richer than him by now, probably.

“but please.”

satoru is on the ground by your feet, literally. his giant head rests against your socks, hands clawing at your very elegantly themed nutcracker pajamas like he’s about to rip them. which, he definitely is.

it’s early enough that you don’t even scold him for it, but blink idly, wondering why you’re still up this early when the children are completely grown—to everyone’s utter dismay—and have never believed in the magic of christmas.

well, megumi, at least. tsumiki, the only person in the room who can’t see curses or use any sort of actual supernatural ability, believes wholeheartedly in all types of magic. it must be easy, considering that she’s a sort of magic all on her own.

megumi, who has been preparing for this moment, steps right over satoru and shrugs down next to you on the couch. he’s also wearing christmas pajamas, but only because you and tsumiki manipulated him into it for fifteen minutes the night prior.

tsumiki is sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, smiling because she’s the only morning person in the house.

also because she’s probably the only one who got any sleep.

“get off,” you tell him, pulling at his hair. “you need to wait your turn.”

“noo,” he whines some more, shaking his head and probably getting snot all over your ankles. his morning voice is nonexistent because you know that he didn’t even attempt to go to bed. which is also why he’s throwing a temper tantrum.

“it’s youngest to oldest. you’re dead last, loser.”

satoru looks up at you, pouting.

you ignore him entirely, turning to megumi. “go ahead, kid.”

megumi sighs, picking at the box you set next to his spot. but before he opens it, he gives satoru a look. “i think she just called you old.”

tsumiki giggles, sipping on her hot chocolate.

satoru, who is now leaning against your legs, entirely too tall for anything, looks back at you, head in your lap, with mystified puppy-eyes. he’s completely outraged. “did you call me old?”

you raise a brow. “i said oldest,” you respond, but your tone claims otherwise, because satoru is getting pretty old.

“i am very youthful—“

“immature,” megumi says, under his breath.

“—and the only one with any decency around here.”

“you’re wearing a shirt that says ‘santa’s favorite ho,’” you deadpan, pulling at his hair some more.

tsumiki giggles again.

satoru shakes your hand away. “it was a gift!”

megumi snorts, finally pulling at the wrapping paper around his present.

you blink. “from yourself.”

“not like any of you were going to appreciate me,” satoru mumbles, crossing his arms. you kiss the top of his head in response, and he grabs ahold of your calf like it’s a hand.

“i got you the pants,” tsumiki says, smiling at him.

“and i’ll wear them until the day that i die,” satoru nods, giving you another pointed look. you just snort.

“what’d you get, megs?”

“it’s a mug that says ‘worlds greatest teacher,’” he hands it to you, brows furrowed, his voice is nonchalant.

“what? i didn’t get you—“

“megumi’s not a teacher,” satoru interrupts, easily enough. he plucks the mug right from your hands. “well, i guess ill take it off your hands since you have no use for it—“

“satoru.”

“what? santa must’ve made a mistake—“

tsumiki laughs into her mug, getting hot chocolate on her face, and pajamas, and another year has passed.

who ever said christmas was about gifts anyway?

the rest of the morning passes, new socks shoved into dressers, books left around the house. tsumiki gets yarn to knit with, and megumi gets gel for his hair—and some new underwear, courtesy of satoru.

christmas doesn’t have a lot of tradition for any of you. maybe it’s because you and gojo grew up without any meaningful holidays, or maybe it’s because tsumiki and megumi barely knew what christmas was before you and satoru were assimilated into their household.

but you spend december putting up lights, buying gag gifts and trying to teach satoru how to wrap a present for the sixth year in a row. none of it is ever the same, and none of it goes very well. lights are broken, trees fall, and no matter how many matching sets of pajamas you buy, one always seems to go missing by christmas eve.

still, everyone laughs together at all of the nonsense and maybe that’s the only tradition that matters.

it’s not until later that night that you and satoru are finally alone.

you’re laying in bed, book in hand, trying to purposefully ignore his side eyeing.

but, even after a decade of practice, satoru isn’t easily forgotten. his eyes are too bright, his presence too ingrained in your mind. it’s a curse really, and you shouldn’t welcome it.

but it’s about eleven years too late for that now.

so after ten minutes you sigh, shutting the book. “what?”

“what what?”

“satoru. stop staring at me like a crazy person and talk.”

“what would i have to talk about?” he asks, dazzling smile on his face. he leans over to you, entirely too close. and it’s not a moment later that he pulls a small box from his back, holding it out to you.

how it got there, you’re entirely unsure.

you frown at it for a moment, then groan. “we said no gifts.”

he frowns. “so i’m just supposed to get my wife nothing?”

“yes,” you grab it from his hands, roughly. “because that’s what we agreed on.”

“i don’t think you know me,” he says, almost mystified but entirely teasing

you eye him, lip twitching. then you push the present back into his hands, leaning over to your bedside table.

when you turn back it’s with your own meticulously wrapped present in hand. “i know you,” you whisper to him, handing it over.

“hey,” he says, not at all angry. “we agreed.”

“you’ve never agreed on anything.”

and satoru, as impatient as ever, doesn’t even bother to respond, or even argue back. he just pulls at the bow, ripping the box in two.

and hes already smudged the lens of the new glasses you got him. you begin laughing before he can even look.

“what is this?” he asks, tilting his head at it.

you giggle some more, looking as excited as a child, grabbing the glasses to hold them out towards him. “new glasses,” you say, simply, but your voice is high pitched and on edge. “look.”

satoru grabs them from you again, and looks at the side of the frame. “are these eyes?”

you cover your mouth with a hand and nod. the sides are ingrained with a terrible imitation of satoru’s own eyes, no amount of paint enough to capture the alien-ness of them. still, they’re blue and bright and entirely too hilarious.

he blinks at you, his lips pursed. “are there six of them?”

you hold back a snort and point. “only four. you’ve got two perfectly good ones on your head already.”

and then you burst into laughter, leaning over so you can giggle into the blankets.

satoru is scowling but his face is soft, and maybe he’s smiling at you in disbelief, or admiration. “these are awful,” he says, but puts them on anyway.

“i know!” you say, grinning at him, completely giddy.

he shakes his head, but his face is amused, and nudges his present towards you. “open.”

you’re still quietly laughing to yourself as you open the box, but your smile fades once you see what’s inside.

you pull out a music box, a deep blue with gold embellishments. it’s porcelain and if you drop it, it’d break. you breathe out, then whisper “isn’t this the one we saw at that—“

“at the art festival we went to in october. you said it looked like the one you had at home.”

you look up at him. satoru is still smiling, but when has he ever stopped? “when did you get it? i carried all the bags that day.”

“there was another festival in kanto a month later,” he tells you, pulling it from your hands so he can open it up. “i stopped after a mission to look.”

but before you can thank him, can say it’s beautiful, or wonder how long he thought about it, a tiny dancer pops out, and she’s holding a slip of paper.

“what’s…”

satoru, who can’t wait for anything, grabs it, unfolding it so you can read. but he tells you anyway. “plane tickets. for a trip sometime. us and the kids. i already talked to yaga about time off.”

“satoru—“

“and the higher ups, but that one took longer. they’ll be fine for a week or two.”

you look at him again, lips downturned. “my gift was so dumb.”

he laughs, leaning in so he can press his forehead to yours. “this is for all of us, so we’ll call it even,” he grins, though. “or you could give me a different gift. i have a couple of things in mind—“

you shake your head and crawl to him, pushing him back so you can trap him with your head on his chest. “you’re so dumb.”

he pulls you close and runs his stupid soft hands up from your shoulders to your neck. “i know.”

“i love you.”

“i know,” he answers, still smiling.

