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igot-the-juice · 29 days ago

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Blood of A Rose - Part 1 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Summary - (Y/n) is an aspiring artist, but rather than mainstream, she captures what she considers to be the beauty of death. She has been fighting with the industry and local art museums to publicize her work. Reaching negative publicity, a particular clown takes an interest.

Masterlist

Notes - I see a lot of smut with little plot to build up to it so decided to write it myself. He’s always portrayed as aggressive and hasty with it, but I took a different take on it since he’s always so methodical and takes his time with what he does and I feel like that would stay the same in the bedroom or wherever else with his wild ass. Slow and torturous smut, ladies. Let me know if you’d like a continuation of this!

Word Count - 5,602

Warning(s) - Gore, depictions of graphic art, morally ambiguous reader, smut/sexual themes, no harm to reader

Song Inspiration -

IAMX - Bernadette

Ice Nine Kills - A Work of Art

The brush stroked gracefully along the canvas, a symphony of strings playing in the background as she worked. A multitude of shades of red took precedence over the piece, hints of yellow and skin tones sprinkled in where she thought was necessary.

She cleaned off her brush and took a step back, admiring her newest work, eyeing it for flaws or hints of emptiness. When she found none she smiled to herself, untying her apron and leaving to enter the house to wash herself clean of any unwanted paint that caught her skin.

She turned on the faucet, pumping soap into her hands and began to scrub. She watched as the red began to drain down the sink, sighing in delight at the sight of it.

(Y/n) had always been captivated by the concept of death. Not in the way people feared or avoided it, but in the way she saw its eerie elegance. Growing up in a household that celebrated perfection and the beauty of life, her fascination with decay and the passage of time was met with silence, sometimes disgust.

As a child, she’d spend hours sketching wilted flowers or photographing the abandoned cemetery near their house. Sometimes she found dead animals which was always a treat for her. She found beauty where others saw only ruin and death. Her parents had tried to correct her, and her teachers had labeled her work disturbing. But (y/n) remained drawn to the delicate balance between life and death.

As she grew older, the fascination deepened, and she poured it into her art. Her paintings had always included blood in one way or another, whether it was an aging object, haunted landscapes, or human forms twisted in the stillness of death. On the other hand, her photographs captured the fleeting beauty of nature’s quiet end. The decay of a flower, the pale tranquility of a body.

However, the world around her wasn’t ready for her vision. Critics were quick to brand her work as grotesque, calling it an abomination, and galleries refused to showcase her art. News articles labeled her as disturbed, questioning her mental health rather than her talent.

But for (y/n), it was never about horror. She saw beauty in the inevitability of death, in the idea that all things must come to an end. To her, it was a reminder of the fragility of existence and the raw, unfiltered truth of the world. Yet, each harsh critique was another nail in the coffin of her confidence, driving her further into herself.

She became more reserved, speaking less in public, avoiding eye contact at exhibitions - if she even attended. She longed to defend her work, but the voices of her critics echoed in her mind, silencing her before she could even begin.

Despite the noise, (y/n) still clung to her vision, working tirelessly in the small, dimly lit studio that was the garage of the small house she currently rented. Surrounded by the eerie stillness of her creations.

She began to change into something more fitting for the colder October weather, slipping on a coat to bury her hands in and walking into the crisp autumn air. As her feet tapped through the night’s atmosphere, she closed her eyes for a moment, the smell of the dying trees and asphalt sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

She didn’t live far from the heart of Miles County, quickly reaching it and taking joy in the quietness of it all compared to the usual bustling energy during the day that she preferred to avoid.

She passed a display lined and stacked with TVs, some of them turned on and broadcasting different channels.

“- another piece was released just days ago with another overwhelming amount of negativity -“

She stopped promptly, turning her head towards one of the TVs closest to her and seeing a portrait of herself display.

“Be advised, the image is disturbing.”

Her last work was then shown. She admired it, not from an egotistical standpoint, but more from the genuine beauty of the concept.

A flower pot, chipped and cracked. An elongated and decaying finger was the stem of the flower in the pot, bloodied thorns sticking out of it every which way. Ears made up the petals, an eyeball at the center in place of a typical pistil. A radiant glow shone from behind the flower, its rays of light praising its beauty in all of its wretched glory.

Her eyes began to water as they threw out carefully constructed insults, indirect but still noticeable enough to catch.

However, what (y/n) didn’t notice was the tall, slim monochromatic figure standing behind her just feet away. Gripping the overfilled black trash bag hanging over his shoulder, he curiously watched the same TV, head tilted slightly in fascination.

She brought a balled hand up to below her nose, keeping it from running as a tear fell. Too caught up in the screen before her, she failed to notice the man that now stood next to her, watching the TV from next to her rather than behind, his bag now on the sidewalk.

Having had enough of their cruel remarks, she turned to walk back home, but gasped when she nearly collided with the strange man.

Her eyes slowly trailed up his form, landing on his white painted face, accented by the black paint around his eyes and mouth. She took in his features with curiosity and fascination, taking note of his exaggerated hooked nose, cheekbones and pointed chin.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed and quickly wiped at her tears. “I didn’t notice you there.”

His head slowly turned towards her and his mouth widened into a dramatic smile, flashing his black-coated teeth. It suddenly turned to surprise, shaking where he stood with excitement and pointing to the TV.

“You… Do you like it?” She asked, unbelieving. He nodded enthusiastically and pointed to her, then the TV, then back to her. She caught on. “Oh, um… Yeah - yeah that’s me.”

His hands shook with another wave of excitement, his hands representing the beat of his heart, then giving a chef’s kiss.

“Well, thank you,” She sniffed again. “That means a lot to me, actually.” She gave a small giggle of amusement at his mannerisms.

He then stopped suddenly, putting his hands on his hips with a disapproving look. He ran a finger down his cheek to simulate a fake tear, then pointed to her, then the TV.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it by now.” (Y/n) waved off, but the mime knew better.

He held up a finger, his mouth forming an ‘o’ with eyebrows raised, then turned to rummage through his bag. She watched curiously, wondering how this was even happening. He suddenly turned back around, presenting a rose to her with a large smile.

Again, she couldn’t help but giggle and grew bashful, her cheeks tinting red as her fingers lightly grazed his own to take the flower from him. She brought it up to her nose to smell it, a smile gracing her lips. She then felt something drip down her hand and looked down at the flower again, seeing as a drop of blood made its way down over her fingers.

“Nice touch. Thank you.” She complimented and her smile widened.

He folded his hands in front of himself, swaying as if to show he himself was bashful.

“Are you a mime or actually mute?” She asked curiously out of the blue.

He made an ‘after’ motion with his finger, meaning what she said second and she nodded in understanding.

“Well, I think you’re quite charming regardless.” She spoke softly and he waved a hand at her, then raised it to his cheek as if he was blushing. Her giggles turned into laughter. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

(Y/n) watched as he looked up in thought, tapping his chin. He then stuck a finger up to show he had an idea and dipped a finger into the blood of the rose, turning to the glass pane with the TVs and began to write.

“Art?” She asked and he nodded eagerly, making her laugh once more. “It suits you.” He shrugged dramatically in response. (Y/n) sighed, looking at her watch reading 10:34. “As much as I love this interaction, I should head back home.” She looked back up at him and he pouted and looked down, then shot up with another idea.

He made a walking motion with his fingers, pointed to himself, then to her and pointed in the direction she came from.

“You want to walk me home?” He nodded.

She stood in thought for a moment, wondering if she should really trust the monochromatic clown. He seemed sweet enough, and it wasn’t a lie when she said he was charming. She couldn’t deny that there was something oddly attractive about his facial features, either.

Against her better judgment, she looked back up at him and gave a shy smile. “Okay.” Art clapped with glee and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and motioning for her to lead the way.

The walk was quiet, save for (y/n) making casual conversation every now and then. It wasn’t an awkward silence when she didn’t speak, and Art seemed to be just as content as he happily walked alongside her. She couldn’t help but sneak looks at him along the way, and though he seemed blissfully oblivious he caught every glance.

She felt a pang of pity when they reached the smaller house, walking up to the door and turning to him to see him pouting once more. “Thank you for walking me. It gets lonely sometimes, to be honest.”

He looked down, swinging with sadness at the end of their walk.

“Well,” She sighed in thought. “I mean, I suppose you know where I live now. Maybe you could visit some time? I never really have company, anyways.”

His excitement reappeared, making herself happy in the process. He nodded vigorously and she laughed for the umpteenth time.

“Be safe out there, okay?” He nodded again and waved at her as she opened the door to go inside. “Goodnight, Art.” The door closed and she leaned against it, wondering what the hell just happened.

Of all people, she befriended a clown. But it was nothing against him. She supposed she just attracted the oddballs of the world given that she was deemed one herself by society.

