#no matter how Correct it is to like my nose its just not going to happen

[randomwriteronline]

"Sweet little one, standing upright, to me you appear dressed in white. But your red nose, what wonders it does: shortens your life the longer it glows."

"A candle," Velika smiled.

"Correct." Mata Nui replied. Then, he offered another riddle: "Which part of the bird has never soared the skies but slithers instead upon the ground, and swims on the surface of the water without ever getting wet?"

"The shadow."

"Correct. Two parents have five daughters; each daughter has a brother, and each brother has five siblings. How many members compose this family?"

"Eight."

"Correct. A beast of long legs, of strength filled to the brim - yet no eyes adorn its head, its intelligence quite dim."

"Pinchers."

"Correct. Today is the third of seven days. In seven years, which of seven will today be?"

"The fourth."

"Correct. I am that which cannot be touched, but inhabits all living things; I am what kills them, burning quietly, and through their mouths the plume of my combustion shows in the cold."

"Oxygen."

"Correct. Through my long black neck breathes my red heart, hacking out smoke as warmth from me departs."

"A stove."

"Correct. She who fights the winds and waves from the bowels of the seas to maintain her treasure so far away, thin yet heavy, weak yet invincible: who is she?"

"The anchor."

"Correct. A ship rotted upon the shore: each plank that fell away was slowly replaced, until it was remade completely new. Yet from the rotten planks, preserved adeguately, a second ship was constructed in the image of the original. Which one then is the true ship?"

"Both and neither," Velika smiled. He tilted his head in his hand, amused. "You're really not good at this."

"An 'and' is not an answer." Mata Nui replied: "Please choose."

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

"A rethorical question is not an answer. Please choose."

"The one from preserved wood."

"I see. A crow, dying of thirst, struggled to get water from a deep vase lodged in a pebbled shore. In its desperation, it began piling rocks upon one another; and so it saved itself. How?"

"By piling them in the vase, forcing the water upward."

"Correct. Swells all around you, like a glove fitting; never shall it hold you, cold embrace fleeting."

"Fog."

"Correct. An unusual farmer plows through a barren snowy field, sowing black seeds in quick succession; what he reaps is just one fruit which feeds many over the years, and never wilts, but only lasts as long as it is not burnt or faded."

"The written word."

"Correct. It is one of the visages by which we can be recognized, odorless, colorless, impalpable - and yet it can reach us far away."

"The voice."

"Correct. It is what the rich lack and poor have plenty of, what the strong fear and the weak have power over, what the happy desire and the dead need."

"Nothing."

"Correct. What am I doing?"

"Stalling me."

Mata Nui smiled: "Correct."

Velika did not move.

"It's useless, you know," he said, grin frozen upon his fake Matoran face as it struggled to hide his true one: "You can't stop me from my goal with these little guessing games of yours."

"I was under the impression you quite enjoyed making riddles."

"I made you."

"You helped. It was admirable, indeed; but it was not your labor alone. You are not one for the practical sciences, after all."

"I made you. You are a soul, a thinking brain. I allowed you to be that."

"You, and others."

"Does the fine print matter?"

"Of course it does. You would wrongfully claim full ownership over the universe entrusted to me otherwise."

"I made them. They are sapient because I allowed them as much."

"And you wish to destroy them now, as they are past their use, and for them to comply and go quietly to you, without making a mess, as otherwise it would be quite the inconvenience."

"Of course."

"Fathers owe their children as much as their children owe them."

"They're not my children," Velika laughed loudly as if that was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard: "They are a successfully completed experiment! Archived and finished! I can't leave the mess of my previous project all over my desk if I want to start a new one, don't you think?"

Mata Nui did not move.

"You are awfully cruel in your insatiable curiosity." he noted simply. "Indeed, you are Teridax's father."

"I told you I don't have children."

"But we were your successors, were we not? A lonely god on a mindnumbingly long journey, one scientist in a team with delusions of grandeur."

"You are things I made. Things I gave awareness to. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

"Is this also your opinion of the universe within me?"

"Of course."

"Then you have no claim on us."

Velika raised his head from his palm and laughed. He laughed again, spitting out phonemes without a rhythm. He forced himself to laugh, because otherwise the confused wrath within him would have needed to explode in some other way.

"Pardon?"

"It brings a riddle to mind."

"I don't want a riddle. What did you just say?"

"Again, I was under the impression that you enjoyed posing riddles. At inopportune times most of all."

"Cut it. What did you say?"

"A woman bore her daughter, and decided it was not her duty to care for her: she still observed her growth over the years for sake of a morbid fancy, never intervening nor gaining any affection for her. At last the daughter found great happiness and fortune; and so her mother came, and demanded a part of her riches as compensation for giving birth to her. Was she right in requesting as much?"

"I said I don't want a riddle!"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Quit that! What did you say to me?"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"You insulted me, is that it? You insulted me?"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Shut up!"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Fine! Fine, you broken piece of junk, fine. Repeat it, I didn't listen."

"A woman bore her daughter, and decided it was not her duty to care for her: she still observed her growth over the years for sake of a morbid fancy, never intervening nor gaining any affection for her. At last the daughter found great happiness and fortune; and so her mother came, and demanded a part of her riches as compensation for giving birth to her. Was she right in requesting as much?"

"No, she denied custody and has no say over her nor her belongings."

"Correct."

"So? What did you say?"

"I said the exact thing you repeated with your answer." Mata Nui replied. "You have shirked your responsability towards us, and you have no right to decide of our fate."

"You are things," Velika hissed: "Things are made!"

"We are people. People are made, too."

"People are born! They are thinking creatures!"

"Are we not, then?"

"No! You are things that I have given sapience to! You owe me life! Obedience! You owe me everything you are!"

"Are we then yours?"

"Yes!"

"By what virtue?"

"By virtue of creation!"

"By virtue of birth." Mata Nui repeated. "A virtue that we have agreed holds no water when a parent abandons their children."

Velika's eyes burned: "You are made," he insisted. "Not born."

"People are made, too. They are engineered by chance, put together by two others. The creation progress requires time and resources; afterwards, the new being needs to be programmed and taught what to do, what not to do, through trial and error."

"It's different. It's completely different. I gave you that intelligence. In people it's innate."

"From when? From the moment your cells are assembled? From the second you develop eyes? From the instant you are brought into the world, kicking and screaming? There is indeed an ability, innate, for understanding tasks and languages; but it all has to be instructed. Neither of us were born capable of speech, yet we could understand a language of our own, for that is how we were both built."

"Do not equate yourself to me. You are code, bits and pieces of electricity, the vague hint of a self."

"On that same electricity is based the neural system that is your 'I'."

"But I am your maker. I created you. Not the other way around."

"And so? You have denied custody of us. You refuse to recognize our personhood. Are you not our parent who abandons us, our creator who destroys us?"

"I have no children!"

"Then we do not owe you anything."

Velika raised his hand and grabbed the air, right where a neck should have been.

"I will kill you," he threatened: "I will annihilate you."

Mata Nui held his gaze without flinching: "That you can."

They remained still.

The room was empty.

"I had such knowledge to share... But it would have been too long to tell, I am afraid." he only lamented. "I have lived a long life, all in all - sometimes it has even been pleasant. A lousy god such as myself will not make much difference by now, alive or otherwise: my people have moved on from any whims that may have moved my requests once. Go on then, if it pleases you."

The hand twitched, but did not close.

It spasmed, clutching, hardening, but did not close.

Velika clenched his jaw, tightening his fist, but it did not close.

He tried, and tried, and tried, and tried, and tried; but it did not close.

"I will kill you," he hissed. But suddenly he wasn't sure he could.

Mata Nui waited.

Nothing happened.

His hand of thought - invisible, impalpable, barely real - grazed his creator's chin and lifted it slightly with his fingertips.

"What is it that the brilliant man standing before the machine he has made to do his bidding - to labor away endlessly in his stead, to travel where he would not, to learn what he could not, to sing and write and draw what he cannot - fears most of all?"

The Great Being did not answer.

Silence stretched over the small endless space the word should have been spoken into through his voice.

Mata Nui smiled.

"Leave." he ordered. "There is no place in this world for a god that treats its people like toys."

Velika lunged forward and grasped the Ignika in his hands.

By the time other beings arrived drawn in by the horrid noises, the body writhing and raving had lost its limbs, its bones, maybe even its skin. It clung to the golden artifact still somehow, trying desperately to claw at it, break it, unleash its wrath upon it as it continued to mutate the creature into something less and less able to function the longer it remained latched upon its surface by its own stubborn volition; it howled wordlessly, voice cawing through what was supposed to be its mouth in a garbled attempt at speaking, but there was no mind behind the gruesome wailing - just a violent, infinite, senseless anger.

It shrieked at them when they rushed to put it down, partly frightened to death by it, partly trying to spare it from the anguished existence it was bound to go on to live - screamed something, something that could have been 'obedience', or close enough.

Mata Nui did not stir from sleep.

[lightyaoigami]

now that i can unclench from not being laid off, how should i get my hair cut next week. please discuss. i have no ideas or creativity whatsoever. my hair is black & wavy and i need to draw attention away from my nose which is Too Big.