#look i cant just deny someone their christmas wish #happy holidays or whatever #i could’ve looked up christmas traditions in japan but i didn’t so you’re welcome #all i want for christmas is some comments and reblogs (attention)#a typical family #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 8 months ago

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𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄

Yandere Scott Summers x GN Reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: When Scott feels his authority over you — the authority to keep you safe — is undermined, he has no choice but to show a little tough love. And, unfortunately for you, he doesn’t hold back.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: platonic yandere content, strict mentor Scott, younger rookie reader, infantilism if you squint, slight intimidation tactics, argument, sparring gone wrong, technical physical abuse(?), Scott just goes ham on beating the shit out of you, all in the name of keeping you safe of course, blood mentioned, sight manipulation, sickeningly soft Scott at the end.

Cyclops goes too easy on you.

All the other X-Men know it; Wolverine and Gambit always make sure to tease you about it every chance they get. Despite all of the hard work you’ve put in since you joined the team, it’s like your field commander thinks you’re made of glass with how he opts for defensive maneuvering in sparring lessons. He’ll never throw a punch or go for the kick, instead blocking or catching whatever you throw his way. You swear he even lets you go for the take down rather than letting you earn it yourself.

It’s just so frustrating. He’s the one who keeps saying you have to prove you’re for a mission… how can you do that if he never gives you the chance? You came here to be one of the X-Men, so you deserve to be trained like one. Hell, he even exchanges blows with Jubilee, and she’s no older than you are. Meanwhile, the most you get is a slight shove or the gentlest pin-down known to man. How is this preparing you for anything out on the field?!

“(Y/N), stay focused.”

And there’s his annoyingly demanding voice snapping you out of your spiral of irritated thoughts.

The two of you were “sparring” in the Danger Room, long after everyone else left. As usual, you mentally jeered; he always has something he wants you to hang back for, because even the most trivial things need to be “corrected” in his eyes. Today, you were unfortunate enough to “push your punch,” as he put it, and now you were stuck with him until he finally deemed the problem fixed. After being forced to punch the air for a solid 10 minutes — not without his very much needed critiques, of course — you were finally back to directing your fists at him.

(At least this is a chance to take out my anger on the source, you bitterly thought to yourself.)

The mundane you-punch-and-he-blocks experience (because that’s all it is; you weren’t really “sparring”) has been going on for the past 5 minutes. You’ve gotten in some solid blows, some of them actually catching him by surprise, much to your satisfaction. But it was obvious your heart wasn’t into it, and it was only a matter of time before he noticed.

Catching your next punch in his hand, he gave you a tight frown. “Hey. Did you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” you responded through gritted teeth. It was easy enough to twist your fist out of his grip, which only added to your vexation; he should’ve at least pretended to try.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” the older mutant retorted, crossing his arms over his chest (part of you wanted to take this as a chance to deliver a sharp kick to his side, but you refrained). “I could’ve easily neutralized you from how sloppy that blow was.”

Before your brain could catch up, your mouth spat out a loaded question; “then why didn’t you?”

“(Y/N),” he lowly warned.

“What?” It was hard to keep the poison out of your tone, but you tried your best. “I’m one of the X-Men too, you know. I can handle it!”

The visor over his eyes made his expression harder to read. All you could go off of was the bottom half of his face, and from the way his jaw tightened, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for this. “You can’t.”

“Wh—” you were caught off guard from the pure vindication of his words, causing you to drop your fighting stance entirely. “Yes I can! You can’t just decide that!”

“I’m your leader,” he spat out, “I can decide whatever I want for the sake of my team.”

“You can’t call yourself my leader if you don’t let me on missions! That’s just unfair!” To accentuate your exasperation, you threw your arms out to the side. “Look, man. You can bench me all you want, but at least train me with the same respect as everyone—”

He was quick to cut you off. “This isn’t about respect, (Y/N). You’re just not ready for that level of training, and your performance today proves that. You’re getting lazy.”

“Only ‘cuz you don’t take me seriously,” you scoffed. Before he could say something to that, you quickly continued. “These aren’t sparring sessions. Not actually helpful ones, anyway. I mean, if you’re never gonna fight back, why even bother?! You may as well have me waste my time punching a training dummy instead—”

“That’s enough,” he snapped at you, but you only continued.

“Can’t you just hear me out?!” A frustrated groan tumbled from your lips. “I’m not asking you to drop me in the middle of a war zone, I just want you to actually train me!! At this rate, I’ll never be ready for a mission!! Please, Cyke… I wanna be trained for real!”

Cyclops went eerily silent at this. While you couldn’t see his eyes, the glare he was giving you translated quite well, causing a shiver up to go up your spine. Nevertheless, you stood your ground; you finally spoke your mind, and you weren’t going to let him intimidate you out of this. You’ll easily take an optic blast to the face if it meant getting your point across.

“… Get ready, then,” was his flat reply.

You were only given a fraction of a second to process the implication before he quickly took on a fighting stance, delivering a precise jab to your rib cage. His movements were nothing but a blur to you, the painful blow almost knocking you off your feet as you let out a shout. He gave you no time to recover as he threw his next punch, which you fortunately managed to dodge, albeit barely. A rapid procession of fists followed, and you could feel the gusts of them as you desperately tried to keep up your evasive maneuvering.

It soon became harder and harder to keep up with how fast he was moving. You eventually had to resort to blocking with your forearms; an experience you found to be quite painful. The sheer power from his punches made your bones feel like they were gonna splinter, the skin of your arms already burning from agony. One nasty hit at the wrong angle could very well break something. Surely, Cyclops was keeping this in mind, right?

The focus you had on his upper half made you completely neglect keeping an eye on his legs. This mistake quickly caught up to you when his knee collided with your jaw, the reflexive flinch of your hand being too late to stop it. As your teeth smashed together and caught your tongue in the process, his fist gave you no time to recollect yourself as it planted itself square in your nose. Stars filled your vision, your balance becoming less and less controlled. Cyclops easily took advantage of this and delivered a turning kick to your side, right in the same spot he initially punched you in.

You felt your head colliding with the Danger Room’s floor before you even realized you were knocked down.

The taste of blood filled your mouth, and you could vaguely feel some trinkling out of your throbbing nose. Weakly attempting to push yourself off of the ground, a strained grunt left your vocal cords as you became quite literally painfully aware of the aching in your arms. Just as you managed to get up on your hands and knees, a downwards force suddenly pinned you back against the floor and effectively knocked all of the wind out of your lungs. You could feel the heal of his boot against your shoulder blades. He was applying enough pressure for you to distantly worry about your rib cage, and all you could do was pathetically struggle against it.

“This is what I meant,” he coldly remarked. “You can’t handle it.”

Blood mixed with saliva dribbled down your chin as you tried to spit something back. “Th-This isn’t—”

“You’re not ready,” he interrupted, the foot he has on your back only crushing your chest further. “For the field, for the Danger Room simulations, for any sort of training that could leave you like this.”

Finally, the pressure on your back was alleviated, causing you to gasp out for air. Your vision was become fuzzy, but you didn’t dare succumb to the darkness, instead rapidly trying to blink away the splotchy holes. A wet cough from your lungs only worsened the burning sensation through your body. Below you, the floor was becoming a canvas of speckled blood, both from your nose and mouth as you desperately heaved for air.

Fight or flight was the only thing keeping you conscious at this point.

“C… Cy—ke,” you wheezed, desperately struggling to get up on your hands and knees again. “Please, I…”

“Stay down,” he warned from above you. The danger that laced his words made a shiver go up your spine, causing your movements to falter. After a few moments, however, you gingerly continued to push yourself upwards, which caused your field leader to growl out a low, “(Y/N).”

It took all your strength to ignore him; to ignore your better judgement.

Cyclops didn’t take to kindly to that.

The feeling of his hand cradling the back of your neck made your shoulders jolt, and it wasn’t long before your face collided with the ground. He kept a firm grip on your head as he swiftly maneuvered your hands to his liking, pinning one to your back against his knee and the other right next to your face. It quickly dawned upon you that struggling was futile, yet despite that, you tried anyways. A frustrated sigh left the older mutant’s lips at your thrashing and twisting.