She mindlessly prepared for bed, running through her interaction with the man over and over repeatedly. It was the only thing she could think about. No amount of distraction would keep him from her head. (Y/n) sighed as she stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over her abdomen.

When she woke up the next morning, preparing breakfast in the kitchen as the TV hummed in the background, her ears caught something rather peculiar.

“- found dead in their home just last night after neighbors reported screaming to the police. We were told photographs of the scene are too graphic to broadcast and were not provided.”

(Y/n) walked over to the TV, seeing a picture of the news anchor who insulted her work the night before, along with his family. As much as she pitied them, she couldn’t help the tsk of her tongue when they refused to provide the photographs. She had recently been relying on such photos as inspiration for her pieces, and she couldn’t do much but grow more and more curious about them.

After eating her breakfast and freshening up, she went to her desktop computer and powered it on. Having made note of the name of the news anchor, she began to search the case in hopes that they posted the photos online and came across an image that baffled her. In the middle of the article was a sketch of the suspect.

The clown she had encountered.

She stopped reading and sat back against her chair, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. He knew where she lived, and she invited him to visit. Granted, she figured if he wished her harm, he would just bust through a window or the door itself regardless of invitations.

But then she couldn’t shake his goofy mannerisms, how he showed her more kindness in one night than anyone had in all of her (y/age) years. How he showed her how much he loved her art, giving her the rose to cheer her up.

Then she remembered. Art was with her when the news anchor was insulting her work. Now he and his family are dead.

Could he have…?

Coincidence. (Y/n) shook her head.

(Y/n) stood and made her way to the garage, checking if her latest work had dried up. To her delight, it did, and she removed it from the easel to prop against the wall holding her countless other works.

The rest of the day was wasted away, filled with cat naps, snacking and binging shows. She thought of going out and doing something for herself, but the thought of being surrounded by people immediately put her off. So she decided on lounging until the sun set and could truly be in her element.

Time seemed to mock her, dragging on and on enough to make her think that it froze altogether. But alas, the hues outside grew darker and she began to prepare for her night out.

Throwing on a sweater dress, pantyhose and her shoes, she picked up her digital camera that sat on a nearby table, hanging it around her neck before making her way outside. When she turned to face the street, she jumped at the sight of Art standing nearly directly in front of her with the same oversized bag and wide grin.

(Y/n) froze, wondering if things should change between them after finding out what he did. What he could do.

She figured it was already too late if he indeed wished her harm. He knew where she lived and could easily find her. So why should she give him further incentive? And he hadn’t done anything to her personally to be rudely snubbed. The memories of the night before ran through her head, an innocent and friendly encounter.

So she indulged herself until fate decided the outcome.

“Hey, Art.” She greeted him with a gentle smile. He waved excitedly at her, then pointed at the camera around her neck with a questioning expression. “Oh, I’m just going on a walk. Trying to see if there’s anything interesting to photograph for my next piece.”

He tapped his chin and looked off, thinking. He perked up with a finger, eagerly motioning for her to follow him. Unable to contain her curiosity, she walked up to him and began to follow.

“You know a place I could find something?” He grinned mischievously at her, a silent ‘yes’.

After some walking, they came upon an older building. The walls actively rotted away, windows broken and some boarded up. He stopped with her when she paused at the front, looking up at the building in awe.

Perfection.

She reached for her camera, but his hand quickly came over hers to stop her and heat rushed up to her face. He pulled away and motioned to the building, then placed his hand over his heart endearingly. “Is this your home?” He nodded. “Oh! I’m sorry, I won’t take pictures.”

He patted her shoulder as a thank you and motioned for her to follow once more, leading her into the building.

The smell was horrid to anyone else, but to (y/n) it was just another day of work. With the countless rotting animals and even occasional mutilated body she’s encountered, she had no choice but to grow used to it. By now, the smell reminded her of her work and provided a sense of comfort in a twisted way.

However, standing in what was the killer’s home, it also struck her like a bolt of lightning. The familiar smell of blood and rot was in his home, which could only mean one thing.

“You wanted to show me something in here, didn’t you?”

Art’s smile grew impossibly wide, pointing at her to show he was impressed that she caught on quickly. He dropped his bag and held out his hand in an exaggerated gentlemanly fashion, leg kicked out and foot up on its heel, holding the same sadistic smile when she met his eyes. (Y/n) delicately placed her hand in his, his own only grasping onto her fingers with a surprising gentleness as he led her through the dark building to a separate room.

The smell grew stronger the closer they drew to the room as more and more of the all too familiar red hues began to reveal themselves.

When they finally entered, she gasped at the sight before her. Art presented his own ‘masterpiece’ to her with excitement, taking in her every reaction.

Sat on a chair in the center of the room was the remnants of a decapitated man, chest cavity wide open. Blood covered the body from neck to toe, stains coating the walls and floor around it.

At first she was frightened, but as he presented it to her she realized something. She realized that they shared the same fascination. Granted, he had a more methodical way of showing it, but artists always vary in accordance to what mediums they used, right?

“You did this?”

Art nodded eagerly, practically vibrating where he stood as he impatiently awaited for a verbal response. As she took in the sight before her shamelessly, he urged her with his hands to spit out what she was thinking.

“It’s beautiful…” She whispered breathlessly. And it was the truth. It felt as if she was staring at a blank canvas for her to mold and create into something new, with his permission of course. The possibilities were endless as they ran through her head, too many to keep track of.

Ever observant, he took notice of the turmoil and his almost innocent excitement turned into something more wicked. Something clicked in his brain as he practically watched a butterfly emerge from its cocoon before his very eyes.

He motioned to (y/n), then to the body, then with widespread arms he motioned at them together.

“You want me to create something?” She wondered if he ever suffered whiplash from nodding so aggressively, at least with her. “May I walk around to see what you have that I could use?” Another nod.

(Y/n) looked around the room, finding it completely empty besides the chair and body. She then left to wander, Art following her like a lost puppy, eager to watch her work. After searching through three other rooms, she finally found a flower pot. It had a chunk missing from the back, but she could easily turn it to where it wasn’t visible.

She turned to Art. “Do you have a cup or something to fill it with dirt?” He thought for a moment, then gave her a sign to wait before disappearing.

Her eyes wandered around what she assumed used to be a bedroom. An old mattress in the corner with an equally rotting dresser, nightstand and standing mirror.

When he reappeared, he held out a tin can to her and she gladly took it, making their way outside with the pot to fill it. He watched as she did so, taking note of the way she avoided getting herself dirty. He silently laughed to himself, pointing at her as her dainty hands refused to muddle with the soil. “What?” She questioned with her own chuckle.

He mimicked her avoiding the dirt and grime as he continued to laugh and she rolled her eyes.

“The work I showcase does not reflect my behavior. You’d be surprised how much I hate getting dirty.” (Y/n) giggled as she finished filling the pot, mindful of the missing chunk so as to not let any dirt spill. “Where did you get the rose from yesterday? Was it around here?”

He motioned for her to follow, looking back at her every now and then as he led her around the building to the back. A single rose bush was planted with only a few fully-bloomed flowers left intact. He offered to cut one of them off, and doing so he held it delicately to himself.

“Could you hold this for a second?” She held out the pot to him and he nodded. “Careful of the back, I don’t want anything to spill.” He nodded again and watched as she wandered, looking around for other plants to add to the pot. She settled on a few weeds, picking a handful of petals off of the other roses on the bush before heading back to the room with Art.

He softly set the items down in the corner as she cradled the petals in her hand, looking at the body with a tilted head. Art stood next to her, mimicking her mannerisms as he tried to understand what she was thinking of. He watched as her mouth moved to speak, but nothing followed until a few seconds after.

“Um…” She pointed to the body, looking at it for a few more seconds before turning her head to him. “Could you, um…” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you could do a couple more things to it for me?”

His face twisted into mischief, as if to say ‘I thought you’d never ask’. His palms pressed against each other, fingers twiddling as he waited for what she wanted.

“Could you flatten the top and remove the um…” She motioned to the abdomen. “What’s inside…?” His mouth made an ‘o’ in a surprised expression before shifting into the same smile, booping her nose before leaving the room, she assumed to grab supplies.

He soon returned with a hacksaw and scissors, making his way to the body to do what she asked. Her stomach grew queasy once he began and she averted her gaze out of habit.

The noise suddenly stopped and she looked back to see him standing upright with a frown. She felt a pang of fear and dare she say guilt, thinking he was offended.

“I-I’m sorry, I love the end result, but I just get squeamish with the process, is all…” She whispered almost pitifully.

He watched as her face paled and she was left baffled when he made his way over to her, saw still in hand. However, he simply pushed her out of the room into a wide open area that was further away, holding up a finger to tell her to wait before he disappeared to finish.