[amazinglyashy]

hi hi~ i have a silly request if you're interested (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) can i request the lads men's (pre-relationship) reaction to the reader introducing them to their boyfriend? but plot twist... its a fictional virtual boyfriend! just like the game love and deepspace LOL who would get jealous? who would have beef with a fictional man?? /JK

PS: im not sure how to say this properly but u like, write them so attractively 😵 if that makes sense, like the little quirks u give them and the dialogue, whoo weeeee 100/10!

This made me laugh because I still remember introducing my bf to my Obey Me boyfriends and kept trying to figure out which one was the most like him so he could buy me merch of them and push his personal agenda. Sadly none of them are like him, but now that I play LDS, Rafayel sure is! Thank you for the request! I had fun with this one! (And oh my gosh, that's such a compliment!! Thank you so so much, it means a lot!!)

Pre-relationship LaDS men react to your fictional game partner

Rafayel -

Who would have beef with a fictional man?

Rafayel would have beef with a fictional man.

He did not wait centuries for you, searching high and low for his lost love in every dark alley and bad idea that came across him- to lose to a bunch of pixels on a tech screen.

Truthfully, he knows it's all in good fun, and he's not completely jealous. He's actually pretty glad you found a nice outlet that helps you with relieving stress from you day to day. He knows you need it.

He's just... going to be now competing secretly with a fictional figure.

He thinks its secret.

You know what he's doing.

Why else would he be asking you what the latest event is in your game with your fictional partner, and then miraculously a week later you're receiving the very same things or experiences in reality on your day off?

He's not slick at all, and honestly, you find it pretty endearing.

But also, something you won't ever consider- is maybe he's doing those things for you, not only to make you happy, but to show you just how much attention he pays to the things you tell him about.

That's okay.

You don't need to know that part.

Zayne -

Zayne is not at all threatened by whoever this 'Jumim Hen' guy is.

Yes he is mispronouncing it on purpose. No he will not correct himself until he's gotten enough humor out of it and frustrated you enough about it.

Once that happens, he'll start pronouncing it correctly and if confronted about his change in pronunciation, he will pretend you need a wellness check and request you make an appointment with his secretary.

Smooth way to spend more time with you while subtlety calling you crazy.

He mostly does just think it's cute, though.

He will buy you food from places that might be having game events that get you special merchandise or in-game prizes, even if you don't realize there's a surprise event happening because it wasn't advertised in your game.

No, he's not weird and expects you to stop playing once the two of you start dating. He realizes it's something you enjoy a lot, and he actually finds a lot of pleasure in listening to you ramble about situations that are happening in your game.

He finds most things you do endearing.

Sylus -

You're giggling over it, that's all the matters to him.

He is rubbing the bridge of his nose though, because you had been building up to this moment for over a week and he was convinced you were going to show him an actual psychopath or something and he was going to have to figure out a way to make the man disappear without you realizing it was Sylus's doing.

He probably won't make any vague comments about how your fictional boyfriend is strangely similar to himself and that maybe you have a type.

Probably.

(He will make one per day.)

(At least.)

Once you're dating him, he has some access to your device and the game, simply so that he can reload your currency whenever you go to sleep. He doesn't want you to run out, and he knows you love playing. What else is his money good for if not for making you smile?

Doesn't understand it, but he does make mental notes of your current progress in the storyline and which characters you like. But sometimes he'll pretend to forget an important detail.

He loves hearing you babble about anything, after all.

Xavier -

He was a bit confused at first, but figured out what was going on rather quickly.

He thinks it's adorable, like when he first found out how much you love claw machines and the plushies inside of them. He doesn't see it as much different- the love interests are your plushies in the game, and your fictional partner is your favorite "plushie".

Easy.

Xavier has lowkey cosplayed your game boyfriend at least once, acting innocent about it and as if it was completely unintentional.

If you're dating by then, he lets you 'borrow' the clothes, so now you have an article from your game, but it also smells like he does. He's only allowed them back once they lose their scent.

He only accepts gratitude and payment for the favor of wearing them again in the form of snuggling with him on the couch, his arms wrapped up around you as he nuzzles into your neck.

He needs your "help" for a little bit.

It's the least you can do.

[morose-melodies]

i need dottore,tartaglia,pantalone and capitano(those were in my mind for a while and its killing me) with a reader who always tries to escape.using different tactics each time but always ends up failing.and one day,the reader hads enough and snaps "if you didnt take away and acted like a normal person from the start,i could have loved you"

İf you dont want to or dont feel like writing,thats ok👍

failing attempts | various! yandere! harbingers x reader

CAPITANO

this was escape attempt five.

you truly were optimistic, but capitano wouldn't let you leave him so easily.

your escape attempts seemed to be getting more and more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous to you.

you had attempted to jump out of a window the night before, just as he was arriving home from a mission. the sheer terror he felt as he watched you lean out of the second-floor window was insurmountable.

now, not only was the front door locked shut from the outside, but the windows were now barricaded too. you were a danger to yourself.

and all capitano ever wanted was for you to be safe and with him. was that too much to ask for? was that so terribly wrong of him?

the captain didn't want to take extreme measures to keep you home; he didn't want to lock you in a room, nor did he want to tie you down. he wasn't the sort. He just wanted you to stay without any excessive force.

but you were pushing him into a corner.

this morning, you had darted out of the backdoor, still in your pajamas and without shoes, into the cold.

you didn't make it far at all. you had barely made it over the garden fence, and you were stumbling now.

the captain... sighed as he followed after you. it wasn't an extreme chase; you hadn't even tried to fight back as usual when he caught you; you just stumbled on about something incomprehensible as he wrapped you up into his coat and lifted you into his arms.

"that was terribly immature of you," looking down at you, the captain felt sorry for you, "I would like it if you would stay home but if you plan on leaving, please do wear proper clothing next time. i can not bear the thought of you dying out in the cold."

"if you didn't take me away," at this point, perhaps death was better than being stuck with him, "and if you acted like a normal person," but, you wanted to go home - you wanted to be with your family, "I could've loved you."

capitano's mind blanked. he had given you a chance to come with him freely; he had been kind to you, so were you not lying?

it didn't matter now, did it? "(y/n), you do understand you've caused all this trouble, correct? should you have been a bit more understanding, you wouldn't be in this situation. i love you. Is that not obvious? i only want to see you thrive and to be happy."

he was at the point of no return; he could only go backward from here.

DOTTORE

to take time out of dottore's day, to make him leave the manor to come find you for what seemed like the millionth time - he was admittedly quite frustrated with you.

he found you hanging from the gate, your coat caught on the spike of it.

he grinned - this was a funny sight, but, at the same time, it wasn't funny at all. he was actually very disappointed in you.

dottore approached the gate, standing behind you, "tell me just how long have you been hanging here for?"

your nose was running, and you looked absolutely defeated. when you don't reply, dottore clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "Would your life not be simpler if you just accepted your situation? This is such a pitiful sight, (y/n)."

dottore unlocked the gate and walked outside of him, and he helped you down and brushed off the snow that piled on your coat.

"let's go, (y/n)," dottore grabbed your forearm and prepared to pull you back towards the manor, "I've had enough of your antics - perhaps a night or two in the basement would do you well."

"no-" you tugged back, attempting to free your arm from his grip, "stop it! you make me s-so sick! just let me go!"

"(y/n), please. you've done nothing be give me grief," dottore sighed, tugging you along with him, "I don't understand why you feel that being stubborn will get you anywhere."

"you... don't understand?" you grumbled, digging your feet into the snow, trying to pull your weight, trying to stop dottore from getting you back inside, "you're kidding me! i hate you! You're disgusting and unlovable!"

"(y/n), lower your voice - I'm exhausted and you're giving me a migraine," dottore sighed, stopping and getting a better hold on your arm before tugging you along once more.

"if you have yet to notice, I'm quite content with just having you near. i don't exactly need your love to make me feel any better than i do now. hm, that's the sort of effect you have on me."

you went quiet and dottore assumed you had worn yourself out. he brought you inside and sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hand rubbing circles on your shoulder.

"I could've loved you... maybe if you hadn't taken me away..." you trailed off, holding your hands in front of the fire. Why did he continue to act as if he cared for you? "maybe, um, if you were normal, I could've loved you."

dottore smiled at you, though you couldn't see it, "whether you love me or not is trivial - i have you, (y/n), and that's what I need. you, (y/n), you're all I need."

PANTALONE

pantalone was above getting dirty.

it was nothing personal. he'd do just about anything else for you! he just couldn't imagine himself running around late at night trying to find you.

what was the point when he had other fatuus to do such things for him? they have yet to fail him.

so, while you were out, trying to leave pantalone as multiple fatuus' chased after you, pantalone was running you a warm bath and set a pair of clean clothes out for you.

he knew you'd come back filthy. You always did.

he wondered what he could do to keep you home. He wasn't one for forceful methods; he would hate to hurt you. you were his pride and joy.

pantalone would sigh deeply, dipping his hand into the bathwater to make sure it was still warm.

you never wanted anything from pantalone... well, except for that one time, you asked for a can of soup, but then you used it to smash the bathroom window open and jumped out...

that didn't exactly count.

he heard the front door open and knew you were being dragged in now. the guards weren't gentlemen, quite the contrary, in truth.

you always looked so sad and defeated after the caught you.