“This for your own good,” he chided, tightening his hold on you. “Stop struggling. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

“You’re—!! The one h-hurting me,” you snapped back. A cry of pain ended your sentence as he dug his knee further into your back.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” said Cyclops with a low tone. He was letting you take his full body weight, and you found it increasingly harder to breathe. “Why can’t you just let me do what’s good for you? Why can’t you just let me take care of you?”

That last part rendered you completely still. Take care of you? What the hell did he mean by that? Was this seriously his idea of taking care of you? Giving you the kiddy treatment and then beating the crap out of you when you ask to be treated with actual respect?

What the hell is this guy’s problem?!

He must’ve taken your state of shock as a white flag, because the weight on your body was finally letting up. As much as you wanted to take this as an opportunity to catch him off guard, it suddenly dawned upon you just how much agony you were in. Your chest ached from your lungs to your rib cage. The nerves in your forearms felt like they were punched numb. You couldn’t even breathe from your nose and instead had to rely on your mouth (it didn’t help that the ghost of air over your wounded tongue created a sharp sting). What little fight you had left in you was rapidly depleting, rendering you completely tired on the ground.

“There,” he breathed out, the softness in his tone sounding foreign to your ears. “Just relax. Easy, now. You’re in no condition to try anything, you hear me?”

You couldn’t even muster up enough energy to roll your eyes at his coaxing murmurs. Though it pained you to admit it, he was unfortunately right; now wasn’t the time to be testing your luck. His hands slowly moved away from your head and wrist, his knee eventually following suite after a deliberate moment. Then, as delicately as he could, he peeled you off of the floor and into his strong arms. Every part of your body felt like it was on fire, and you couldn’t stop the pathetic wince from your throat.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you now.” He gently tucked your head in the crook of his neck, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder blades. “Let’s get Beast to check you over, yeah?”

No response came from your mouth. All you could do was slump against his chest and fight a losing battle against the beckoning call of unconsciousness. His quiet coos started to sound more and more distant, and before you knew it, you were out like a light.

Cyclops goes too easy on you.

Perhaps you finally found out why.

#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS X READER #❥ GN READER

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digital-chess · 4 months ago

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So ragatha. What is your honest opinion on Kinger, Queenie, Pomni and the other black and white pieces?

Ragatha: Er... my uh, "opinion" on everyone? Hoo-boy! That's a loaded question, haha- Alright. Let me think... B-BUT DON'T TELL THE OTHERS I TOLD YOU THIS! Okay, White Team: Jax? Ugh. He's a jerk. Always locking himself in his Bowling Alley, painting my face on bowling pins to blow up when I annoy him, heck- he does that with EVERYONE who annoys him. He's sarcastic, dry, often cruel in his remarks, and the fact he's Kinger and Queenies "Golden Child" is crazy. He's not a bad person... but he's adamant on making me think he is one... and I still don't know why. Zooble? They're a good friend and roommate. They used to live in the Tetris game, able to make a world of their own with the hundreds of block shapes. Kind of like Legos! I remember visiting their room and seeing the world they were able to build with their expertise for turning abstract shapes into art. But then they refused to go to one of the Chess rounds one week... and Kinger punished Zooble by collapsing and destroying their world. They managed to evacuate before the application deleted, and they've been...well, living here with me at Purble Palace ever since! We get along surprisingly well. Gangle? She's so sweet and kind. I don't know what Queenie keeps blabbing on about. She's adamant that Gangle's this... callous manipulative string-puller on Black Team? That somehow Gangle is this dual-faced crocodile-teared attention seeker. She's so sweet. She's gentle, kind, soft-spoken. Black Team bullied her relentlessly and Max would threaten to hurt her if she didn't do what he said. Queenie can't understand. Abuse takes time to recover from. So I'm going to be here for her... I know what it like to feel like nothing. ...I don't want anyone to feel like that. Caine? He's been here the longest. He's my oldest friend besides... Kaufmo. He inspires us when the team has no hope, and can bring everyone together with his speeches and strategies to make us feel like there's still a chance we can win. Sometimes Queenie mocks him, saying he'd be a better fit on Black Team because of his history, but is only with us because its "his punishment". ...I don't think he deserves to be treated the way he is. He doesn't hold himself together as easily anymore. ...Sometimes I catch him mumbling nonsense to his bubble wand, as if it was alive. ...I don't know how much longer he can take Kinger's torment. I'm worried about him. Pomni? I don't know much about her yet... and I'm still struggling to decide if i even want to... And Kaufmo...? ...he was the one person in this entire world of Kinger's who deserved to be free. To get his life back. To leave this game. ...To be happy. ...I just hope he's somewhere better now. Somewhere better than here.

Aaaaaand as for Black Team? How should I know. They're all murderers, psychopaths and thieves. I sometimes would catch that Bishop of theirs sitting on the chessboard afterhours with Kaufmo. He was probably trying to manipulate our friend or... cast a spell to force Kaufmo to betray us or something! I don't know why else he'd have been so consistent to meet Kaufmo there when rounds weren't active.

#tadc fanart #digital circus #digital chess au!#tadc kinger #tadc au #gaming #art #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus caine #tadc

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yanderes-galore · 8 months ago

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i love the way you write yandere mettaton and yandere mettaton fans have been starved for new writings (maybe idk) may i request yandere-daze prompts 8, 11, and maybe 2? i feel like it makes sense idk potential plot: after showing you off to the world as mettaton usually does, a fan gets a lil too close for comfort (could be a friend or a random monster/human) and mettaton has no choice BUT to take action, and poor darling takes it harshly, before eventually getting dragged off somewhere else where mettaton an darling can have a moment of peace. ofc, not without a fight. ya you can use the plot if you want or go nuts, i'll be happy either way /pos

I can try, sure :) Hope I get the vibe of clingy Mettaton right.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Mettaton Prompts 8, 11, 2

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

"You think I’m a monster? You’re the one that made me like this!”

“Please pay attention to me!”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Isolation, Controlling behavior, Implied abuse of power, Heavily manipulative behavior, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship implied.

Ever since monsters returned to the surface, Mettaton has been putting on shows for monsters and humans alike. Of course, he hasn't done it alone. He has you, his beloved co-star, right by his side on every performance.

Many knew you two as a duo, be it on talk shows or concerts. You two were closely linked and had fans of all sorts. There was just one rule when it came to you.

Don't touch.

Mettaton took such a rule seriously. Others could look, talk, and admire you. However... only Mettaton could hold you. This was a rule Mettaton often enforced during shows.

You can look... but you can't touch.

Mettaton adored you during the performances you both shared. He's easily jealous, sure, but in the end he knows you belong to him. At least... he thought that.

Mettaton's eye nearly twitched when he saw you speaking with a fan. His glowing eyes stare as you smile and laugh with them. He tells himself you're just being polite.

Anything for the fans, right?

Perhaps you know them! Yes, they must just be a friend.... He can allow friends, can't he? Why is he still so irritated?

Then he sees you hug them....

No. Touching.

"Sorry, Darlings!" The robot coos, stepping over to you and scooping you against his waist. "Me and my little co-star have to go! It was wonderful to see you!"

It's then Mettaton escorts you away from the large crowd. He keeps you close to him, metallic hands gripping you tightly. You struggle to keep up with him, the star not answering until he pulls you into the dressing room.

"Darling..." Mettaton coos, glowing eyes glaring down at you. "What was THAT?"

"I was greeting someone I knew? They were congratulating me for becoming famous!" You shoot back, Mettaton grimacing in response.

"Whatever happened to our rule? No one touches you but me! No exceptions." Mettaton huffs, the sound coming out like air from a vent. "After all, then everyone would ask to touch you... and I hate sharing."

"You're getting angry over nothing." You try to reason, but Mettaton refuses to listen.

"Nothing? Then surely it shouldn't be hard to cut that person off, no?" Mettaton seethes. "Surely you can do that for me?"

"You don't get to control me because we work with each other." You frown, Mettaton's eyes twitching in irritation. "They're a friend!"

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Darling!” Mettaton sighs, strolling over to you. "Cut them off... or I'll do it for you."

"What is wrong with you!?" You fight back. "I thought you were just protective... but this is something else entirely."