Her face grew hot at the gesture, stomach fluttering as a bashful smile reached her lips. When (y/n) turned, she was met with a workbench, worn stool sat in front of it. She wandered over with curiosity, eyeing the rusted tools, nails and screws that sat on top of it.

A few jars were scattered along the back of it against the wall, reading the labels. Most of them were some form of acid, others she refused to guess the result of the compound mixture.

(y/n)’s eyes lit up when she found small circular candles akin to what would be put in a pumpkin, grabbing a couple along with a match from a box sat next to them and put them in her pocket.

She jumped when the sound of metal clattering to the floor invaded her ears and she whipped around to find Art standing there, saw next to his comically large shoes. He waggled his fingers at her in a wave, motioning for her to head back to the room to which she obeyed. She passed him with the same bashful smile, remembering his kindness from earlier.

When she entered, she saw that he did indeed do as she asked and turned to Art with a wider smile. “Thank you.” The clown tipped his hat and she giggled. “Could you hold these please?” She asked of the petals and he held out his cupped hands for her to place them in.

Eyes following her like a cat, he watched as she knelt by the pot, planting the rose in the center of it followed by the other plants she picked along the way, standing and making her way to the body. She placed it in the now empty cavity of the abdomen, then turned to take the petals back from Art. She sprinkled them over the body, some inside where the pot was.

She then pulled out the candles, placing them methodically inside the abdomen, making a point to avoid touching the body itself. Igniting the match, she lit the candles and stood, looking for the light switch to turn off the overhead lights. Art caught on and immediately turned them off somehow. (Y/n) looked at him with a confused expression to which he just shrugged with a wide grin.

She shook her head and giggled, lifting the camera from around her neck, checking the settings before testing different angles through the lens, snapping photos when she came upon the ones that satisfied her. (Y/n) made her way next to Art who shook his hands with excitement.

He stood against her with their closeness, practically his entire side brushing against her from behind as he looked down at the photos she clicked through. The beat of her heart picked up, blood rushing to her ears at the realization.

“Which one do you think is best?” She asked softly, turning to look up at him to see him already looking at her.

The candlight shone ominously against his features, pale eyes piercing through her own, her smile dropping as his nose nearly touched her own. His eyebrows quickly rose and dropped, head turning as his eyes squinted with his smile. His hand slowly rose, carefully prying the camera from her hands and setting it down. As he stood back to his full height, she craned her neck to look up at him, their bodies slowly turning to face each other until he took a step towards her, (y/n) taking a step back.

Taking his time, he walked her back until her body was pressed against the wall and his figure was the only thing in her field of view. Her breath shook as his bloodied fingertips reached up to caress her jaw, settling delicately under her chin to hold her gaze.

He leaned closer, tilting his head as his nose tickled her face. The hand under her chin then moved down to her neck, his feather-like touch changing pressure as it wrapped itself around her, increasing just enough to make her gasp and he finally closed the gap between them.

The kiss was surprisingly tame for how brutal he was, her eyes closed as she gave in to the intoxicating feeling and the only thing she could think of or feel was the man that held her. As for him, his eyes remained open, taking in and savoring her every expression.

The expressions of the same twisted mind that complimented his own work, turning it into breathtaking beauty that was beyond comparison. His mannerisms grew more eager, more desperate at the thought of whatever else they could create together, his free hand finding her waist and squeezing enough to release air from her lungs audibly, a plea for more.

His tongue slid against her teeth and she welcomed the invasion, parting her mouth to take him in as his hand ran over the hump of her arse, fingers digging into the fat and muscle enough to bruise. His wanton thoughts grew to become an obsession, anger rising at the thought of her parting from his life.

Their breath mingled, his mouth moving down to her jaw, then to her pulse point where he bit down just enough to release a trickle of blood and she cried out, hand squeezing his forearm of the hand still wrapped around her neck. As he sucked at the blood, the hand moved from her neck down to her breast, kneading and toying with it as her head leaned back, swaying at the pleasure.

Her leg lifted as his other hand slid from her arse down her thigh, hugging it close to him as he shifted his leg to apply pressure at her core. He pulled away from her neck, teeth still bared in its grin but his eyes clouded with lust and greed as he took her in. Her lips were parted with need, vulnerable and exposed before him in a gamble of trust and fate.

She felt his leg shift and she whined, a shiver running down her spine once she finally opened her eyes to look up at him. The sight before her sent a pulse to her center, clit throbbing as his hand slid down from her breast to her hip, her eyes following as he slowly dropped to his knees before her.

The thigh he previously held was now over his shoulder, hands sliding the skirt of her dress up to her hips to bury his nose into her clothed pussy. She sighed at the feeling, hands moving to hold the skirt for him. Suddenly, she heard a rip, cold air hitting her core as he tore her pantyhose open to reach her.

(Y/n) watched as he looked up at her with a mischievous grin and wiggled his eyebrows, disappearing back under her skirt when she felt his warm muscle drag along her leaking center. She felt his breath fan over her, his nose tickling her bud as his tongue dipped into her, teasing her entrance before plunging into it.

The woman gasped and her back arched as he toyed with her, her hand coming down to grip one of his own that squeezed at her thighs. He shook his head eagerly as he continued his feast and she moaned at the action, rolling her hips against him. His tongue then removed itself, moving to settle on her clit and she trembled at the sensitivity.

His free hand inched towards where his tongue had been, playing with her lower lips and providing a tickling sensation before he dipped a finger in, pushing to the knuckle. His finger began to move in rhythm with his tongue, practically digging into the spongy area that drove her mad with desperation.

She let go of his hand when she felt him move it, followed by the sound of a zipper coming undone as he pulled out his hardened member, continuing to chase her high and begging to himself to hear her scream.

She felt the coil begin to build and tense up, her heart racing as her skin grew hot in anticipation. The two of them locked eyes and his own squinted, encouraging her to fall over the edge. His gaze alone was enough, her chest heaving as she leaned her head back against the wall with a cry.

She struggled to catch her breath, panting and watching Art with a fucked-out expression as he rose to his feet with a deep hunger in his eyes. Her eyes flicked down to his erection, then back up at him with brows knit in anticipation. He slipped an arm behind her, pulling her in to press her against him.

Holding her gaze, he teased his member against her entrance, brow twitching as she tried to move against his strength. His smile suddenly dropped as he impaled her with his length, mouth open as he mocked her expression with great pleasure. His grin returned as she gripped onto his shoulder, one of her legs moving to hook around his waist.

He snatched her chin when her eyes began to close, forcing her to watch him as he began to set an agonizingly slow pace. He wanted to hear her beg. Needed to hear her beg. His cock twitched at the thought of it and she moaned.

“Art…” She called breathlessly and he tilted his head to listen. “Please…” The word shook as it left her lips. The leg hooked behind him pulled him in closer and his mouth twitched as she pleaded him once more.

He lifted her other leg to wrap around him, carrying her as if she was weightless, his display of strength only deepening her arousal and need as both of her hands settled behind his neck. He suddenly began to plunge into her repeatedly, a feral noise escaping from her throat as he watched on with animalistic desire.

He angled their bodies effortlessly, paying attention to her every expression and vocal flux in order to throw her over the edge for a second time. Her moans heightened their pitch, growing louder as her grip on him tightened and his eyes somehow darkened further, thrusting harder and harder with an inhuman amount of strength and stamina.

“Art -“ He gave a single nod with a sadistic grin as (y/n)’s hands shifted to his shoulders, nails digging into the satin of his suit before she crossed over into her orgasm. One of his hands snatched her jaw, slightly squeezing at her cheeks as their noses touched. He practically stared into her soul as he soon found his own release, baring his teeth as she felt his warm stream of seed fill her.

She sighed in exhaustion as Art silently huffed to himself. He then brought his head next to hers, licking the shell of her ear.

His mind was made up. Her fate was sealed.

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tonythr · 9 months ago

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Quick Slash is even cooler from a narrative perspective, and why I think the Nailsmith's story parallels the Pale King's

Cold take: Quick Slash is the best charm in Hollow Knight.

Slightly Warmer take: Quick Slash is the only S-tier charm that is great from both gameplay and lore perspective (aside from maybe Spell Twister).

The reason for this is that its existence is actually a

metaphor

Here, look at this.

So, Quick Slash is something that was created from a relatively big number of objects that were discarded and deemed imperfect, and that possess a collective will of wanting to fulfill their purpose.

You know what that reminds me of?

A large amount of creations: check.

Discarded as imperfect: check.

Still possessing a will to find closure: check.

Being a part of a larger, more powerful thing: check.

Having a common creator who is responsible for their creation and rejection: check.

So yeah, I think that Quick Slash's lore (or at least its description) is meant to parallel that of the Vessels'.

But I wanna talk about that last point: the creator.

It is heavily implied that the person who created and then later discarded those nails was the Ancient Nailsmith we see in the room where we get Quick Slash.