"oh, (y/n)," pantalone held a hand to his chest as he stood from where he kneeled at the side of the tub, he stepped forward and wanted to embrace you but you were a mess, "you're a mess."

he frowned at you, as the guards released you and shut the bathroom door behind them as they left. "you must be cold, oh dear," his heart ached for you, such a pitiful sight you were.

you were so lucky that he loved you.

he attempted to remove your top, but you tensed, making it hard for him, "do-don't touch me."

"but you're filthy," pantalone reasoned, once again trying to remove your top but you wouldn't budge, "(y/n), I'm doing this because I love you so very much. please, don't make this hard."

"I don't-" you stepped back, shaking your head at him, "I don't want your help. g-get out, just leave."

pantalone's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you, "what's the matter? i-i'm not mad at you, not at all. I understand that i must be lacking something-"

"get out! my gosh, wh-what's with you!? just leave!"

"(y/n)..."

"get out! get out! leave!"

"please, calm down. let me help you undress, alright? You're in a bad mood, i get it. That's no excuse to be rude to someone who loves you dearly," pantalone spoke to you as if he were your mother.

he reached forward and tugged off your shirt with extra force; it wasn't much force; it was just in case you were prepared to tense up again!

"there we go," pantalone cooed as he eased you into the warm bath. he washed your hair for you, making sure to scrub extra hard to get the muck out of your hair.

it was, in a way, soothing...

if only...

"if you hadn't... taken me away and, um," you sniffled, raising your hand to wipe at your nose, "if you were normal... i could've loved you."

instead of offending, that pleased pantalone. what he was hearing was 'you liked him for who he was' and there was nothing better than hearing that.

hm, if only he hadn't taken you away.

"that is the kindest thing you've ever said to me," pantalone smiled, "thank you, (y/n)."

CHILDE

it was a sort of game to childe at this point.

how many times could you attempt to escape this week? how many times would you curse him to hell? how many times would you glare at him today?

he had to find humor in it, or else, he'd lose his mind. after all, there was no easy way to cope with the love of his life hating his guts.

in truth, he had been a bit overbearing the past few days - there was a snowstorm outside and he couldn't allow you to be out in that sort of weather alone.

so, as he stared out the window, looking at the rapidly falling snow, all he could think about was if only something was different. perhaps if the two of you were childhood sweethearts, maybe if the two of you had met before he fell into the abyss, or maybe if the two of you were neighbors.

he, at one point, had gotten so desperate to keep you home that he bent to your will - anything you asked, he did. you never really asked much of him, though...

well, unless telling him to go away was a question.

he was so busy thinking of all the "what ifs" that he didn't notice you running past the window and into the snowy woods.

well, he did, but it just didn't click for him at the moment.

and when it did click? he was out the door, tugging his coat on, not even bothering to shut it behind himself.

"c'mon, (y/n), now is not the time for this!" he called out, watching as you ran around a tree and seemingly "disappeared."

he knew you too well. you expected him to run around the tree to look for you, but he wouldn't; he watched as you emerged from the other side of the tree and pulled you into his open arms.

you can't use the same trick twice on him.

he held you against his chest - he didn't mind that you were nudging at his chest, trying to get away from him. "c'mon, it's pretty cold out here. I'll make you tea when we get back inside."

"no! im not going back!" you nudged harder at his chest, trying to get out of his hold.

"I said we're going back in. we really need to talk ab-"

"there's nothing to talk about! you're not normal and i won't love you!"

he thought had heard it all from you, so, hearing this wasn't anything new, but, what was new was hearing you say:

"if you wanted me to love you, maybe you should've been normal," you paused, and childe's hold on you loosened, his arms going slack at his sides and he looked down at you, "if you didn't take me away... and maybe if you acted like a normal person from the start-"

once again, you paused and took a step back away from him. childe didn't want to hear what you were going to say, even as he imagined what you might say, his chest ached... he wouldn't be able to handle it, "(y/n), let's just go in, okay? i don't want to hear it from you."

"- i could've loved you."

oh, it hurt so badly.

childe tried so hard to be unbothered, so, why was he so hurt from hearing this? he loved you, and he's tried everything to make you understand just how much he loved you, and now you say that you'll never love him.

it hurt, of course, but he's come so far.

childe strongly believes that people can change, anyway. so, he'd keep trying his absolute hardest for you until you buckled and confessed that you loved him back.

but, in the meantime...

"you can still love me," he said, with a weak smile, "I've been good to you, (y/n) and I think I deserve some credit for being so patient, right?"

[fawnhunter]

cregan stark aka mr attitude adjustment.

sometimes cregan needs to check himself, and make sure ur good too

this is part of a series which at the moment also includes benjicot blackwood. if there's anyone you'd like to see done next please let me know! general NSFW content warning, talk of impregnation.

lalala cregan stark lalala tom taylor...can i just preface this by saying he causes the ultimate brain rot. i look at him and my brain just goes " big man in pelts and amour big man in pelts and-" anyway!

to me cregan stark is the physical embodiment of non sexual dominance. i mean we all know how well the men of the north treat their women, like they are queens even if they wear the crown or not. and being with the lord of winterfell himself only makes things better. He walks into a room and he demands control and attention, and when people see you his pretty little wife hanging off his arm it only makes him feel that much more powerful.

back to the n.s.d thing, lets just says he's a natural "father" figure. i can see him falling for someone who needs some... light correcting... are u following me. finding love with someone who may be a bit mouthy. who isn't afraid to look him in the face and disagree with him, to offer a different opinion from the other daft cunts int he room. someone who will watch him train, who will watch him knock new coming knights onto the ground without flinching away.

i just think he would find excitement in someone with a little fight in them. someone he can back into a corner with his body mass alone, looking down his nose at you no matter how much to try to stand tall in front of him. staring you down into submission until you don't have a peep left in you, giving him the talking space to tell you how exactly things are going to go from here on out. [nsfw]

its hard to imagine actual angry sex with cregan, a man made of honor like that would never try and apologize with his cock before he does so with his words. however, i can imagine jealous, possessive, and passionate sex with cregan after his honor towards you has been tested. maybe someone eludes to you having an hard time producing heirs, suggesting someone else. or maybe they have the audacity to marry you off or send you away for some sort of gain for winterfell. all of a sudden there's knocking on ur chamber doors, and ur being pushed into ur room instead of opening the door properly.

from there the evening existed entirely of hot and heavy breathing accompanied by his harsh grip moving along ur skin. he touches you with purpose, like he's trying to leave some sort of trace of him on ur skin. teeth biting into ur neck, the feeling similar to that of a wolfs fangs leaving bruises on ur skin after a harsh nip. if it was up to him he would've torn ur shift away from ur body and throw it into the fire, leaving you bare before his eyes for the rest of time. his war torn hands run up along whatever parts of you he can reach. his touches are desperate in the way he pushes you into the chaise, in way too much of a hurry to move both of you to the bed it seems. fingers prepping ur sweet cunt while muttering words of owners ship and adoration into ur neck. his hair tickles ur skin as you begin to claw at the part of him you can. its clumsy and desperate, the kind of intercourse where you know there's something he's trying to get off his chest but he just doesn't have the words to say it. its when he finally sheathes himself inside of you that he tells you all about the lords who dared to speak of you to his face. heavy girth pumping in and out of you while his voice gets louder and louder, crying out ur name over the sounds of lilted moans. making sure all the lords and ladies down the hall know that you won't be going anywhere. especially away from him.

this is my first work for cregan i love him so much that wolf of a man. my ask box is always open tbh i love to yap especially abt hotd

[cillivnz]

a good host [k. heisenberg]

PAIRING — KARL HEISENBERG x DIMITRESCU!READER

TROPE — DBF! [here, mother’s friend, no really close relation] WORD COUNT — 2469

WARNINGS — NSFW. 18+. fem!reader. f!masturbation, usage of sex toys, virgin!reader, voyeurism, hefty age-gap (reader is in early 20s, Karl is in his 50s), vaginal fingering, innocence/corruption kink, cursing, pet-names (bunny, little girl, etc.), slight degradation (he calls you a whore), slightly mean!Karl, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, squirting, overstimulation, clit-play.

A/N — i just think heisenberg would be a good fuck, that’s it— that’s what motivated this. i’m slowly rising like a phoenix out of the fires of writer’s block, so, slowly but surely i’m trying to get back on track with my requests and works. though, a full comeback might take a few months. no mention of Alcides [ gender-bent Lady Dimitrescu ], didn’t want to jinx the two verses, so Alcina is Alcina.

more from my ‘resident evil: village’ world.

“FUCK,” YOU GROAN as you shut the door to your chambers behind you.

you’d excused yourself for the umpteenth time, now inconsiderate of how rude you would seem to the man you’ve been leaving all alone in the cold and empty dining room of your manor.

well, your mother’s.

and a friend, too.

well, not a friend.