"What's wrong, Darling?" Mettaton hums, seeing you back away from him. "Scared of me?"

You wouldn't want to admit it, but in this moment you agree. You are scared of him. You're scared of him because he's not usually this... Jealous? Possessive?

"You think I’m a monster?" Mettaton chuckles, eyes never leaving yours as he corners you near a wall. His gaze turns a dull pink before he leans closer. "You’re the one that made me like this!”

Mettaton watches you as you shudder. You stare up at him with fear in your eyes. The sight makes Mettaton hesitate... but he can't deny the fact he feels excited.

"Now, don't look away from me..." Mettaton whispers, watching you try to avoid eye contact once he leans in. "You know I want your attention more than anything else, right?"

Mettaton frowns when he watches you shake. His metal fingers caress your face softly. It's an attempt to comfort you... yet also to steal back your attention.

"Aww, baby, I'm sorry..." Mettaton hums, "You just make me so jealous sometimes... Please pay attention to me, Darling!”

You try your best to reason, but it seems you can't with the delusional robot. Before anything else happens, thankfully, you're interrupted. The door knocks and Mettaton shoots up in shock.

"Y-You two okay in t-there?" Alphys calls through the door. You sigh in relief as Mettaton looks upset he was interrupted. With an irritated noise, Mettaton answers.

"Of course, dear! We'll be out now~!" Mettaton answers in a cheery tone, dragging you once again to follow him outside.

You're lucky you were interrupted when you were...

Who knows what he had planned if Alphys wasn't worried.

#yandere undertale #yandere mettaton #yandere mettaton ex

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that1insomniac · 6 months ago

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Jax vs Sans. the war of the smiley trashbags.

Could not have asked for a better ask to start this blog.

Jax

“Ooh, violence.”

Jax is a humanoid jackrabbit trapped inside of The Amazing Digital Circus. Throughout the first 2 episodes of the show, he’s portrayed as a sadistic person who appears not to care about harming others (including his friends).

Pros:

Digital Body (can’t ‘die’, immune to almost all types of death inducing methods)

Sadistic Nature (won’t care that much if Sans starts showing weakness)

Cartoon Physics Apply to Him (can teleport/run absurdly fast, stretch limbs, etc.)

Cons:

Arrogant (might give Sans an opening to attack)

Impatient (gave up driving the rig in Candy Carrier Chaos because the horn sucked)

Quick to Anger/Recklessness (doesn’t really think things through, can be rash)

Sans

*Can’t doge forever. Keep attacking.

Sans is a monster sealed underneath Mt. Ebott. Through most of the game, he’s depicted as a smiling, pun-telling, fourth wall breaking funny bone man. However, if you kill everyone in the game, he turns into one of the hardest boss fights in the entire game.

Pros:

Wide Variety of Weaponry (gravity manipulation, bone summoning, gaster blasters, KR, etc.)

Able to Dodge (this is unique in the game, as monsters don’t usually dodge attacks)

Able to Break The Normal Fighting System (attacking you on your turn, not letting you even have your turn)

Cons:

Low Stamina (can only dodge a certain amount of times, grows tired as battle progresses)

Stats (1 HP, 1 ATK)

Lazy (needs a lot of motivation to even start a fight)

Fight Explanation

So the way this fight will go is that we’re gonna assume that both characters are somehow teleported to a giant floating slab in the middle of nowhere, exactly as they are right now. Alright, let’s do this.

FIGHT

“JAX!! WHY DO YOU KEEP PUTTING CENTIPEDES IN MY ROOM!!!”

Ragatha’s screams echoed all through the tent, causing the inhabitants to stir out of their sleep. They didn’t blame Ragatha though, they all knew how much of a jerk Jax is.

“Chillax dollface, they’re not even real. All digital, remember?”

”WELL THEY FEEL REAL TO ME!!”

Ragatha attempted to hurl a sewing needle at Jax’s eye. He dodged it easily, and turned to face Ragatha, eyebrows raised.

“Really, dollface? I thought you knew better than tha-“

Suddenly, a shadow set upon the tent. Before anyone knew what was happening, a giant black hand had grabbed Jax and dragged him through the nearest door. Jax caught a glimpse of a swirling golden tower before being dropped onto a giant, flat, gray landscape.

Groaning, Jax got to his feet.

“Hey, what’s the big idea!?”

After dusting himself off, Jax looked around. He saw nothing but flat gray ground as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, from behind, he heard a voice. A low, menacing voice that shook him to his core.

“don’t you know how to greet a new pal? turn around… and s h a k e m y h a n d.”

Instinctively, Jax spun around and threw a punch. When he withdrew his fist from the air (he seemed to have missed his intended target), he saw a skeleton standing a few inches away with his hand outstretched.

“woahhh there pal, it’s just the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick.”

Jax was seething. First the stupid ragdoll had tried to kill him, and now this skeleton was mocking him. He was sure that this was one of Caine’s tricks, trying to make him “behave better”. Well he wasn’t going to take this, not from that damn AI and certainly not from one of his stupid NPC’s. He drew his fist back again and started trying to hit the skeleton anywhere he could, but no matter where he tried to punch, the skeleton seemed to be a few inches away.

“man, you really like trying to kill people you first meet. reminds me of a friend of mine.”

Sans decided that it was time to see if this rabbit was worth messing around with. Casually, he lifted up his hand and held Jax in place. Jax, stunned at his inability to move, watched as the skeleton’s ‘eyes’ went dark leaving 2 empty eye sockets that seemed to stare into his soul.

*Jax, LV. 19 - 54 ATK 48 DEF

*Seems he can’t be reasoned with…

“huh, LV. 19… wonder how you managed that.”

“What the hell are you on about skeleton, lemme go!” Jax was struggling against the invisible force holding him up. Sans obliged, letting him drop to the ground with a sickening crunch.

“Not like that, dumbass! I meant gently!”

Sans didn’t respond. He noticed the uneasy aura around Jax that he had previously thought was the eerie environment. This rabbit had to be stopped, lest it bring more chaos and destruction to its home.

“let’s just get to the point” Sans said, snapping his fingers

Jax whirled around. He was now in a 2 dimensional white box, facing the skeleton.

“Oh so that’s how you wanna do it huh, funny man?!? Give yourself a smaller space for you to run!?” Jax was fuming. He’d never seen anything like this.

”welp, i guess you know what they say… you don’t carrot all until someone shows that your actions aren’t white as fur.”

“Jeez that was awfu-“ Jax didn’t get a chance to finish because before he knew it, he was being slammed against one of the boxes walls. He quickly bounced back to his feet and lunged at the skeleton, barely missing the bones that shot out of the wall behind him. He charged, pulling a flintlock from behind his ears. He dodged more bones, then punched at the skeleton. As he had expected, the skeleton had dodged out of the way, but now he took aim and fired the flintlock right at the smiling idiot.

Sans still managed to dodge, driving the rabbit further into anger. Suddenly, a dragon skull almost as big as the fudge monster in the candy kingdom appeared and hit him square in the torso. It hurt like hell, but it couldn’t kill Jax.

“Hey stupid! I’m a human, not an NPC like you! You can’t exactly kill me!”

Sans stopped for a second. The rabbit’s words had confused him. Human? But this… thing clearly wasn’t human… right? Before he could ponder this question too much, he saw the bunny take aim again and dodged the bullet. Jax, now going to desperate measures to get one hit on the skeleton, pulled out a minigun he stole from the rig and opened fire on Sans.

Sans dodged all the bullets, but the constant assault was wearing him down. Very early in the battle, he decided to use his pre-special attack. Jax dropped his minigun as he was slammed from wall to wall, but he knew now how to dodge to bones. After hitting all for walls, he had to dodge around a bunch of bones.

”Is that all you got?!?” taunted Jax.