(Oh by the way I just realized that this stone ring thing on the right of that room is actually the furnace, neat.)

Judging from their Dreamnail dialogue, this Ancient Nailsmith was trying to achieve the same goal as the other, more famous Nailsmith we all know and love: creating a Pure Nail.

And you know who else was trying to create a perfect, Pure thing while discarding many other similar things that later gained a collective will?

That's right - it's the guy who is also responsible for creating those other discarded things we discussed earlier!

Ok, but what I really wanted to talk about here is how all of what I just said ties back to that other, more famous guy - The Nailsmith.

We don't know for sure how the story of the Ancient Nailsmith ended, but it feels like it exists there mainly to put an emphasis on the City's Nailsmith's story; to convey that his struggle is an important theme in this narrative (because ancient means important, ok?) And, I mean, the City's Nailsmith's story also parallels that of the Pale King's in the same manner, right?

The thing is, we already know how PK's story ended.

In trying to achieve perfection, to create an eternal Kingdom by making a Pure Vessel devoid of mind, voice and will, the Pale King doomed himself to be taken over by his regrets, by the vast emptiness of the futility of his struggles. But was it because he failed, or because that was where his story was headed all along?

What if PK succeeded? What if the Radiance was sealed forever? What if his Kingdom actually stood eternal, never to change, never to end? What if he realized he achieved his only goal in life?

And that's the part where we get to a story the ending of which is up to the player's choice.

To quote White Lady, only two obvious outcomes there are from such a thing.

The first is an honorable death by the fruits of his labor.

If we choose to kill the Nailsmith with the Pure Nail, he dies happy, knowing that his life's goal is accomplished and having gained all the satisfaction he could from it.

The second I find preferable, a new passion.

If the Nailsmith doesn't feel the finishing blow of the Pure Nail, he is left unsatisfied. But, while trying to resolve that unsatisfaction, he eventually finds something (and someone) that gives him a new calling, a new thing to create, a new reason to live.

And, while those are both equally valuable, equally canonic outcomes, don't you think the second one is just... better? I mean, not only does it include the achievement of the Nailsmith's goal, but it lets him live AND gives two lonely souls a partner in life! I feel like that's the thing this narrative is trying to convey. What it's trying to say about the meaning of life, about our dreams.

Maybe that was the ultimate folly of the Pale King - the inability to change. His story would've ended in the same way, regardless of whether Hallownest lasted eternally or not. He would be dead, if not by the hands of the Void, but by his own - but ultimately, by the hands of that vast emptiness of realizing that you achieved your only goal and that now all there is for you is this eternal satisfaction that slowly fades away, leaving you with nothing.

TL;DR: Quick Slash is the best because it's a metaphor for discarded vessels; perfection is overrated, try to get laid instead.

#hollow knight #hollow knight lore #hollow knight theory #nailsmith #pale king #hollow knight charms #quick slash #hallownest #pure vessel #hk vessels #sheo

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awoogayanderes · 1 year ago

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LEARNING ABOUT JAPANESE CULTURE WITH BSD MEN

➪ requests : “Can i request atsushi, dazai and tecchou with foreign gf?” - anonymous

“Hey, love!! Could I request Chuuya and Kunikida (separately) with a gender neutral s/o who isn't native Japanese and struggles with talking Japanese and things like chopsticks? <3 - Anon 🥂” - anonymous ( 🥂 ? )

➪ other notes : these prompts were very similar so i decided why not combine them ! this is actually the first time i get very similar prompts at the same time, but i feel as if i didn’t do this enough justice so i apologize, non edited

Atsushi Nakajima :

- god he’s so patient with you, even if you’re not a fast japanese learner, he’ll always help you out by smiling and gently correcting you

- i feel as if his orphanage offered some type of short term class to learn english even if it was just the basics

- so while he teaches you japanese, you’re teaching him more english

- the first meal he ever introduces to you is chazuke, a comfort food to him that he hopes will also satisfy you

- if you struggle with your chopsticks, he would softly place your fingers where they’re supposed to be, with a pink blush on his face

- when both of you go to festivals, he’ll help you pick out a kimono or a yukata

- even though he thinks you look lovely in every color, his face will always soften when you wear purple, preferably iris or periwinkle

- atsushi tries his best to teach you money currency but will sometimes disregard it since he grew up with no money

- “struggling with kanji?” atsushi said with an accent as he sat next to you

- you nodded, trying to find the correct words to express your frustration in japanese

- you sigh leaning your head on his shoulder, he knows you’re mad so he soothes you

- 9/10 experience with this sweet boy, he has his mini flaws but he’s all around perfect

Osamu Dazai :

- he’s definitely the type of guy to quiz you on japanese and when you get it right, he gives you a kiss as a “prize”

- he definitely knows english, he just chooses to act dumb at times

- he definitely makes you eat canned crab with him but there’s times where he’ll splurge on real crab for you, a purchase he doesn’t regret

- when you’re struggling with your chopsticks, he’ll come from behind you, molding himself against you to fix your hold on your chopsticks

- do not take him shopping for a kimono or a yukata, he’ll make you try on all of them

- i feel as if he’d love to see you in a saphire blue or a french blue, he’d giggle with a coy smile

- he teaches you about money but only when you spend it ( he’d definitely leech off of you and take advantage of your lack of knowledge )

- due to him knowing english, you normally don’t speak japanese with him, but when you do, he encourages you

- “here let me help you,” dazai says in english wrapping himself behind you casually

- he places both of his hand on your dominant hand, fixing its posture

- he places a kiss on your cheek from behind you, lingering onto you as you try your best to say “go away” in japanese

- 7/10 experience, despite his slight lack of care for your money, he’s a sweet guy to be with

Tecchou Suehiro :

- honestly i can imagine him forgetting that you’re not fluent in japanese, like you can be having a conversation and you look at him perplexed and he realizes what the problem is

- i think he knows english but isn’t really fluent but he still tries his best for you

- DO NOT EAT ANYTHING HE MAKES FOR YOU !!! you will get food poisoning from his awful creations of food

- honestly you’d need to ask him to help you with your chopsticks, most of the time he wouldn’t notice it

- but he’d basically demonstrate where your fingers are supposed to go rather than move around your fingers

- due to his work, he can’t really take any time off to shop for a kimono/yukata, though if he did, he’d just follow your every move

- he likes seeing you in kinda like a maroonish color with maybe a yellow sash

- idk what you expected, he’s the weirdest guy in this list who likes random combinations including your clothing

- he doesn’t really teach you about money but if you ask, he’d explain it to the best of his ability

- “i made some food for you,” tecchou said, sounding out the words

- “thank you,” you smile back at him, knowing you weren’t about to eat the abomination of food he just made for you

- 8/10 experience, he’s all around perfect except that you might get food poisoning

Chuuya Nakahara :

- another patient guy like atsushi when it comes to you except that when he gets annoyed, he blows up at you accidentally

- he’s another guy who knows english due to the port mafia, but he prefers not to speak it as he can’t fully show his emotions

- chuuya doesn’t particularly have a favorite meal to share with you, what he does have is expensive bottles of wine that would create the perfect late night date

- but if you don’t really like wine, then he probably provides you with any high quality food, i personally think he has a thing for rice

- if you ever ask for help with chopsticks, he either does what atsushi does and fix your fingers or he would tell you to get a fork

- he would literally order custom made kimonos/yukatas for you, he wants then to be perfect for his beloved

- you cannot tell me he’d love to see you in black, can’t really take out the mafia in this guy

- another person who doesn’t teach you about money because he insists he’ll cover all of your costs, you just need to pay with his cash or swipe his card

- “money ? nah you don’t need to learn about it, i’ll pay for anything and everything you need and want,” chuuya says taking a sip of wine

- “are you sure ? i don’t want to make you feel like i’m taking advantage of you,” you said slowly still learning japanese

- “yeah don’t worry about it,” the orange haired man said inviting you to take a sip of his wine

- 9/10 experience with chuu, he does get annoyed when you don’t understand him the first few times, but he makes up for it

Doppo Kunikida :

- you probably learn japanese the fastest if you’re with him, he quite literally forces it down your throat so you can adapt quickly

- agree with me or not, i think he doesn’t know english BUT he would learn it so quickly to make communication with you easier

- this guy definitely cooks you home made meals, oden being his first dish he introduces you to, something you both thoroughly enjoy

- if you struggle with chopsticks, he’d give you a clear description on how to properly use them

- he also tends to give you books on japanese culture knowing that the more informed you are, the better

- if he has time, he does take you kimono/yukata shopping, often looking for good quality at a deserved expense

- he absolutely loves seeing you in green, typically emerald or basil, his face turning red as if he sees you try them on

- he’s the only man on his list who genuinely teaches you about money and living cost

- “are you sure i need all of these books,” you question as he stacks them up in front of you

- “i want you to become independent as soon as possible in the occasion i might not be here to help you,” he says, pushing his glasses up

- you deadpan but still thank him for caring about your needs more than you even do

- 10/10 experience with kunikida, he’s quite literally the ideal boyfriend in this situation, not leaving you ignorant in a new country

#written by terra #sincerely terra #engraved with tenderness #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #tecchou x reader #tetcho suehiro #tetchou x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #kunikida x reader #im so sleepy

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tipsynight0 · 1 month ago

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The taste of love

Paring - eyeless jack x female reader

Word count - 800

synopsis - two year anniversaries are special, and (y/n) wants to make it memorable.