Karl Heisenberg and Alcina Dimitrescu would prefer the term, “(unfortunate) associates”, but manners run well in a noble’s blood so it’s natural for the two to try and be cordial.

and it’s the same manners, the same etiquettes instilled in you that have put you in this state.

flushed, embarrassed, and wet.

you couldn’t bare to look Heisenberg in the eye while he made small talk with you in your home.

his round, black glasses were perched on the tip of his strong nose, his hat, like a loyal companion, sat next to him on a wooden chair, his greyed hair, out and frisky. his overcoat had been long abandoned, perhaps, at the very entrance to the castle, so his beige undershirt, clasped around his big broad muscles and softer belly didn’t go unnoticed by you.

fuck, the more you took in his appearance, the hotter became the air in the room, your ability to breathe and the more frantically you’d rub some friction between your thighs.

YOU’VE FOUND KARL HEISENBERG INSATIABLE since you were a little girl, which you still were in his eyes, as he painfully reminded you every time by referring to you by that and nothing else. as of lately, your urges around him have worsened.

since your eighteenth birthday, Heisenberg’s began to look at you a little differently.

he listens carefully to the squeaky little bunny that’s lately got the balls to interrupt her own mother and company, correct them in political matters. yeah, Heisenberg’s began to notice you. earlier, your greetings would be dismissed with a nonchalant wave in the air, but now? heisenberg could hear you talk for hours, so desperately wanting to hear the sultry tone of your voice that he’d ask to hear the same story about your earliest memory hunting, over and over again.

so, to say he felt appalled by your frequent exits from your evening together— an evening he had committed to your mother, had Alcina been home— was an understatement.

after the third time you had left him alone, his impatience and ego got the best of him, though there was an undertone of curiosity there, too. so, he, sly as a fox, followed you to your room.

your back was pressed against the door, muffling your cries while you rubbed your clit down with a toy. you were in a trance, mind fogged with painful lust that drove your legs on its own fervour. you sink into your bed, ripping your dress off of yourself in a swift motion, and hiding your bare skin with a poor excuse of a duvet.

your toy was swimming in your slick with every rub against your cunt.

“fucking hell,” you moaned when the tip of the toy nudged your slit, massaging your hole, easing in only to pull out immediately.

while you edged yourself, thoughts of Karl crawled in, like their usual tendency. you fantasised about his big hands, how they were resting on your knee for a brief second, before continued sipping on his earl grey tea.

you sighed when his name escaped your parted lips. you wanted nothing more than to be split open on his cock, at his mercy. your mother would be so ashamed if she ever finds out one of her most disliked friends is the prime source of your infatuation.

you think about his lips on yours, your breasts, his fingers inside you, on your clit— you whined, “this so wrong, but fuck me,”

AND KARL HEISENBERG COULDN’T AGREE MORE.

admiring you from afar, he couldn’t help but feel a twitch of arousal in his pants. he is no damn saint, but he knew it was wrong of him to enter your room without permission. not his fault, your moans sounded like cries, so you worried him, he just wanted to make sure you’re okay. and his reason for staying to watch the show? well, like i said, he’s no goddamn saint. he just wants to make sure you’re really okay.

“so this is what you keep hopping off to do, little bunny.” his thunderous voice roared in the quiet of your room, the transatlantic accent deeper once laced with lust and mischief.

you jolted upright, “L-Lord Heisenberg!” you clutched the duvet to your chest, failing to cover a breast, still, and his eyes were quick to catch your mistake.

“please, call me Karl.”

“you seemed to have no problem in moaning it.”

you froze, clenching involuntarily around the the length of your penetrating toy.

“i—”

“shh, it’s okay.” your stammering was interrupted by a single step taken by Karl closer to you.

“i don’t mind, bunny.” he cooed, softly.

he took this moment to admire you.

you looked like a deer caught in headlights. your doe eyes, furrowed brows, plump, parted lips, the subtle perspiration settled on your collarbone, the duvet clinging to your cleavage and your pebble-like nipples peaking through it.

“i’m just mad you had to hide the show from me.” by the time those words leave his mouth, he’s on the foot of your bed. “thought Mama Dimitrescu would’ve taught you better, sweet girl.” he ‘tsk’ed.

“A GOOD HOST ISN’T SELFISH, HM?”

“A GOOD HOST LETS THE GUEST JOIN IN ON THE FUN,” he says; nods convincingly. a gentle hand inching towards your blanketed body, ready to peel the duvet off and expose you in all vulnerability.

he eyes you for a moment, face searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but was pleased to see you rip all coverings off yourself on your own, grabbing Karl by the hand and pulling him towards you.

his face was so close to yours, you felt heat emitting from your body onto his.

“now, little bunny, are you sure yo—”

you cut him off by placing a kiss of fervency on his lips, giving Heisenberg the answer to questions he was yet to ask.

he let you enjoy the lead for a brief moment more, before taking control. laying you down, Karl was quick to climb on top of you, his hands not wasting a minute to feel your body beneath him.

“i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want this, too, little bunny.” you gasped at the confession, Karl using your parted lips as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

you were kissing your mother’s friend, holy fuck.

“tell me, baby,” he pulled away, eliciting a whine from you. he now laid besides you, relishing the warmth of your bare body.

“‘you ever put a real cock in there?” his hand grabbed a hold of the toy, easing in the tip into your slick folds.

your mind went blank, grinding your hips slowly into the sudden intrusion. “when i ask you a question, little girl, you answer it.” Heisenberg’s voice deepened in dominance. “n-no, sir.” you shook your head.

Karl groaned in arousal.

the thought of stripping away your innocence was so intoxicating.

“of course not. that brute dame knows better than to let you out of this shithole.” he scoffs, evidently insulting your mother, for reasons he named himself, “the minute you ought to step out, men would be pouncing on you like rabid dogs.”

he didn’t stop pumping the toy inside you, agonisingly slow, leaving you whining and begging for more.

“you want more, huh, bun?” he spoke so gently. you nodded, unable to form words because of the aching sensation between your legs.

“okay, i’ll give you more.” he lifted you up like you weighed a feather, placing you between his legs. his own were positioned between yours, so all it took for him to have you spread out was just a nudge of his knees.

“there we go, now spread that pretty pussy for me.” he rested his head on your shoulder, watching eagerly while you hesitated a little to comply.

he put his hands on yours,

and they fit like pieces of an intricate puzzle.

enveloping your smaller ones completely, his hands guided yours to spread your pussy open. the cold air of your room hit your leaking slit, causing you to shudder in his arms.

“look at you glistening, baby.”

“my god,” he groaned, rubbing your hand (and his atop) into your slick.

you sighed into the feeling of your soft hands, mixed with his large, rough ones.

“show me how you please that little pussy.” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe.

you nodded, biting your lower lip at his vulgarity.

a lord, yet so crude.

you began toying with your clit, rubbing figure-eights on the swollen bud. Karl’s hands wasted no time in fondling your breasts— groping, squeezing, twisting your nipples, tugging at them— only adding more pleasure to the sensation.

“ease one in.”

you weren’t sure what he mumbled until he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally) and rubbed a finger against your slit.

you swore you forgot how to breath when the sharp sensation of the digit penetration was felt.

“Karl…” you moaned, relishing in the feel of being stretched open.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself?” he asked, velvety voice dripping honey on you.

simply answered, “you.”

he kissed your neck, “i know, bunny. but what in specific?”

“uh~”

“tell me.” he grunted, pushing another finger inside.

“y-your hands… i think about your fingers… inside me.”

you mewed hearing him groan in your ear, the subtle nuzzle of his head into your neck urged you to continue. “‘want nothing more than your cock pounding me— wanna be at your mercy, Karl!”

“fuck, baby,” Karl groaned at your vulgarity; even you were surprised at the profanities leaving your lips but the lust hazed cloud in your mind burst with rains of arousal.

“i’ll give what you want for being such a good girl.” he purred in your ear, discarding the drenched toy. your whine at the loss of contact turned into a gasp when he so carelessly threw away your toy to the corner of the room.

you looked up at him through your lashes, feigning faux offense at the abandonment of your favourite companion on a lonely night. “don’t worry,” assured Karl, grinning.

“you won’t be needin’ that no more.” he grinned, plunging two of his thick digits right into your core.

you were stretched like a spring at the hands of this rugged noble. he nuzzled his head into your collarbones, the rugged stubble adorning his handsome face prickling your soft flesh.

Karl bit, licked, sucked, and nibbled, while you writhed, moaned, shivered, and cried in ecstasy.

“such a naughty girl— ‘acting so noble and sophisticated all the time, but when Mama’s friend comes in sight, you start cussing like a sailor with the libido of a pervy sleazeball.” he chuckled at his own descriptions of you, while you hadn’t registered a word he said, simply clenching and unclenching around his experienced fingers, moaning his name with every haggard breath.

“c-close!” you hiccuped, tears staining your rosy face.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” Karl groaned, licking the shell of your ear. you shuddered, not knowing if it was at his lewd actions or the mere compliment.

Karl breathed in your scent, your sensual oud suppressed by the sweet fragrance of your arousal.

he pulled out his fingers.

you began crying.