Sans’ smile widened as he stretched the box and sent the rabbit flying down the hall. Jax, not expecting this, was forced to twist his digital body in a way no normal body could to avoid the stream of bones down the hall he now zoomed down. He collided sharply with a wall and had to jump as yet more bones came at him. After that, yet more dragon skulls tried to blast him, forcing him to run screaming in circles. Finally, the blasters stopped, but then the skeleton grabbed him again and started outright pounding him against the walls.

At long last, all was silent. Jax was sprawled on the floor, flat as a pancake, while Sans was nearby, gasping and wheezing after all the effort he had used. Jax peeled himself up off the ground.

Holy shit, that hurt. This is the most brutal NPC that Caine’s ever made, thought Jax. He noticed the skeleton kneeling nearby. “Whassa matta with you bone man? All tuckered out?” Jax grinned malevolently, knowing his victory was within his grasp. Sans got to his feet.

“welp, guess it’s time for my special attack.” he said, grinning at the rabbitoid. Jax prepared himself, expecting bones, dragon skulls, or walls to rush him at any minute. But nothing came.

“So uhhh… wherezit at?” he asked.

Sans grin broadened. “this is my special attack. it’s nothing. and it ain’t gonna be anything either.”

Jax was puzzled. “You mean… you give up? Wow guess i’m better than even I thought.” He reached for one of his guns, but found there were none. No matter, he thought, i’ll just punch this guy into oblivion he stepped forward, and was instantly teleported back.

“nope. can’t attack yet. it’s not your turn.”

Jax narrowed his eyes. “You mean we’ve been fighting on the honor system this whole time?! That’s the stupidest shit i’ve ever heard!” He started running at the skeleton, but kept being teleported back.

Sans stared at him. “yep, common courtesy. i attack you, you attack me, so one so forth. an eye for an eye socket.”

“Quit… With… The… PUNS!!!” Jax yelled trying desperately to get at the skeleton, but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t get near him. This was too much for Jax. He wasn’t used to being unable to reach his goals, and now the ultimate NPC stood before him and he couldn’t kill him. Now laughing like a maniac, Jax started actually clawing at the invisible force driven between him and his adversary. Suddenly, black goop started running out of every orifice in his face. He doubled up, cackling, as the goop consumed him, sprouting multi-colored eyes all over his body. Jax had abstracted.

End of battle

Thoughts

This battle was hard to think about. As Jax technically can’t die, and Sans only dies if you don’t move during his final attack, this was tricky. Like I said, it all boils down to Sans’ final attack. In a battle of wills, who would win? Jax would have had to sit and do nothing for 5 minutes before getting the chance to strike at Sans, and I honestly couldn’t see him doing that (impatient bastard).

SANS WINS!

Do you agree with this? Lemme know in the comments how this would have gone in your mind. I read all comments and am really curious to hear your thoughts! :)

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #undertale #sans #sans undertale #jax tadc #fight blog #jax vs sans

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utilitycaster · 9 months ago

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Hi! I saw your tags on the escape room poll that Team Liam would be last and I wanted to ask why? While I agree that they wouldn’t be first, I wouldn’t put them last either. Do you think they would just have too much conflict to use their skills?

I didn't realize this was from last night's 4SD and because OP said "Battle Royale" I assumed that it was in some way a combat-oriented escape room, in which the lack of a dedicated/significant healer (Vax has, what, 30 lay on hands and a couple low level spell slots) and the fact that Orym is one decent but not incredible tank among two of the most tissue-paper characters in terms of HP would spell their defeat.

With the understanding that this is a traditional escape room here's my thought process:

From my escape room experience there are four skills that map easily into D&D skills and one that does not map into the D&D character skill chart but does map extremely well onto players. They are:

Investigation/raw intelligence. How good are you at inspecting and comprehending things?

Sleight of Hand/raw dexterity. How good are you at manipulating objects/fine motor control?

Persuasion or Intimidation/raw charisma. How good are you at convincing people to work together or perform tasks?

Perception. How good are you at generally noticing things right away?

The most crucial thing, however, is "do you try dumb shit and push buttons and try to figure out everything quickly." And so:

Toss up between Travis and Sam's character teams in terms of the D&D skills; Chetney and Veth are both particularly suited for escape rooms between strong intelligence and high dexterity. I think Sam's team overall is probably stronger; Tary's mechanical knowledge and FCG's desire for everyone to work together and Scanlan's general buffing abilities/capacity to get people to do what he wants (presumably win) mean everyone has a lot to bring to the table. FCG is the only one with decent perception, iirc, though, and Travis as a player is fundamentally a button pusher and therefore his characters will inherit this energy even though Chetney and Fjord are going to be carrying the entire thing (although, actually, Grog will probably respond well to being asked to perform tasks or look for things).

Taliesin's characters have the combined skills but unfortunately with the except of Caduceus they all have the trait "does not work well with others" and Ashton and Percy in particular wouldn't listen to Caduceus and they're the ones with the most relevant skills here. Beau could do an escape room on her own and probably would (note: someone told me this is what Marisha said on 4SD and I agree wholeheartedly) but necessarily will be less effective than groups who work together. Vex would do pretty well and would be competitive enough, but none of Laura's characters are particularly expert in investigation and if Vex and Imogen clash it is 100% over in terms of getting out in time, though I think Jester would make a valiant go of it. None of Ashley's characters crack +1 in investigation and no one has 20 dex, and I doubt most would be interested or competitive about this, though I do think they'd get along the best by far.

Rounding things out, I suspect that Liam's characters are just behind Taliesin's in terms of conflict; it won't be quite as heated but I get the sense all three of them, all of whom are very much about working together with their respective parties, will not be very good at working together with each other, and Orym is the least likely to take the lead despite most suited for it. Caleb is extremely smart but I don't think he'd be the most invested in going super fast. I don't think they'll be last - Ashley or Taliesin are more likely - but they'd certainly not be first. The NPCs, meanwhile, have the advantage of two people who know each other well, a very agreeable and mature person in Eshteross, and Essek and Allura will probably vibe solely on the basis of being wizards who know and like Caleb if they don't know each other personally yet. Iirc Essek and Eshteross should have decent dex scores though not 20, and everyone has diplomatic skills. I believe Allura's wisdom is respectable as well. They'll certainly be the most well-behaved and adult about it.

In conclusion, you're right, probably not last (would almost certainly be last in the combat scenario I mistakenly imagined) but absolutely should not be first.

#answered #promisetourself #cr tag

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braveclementine · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 18

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

You dove to the stage floor as the bomb went off, sending tremors through the entire building. You glanced upwards, seeing Wanda on her feet, hands red as she held up the rubble that was threatening to collapse on the people in the bar. Wong and Stephen created two portals for people to run through which get them out into the parking lot. Along with that, Pietro was grabbing some of the small kids, running them out the door as fast as he could.

You could smell something burning and then remembered that Elizabeth had been right next to you.

You couldn't see her at the moment, but you could see that the fire was spreading around you on the stage, trapping you.

Shit, where was she?

And then suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and water started to run through the building, specifically around the stage, putting out the fire. You found Elizabeth standing on the stage, her feet planted firmly on the floor, hands out, eyes glowing blue as she maneuvered the water to put out the fire.

Pietro gaped as he watched her. Bucky leaped onto the stage, kneeling next to you as you pushed yourself up onto your knees. "You alright doll?"

"Yeah." You answered as the water slowly splashed to the floor, Elizabeth's eyes turning back to brown.

"Told you there were some suspicious people on this island." Elizabeth sighed, unfazed, before hopping down off the stage.

"Are you alright?" Vision asked while Pietro asked, "You have powers?"

"Yes and yes. I can control and manipulate water and flick ice out of my hands." Elizabeth stated as easily as though she was talking about the weather. She turned to me, "I'm supposing this is about the prophesy."

You flushed, "yeah."

Elizabeth nodded, "Makes sense. Well, do you at least know how to defend yourself with a gun or something?"

"Er-"

"I'll take that as a no." Elizabeth muttered.

"I have protection detail." You said, jabbing your thumb at your soulmates.

"Very true." Elizabeth said with a small smile and then looked up at the roof, "Perhaps we should move before the roof collapses on our heads."