TRIGGER WARNING - cannibalism, body horror, gore, consumption of organs, mature themes you've been warned.

Authors note - aha what, no i totally haven’t posted almost everyday what are you talking about ahaha <3

Candles flickered gently, casting soft shadows on the red tablecloth, while the dimmed basement lights created an intimate, almost eerie atmosphere. Everything screamed romance—except for the hidden edge of something darker. It was their two-year anniversary, a moment (Y/N) had been planning for weeks, and it had to be perfect. Every detail mattered. She scanned the table, ensuring every plate, every candle, was in its place. Tonight, she had a gift for Jack that he would never see coming. A surprise crafted just for him.

Her eyes darted to the clock, nerves fluttering in her chest. A pang of hunger shot through her, sharp and unsettling, but that wasn’t the only pain she was feeling tonight. She adjusted her white long-sleeved top, feeling the tightness of her skinny jeans against her skin. Her hair was curled, light makeup accentuated her features, and though she knew she’d overdressed, she couldn’t help it. Jack deserved this night.

Finally, the door to the basement creaked open, and quiet footsteps descended the stairs. Jack’s hand brushed the wall as he reached the bottom, his senses heightened, inhaling the air thick with the scent of (Y/N)'s perfume.

“Y/N?” his voice rasped as he stepped forward, following the scent toward her.

"Happy anniversary," (Y/N) whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing soft kisses against his mask. Beneath it, she could feel his smile. He slowly lifted the mask, revealing just enough to kiss her back, his lips firm and hungry.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," he murmured against her lips. His hands traveled down to her lower back, pulling her closer. She smiled, taking his hand and guiding him to the table.

“I put out some candles, plates, and I cooked your favorite,” she said softly, eyes flicking nervously over the setup.

Jack grinned as he removed his mask, setting it on the side table. "Yeah? You went out and harvested some kidneys for me?" he teased, taking a seat and watching her every move.

(Y/N) chuckled, a grin tugging at her lips. "How about you go first with your gift? Mine’s almost ready," she said, her voice soft with excitement.

Jack shifted in his seat, pulling out a small photo album and sliding it across the table. "It's stupid, but Jane and Nina said girls love this kind of stuff," he mumbled, looking sheepish.

(Y/N) opened the album and immediately smiled. Page after page of memories—grainy snapshots of their time together. The time they went camping and pushed Jack out onto the lake on an air mattress, her trying on his mask and posing for sexy photos. Each image was a piece of their strange but beautiful life together.

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. Jack’s eager grin remained as his attention shifted to the delicious smell wafting from the oven. The scent was rich, meaty, and unlike anything he’d experienced before.

"I’m not the best cook, but I followed a recipe," (Y/N) said nervously as she placed the plate before him, carefully presenting her creation.

Jack leaned in, sniffing the dish. It was kidney, no doubt. His gaze softened, and he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “It means a lot that you went out, got it yourself, and even prepared it,” he murmured, kissing her hand softly.

(Y/N) smiled, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Just eat it,” she urged, her breath hot against his skin.

Jack cut into the kidney, taking a slow, deliberate bite. The taste was rich, tender, the red wine sauce enhancing the savory flavors. "This is amazing," he mumbled, licking his lips. “So fresh, too.”

As he ate, his hand wandered to her waist, tracing along her stomach. (Y/N) flinched slightly as his fingers brushed over something unusual. Stitches.

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. He tugged up her shirt, revealing a series of carefully sewn stitches across her abdomen. His heart raced as he realized what he was seeing.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” he asked, his voice thick with concern as his fingers traced the rough stitching. It was exactly where one of her kidneys should have been.

(Y/N)’s gaze met his, a soft smile on her lips despite the pain in her eyes. "You always said you wanted to taste me. Happy anniversary."

Jack's heart pounded in his chest, the gravity of her gesture sinking in. She had given him a piece of herself—literally. For him, for their twisted love. His hand trembled as he pressed a soft kiss to the tender skin of her abdomen, right above the wound.

"Happy anniversary," he whispered, voice thick with emotion, knowing no gift could ever compare to what she had just given him

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6azia · 1 month ago

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Feminization| Sasuke x m!reader

—summary. Sasuke didn’t care much for Orochimaru’s manipulations. He had no time for anyone but himself. Still, curiosity gnawed at him as he pushed open the heavy door to the laboratory, his Sharingan scanning the room. Or Sasuke finally accepts Orochimarus present.

—content warning. human as present, top sasuke, bottom (Y/N)

—word count. ~2,6

azia’s notes. •_•

𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯-𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱

Sasuke didn’t care much for Orochimaru’s manipulations. He had no time for anyone but himself. Still, curiosity gnawed at him as he pushed open the heavy door to the laboratory, his Sharingan scanning the room.

Standing in the centre was someone who immediately caught his attention.

(Y/N) looked almost ethereal. Long, flowing hair cascaded down in soft waves, framing delicate features. His body was lean but curved, lithe in a way that made him look feminine at first glance. His eyes, sharp yet disarmingly beautiful, seemed to flicker with mystery, the same intensity that Sasuke found unsettlingly captivating. Clad in a loose-fitting outfit that clung to his frame, there was an air of quiet strength about him that reminded Sasuke of someone who had honed themselves for battle, much like he had.

At first, Sasuke assumed Orochimaru had created a female companion—a concubine, like the sinister promise Orochimaru had hinted at. But something felt off. His eyes narrowed, taking in every detail, and soon the truth clicked.

(Y/N) was not a woman.

Sasuke’s heart skipped a beat.

Orochimaru appeared, sliding into view with his signature grin. "Ah, Sasuke-kun," he hissed softly, "Meet (Y/N). One of my finest creations, meant to be your companion-both in combat and, well... other matters." His voice dripped with sinister amusement.

Sasuke’s eyes darkened. His mouth formed a thin line of displeasure. He knew Orochimaru too well and understood the perversions in his mind. "What are you trying to pull, Orochimaru?"

"Nothing at all, Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru said, circling around (Y/N) like a predator eyeing its prey. "You see, (Y/N) here was made to be perfect. Strong, intelligent... and beautiful." His yellow eyes gleamed. "An ideal partner, wouldn’t you agree?"

Sasuke’s gaze snapped back to (Y/N), and that strange feeling washed over him again. His body reacted before his mind could fully process it. The delicate features, the way (Y/N)’s hair brushed against his shoulders, the confident stance-it all blurred the lines for Sasuke. Everything about (Y/N) felt wrong. And yet, despite that, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

(Y/N) stared back at Sasuke, lips curling into a faint smirk, as if he was aware of the confusion he was causing. "I was made for this, you know," he said in a soft, but teasing voice. "To train with you. To... please you."

Sasuke flinched internally, though his face betrayed none of it. He had never cared for beauty or desire. He had buried any such feelings under layers of hatred and purpose. But this—this was different. (Y/N) was making him feel something. Something he didn’t understand. And that infuriated him.

Orochimaru chuckled, sensing Sasuke’s inner turmoil. "You see, Sasuke-kun, I thought perhaps a more... appealing presence might help you relax. You’ve been so driven, so tense. (Y/N) could be an escape for you. A release."

"Enough." Sasuke’s voice was cold, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. This was absurd. He wasn’t interested in distractions, especially not in someone like (Y/N). But every glance at (Y/N)’s sharp eyes, at the way his features looked almost too perfect to be real, made Sasuke’s chest tighten. He hated it.

"Do you know what you are?" Sasuke asked, his tone harsh as he addressed (Y/N), trying to push aside the irrational feelings welling up inside him.

(Y/N) smiled faintly, meeting Sasuke’s glare with calm confidence. "I’m whatever you want me to be, Sasuke," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "A rival. A partner. Or more."

The implications of his words hung in the air, but there was no seduction in his tone—only honesty. (Y/N) wasn’t playing games. He was simply stating the truth of his existence. He had been made for Sasuke. Crafted to be everything Sasuke needed, whether in battle or otherwise.

And that made it worse.

Sasuke’s fingers twitched, his Sharingan flaring slightly in frustration. His emotions were spiralling-feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years. Desire, attraction, confusion-it all bubbled beneath the surface. His mind screamed at him that this was wrong. (Y/N) was a guy. And yet, the beauty, the strength, the sheer presence of (Y/N) made Sasuke question everything.