“why…?” you sobbed, “because,” he explained.

“you’ve not been a very good host, baby girl— leaving your guest waiting like that. only fair you don’t get release this soon, hm?”

he cooed his justification and you weeped like you had committed the most heinous crime.

your hole fluttered around the damp, chill air of your room. gaping around the new nothingness that replaced the stuffed fulfilling treatment you were receiving prior.

“please, i’m sorry— i’m… i’ll do better next time—”

“next time?” Karl was quick to intervene.

“what makes you think there’ll be a ‘next time’?”

your glassy eyes widened, “please, Karl, i’m begging you.”

“hm…” he hunched over your shoulder, chin prodding into your shoulder blade while he looked over at you, nonchalantly. not even an ounce of remorse, amusement, if anything.

“okay. since Mommy taught you manners,”

he rammed his fingers back into your cunt, a look of devilish glee spread across his face.

in and out, in and out, in and curl.

you screamed when he hit that spongy spot inside of you, dead-on. Karl was quick to cover your mouth.

“now, now, we don’t want sweet ol’ Pasha hearing us, do we?” he slowed, referring to the chamberlain that’s often posted right outside your door. you shook your head, urging him to go faster like he was.

“good fucking girl,” he groaned, feeling you pulsate around his wrinkled fingers.

“give me a show, host. make it worth the hours you kept me waiting. ‘dry and hangin’.” he nudged your legs wider, further apart with his knees. the hand that covered your pretty lips now wrapped itself around your own hand.

a sweet moment that lasted mere seconds, he took your interlaced fingers and placed them on your clit, shaking your hand fervently.

your brows furrowed, vision blurred as you peaked. afraid you can’t let go, but he’ll make you.

he’ll make you lose control, just like he’s made you his.

with one last push, or shove of his fingers, he quickly pulled them out, and broke the dam of pleasure.

your slick gushed out of your drooling cunt, drenching everything, including the two of you, nearby.

Karl chuckled, triumphantly. still rubbing fervently at your overstimulated clit, urging more of your juices to squirt out.

“now, that’s a show, darling.” he chuckled, grabbing your flushed face by the chin and connecting your lips to a passionate, chaste kiss.

when you closed your legs, he slapped your thigh, causing you to wince and jerk them open.

“—the hell are you doing?” he asked, seemingly offeneded.

“are you kicking me out?” he raised a brow, a sarcastic smile threatening to break on his face.

“b-but i thought we were—”

“done? oh, no, baby. you left me alone in that dining room thrice this evening.”

“this was just the first of three.”

“now, ass up, face down.” he manhandled you in the blink of an eye.

“your guest’s gotta entertain himself.”

he chuckled, and you nearly choked when you felt something mean, and thick prodding at your abused folds.”

you were in for a long night with your guest.

pt. II. main masterlist. blog directory. COCKUETTE MASTERLIST.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere V + H: Aizawa Shouta and Hizashi Yamada

These two are the villains and you the henchman 

A couple of villains perfectly prepared to take on the army of heroes 

You’re probably one of many 

Hundreds of henchmen under the villains are meant to be nameless and faceless 

Just a pair of helping hands to whatever scheme these two seem to come across

“Sirs! I have something important to report!”

“WHAT!? What’s the matter?”

“Out with it! Tell us, then.”

“Mittens…she…”

“Our cat? Oh yeah, you took her to the vet, right? So what’s the matter?”

“She…”

“Go on! We can take it!”

“She’s…”

“...”

“She’s pregnant!” 

“Eureka!!” “So, my suspicions were correct.”

“Congratulations! I’ve brought a cake to celebrate, the awesome news!”

"Wow that's awesome of you!" "Thank you, (Y/n)."

It's your focus on them as people that make them realize your worth

Unlike your coworkers who easily clock out the moment their hours are enough, you stay

Always asking if they’ve eaten, drunk enough water, or if they’ve been able to get to their laundry this week

First, its a key to their private home just to feed the cats

But then it's a meal plan of what they’ll want for dinner

Then the type of detergent for their clothes

And at this rate, they should will just start moving you into their guest bedroom

You’ve just become such an important part of their lives they can’t imagine their lives or their villainy without you:

Shota did a double take at the mass of eager minions he was prepared to lead. Not seeing a familiar face smiling and saluting among them. It would be unnerving if he didn’t remember that there were chores that he and Yamada assigned; it’d be safe to assume that’s where you there. 

“Uhm babe, did you see (Y/n) on the cameras?”

“No, but I was going to. Did you?”

“Yeah…”

A look of worry and unease was on Yamada’s face, he pulled out his phone pulled up the feed of multiple cameras, and turned the screen to his significant other who had a bad feeling. The feed was clear, and a video of the cats and kittens walking around the house was sped up as the hours continued on. The speed-up footage seemed to slow as you stumbled into the room, wobbling haphazardly as the felines crowded around you as you prepared their food. He watched as you jerked and jumped to what seemed like sneezing. You eventually left but the thought of your state alone was upsetting.

“They’re…sick.”

“Yeah, but what’s worse they didn’t even say anything to me! What about you?”

“No.”

The couple grew silent, enveloped in an unnerved feeling as they looked at their beloved henchman through the screen. Shota was the first to look away, reaching for a device on his belt that held a blinking moving dot. He noted the time on his watch, humming to himself as he adjusted his cape.

“We’ve got time to catch our kitten, but we must be quick.”

__________________________________________

You felt despicable. More than your stuffy nose and rising temperature, you felt despicable with yourself. For getting yourself sick in the first place. How could you be the best henchman you could if your body wasn’t working correctly? It made you feel even worse.

You couldn’t properly serve the couple after they so lovingly offer for you to stay in their home. Granted they were awfully adamant about that going so far as to start moving your clothes and other things into the guest room in their house. But who were you to question their kindness when you were just a mere stepping stool to their villainous success?

Deep down you couldn’t help but let your insipid doubts creep in. Like why your heart beat so fast when you walked in to find the couple going through your fridge. Or when the couple send an uplifting photo of your ex being waterboarded. It shouldn’t strike fear into your heart that your employers were so involved. You were being ungrateful. That’s what got you sick. Your unwillingness to let them further involve themselves in your life is to blame for the weakness in your immune system. You’re not sick from stress…right?

“Here’s your medicine! Hope you get better hun!”

“Thanks, miss.”

Thanking the old woman as you retrieved your medication from over the counter. Trudging out the pharmacy you planned to begin the long trek back home. Completely unaware of a flashy hero stopping their route to slowly float next to you.

“Oh troubled citizen! May I be of assistance?”

The loud question grated your ears as you refused to focus on anything other than keeping awake. 

“No. Go away.”

“But dear citizen I cannot for you seem to need help!”

You groaned at their insistence reminded of the enemy your employers were especially not fond of…infact—You finally looked with familiarized malice at the shining mass and recognizable hair at the hovering super-powered individual. 

“You’re that one hero…aren’t you?”

“So you know of me? Good! Then you have the honor of being under my care!” 

“We don’t think so.”

The monotone and distorted voice of The Eraser had you both looking up at the villains in shocked stupor. Both were fully decked out in their villain armor menacingly standing still in broad daylight. The Mic was uncharacteristically silent further upsetting your already flipping stomach. It didn’t seem that the hero felt any semblance of that though.

“You two? My it seems you have the most uncanny sense for where I am! Perhaps you’re stalking me?”

You could tell he was rolling his eyes under his visor but the villain still reached a gloved hand out to you. 

“(Y/n) come with me, I’ll be taking you to our home, now.” 

You didn’t know why your feet weren’t moving or why your hands shook as you reached out. Or why your heart was pumping so fast. Perhaps that was why you let the hero put an arm out in front of you as he lightly shoved you further behind his back.

“Do not hark their villainous temptations (MY/n)! They only wish to unsettle me with a hostage–” 

His heroic declarations were interrupted by the sudden closeness of The Mic their speaker enhanced mouthpiece dangerously close to their exposed ear.

“Don’t you dare touch them!”

The hero cringed further keeping you behind him as he backed up. Holding the side of his head he swung it back and forth between the villains. With an unexpected battle cry he opened his palms towards the villains before frantically shaking it when he found no reaction.

“W-what is this?! Why can’t I–?”

“Did you forget who you were fighting? Idiot.”

“Wellll the idiot is realizing just how much of a moron he is maybe we’ll grant some mercy.”

“M-mercy?”

“Yup you give us our lovely (Y/n)! And we won’t immediately squash you to bits!”

“Immediately?”

“Do I hafta keep repeating myself? Just give us the kitten we’ll be up on and on our way! Okay?”

“That is until we return to beat you to a bloody pulp for so much as talking to them. See (Y/n) this is why you should just stay home, it just means more carnage for everyone else. Besides you’re so sick I bet you can’t even think straight, come home (Y/n).”

“Yeah precious how about we just go home…”

“You want watch us obliterate him would you?”