"I wouldn't let that happen." Wanda said, still holding it up.

"Oh, I know, I was just suggesting that we get out of this building before the other bombs go off." Elizabeth said nonchalantly.

"There's more bombs? How do you know that?" Fury and Tony asked at the same time.

Elizabeth just looked at them over her shoulder, "You can't hear the ticking?"

Everyone fell silent. She was right. The ticking was actually really loud, but over the sound of us singing you couldn't have heard it.

We quickly left the building. Elizabeth's mother quickly bombarded her, asking her a thousand questions, and was extremely angry with the way that she had put herself in danger. Vision quickly interfered, though his calming words didn't little to appease her mother.

Meanwhile, Fury and Coulson were making calls to see if they could get some SHIELD agents- trustworthy ones only- and get them to check things out. Meanwhile, a Nassu bomb squad was called out and everyone was moved away from the karaoke stand and then the rest of you headed back to the hotel.

Back in the hotel, you guys all went up to Clint's room since it was completely empty and you all talked it out.

"The thing is," You added as they all had their own theories. "They knew that we'd be at the Scuba diving and then also Karaoke. Which means that either. . . well. . ."

You couldn't really finish the uncomfortable sentence. It felt to awkward or light to say that there was an imposter amongst you.

"Well we can rule out anyone soulmated to you." Loki said firmly. "Soulmates protect theirs, not hurt them."

"What if it's not a traitor?" Clint asked, "What if someone is bugged, or the rooms are bugged?"

"Maybe we should just do nothing for the next two days." You said, "We're lucky someone wasn't killed today."

Rhodey agreed.

"What about this Elizabeth chick?" Tony asked, "She seemed way to calm during the bombs. And how nonchalantly she talked about them."

"It's not her." Vision and Pietro said together.

"That's because it's what she's good at." You sighed. "She was our small town superhero, although no one actually knows its her, not even her parents. That's what she does. She stops bank robberies or shootings or solves kidnappings or puts out fires. She doesn't do anything big, just small things. So to her, the bombs were just another thing she's good at stopping. She probably waterlogged all the mechanisms and told us to leave as a precaution."

"Why hasn't she tested out her abilities with SHIELD or the Avengers?" Fury asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"She doesn't want to be a big name superhero. She just wants to do stuff for the little people. She said she'd leave the saving the world to the professionals, but for now she'd just do her part to protect those she could."

"I like her." Steve said. "She has a good moral system. It's not her."

"Could FRIDAY possibly track any and all people that have visited the Scuba kiosk and the karaoke bar ahead of time and see if there are any similar peoples?" Rhodey asked.

"FRIDAY?" Tony asked.

"Right away Mr. Stark." FRIDAY's voice said from his watch.

There was some silence before T'Challa said, "So should we just stay in the hotel tomorrow?"

"If we do that the whole building will probably come down." Natasha muttered darkly.

Bruce gave her a warning look while Sam flat out glared at her.

You blanched a little.

OMG I'M FREAKING CRYING. I WAS LOOKING FOR MORE FANART TO POST AND I FOUND THIS:

I'M CRYING SO HARD 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Here is something happy:

Okay back to story 🥺 :

"We can just go out to the ocean." Stephen said. "Find a secluded spot away from people. That should benefit everyone."

"That sounds good." You said softly.

There was another moment of silence until FRIDAY's voice said, "Sir, I have a potential suspect."

"Good job sweetheart." Tony drawled, looking happier. "Send everything to you know what."

"Yes sir." FRIDAY replied.

Tony pulled out his laptop and then said, "This'll probably be a while. The rest of you should get some sleep, I'll let you know when I'm done."

You nodded, getting to your feet. You hugged the others good-bye and then you decided that you would go and stay with Loki and Thor tonight.

Loki and Thor had gotten separate beds and you climbed into Loki's for tonight. He sat up against the headboard, reading that poetry book again.

"What are you reading?" You asked softly as Thor started to snore. Despite popular belief, he didn't sound like an elephant. He was actually a very quiet snorer.

"It's a poem called 'Never trust a mirror'." Loki whispered. "Would you like me to read it to you?"

You nodded, pulling the covers over you while you laid your head down on his leg. He rested one hand in your hair as he read:

"Never trust a mirror, For a mirror always lies, It makes you think that all you're worth can be seen from the outside.

Never trust a mirror, It only shows what's skin deep You can't see how your eyelids flutter when you're drifting off to sleep.

It doesn't show you what the world sees When you're only being you or how your eyes light up When you're loving what you do

It doesn't capture when you're smiling Where no-one else can see And your reflection cannot tell you, How much you mean to me.

Never trust a mirror For it only shows your skin. And if you think it dictates your worth It's time you looked within"

And by the time he finished with the last word, you were fast asleep.

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redemonarc · 2 days ago

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My thoughts on writing Stella the way she is;;

I was asked about the topic so I’m going to comment on it. Personally, I prefer the canon portrayal of her sadistic, selfish, and abusive nature. I don’t think she is capable of changing her mind so easily and I believe she’s relied on herself (and her brother) to accomplish her goals. My Stella has struck and beaten Stolas several times throughout the years, she is a manipulative mother, really only cares for her brother and herself, and wants to live a life of luxury at the cost of someone else’s life, even if it meant Via’s. Which explaining the Via part, no she wouldn’t kill her but she would trap her emotionally and physically to keep her wealth for the rest of eternity. Stella is not a good person and is cold hearted, cruel, and capable of murdering someone.

Now, where my portrayal differs from canon is that mine IS as smart as her brother in certain aspects. To me, the whole upbringing as a woman (and being a person who writes Victorian ladies whose whole entire system is built on misogyny) had impacted her growth greatly. Stella is as intelligent and capable as Andre in mathematics and astronomy, but she never had any reason to apply herself. She’s a socialite raised at the top of society as a (now) princess, she had sex to produce her offspring and did her job. But, that’s all she feels she’s worth deep down and always has been. Her traumatic experiences with her parents forcing her into this life and a loveless marriage have made her bitter, resentful, and angry so she takes it out on Stolas (and by extent, Via.) And yes, my portrayal has raised a hand and struck Via a few times. No, it’s not justifiable in a real world context but this is fiction ; and if she is willing to murder her ex-husband, I fail to see why she wouldn’t hit Via. You don’t have to agree to this nor does this apply to any Via portrayals(besides my own) without consent, but I am not afraid to make her darker than even canon is willing to explore.

Now, how does this apply to “healthy relationship” verses such as Stolas/Stella ( @botanikos ) and Vassago/Stella ( @umbravotum )?

Obviously, the abuse is “removed” and dropped to a mere toxic, hateful wife that needs room to grow from her extensive trauma. She is still very horrible, but the physical stuff is removed because truthfully even in fiction I personally don’t believe you can redeem an abusive individual. This is a personal choice, if you disagree— well, that’s your opinion respectfully. But, she works slowly on becoming a “better” person while acknowledging the past. Yes, this can be considered the redemption arc verses. However, do not see these as “defaults”. Her default and main verse is still her being a horrible fucking villain.

How does this apply to any Andre?

I’m pretty sure that Andre and Stella are extremely close and comfortable with each other, I don’t have any other reasons to deny that. Is their relationship with each other healthy? Oh, absolutely not. They’re both manipulative cunts that play off of each other’s backs. But, Andre and Stella might be the only real caring relationship either one has and it’s due to their respective bond as spoiled brats and siblings who grew up together.

My Stella is undeniably close to any Andre ( though I would classify @a-hell-of-a-time as my official Andy) and would give up anything to save him. He is genuinely the only real person she would selflessly sacrifice and help.

TLDR;;

Stella is a fictional villain, treat her as such. But, don’t default to your characters beating her up because no one knows what she was doing behind the scenes besides literally only Andre, Striker, and catching on being Stolas, Blitz, and IMP. Everyone else, stay in your lane! Thank you.

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chubbylittlebumblebee · 1 year ago

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Please read the whole post before commenting. I’ve never made a public post like this before so bear with me if it seams long-winded.