For so long, Sasuke had thought of attraction, love, and companionship as distractions-chains that held people back from true power. But now, standing in front of (Y/N), those notions blurred. Was it truly wrong? Or was it just something he had told himself to avoid facing emotions he couldn’t afford to have?

"I don’t need a concubine," Sasuke finally muttered, turning his back, his voice colder than before. "I don’t need anything from you."

(Y/N)’s smirk faded, replaced with something more solemn. "I’m not here because of what you need, Sasuke," he said quietly. "I’m here because of what you want."

Sasuke froze, his back still turned. Those words hit too close, too deep. What did he want? He didn’t know. And the fact that he didn’t know infuriated him. He clenched his fists, trying to push the storm of feelings back down where they belonged.

"I’ll train with you," Sasuke finally said, his voice tight, the only concession he was willing to make. "But that’s all."

(Y/N)’s smile returned, but this time, it was softer. Less teasing, more understanding. "As you wish," he replied, watching as Sasuke disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind a silence filled with unspoken tension.

As Sasuke walked away, his mind raced, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the image of (Y/N) from creeping back into his thoughts—those sharp eyes, that subtle smirk, the strange warmth that came with being around him.

Sasuke had always prided himself on his ability to suppress his emotions, but for the first time, something had slipped through the cracks.

And he hated how much he didn’t hate it.

The training sessions between Sasuke and (Y/N) were intense, silent, and brimming with unspoken tension. Both were highly skilled, their movements fluid and precise, like dancers caught in a rhythm of violence. Each strike met a block; every counterattack was a lesson in power and finesse. But there was something else beneath the surface—something neither of them acknowledged.

Sasuke had tried to ignore it, to focus solely on improving his abilities, but every time he sparred with (Y/N), his mind wandered. The way (Y/N) moved—graceful, fast, and strikingly beautiful—distracted him more than he cared to admit. Their proximity during these sessions was constant, their bodies colliding and pushing against one another, heat radiating between them. Every touch left a spark, every glance sent a ripple of confusion through Sasuke.

Days turned into weeks, and Sasuke found himself drawn to (Y/N) in ways he never had been with anyone. The feeling was dangerous, unsettling, but impossible to ignore.

One evening after an especially cruel experimental session, Sasuke stood in his room, staring blankly at the wall, trying to regain his focus. His body was drenched in sweat, muscles aching, but his mind was elsewhere-locked on (Y/N) again.

He cursed under his breath and headed to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower. The cool water cascaded over his skin, washing away the grime of training, but doing little to calm the storm raging inside him. He scrubbed his face, hoping that the water would drown out the confusing emotions that swirled in his chest. Why did (Y/N) affect him so much? Why couldn’t he shake these feelings?

He stayed under the stream for longer than usual, letting the water do its work before he turned it off and stepped out, towelling himself dry. His mind was quiet now, as if the training had finally drained enough of his energy to leave him numb.

Sasuke slipped into his room, only to freeze when he saw (Y/N) sitting casually on the edge of his bed.

(Y/N)’s eyes lifted from the floor, locking onto Sasuke with that same piercing intensity. His hair, long and soft, framed his delicate features in a way that made Sasuke’s breath hitch involuntarily. He was dressed in his usual loose, minima yukata, the kind that left little to the imagination. There was something almost deliberate in the way (Y/N) sat there, as if waiting for Sasuke.

Sasuke felt a wave of frustration and heat wash over him. He wasn’t ready for this-whatever this was.

"What are you doing here?" Sasuke asked, his voice low, trying to keep the edge from showing. He kept his distance, towel draped loosely around his waist. His damp hair falling into his eyes, covering their calculating gaze.

(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if Sasuke’s reaction amused him. "You seemed distracted today, Sasuke," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I thought you might need to talk."

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need to talk." He crossed his arms, forcing his gaze to stay steady, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. "If you’re here for more training, we’ll do it tomorrow."

(Y/N)’s smirk didn’t fade. Instead, he stood, moving closer to Sasuke with slow, deliberate steps. His presence filled the room, and Sasuke couldn’t help but notice how every step brought a subtle warmth, a strange electricity, to go down his back.

"I wasn’t talking about training," (Y/N) murmured, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as he stopped just a few feet from Sasuke. "I’m talking about you."

Sasuke’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening despite his best efforts to stay calm. His body tensed as (Y/N) came closer, and though he should have stepped back, he couldn’t. Something rooted him to the spot.

"What about me?" Sasuke asked, voice barely more than a whisper now. His eyes met (Y/N)’s, and for the first time, he couldn’t look away.

(Y/N)’s gaze softened, his sharp features becoming almost gentle. "You’re holding something back," he said quietly, his voice like a soft caress. "You push yourself harder than anyone I’ve ever met, but there’s something eating at you. Something you’re afraid to face."

Sasuke’s jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. How could (Y/N) see through him so easily? How could he know? "You don’t know anything about me."

(Y/N) moved closer, closing the small distance between them, his hand gently grazing Sasuke’s bare arm. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shockwave through Sasuke’s body. He felt like he was on the edge of something, something he couldn’t understand or control.

"I know enough," (Y/N) said softly, his breath warm against Sasuke’s skin. His eyes flickered downward, then back up, meeting Sasuke’s gaze with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

Sasuke’s chest tightened, his mind racing. He should push (Y/N) away. He should stop this now before it went any further. But his body betrayed him, frozen in place as his emotions warred inside him.

And then, (Y/N) did something Sasuke wasn’t prepared for. He placed his small hands on Sasuke's bare shoulders and slowly brought them down at the exposed pecs. Sasuke's breath hitched at the contact, goosebumps start to form on his skin and his small buds start to harden under the watchful eyes of the other, which were captured by him since they met.

(Y/N) leaned into his beloved personal space more, standing lightly on his tiptoes. Leaning in, (Y/N) was only inches away from the ravenette. Sasuke looked with a blank expression at the other, the only thing betraying him was his slightly flushed face, ragged breath and the ever so slightly lift of the towel around him.

”Just relax” breathed (Y/N) against the Uchiha‘s lips. Their lips met in a experimental kiss at first, which turned quickly to a heated one with Sasuke’s hand gripping the other's waist.

Sasuke pulled slightly back, “You are too pretty” he murmured. (Y/N) smiled innocently back at him with his pretty eyes.

The ravennette took some steps back so the other was pushed against a wall. A leg nestled it selfe between (Y/N)’s slowly forming bulge, just pushing so slightly to pull a moan from him.

“Stop teasing” (Y/N) whined out and tried to free Sasuke from the towel. However his hand got gripped faster than he could blink and his two hands were held in an iron grip besides his head.

(Y/N) tried to thrust his hips a bit up to relieve some tension, which the Uchiha let happen for his own amusement.

A warm hand found itself inside the loose robe and Sasuke let his index finger slowly glide from the underside of the other cock to its tip, already feeling some pre-building up.

(Y/N) made a show out of it. Moaning out loud and throwing his head back exposing some purple marks that are starting to show.

Sasuke noticed that the moaning and sudden thrust became more irregular, the tugs on (Y/N)’s armes alway harder.

With one final squeeze and one surprisingly deep moan (Y/N) body stilled in an arched position and hot liquid spurs into Sasuke's already warm skin.

He took his now dirty hand out and observed his now dirty skin. With a hum, Sasuke went back to the bathroom letting (Y/N) compose himself again.

He had a slight smirk he went back feeling over his covert hand, “We conna have fun restoring my clan together” he said before shutting the door.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #naruto #bottom male reader #sasuke uchiha #sasuke x reader

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knuckleblaster · 11 months ago

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On some level I understand the rejection or outright denial of V2's death: it was jarring and brutal, especially for a character who, at least in laws of traditional video game rivals and the rule of thirds, seemed like it'd stick around for longer. This said, inferring from in-game lore as well as dev statements, I believe V2's death, tragic that it is, is not unwarranted; and that it is commonly pigeonholed into a characterization it does not fit into due to its assumed role within the game.

This is long, so it's going under the cut.

Considering its name, it's easy to assume V2 is a new and improved version of its predecessor; but it is more heavily implied that it's simply a version of V1 with thicker plating, and nothing more. [1] V2 was an attempt at salvaging V1's design after war became irrelevant, to capitalize on the resources wasted on a highly advanced war machine by rebranding it as an adaptable worker, for security and (theoretically) other peacetime activities (...not an innuendo). This was a failure; there's no reason to invest in something so refined when a handful of lesser machines could do the same job [2].