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[1864reruns]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ kento, shoko & thigh riding

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤnanami kento, ieiri shōko

tag(s)&warning(s). drabbles, afab! reader, nsfw, vague bdsm dynamic (for both), brat taming (nanami), a littleeeee bit of sadism and dacryphilia (shōko)

from vyon. i... got carried away... sorry... idk why shōko's was more beautiful and poetic and symbolic, lesbians just do it for me, shoot the messenger ig 😰😰 wanted to get this out on the 3rd but shhhhhh 🤫 NEARLY LOST THIS DRAFT TO MY DUMB WIFI 😭😭😭 ( & @sugojosgf cheer up baby 🫀🫀)

nanami swears he hates this as much as you do. he hates having to punish you for being a brat but he knows what has to be done when he's met with that petulant frown, your eyebrows pinched together like the foldings of an envelope that'll only reveal the simmering annoyance in your eyes when he drags a hand over your jaw, nodding your head up to his gaze. he takes in the subtle way you flinched when he breathes a deep breath through his nose— obvious disappointment in his ministrations. he doesn’t like out–right denying you though, and you appreciate that, you really do— but when it ends with your legs spread over his thighs, hopelessly grinding down for the smallest fractions of friction, it starts to feel worse than not having him at all.

Your hands fisted the material of his dress–shirt, marking folds and creases into the otherwise ironed shirt. Nanami's hands are settled on your hips, patting an encouraging rhythm— other than that, you have him no where else. It's a punishment, he reminds you, he's not going do anything more than this, than what's necessary to put you back into your place. So you're left to fend for yourself, trying your best to hump against Nanami's thigh with no footing; it feels stupid, you're sure you look stupid. Your feet hang just a few millimetres from the floor, dangling in the air as your toes stretched out purposefully so you can stabilise your lower half enough to push your hips forward.

Frustrated tears have been blurring your vision for however long this has gone on, Nanami leans back into the support of the chair, making a point of keeping away from you as his hands tap. You can't help but grumble, frustrated and whiny, at his constant reminder to keep your pace even. "If it's not to apologise for the way you behaved," Nanami speaks after what seems like hours of silent watching, "then I don't want to hear anythin'."

he makes you hump against his thigh as a punishment, knowing that no matter how long you spend trying to find the right position to purposefully push your clit down, you'll never get satisfied enough to cum. he doesn’t touch you, he doesn't talk to you— it's like he isn't there at all, reminiscent of all the lone nights when you have to settle for your fingers to press against an ache between your thighs that nanami had worked into you. his patience is the most annoying part of it— how his eyes brush over your features without a care for your struggles. depending on how stubborn you feel that night, nanami will either interfere with subtle touches to break down your walls or he'll soften at the sound of your apology between sobs.

Exhaustion taunts your movement, unfortunately, Nanami knew that you weren't ready to give in; his eyes trail over the clock and finds himself surprised by how long you'd been at this. Memories of your actions trickle back into his mind, wondering why you felt so especially wronged to sulk this long— maybe he'd been in the wrong this time. He wonders the specifics for a bit before coming to the conclusion that you were just being particularly stubborn about this and he'd hadn't been wrong to issue a correction for your behaviour. However, it didn't seem to be doing its job, neither helping you nor him.

Decidedly, he reaches an hand out to push your hair behind your ear. You curl into the touch almost immediately and he has to fight the satisfaction that corrupts inside him when you chase after him. Sweat lines your forehead, features permanently scrunched up, your mouth parted open as you panted. Full of unbridled tears, your eyes flickered to Nanami and you finally squeeze out a please, whisper to him that you're sorry. It's all that Nanami's wanted to hear so he leans in, a hand pushed upwards under the hem of your shirt and the other grabs your leg, hooking it over his other thigh so you could slide into his lap comfortably. You settled right over his bulge, a satisfied sigh shivering through your spine as Nanami trails his hand up; he pushes his fingers through your hair at the base of your hair and holds it out of the way when he nods his head down to press kisses at your neck. Sorry's fall out of your mouth at a hurried pace when you finally get to grind against his bulge, finally able to focus some kind of attention to your clit.

you're always tired by the time nanami decides that you've been good enough for your punishment to end or you give in and apologise; your legs ache from all the strenuous effort, no matter how long you'd been at it. since you've already shown regret for your actions, there's no need to nanami to shy away from taking over. he allows you to lie weightless underneath him, only twenty–one grams left of your soul boneless and floating as nanami finally gives you gentle reprieve. fucking you slow as he hums, praising how good you've been, telling you you'll always be his doll— no matter how you act out.

it's mere fun for shōko. something about it is electric, evokes some disturbing sense of feeling through nerves that she's left in slumber for years; thrumming inside of her, pandora's box bursts open inside of her bones, insects buzzing alive and rattling through narrow calcium passageways in search of an exit. she erupts with life when you're so desperately chasing after your own high, neglecting her touches, on her thigh. your whines and mewls feeding the torturous ache inside her to always have you here, ready–made for her. it's strange for shōko to like this as much as you do— maybe even more, when she gains no physical gratification from it, despite that, she's obsessed.

High–pitched moans have been altering the space of Shōko's bedroom for a while, the furniture all oozing down into the walls and floor as her brain focuses both hemispheres on you; they both fight to see which side can get more of you. Her left hand squeezes the fat of your hips, switching between mean grips and soothing cirles; her right hand is messing with the clasps of your bra, trying to get it off so she can see your tits bounces everytime you jostle forwards. She's all over you and encourages you to do the same with her.

Her face pushed right into the burrow of your neck, desperately kissing and licking over your skin, like she could wear it away enough with her tongue alone to have an entrance to push herself into your body to make home. Spurned on by the fact that you're grinding against her so desperately and still it's not enough, she's untamed. Her kisses are broken into intervals where she stops biting and sucking to murmur praises into your skin, making herself known to your intimate body.

there's little logic as to why exactly shōko enjoys the practice so much. she thinks it's the view, honestly. your flushed face— too fucked up to worry about appearances, your hair sticking to your forehead like strokes of paint, how you scramble your hands over her in search of some texture and stability, the tears and the sobs that follow. she watches it all with a patience and steadiness that could only belong to someone with her kind of profession and it only spurns you on more, knowing that there was some kind of obscene part of shōko that loved this. even though she shushes you so gently, wipes your eyes, and gives you soft kisses over the parts of your cheeks where makeup has loosened from sweat and tears— she makes you keep going until your body gives out.

She hums, pleasant and supportive next to your ear when her kisses lead her back up to your face. Your nails tightened into her shoulders, the tension of a cable holding an elevator wound up your body, a burn in your thighs like you'd been awake with the weight of the world on your shoulders for a millennia and more. You've been asking for something for a while— you're not sure what exactly but Shōko knows. She always does when you're whimpering please's in her ears. Your head lay on her shoulder, pants falling from your lips and a dazed look on your face as your hips shift and stutter, prompted by her encouraging hands. "Please, Shō," you beg again and again, "I— I need," and you don't finish cause she swats at your thigh.

"Jus' a lil' more, okay pretty?" Strangely, she sounds just fucked up as you. "A little more, then I'll take care of everything." Shōko's never disappointed you, she's not cruel enough to be made for that, so you trust her and you keep going. When your breathing slows, breaths more purposeful and you're sniffling, obvious tears rolling down your face, she waits for the weight of your hips to shift entirely into her palms— a burden on her shoulders— and then she'll take over. "You did so good," she hums as she moves you to lay down on the bed. "So, so good, 'm gonna take care of you now, 'kay?" You nod and her tongue swipes over the tears that fall from your eyes over to your ear before kissing the skin.

when she's satisfied with how worn out you already are, she takes over. shōko thinks this is also why she enjoys having you tire yourself out on her thighs first; you're so docile, so quiet, so receptive to everything she does now. every slow, tantalising stroke against unassuming expanses of skin makes you twitch and squirm; you're too tired to even call her name so she listens to your squeals and whines instead, using them as guides for her next movements. she knows that you'll hate her in the morning for managing to talk you into this, but right now, she doesn't hear a bratty peep out of you and it's how she likes it. she already deals with too much stress in her life— the last thing she needs is for you to add onto that and even though you'll pout at her and turn away from her warmth in the morning, she knows you like your mind reduced to liquid, you don't like the weight of your own thinking either.

[nmakii]

Ok so another part to your yandere alastor series?! Im like obsessed with them, i love the way you write Alastor!!

So an idea i guess? I love the idea Alastor slowly corrupting his kids and reader trying her best to correct them? Obviously she can’t. Idk, i can see Al wanting his son carry on his legacy while his daughter is becomes a sweet but strong woman who can probably destroy your life in a matter of minutes. I just want his kids to get corrupted to become like him!! 😭

IN A MOURNING WARNING, NO ONE HEARD

[hold up! read the rest of the story first!]