Recently @hg-aneh has been bombarded with extremely upsetting comments since they confirmed that they do ship Crowley and Muriel.

First off, it is never okay to dog pile on someone who is not already in the wide scale public eye. Calling someone a pedophile because of fictional ships is never okay. Lashing out at someone is not going to help them see your point of view, it automatically puts them on the defense and no one makes any progress either way. If you see someone has commented the same thing you were going to say, don’t. It is a terrible feeling to see 100 notifications and know they will all be people tearing you apart.

Quelin Sepulveda is an adult. Muriel is canonically thousands of years old. They might find solace in Crowley, who I know would deeply care for them. Crowley is a character who fosters curiosity and wonder in other characters. Muriel has that inherently, and it is logical to assume that as Crowley is alone they would naturally come together in some way.

From Muriel’s perspective, Crowley is one of the first people to like them for simply being themselves. He is going to be their first constant in 6000 years that isn’t demeaning or critical. He will introduce them to earth and all the beautiful things within. (Just like he did with Aziraphale.) For the first time they will experience affection compassion; they will be important.

Crowley would have someone who needs and loves him. Muriel is also someone who isn’t critical and would see Crowley for who he really is. Muriel mirrors pre-fall Crowley in so many ways, it would be imposible for him not to care for them. They won’t shut him down like Aziraphale would, it would probably be easier to tell what they want.

Crowley also knows more about earth, heaven, and hell than any other being has except God and The Metatron. He understands the inherent traumas that heaven and hell inflict on everyone. He knows what’s coming. He knows what is at stake.

Throughout their life Muriel has only spoken to people once every 300 years. Yes they take records so they probably know some things, but only from Heaven’s point of view and without context. Most of those they do meet are unkind as they see Muriel as the lowest in their ranks. You can see how nervous they are when Saraqael brings them to speak to Uriel and Micheal about Gabriel’s matchbox. Muriel knows so little about earth that they have to be taught how to drink tea. They do not have any idea how to interact with anyone because they never got the chance to. During the season they are in an entirely new place with new people and they have no experience with any of it, so much so that they are easily manipulated twice. Once about Aziraphale and Crowley’s secret meeting, and again when Crowley gets them to “arrest” him. They don’t have enough experience to know that they even could be manipulated or abused. They think that everyone has their best interest at heart.

The knowledge gap between Crowley and Muriel’s is reminiscent of that of movies like Tron Legacy, Fifty First Dates, Fifth Element, the original Planet of the Apes, and Splash. If you have made it this far Pop Culture Detective does a great job at explaining it.

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Muriel is definitely autism coded and autistic people are frequently infantilized, but most of us know basic things about the world. We haven’t been stuck in an empty room for thousands of years. It is common for those with immense trauma to find a romantic connection for the first person who was truly kind to them. That’s why doctors can’t date their patients, teachers can’t date their students, and therapist can’t date their clients. Muriel doesn’t even know what romance is or what it entails for them or Crowley. (Aziraphale has also been super autism coded this season so we don’t just have Muriel)

But that’s only the case for the current cannon. It’s okay to retcon things in your own works, to go through different scenarios with characters that would allow them to interact differently. It’s okay to wonder about different characters and see them as a couple. It’s always important to take a step back to see the whole picture before commenting on something like this. I love the Good Omens fandom, it has allowed me to be myself and meet new people. I don’t want this fandom to become a toxic place. We already have to deal with homophobia and transphobia bearing down on us from the outside. We just want to make and experience art together.

Thank you so much for reading through all of this, it is really important that we support each other right now and I hope that everybody, especially @hg-aneh is doing well (I can’t imagine how exhausting this whole ordeal has been). If this conversation does continue please do so from a place of respect. If you wish to bring anything else to my attention, please do so. I am always looking to learn more and I am always open to different ideas and ways of thinking.

Keep being beautiful beautiful humans, and take care of each other.

#good omens #good omens s2 #gomens #crowley #muriel #aneh answers #aneh draws

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thestarseersystem · 4 months ago

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I think something I want to talk about in regards to the argument I had with another system yesterday. And it's that I don't think anyone deserves to be violated, and that everyone should have a choice of whether or not they want to do something. And throughout my childhood and my adult life, that choice was repeatedly taken away from me.

So hear me when I say it, any alter in my system has the choice to do whatever they want and to consent to whatever they want, as long as it does not harm the system overall, and if things need to be processed later, we can do it in therapy together.

It is triggering to me to take away those choices from any alter, and little alters in our system have been the victims of our autonomy being taken away the most. They have been forced into some idea of purity, and this angelic view of our littles is directly related to how we have been manipulated, violated and abused. So imagery of angels, sweetness, a childlike room of lace, frilly things, etc. Things that would relate to most other littles, it is triggering for all of us to be in a space like that. We have been abused in a space like that, we are afraid of putting ourselves back there and enforcing restrictions and rules onto ourselves. We don't want to go back.

None of us will ever be normal, none of our littles will be normal littles, and they will always be allowed to have adult choices. And if that means associating ourselves with something more adult or darker, that's what's more healthy for us.

I know not much systems can understand, they are so protective of their littles. Well, so are we. We are always protective of their rights and survivability. And we can only experience a childlike protective space in a traumatizing scenario, as a coping mechanism or inside our own innerworld, so where no one can get us anymore.

We are a system with a variety of agesliders, to where we can switch into our younger selves very easily, so we are very much aligned with their perspective and feelings. So we can look back very easily and know the horrors, and what's connected to the most vulnerable versions of ourselves.

I will protect their ability to say yes or no with my entire being. If they don't like you putting your autonomy or opinions onto them, we will push you off. We don't need your protection, we don't need your safety, we don't need your lies.

If that triggers you, you are free to leave, but we're not putting you in a non-consensual space, and we aren't forcing you to experience or deal with things the same way we do. We understand that is something that is going to be different for everyone.

TLDR:

We are not putting our littles in unsafe spaces, we are giving them the choice of freedom. Every alter has equal autonomy and choice.

We protect everyone's autonomy and choice, not just our little alters. Therefore we would never force another system to do anything with us, bc that goes against our values.

We ageslide very often, so we all understand how vulnerable our little alters are, and we are protective of their vulnerabilities. We refuse to let others manipulate that vulnerability.

We are not asking anyone else to change their rules for us, just asking others to respect our individual freedoms.

Note: We experience moral scrupulosity as a part of OCD, please stop accusing us of being predators just because we do things that seem unsafe to you. It is not our job to make you feel safe, it is your job to heal and set your own boundaries. These are our boundaries.

#post.txt #im gonna put this in our pinned post #our alters will always have the choice to say yes or no #just because it is yes sometimes doesn't mean it will never be no

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puddle-nerd · 1 year ago

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Positive Reinforcement

Summary: You had always been very self-conscious about your curves. Rotxo is determined to make you feel beautiful about yourself.

Prompt 18 (Mirror Sex) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

So, apparently, I’ve been typing Rotxo’s name wrong this entire time, switching the ‘T’ and the ‘X’ so it was Roxto instead. So, apologies for my blunder and I’ll be typing his name correctly from now on, to the best of my ability. Na’vi Translation: Paskalin – ‘honey’ (term of endearment) Tawtute – human Tewng – loincloth Story Tags: No use of y/n, Female Reader, Aged up characters, everyone is legal, Yes they’re both eighteen+!, Curvy Female reader, Curvy Reader is Spider’s Half-Sister, Mirror Sex, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Na’vi Biology (Avatar – Cameron), Size Difference, Vaginal Fingering

Before you and your half-brother had joined the Metkayinan People at Awa’atlu, Rotxo had never seen a mirror before. You had a big one in your bedroom of your tawtute shack and you forgot why the Na’vi had poked his head into your room that first time, but he had caught sight of his reflection in the surface of the mirror and had been utterly fascinated. It had been adorable to see him looking at his image upon the glass so after that first time you’d let come by as often as he wished, quickly developing a friendship that turned into a friends-with-benefits thing with the sweet Na’vi. And while you had great fun watching him enjoying seeing his reflection whenever you two hung out in your room, you weren’t fond of seeing yourself on the surface of your mirror.