If V2 is contextualized within its backstory, it makes a lot more sense why it ate shit so quickly. It is, out of any in-game machine so far, one of the least suited for survival in Hell. Sentries and Streetcleaners were created for war. Swordsmachine(s) and Mindflayers are scrapheads, constantly adapting to create (and protect) their perfect, lethal body. [3] If anything, it's on the same level as a Drone, able to defend itself in a limited capacity, but not intentionally programmed or built for combat. Faced with V1, something built for perfect, swift destruction, a machine made for peace would stand even less of a chance than normal, even with an equal level of mobility and build.

V2 is also doomed, in a very literal sense, by the narrative. In a meta sense, it does not matter to the game story whatsoever [4]. V1 is the butterfly whose wing flaps set Gabriel's story in motion, but V2 has no such connection to his story, and is thus irrelevant. Even its lore entry is overshadowed by information about V1/its connection to V1. A third fight, as well, was never in the running, not necessarily due to anything in the game lore, but because its first and second encounters are all it needs: a third rematch would be repetitive and messy [5]. The reason for its extremely violent death sequence is to ensure there was no question as to its fate [6].

In regards to its personality; it is oft-headcanoned as loud, irritable, and competitive, but this characterization is more likely due to its color as well as its assumed role as a "rival" to V1; rather than based upon its in-game actions. Although its initial intentions are up to interpretation [7], comparing its actions and mechanics to other enemies fully rationalizes its anger. Although it's fairly easy to enrage in-fight, the criteria for its enrage state is much more specific than other enemies, and it's quite easy to not trigger it at all. Cerberi will enrage after one of its kind dies, Malicious Faces and Mindflayers after a certain amount of damage has been dealt (on Violent). Most notably, as the only other character with a rematch, Gabriel begins his second fight enraged after his first defeat [3], which can imply by extension that even though V2 is taking its second fight more seriously [8], it is still not outwardly angry. Its enrage state is only triggered when its patience is depleted (the player avoids it for too long), or in its second fight when it has been punched with the Knuckleblaster. These can be interpreted as indicators that V2 likes it when the fight is "fair": when it's not being avoided and picked at from a distance, or being hit with its own arm; which is frankly pretty fucking mean. A side note: Returning to its creation, it can also potentially be inferred that V2 was intentionally programmed with a rational, controlled, and even marketable personality, easily suppressed or overwritten for ease of use.

In another game, or if V1 was the protagonist, perhaps V2 would not be dead. Instead, V2 is doomed by its creators, both in-game and in reality. It mirrors V1 in action and Gabriel in mind, but unlike them, it has no place in this story beyond a truly fantastic duo of fights. Although its story has any number of potential rewritings or epilogues [9], its doom was always intended. It's easy to mourn lost potential, and its end is intensely tragic; but I believe it is a tragedy that meshes nicely with the rest of the game's story. V2 is dead, and not a second too soon.

Footnotes:

Along with the lore entry for V2:

V1’s planned production was cancelled and an updated model, V2, was developed instead, using the standardized plating, since durability was far more important during times of peace when no bloodshed was necessary.

twitter.com/HakitaDev/status/1538313328715513857

3. in-game lore entries, can be read on ultrakill.miraheze.org or here in one document: steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2245904838

twitter.com/HakitaDev/status/1538336055681863680

6. "And then V2 dies as hard as anyone could possibly die to make sure people understand he's fucking dead and is not coming back" - dev commentary, 05:08:09 (youtu.be/kaImho5JioI?si=v4_m90nfLOY-DyEZ&t=18489)

9. Notably, Dream's End Come True / v2isdead.com.

#ULTRAKILL #V2 #meta #id in alt #finally fleshed this out. V2 death manifesto with bonus personality critique!

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yurinaa-world · 5 months ago

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Hello may I request Dan heng, blade, Dr ratio, and Sunday with a s/o who is similar to vill-v from honkai impact

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dan Heng, Blade, Dr. Ratio, & Sunday x Gender-Neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that's like vill-v from honkai impact

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I legit couldn't find anything on this girl, I know she makes serval personalities for working and switches when doing certain tasks, but that was it. (I decided to pick one personality for each to make it easier on me)

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

You’re a bit of an oddball. Your personality, whichever one you’re using while working, he'll love every version of you no matter what. He’s made it this far already. What’s stopping him now?

He loves it whenever you finish one of your latest creations. Running to him and wrapping your arms against his while looking at him with a happy smile on your face, telling him about a new experiment that he has to see! Dragging him away to your room!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Dan Heng!”

You come running to him, when he sees you his eyes go wide like you were going to crash into him! Wrapping your arms around his. “What is it?”

“Guess what? I just finished my invention! You know the one I've been talking about for days! It's done!”

Hugging his arm like a teddy bear, while looking up at him with that bright look in your eyes—how can he resist?

“Come look!”

Before he could even say anything you pull him towards your room, and he just lets himself get dragged along with you. Once you reach there you let go of his arm and immediately start your little “show”

“You’re gonna love this one!”

“I’m excited to see.”

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

He loves you a lot on the inside but on the outside, he looks like he wants to choke you to death whenever you’re talking about your new inventions or randomly dragging him away to see your “baby” in all its glory.

You're hot with any personality.

Whenever he comes back from a mission he comes bearing gifts, like several machine parts, but nothing compared to the parts that he comes to deliver which immediately makes him regret when you pull him into your room and you don’t let him out until hours later. (He says he regrets it every time yet he still comes)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“No way! No way! No way! Blade you got me this ”

“You wanted it, so I got it for you.”

You shriek so loudly that your ear might start bleeding. when you received your gift from Blade you were overjoyed! it was the perfect gear for your inventions! just perfect and you didn’t even tell him!

“Thank you bladie!” you smile holding it to your chest, before putting it in your pocket, going back into your lab and stopping immediately in your tracks. walking back over to him, pulling him by the collar and leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

You pull away quickly, dragging his hand into your lab with you.

“you must see this as well!”

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

He's so into your serious and critical-thinking work ethic personality. At the same time, you invent things, having someone think critically about what he says and take in the feedback, even pointing out negative or flimsy suggestions and coming up with a better alternate idea. (he only allows it because he’s in love with you)

When he lovely teases you. It makes it even better with that serious and concentrated look on your face when you tease him back and tell him that his heart is accelerating in speed…just watch him go speechless.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Warning: I don’t know what I’m talking about

“Metal didn’t have much support in the middle causing much more damage without a pillar in there.”

Veritas points out the obvious reason why your machine was dented in the middle. looking at it with critical eyes.

The damages are horrible, you doubt any of the circuit boards can be fixed or kept—only if you were extremely lucky—you sigh.

“It seems like I need to go back to the drawing board. with this terrible damage, nothing is salvageable.” You said with regret as you stared down at the destroyed machine before you.

“It wouldn't just be a pill but it wouldn’t fix the fact that the metal is weak. It would give it protection…yet it wouldn’t fix anything.”

You remark inspecting the machine and its defaults for the last time—with Veritas watching from beside. Well, he wasn’t watching the machine, instead he was gazing at your face.

You were frowning in deep thought—you looked adorable with furrowed brows and arms crossed. he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, yet that's a very unprofessional little daydream of his.

“You staring, Dr ratio.” you look him in the eyes, that everyday grin you usually have on your lips while teasing him with that title.

he huffs playfully with an eye roll, “So what if I’m making no difference to your work schedule does it? if it does then it seems like we'll need to cure your idiocy.”

“Sounds like you're becoming a bit too defensive Dr. Ratio.”

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

The cute little inventor for the oak family. His lover. He knows about your madness yet if you complete your task on time and perfectly (also be his cute little lover) all at the same time then he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

He always loves to praise you while you're in the middle of your work, sadly you don’t call him all the pet names you usually do when you’re alone.

To see you so respectful, calling him “Mr. Sunday”, stopping everything just hearing what he has to say. Honestly, the way you melt a little from persona when he decides to be generous and give you a little gift for working so hard.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You look quite busy.”

You didn’t think that Sunday was going to come to see you in the middle of work and then he also sneaks up on you! you feel a little embarrassed being exposed in your workplace in front of him.

“Sunday!—I mean Mr. Sunday!” You stutter a bit with your nervousness, “soo Mr. Sunday! How can I help you?” You ask politely, trying to calm down.

Which he teasingly smiles at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t need to be so formal with me, even when no one’s around.” He leans into you, while you go still.

“Someone could overhear us. who knows what kind of rumors could come out.”

“Someone blackmailing the Oak family? Preposterous, that won’t happen. but now I believe my adorable little inventor deserves some praise” He coos at you, his hand goes to cup your cheek, thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You blush at the affectionate gesture. before being put into absolute shock when he pecked you on the lips. “Work hard for me.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

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depthsinwords · 10 months ago

Note

Could you please do gn!reader x lucifer who is very quite at first but after opening up they're like the complete opposite of before? Like frequent hand holding talking a lot and just overall very lively and absolutely adores Lucifer's rubber ducks (maybe also a creator themself?) anyways thank you and have an amazing day!