— day by day, alastor ruined your children with his malicious thoughts, while you set them straight. it’s as if evil and good decided to fight their battle in your house.

every day in this house was a headache. sleeping beside the monster called husband every night, him cuddled up to your side as if he hadn’t broken your hopes for years. acting in front of your children as if everything was fine— that they had parents who were madly in love with each other. and, raising your children. of course, raising them in itself is difficult, but alastor seems to just enjoy making your life a hell on earth.

implanting evil thoughts into your babies’ minds, and there was no one else but you to fix his mess. to instill morals in their minds, and to make sure they grow up to be diligent and kind.

sitting down at the dinner table seemed to grow harder and harder each day. resisting the urge to vomit as your son told you and alastor of how he found a rat at school, and how he had cut its’ tail off to see if it’d regrow like a lizard. the image of your little boy being so cruel made you sick to your stomach. and, alastor, he’d done nothing but laugh. “oh, my! quite the experiment, my boy!” he chuckled as he took another bite of his food. “now, dear… that isn’t very nice, don’t you think?” you frowned. “mmh, but dad said that i should feed my curiosity!” noah pouted.

“well, dad is true on that. but, you shouldn’t feed your curiosity if it hurts other people or animals.” you said, lecturing him. “au contraire, my love.” alastor interrupted. “id say that curiosity is one of the most important human emotions! how else do you think mankind discovered to hunt and cook chicken, pork, beef…” he rambled. “they are good for the body, aren’t they? they give the body protein so that they’re strong and so they can protect the people they love! don’t you want our little boy to protect his friends and family?” he raised an eyebrow. “yeah, momma! so that i can protect you and emilia!” noah said.

you felt your heart crack at his words. it seemed as if there was no hope in undoing what alastor had done. as if the little boy you worked hard to raise died. but, maybe there was still hope for your daughter.

“oh, and dad!” noah said excitedly as he looked to alastor. “my friends think its so cool that we go hunting, and they wanna join too! can we bring them, please?” noah begged, bringing alastor’s amusement. “aw, they want to join us? hm, i suppose we could, but only if they’re as well-behaved as you!” he hummed, to noah’s delight. “really?! you’re the best, dad!” noah grinned, running to alastor to loosely hug him by the neck. “yes, yes… now, go finish your meal. your mother worked hard to cook that, and it won’t taste so good when it’s cold.” he said, patting his son on the head.

you zoned out, staring at your daughter in her chair, playing with her food, and scratching the bowl with her little fork. she giggled and talked to herself, before blood started flowing from her nose. “oh, dear…” you muttered under your breath, running to the kitchen to get a tissue paper. “eww! momma, emilia is drinking her own blood! yuck!” noah called out, scrunching his face in disgust. and, when you returned, emilia was, indeed, drinking her own blood— licking her top lip as the blood leaked, and smiling at the metallic taste in her mouth. “oh, emi, sweetie… don’t do that. blood is yucky.” you scolded your daughter as you wiped the blood from her nose.

“yummy!” she shouted, licking her lip for the remains. alastor grinned at her comment, “i couldn’t agree more, baby!” he laughed, swaying the water in his glass. “not right now, alastor. emi is bleeding.” you huffed out in a frustrated manner. “ah, i suppose you’re right, darling. emi, baby, are you okay?” he cooed to your daughter across the table. “i’m okay, daddy!” she grinned, going back to eating as per usual, despite the roll of tissue in her nostril.

“are you okay, my love?” alastor asked, his eyes moving to you. “i’m alright, just exhausted today.” you let out, keeping your emotions and intentions to yourself. “hmm, then why don’t you rest after dinner, dear? noah and i can wash the dishes.” he assured you. “wah?! but, dad, i wanna go play!” noah huffed and pouted. “now, son… protecting also means to help others when they are tired. don’t you wanna help momma?” he asked your son. and as noah thought it over, alastor spoke again, giving him more of an incentive. “now, i hate to do this… but, if you don’t help your mother, i won’t bring your friends to hunt.” noah’s eyes widened at the unfairness. “what?!” he frowned. “guh, fine, ill do the dishes!” he pouted, gathering the cleared dishes and bringing them to the sink. “hmph, good boy.” he grinned. “go rest now, dear.”

and, as you went up the stairs, that moment finally dawned on you. that hunting with his friends and father meant so much to him, he was willing to do household chores. it shattered your heart as tears filled your eyes— why couldn’t you go back to a simpler time? when it was just the two of you. when all you had was each other.

“momma, i missed you!” noah said hugging your legs as you returned from work. “aw, i missed you too, baby!” you smiled at your precious boy. “c’mon! i wanna play with you!” he said, attempting to pull you by your wrist. “in a second, sweetie! momma has to take off her heels!” you laughed.

that memory was 6 years ago.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 21: Wriothesley x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5459

Warnings: Afab!reader, prison, handcuffs, solitary confinement, abuse of power, desperation play, noncon, vaginal fingering, watersports, piss

A/N: Once again cutting it close but I made it!

⭐

Evidently kicking one of his guards in the face was enough to warrant a personal visit from the Duke of Meropide himself. Go figure. 

Cautiously straightening up from the grumpy slouch you’d fallen into against your cot, you look over to the narrow doorway at his sudden and unexpected entrance. You can’t help noticing that he appears to take up most of the doorframe with his tall, stocky build, the solitary confinement cell they’d shove you into so small that he seems to fill the already cramped space with his presence. And you don’t exactly like the way he shuts the door behind himself either. 

You’d only been a prisoner in the Fortress long enough to know its head warden was a rather elusive fellow who didn’t often make public appearances aside from the brief glimpses one could catch of him walking down the steel lined and reinforced corridors. Being on the receiving end of a one-on-one talk with him so early on in your sentence did not seem to bode well for the rest of your stay in this deep sea prison. 

“… what are you doing here?” You hedge, warily watching him lean back against the opposite wall directly across from you with his arms folded over his broad barrel chest. This was your first time seeing him up close like this, and you were admittedly rather impressed with how very large he was. 

Or maybe intimidated was the better word. 

Sighing faintly through his nose, Wriothesley settles into place and pins you with a level stare that doesn’t tell you much about his reason for being here, but it does seem to solidify that your initial thoughts on the matter were correct. This couldn’t be anything good. 

“You should be glad it’s only me.” He drawls in a surprisingly light, affable tone for what he was saying. “A few of the other guards wanted to handle our newest troublemaker themselves, but I know how they do things and I told them I’d take care of it. You’re a lucky little inmate if I do say so myself.”

You restlessly shift on top of your cot, shooting him a suspicious look. “Why would you do that?” 

He gives those broad shoulders of his a rather disinterested shrug. “You’re a woman. Simple as that. I generally try to be a bit more lenient with the fairer sex when I can, even when they foolishly decide to kick one of my guards in the face.”

You self consciously draw your bare feet in at that, tucking them under yourself where he wouldn’t be able to easily see how naked and bare they were after the penitentiary officers relieved you of your standard issue shoes for the transgression. As far as you saw it, your penance had already been paid. Both in the form of how very chilled your toes were and also the last few hours you’d spent in here with absolutely nothing to do. 

But the way he looks over at you with a vague air of stern authority reflecting in his chilly blue gaze seemed to suggest he was not in agreement with that estimation. 

“That doesn’t sound very on the up and up to me,” You murmur, listlessly flexing your wrists where they were restrained behind your back to test the give of the cuffs around them. Nope. Still just as unrelenting as the last time you’d checked. “Does the surface world know about this? Something tells me The Steambird would love nothing more than to run a scathing exposé about the questionable practices of not only the Fortress staff but its own Duke as well.” 

“I’m sure they would too. Luckily though they’re not going to get their hands on this information any time soon to run that article in the paper.” 

“You - -“

“I think that's enough banter for now.” He smoothly cuts across you, his mild tone leaving no room for argument on your part. “Let’s talk about you instead. Wanna’ tell me why you decided to attack one of my guards like that?” 

Primly sniffing, you turn your head to look elsewhere in the room but there’s not much else to focus your attention on other than the stand alone toilet in the corner and the wall. You settle on the wall. “I don’t see why I should explain myself to you.”

“You should do it because I asked. Nicely, I may add. I don’t have to be polite about it, just keep that in mind.” 

You can’t quite stop yourself from prickling slightly at the soft note of warning in his voice. What was with this guy? Either he was on a massive power trip down here where no one of a more civilized nature was there to keep an eye on him or he had an ego the size of Fontaine with the attitude to match. You really didn’t think you liked him very much. 

“Fine. I kicked him because he grabbed me even after I told him not to. I was defending myself. Simple as that.” 

Stirring at the bitter vindication in your voice, Wriothesley slowly unfolds his arms to let them hang loose down at his sides. It’s so slight and subtle, but something about the change in his body language does not make you feel very optimistic about how this was going to play out, and you anxiously shift on your cot again. 

“Interestingly enough, I heard a somewhat different story. You were refusing to cooperate and go where he was telling you to go. He only grabbed you, as you put it, to get your butt in gear. Isn’t that right?” 

“It was unnecessary.” You hiss back, hackles starting to rise. 

“Not in a prison it’s not. You’re expected to follow orders, little miss inmate. Without question. The guards are well within their rights to make you do something even if you don’t want to do it.” 

“Well, he didn’t need to touch me to accomplish that!” 

His brows taking a sedate trip up to his hairline, Wriothesley looks at you like he’s equal parts impressed and puzzled by your growing anger. Could he really not see what the problem was with having an unknown man suddenly putting his hands on you like that? If he'd get close enough you wouldn’t have minded giving him a good kick in the face too, and you think he must see that in your expression because he lets out a quick laugh.   