Rotxo, dear, sweet Rotxo, was determined to change that.

You’d come back into your room to find your situationship waiting for you with that look in his eyes and had quickly been brought under him, your Na’vi inspired clothes hurriedly discarded so he could feast upon your body in preparation for taking his cock. You’d found out through trial and error that him eating you out at least once before he sank inside of your body helped ease the ache of stretching around his girth.

As his roughly textured tongue lapped at your channel, you saw him glance into your mirror and smirked to himself before he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, earning him a whine which you tried to bury behind your hands.

If your half-brother and Lo’ak were in the next room playing video games, you’d never hear the end of it.

Your Na’vi pulled back from you, murmuring, “Come on, paskalin… Don’t hide from me. I need to see your face and make sure I’m making you feel good.” You shook your head, your hands still covering your panting mouth and instinctively flinching away from looking at the mirror. He frowned and sat up, seeing your reaction.

“Rotxo?” you asked, realizing he was pulling himself away from you.

He glanced at the mirror before he looked back at you, his brow still furrowed heavily. “Why do you do that?” he inquired softly, his lips glinting with your slick. In any other situation, that would be so hot. “You flinch away from the mirror unless you’re fully dressed, especially when we’re together like this. Don’t you know how fucking sexy you look?” You pressed your lips together and looked away, silently denying his claims. He glanced in the mirror again and suddenly ginned as a new light entered his gaze. “Do you trust me?” he asked. You nodded and watched him in confusion as he suddenly twisted himself about to awkwardly position himself to lie across your bed before he grabbed at your thick legs, pulling you towards him easily, like a child with a ragdoll.

“What are you do—ohhh,” you cut yourself off with a mewl as Rotxo manipulated your body to sit upon his face in such a way that you had to face yourself in the mirror.

“If you stop watching yourself, I stop paskalin,” he muttered against your cunt. “You need to see how alluring you look.” His tongue lapped at your wetness. “Watch yourself come apart.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he wrapped his hands around your plush thighs to stabilize you and began to devour your pussy like a man starved, licking and sucking and tongue fucking you like you were his favorite meal.

And, oh Eywa he was so fucking good at this; he had been from the very beginning, though he’d told you he had very little practice.

You weren’t sure if you believed him.

Rotxo watched you struggle to watch yourself, resisting the temptation to look away from the image of the curvy woman who didn’t quite look like you because of how utterly wanton she appeared riding upon your lover’s face, bracing her hands behind her upon his firm chest. The reflection showed a beautifully sensual tawtute female in the throes of passion that you couldn’t quite believe was you if you hadn’t been the one grinding down upon the Na’vi’s hungry mouth, chasing your pleasure with repeated snaps of your hips over his mouth as he ate you out like a fucking champ.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he mouthed at your clit again, sinking two of his fingers inside of your passage as the coil in your belly tightened further. Your body started to clench and he moved his other hand from your thigh to your lower belly, pressing down.

“Oh, fuck don’t stop,” you sobbed, fighting to keep your eyes open, lest he cease his movements as you got closer and closer.

Redoubling his efforts as he felt your tight cunt beginning to flutter, Rotxo and you met gazes in the mirror’s surface and he pushed you over the edge, your climax shattering you with a sob of his name shoving itself out of your throat. You slumped back against him, panting and shivering as the pleasure cascaded through your limbs like a warm flood. Oh yes… he was VERY good at that. “We’re not finished yet, paskalin…” your lover reminded you and slid your body onto your mattress next to his so he could untie his tented tewng, his hard cock slapping against his belly the second it was freed. Seeing your dazed look, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yep,” you nodded, cuddling up against his side and lazily running your hand up his shaft teasingly. “So good.”

He grinned.

Rotxo sat upright upon your bed, his hair brushing the ceiling even as he leaned back on one arm. Manhandling you again like you were nothing but a ragdoll to him, he pulled you to straddle his thighs, once again facing you towards the mirror. With a hiss, he pulled your quivering hole down upon his cock, the slick of your orgasm easing his passage as he sank further and further inside of you. You whined, watching your belly bulge ever so slightly. And the funny thing was – not funny, haha but funny ohhhhh – was that at aged nineteen, he still wasn’t quite done growing yet.

Your cunt fluttered around his cock welcomingly.

“Never gonna get tired of this, paskalin…” he grunted through gritted teeth. He met your gaze in the reflection of the mirror and smirked. “See how gorgeous you look, taking my cock so well?” He punctuated his statement by shifting you over him, sliding you back and forth over his length, your slick making his shaft glint in the light. You whined and laid back against him as he moved your body at his leisure.

You groaned feeling every ridge and every nub on the underside of his turquoise cock rubbing against your gummy walls exquisitely. “Oh, fuck, feel so good,” you hummed, writhing upon his lap to help grind him where you needed him most.

“And you look so good,” Rotxo countered, pointing at your reflection. “Look how sexy. Look at yourself, paskalin.” You forced your eyes to take in your image on the mirror’s surface and whimpered, feeling yourself getting wetter around his shaft because you looked utterly debauched and he hadn’t even really started yet. He sifted slightly, pulling you into a slightly different angle and you immediately began to whine as the head of him squished into that part of you that had you clawing at him as pleasure raked up your spine hotly. “I said look at yourself,” he repeated himself, his breath hot in your ear. “Makes me want to ruin you so you won’t look anywhere else.”

The Na’vi grabbed your hips and began to move you back and forth over himself, building up the tempo faster and faster as your cunt began to tighten around him. “Fuck, Eywa, don’t stop,” you begged, your legs beginning to tremble as the coil constricted in your belly.

“Do you see what I see?” Rotxo demanded. You nodded. “Words, paskalin.”

You nodded again, stuttering, “Y-yesss. Ohhh.” Sparks were beginning to skitter throughout your veins like tiny insects as your pleasure built on itself, your brain starting to turn to sand and the noises you were releasing from your throat were getting a little more desperate until he suddenly halted his movements. “Rotxo!?” you wailed in complaint. You tried to move over him yourself but his grip on your hips was unrelenting. Frustration at being so close made you nearly snarl, “Why?!”

“Do you see how sexy you are?” he demanded to know. You sighed and nodded. “Say it. Out loud.”

“Rotxo…” you whined.

“Say it or I leave you like this.”

His blue eyes had never been more serious in all of your memories of him. You swallowed and whispered, “I’m sexy.”

“Don’t tell me,” he countered. “Tell yourself.”

You met your gaze and tried again, voice breaking slightly, “I’m sexy.” He told you to tell yourself again. “I’m sexy,” your voice came out a little stronger. Again. “I’m sexy.” He finally started to move but only if you kept repeating those two words and staring at yourself while you did so. He even timed your reaffirmations to his thrusts until you were chanting it over and over again as fast as you could just to get him to go faster. “I’m sexy! I’m sexy! I’m sexy! I’m sexy! Oh, fuck don’t stop!”

He was hitting that spot that made you see stars and your eyes cross for real and it was only gonna take a couple more thrusts if he kept this up and–

You let out a shriek as your pleasure rocketed through your body, exploding out from your middle and causing your limbs to tremble as you broke apart into millions of tiny pieces on his lap. It was probably the most intense orgasm you had felt with Rotxo to date and your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the force of it barreling over you and sweeping you away like being boiled over by the tide and undertow.

You looked utterly ruined upon his lap, slumped against his tummy as you were. Your lover kissed the side of your head and muttered, “There’s my sexy girl.” And maybe… just maybe… you were starting to believe it.

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Originally Posted: 18 October 2023

Word Count: 1,739

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng @teyamsatan @lovefrommeelise

#lunaskinktober2023 #avatar #atwow #avatar smut #human reader #rotxo #avatar rotxo #atwow rotxo #rotxo smut #rotxo x reader

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