A/N - Absotutly! That’s so cute! You have an amazing day as well! :)

Pairing(s) - Lucifer x Gn!reader

W/C - fluff, sfw, slight ep 5 spoilers (it is his debut ep), not proofread…

He definitely thought you were always like that since he never saw you with anyone you were close with when you first met him.

He thought it was cute how shy you were but he wanted you to open up because he was curious about you.

You are mysterious in his eyes

He felt that if he spent more time with you he could figure you out.

On one hellish day Lucifer was working on a project (duck) out of boredom when he heard his door creak open. He turns himself in his chair to see you peaking your head in to observe him. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come closer. After you nervously move yourself into the room completely you make your way over to stand beside his chair. He gently grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him and the work desk and holds up his new invented duck closer to your face with his free hand.

“I know it’s not much but I really do love them…” he tells you with a hint of bashfulness as he uses his magic to give the illusion of it swimming in the air. You look at it in amazement and admiration as you speak quietly, “No…it’s magnificent…”

He watches with a soft smile as you admire his creation and pulls you down to where he sits, kissing your cheek gently.

When you start opening up it does come as a bit of surprise even though that was his plan from the beginning.

While he’s happy that you’re being open with him, he is not used to it and gets a little nervous or flustered by your actions.

If you grab his hand suddenly he will freeze and have to process what just happened for the first few times…

After a bit he will slowly start to get used to it, like…it will take a while…

He hasn’t had this facts of affection given to him for awhile so as much as he is super grateful, it’s still something he has to get used to again.

He absolutely loves it when he gets used to it and of course does it back tenfold!

While he could easily tell that you loved his ducks from the start…it was a shock when you gave him one that you created for the first time. Though he’ll cherish it forever! More than any other creations!

After the initial shock of realization that you also invent ducks he becomes absolutely ecstatic about it!

You two get to bounce ideas off eachother and collaborate on new types of ducks.

Sometimes when you just can’t find the creative inspiration to make the duck you hoped for, he will use his magic to make your idea come to life.

“Luci~! I need your help!” you call to him as you run up to him at his work desk, giving him a tight hug from behind. He jumps at the action but chuckles quietly, responding to you, “With what, my swan?”

You release him from the big and move beside him, holding up your almost finished rubber duck. “I think it’s quite cute but something is missing…but you always know how to make it perfect!” You explain eagerly.

He nods and take it from your hand, using his free hand to manifest his magic. As he is about to infuse it with his magic, you speak, “I forget to tell y-“ and it explodes with confetti before your eyes.

He winced in surprise and you burst out in laughter. He turns to you with a mix of shock and confusion causing you to speak through your laughter, “I’m sorry~! Pfft…what I was trying to say was that I constructed it to explode on contact with magic~…I just wanted you to look over it to fix its physicality!” You giggle at him.

He shakes his head and laughs lightly, “I think you did that on purpose, missy.” You fail to hide your smirk and decide to give yourself away with a shrug, responding in a playful tone, “Maybe I did…” He grabs your waist gently and pulls you close, giving you a light kiss on your lips. You two laugh in the kiss as he spins you around. After, you both turn back to his work desk and start on a new creation together…

I hope y’all enjoyed! I loved writing this! :)

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer Morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader

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jade-gemstone · 9 months ago

Text

Danganronpa Ultimate Categorization

Welcome back to another episode of: Jade is a nerd about something absolutely useless! Today's topic: Talent classification in Danganronpa/Fangans.

In the process of making my own fangan/s, I've created a classification system for the types of talents you can give characters. These classifications are...

Arts: Talents that are involved in the visual arts, performing arts, or fashion. Encompasses performers of all types, any type of visual artist, or anyone involved in fashion. (Ex. Actor, Abstract Artist, Model)

Practical: Talents that focus on a specialized skill or work with your hands. Also includes any talents that are religious or spiritual in nature. (Ex. Mechanical Engineer, Detective, Shrine Maiden)

Academic: Talents that are recognized by how much knowledge or experience a character has in an academic field. Covers most science, literature, math, and research based talents. (Ex. Chemist, Theologian, Archaeologist)

Sports: Talents relating to athletic skill. (Ex. Footballer, Kickboxer, Bowler)

Novelty: Talents given to a person who is special simply by existing. Can also be given to characters who win a contest for their talent. Includes Lucky/Unlucky Students, royalty, and non-human characters. (Ex. Lucky Student, Student, Princess)

This system of classification was based on my experience in the community over about three or four years, seeing many other people's original characters as well as creating my own. I found many fell into these categories. My "perfect" ratio, which my friends and I used as a guideline for making our fangan casts, is 4 arts : 4 practical : 4 academic : 2 sports: 2 novelty. I felt this ratio kept things even and grounded.

A few months ago, I began to wonder if my "perfect" ratio was more of my own creation than an actual pattern I saw. I thought, in the event it was, that I would come up with a mathematically accurate ratio that better represented the talent distribution of Danganronpa and its fan projects. This was my attempt at doing just that.

Data Collection

For this, I tried to collect as varied of a sample as possible. I included the three mainline Danganronpa games and sixteen fangans, ranging from very popular ones to very obscure ones. The fangans sampled for this analysis were...

Danganronpa Another

Super Danganronpa Another 2

Danganronpa Despair Time

Brave Danganronpa Coward's Paradise

Project Eden's Garden

Danganronpa He(art)less Deceit

Danganronpa Hushed Whispers

Danganronpa Muave

Danganronpa Despair's Revival

Danganronpa Re:Birth

Danganronpa Twisted Truths

Danganronpa Survivor's Guilt

Danganronpa Despair's Flame (my fangan! also the one where the talent ratio originated)

Danganronpa Cyberspace

Danganronpa Akeda Amusements

Danganronpa Lost Paradise (my other fangan that isn't released anywhere but I'm counting anyway)

I figured out the talent ratio for each individual game by looking through their casts and sorting them with my classification system. Ultimate ???'s were thrown out if possible (such as in the case of Akeda Amusements, where Hanari was thrown out due to the fangan having seventeen participants) and if not, they were counted as novelty.

Also, shout out to Yuki Maeda and Teruya Ōtori for managing to count for two different data sets despite my best efforts at finagling a way to keep them confined to one.

Observations

The first thing I noticed in looking at the ratios for canon Danganronpa was that Academic ultimates are underrepresented compared to what I initially remembered. It had been a while since I revisited the mainline games, and it was a shock to be reminded of that. I was also reminded, but not quite as shocked by the greater emphasis on practical ultimates.

In fangans, the focus on practical ultimates continues to be heavy, with none having less than two. There was also less focus on sports ultimates, with the majority having only one or two compared to the three that the mainline games had a majority of the time. They also tend to have more academic ultimates.

I think that this could be explained by looking at the types of people who make fangans. The majority of people I know who make fangans have very particular knowledge about certain fields due to experience or heavy research, and more often than not these fields do not include sports. They are more likely to make characters based on their experiences and knowledge that they can then insert into the story to make it seem more authentic.

I also, unsurprisingly, found that my "perfect" ratio was not reflected in many of the fangans I looked at. There was only one besides my own that followed that ratio.

Now, if my "perfect" ratio is not the mathematically perfect ratio, then what is?

According to the data collected for the canon games, this is.

This just so happens to also be the ratio for Trigger Happy Havoc.

According to the data collected from the fangans, this is the perfect ratio.

The only fangan that followed this ratio exactly was Akeda Amusements. V3 also had this distribution.

When considering both mainline and fan made games, the perfect ratio was this.

Ironically, not a single mainline game or fan game followed this ratio.

Out of curiosity, I also calculated the standard deviation for each data set.

Canon Danganronpa has little to no variation, conveying that talent ratios are quite consistent between games. The biggest variation would be in the novelty category, making sense as V3 scaled down the amount of novelty ultimates compared to the other two games.

The fangans are shown to have a much larger variation. Though I can't be surprised by this, as perhaps it is an unfair comparison. The mainline Danganronpa games were written by mostly the same team and had less to sample from, while the fangans have not only a larger sample size in which to deviate, but many different writers that think differently about talent distribution.

Final Thoughts

In putting this all together, I found that my classification system, while not perfect in any sense of the word, has some validity to it. If I wanted to, I could definitely make some improvements to it (especially in distinguishing between certain academic and practical fields from novelty), but as of now it works perfectly fine as an aide in cast creation for me.

My ratio is also not perfect, which was an expected outcome. Really none of the ratios I found are perfect, with none of them representing more than one or two of any mainline or fan made game. While ratios like the ones I found can be good for making sure you have a balanced distribution of talents, they aren't required to make a good cast. Personally, I'll continue using my personal "perfect" ratio as a baseline for any cast I make in the future.

I also had a lot of fun making this, and hope I can find a way to make more posts like this in the future. Thank you for reading this.

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