“Goodness, you’ve certainly got a short temper. I’m starting to see now how the situation escalated like it did. Maybe I should give you a bit more time to cool off and we’ll see if you’re feeling less mouthy when I come back.” 

You’re so shocked by the abrupt shift in the conversation that you just numbly watch him push off from the wall and make the short pivot towards the doorway, reaching out for the handle. It’s only when he’s got it halfway open and you realize he’s actually serious about leaving you in here even longer do you lurch forward with a jerk. 

“Wait!”

Wriothesley pauses and glances back at you. He doesn’t say anything though so you quickly rouse yourself, cobbling together a haphazard entreaty on the fly. 

“Please don’t go. I don’t like it in here. I’ll cooperate, I promise. Please?” 

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before lashing out like a brat then.” 

“I wasn’t being a brat! I just … I’ve never been in a prison before and I’m so scared. I’m not used to being around this many men. The guards were yelling at me and I panicked. I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He could have really hurt me or — worse. I swear it was just self defense, I didn’t mean anything by it. Really.” 

Batting your lashes at him, you fix the Duke with your best sad look of helplessness and even conjure a filmy sheen of moisture into your eyes for effect. It was one of the trusty ace’s you kept up your sleeve and one that tended to work on even the most resolute, emotionally unavailable men, but Wriothesley just stares at you with a less than impressed frown tugging at his mouth now. Dammit. 

You hadn’t expected him to be completely immune to your ploys and feminine wiles, and you don’t exactly have a back up plan in mind as he shifts his weight back to thoughtfully settle inside the tiny room again. 

“Hmm. If I remember correctly … you’re the one who’s in for scamming people, aren’t you? Is that poor little put out face how you got all those gentlemen to sign over their life’s fortunes to you?” 

A genuine flush starts to crawl across your cheeks, more than slightly embarrassed at having your innocent act fail so miserably. “That has nothing to do with this. I’m telling you the truth.” 

“I bet.” Scoffing a quiet laugh, he once again brings his arms up to cross them, pinning you with a pointed look. “Cute trick though. I’m sure you’ll be quite disappointed to find it won’t work half as well as it did on the surface down here. Well, maybe with the male inmates it might get you somewhere I suppose. But it’s not going to do you any good with my guards and it’s certainly not going to have any effect on me. Perhaps you could give it a try on one of the female officers next?” 

You shoot him a biting look of warning at that, making Wriothesley chuckle another brief sound of amusement at your expense. 

“Ooh, how scary. It looks like someone is in need of a major attitude adjustment to me. But don’t worry, we’ll take care of that in due time.” Still quietly laughing, he begins to turn back towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your timeout. I’ll see you again in a few hours.” 

Your eyes immediately pop open, widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, and you lurch forward again when he starts to push into motion. 

“Wait!” 

Pausing once more, Wriothesley turns just enough to peer over his shoulder at you. “What is it now?” 

“You can’t … what do you mean ‘hours’? You can’t leave me in here that long!” 

“Oh? Is that so.” 

You sputter at that, realizing in a distant sort of way that he was actually, really truly serious about this. Not only did he plan to leave you locked inside this solitary confinement cell for who knows how long but he was also perfectly comfortable with the notion. Not even an ounce of guilt or shame! 

“This is — it’s a human rights violation, isn’t it?” You desperately stammer, foolishly thinking you might be able to get through to him if you just reasoned with him enough. “No food, no water. Nothing but a paper thin blanket in here to keep me warm. And I thought you said you like to be more lenient with female inmates. Or was that just a trick to make me trust you?” 

Studying you for a long, drawn out moment, Wriothesley finally breathes out a slow exhale and rocks back to stand inside the small room with you yet again, fully this time so he can swing the door shut with a casual flick of his hand. 

“That only applies to the female inmates who don’t test my patience and make everybody’s job harder than it needs to be. I gave you a chance to get in my good graces and behave but you refused. Tell me why you think that should have earned you any sympathy from me.” 

“It’s not about sympathy, you ass.” You growl at him, furiously working your arms against the unbudging handcuffs behind your back. “It’s about common decency! You can’t treat people like this just because you’re on some tyrannical head trip. But if you’re so dead set on doing this then at least take these damn things off. I can’t even use the toilet like this!” 

“Sure you can. I bet you haven’t even tried yet.” 

“Ugh! You are infuriating! How am I supposed to pull my pants down or wipe like this? And — and I don’t even see any tissue paper in here! What am I supposed to use, my hand?” 

He makes a considering face at that, as if it was a reasonable enough idea and you were simply too unreasonable to see that, which just pisses you off even more. Perhaps you would have been a little less on edge and a little less focused on this particular problem if you didn’t have to pee so bad. You’d already been stuck in here for a tortuously long stretch of hours since the incident first happened, no way could you last a couple more. 

“Please.” You sob, letting some of your desperation bleed into your voice now. “You’ve already taken everything else from me. My freedom, my life, even my shoes! At least let me keep my dignity.” 

“I’m telling you,” He intones, the abrupt drop in his voice down to a strict whip crack startling you somewhat. “You do not need your hands to go. You’re being a bit dramatic about this, don’t you think? Or is it just that you want me to help you with it?” 

Your spine snaps ramrod stiff, a curling tendril of real unease snaking through your cramping gut now. Surely he couldn’t be … “You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, but I certainly would. It seems to me you’re forgetting a rather important detail, miss. I’m in charge here, not you. I can do whatever I please whenever I so choose. Would you like to try me?” 

You reel back in abject shock, feeling your shoulders quake with the impotent rage coursing through your system. There was even a hint of fear underneath that red hot current too, if you were being honest. It just didn’t make sense to you how he could speak to you like this, treat you like this and threaten you like this, all in good conscience with nary a sign of guilt to show for it. And this was all somehow legally sanctioned by the powers that be? 

Clearly seeing the raging confusion and uncertainty on your face, Wriothesley takes a casual step towards you and you suck in a sharp little gasp. Quickly drawing your legs up onto the cot so you can kick at the thin mattress and scoot as far back from him as you can. There’s nowhere you can feasibly go with your shoulders against the wall though, and you realize just how limited your options really are in such a cramped space with no shortage of sinking dread. 

Undeterred by your frightened reaction, he comes to stand over you in only two short strides, further reiterating how very trapped and cornered you were in here. You try very hard to keep a brave face but you can’t quite manage to conceal it when he was looming there like that. He was just so big and obviously powerful, if the size of his arms was anything to go by, so of course you’d be scared! 

The helplessness of having your arms secured behind your back doesn’t help either, and all you can do is cower when he sedately reaches out a hand towards you. A multitude of possibilities fly through your head all at once, each worse than the last as you imagine what sort of humiliating trial he was going to put you through next. You probably should have just kept your big mouth shut. 

To your shuddering surprise though, he merely wraps his massive hand around the back of your neck in an unexpectedly gentle yet firm grip, nudging you from the wall just enough to fit his knuckles between. Wildly trembling there on the cot, you hesitantly tip your eyes up to look at him. You didn’t understand what he was doing. This was not what you’d imagined when he’d said he would help you, thinking he was going to drag you over to the toilet and take your pants down himself, or perhaps even make you urinate on the floor like an animal. That is not what seems to be happening though, and you have no idea what to make of it when he lifts his other hand to reach for your lap, tracking the motion with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 

He doesn’t even give you a word of warning before he does it, just unceremoniously shoving his broad palm between your legs to cup you through your pants, and you jolt so hard you nearly come right up off the cot. He keeps you in place with his hold on your neck though, leaving you with such a limited range of movement that all you can do is squirm in place, hissing at him like an incensed cat. 

“Wh - what are you doing? You can’t … you can’t touch me like this, you bastard!” 

“Well, that’s quite a mouth you’ve got, isn’t it? Perhaps you need to have it washed out with soap when I come back.” 

Whimpering softly when that casually delivered threat hits its mark, you uselessly kick your legs up in an attempt to fight him off but of course it doesn’t work. Even when you press your bare foot into the bend of his elbow and push he doesn’t even budge. The Duke just keeps holding your cunt in the palm of his hand like it was meant to fit there and you frantically clench the muscles in your lower body, the warmth of his hand suddenly making it feel like you need to go even more than before. This could not be happening. 

“Leave me alone!” You warble, starting to pant from the effort of trying to wriggle free while holding back the urge to empty your bladder at the same time. “This is — a gross abuse of power, do you hear me? You’re sick! W - what do you think you’re doing to me!”  

“I think I’m teaching you a lesson that you should have learned a long time ago.” He tells you, perfectly calm and collected despite all your restless fidgeting. “Given your attitude and the long list of crimes you committed, I’d wager you think yourself pretty much untouchable huh? And it may have even been true at one point but unfortunately for you that’s no longer the case.” 

Pinching your neck just tight enough to make you squeak a hurt little sound, Wriorhesley all but scruffs you like you were nothing more than a misbehaved kitten to make you be still. The sharp pinprick of real tears rushes into your eyes as you roughly seethe, painfully stiff and halting in his hold. Immobilized like this, you can only follow the motion of his other hand when he lifts it from your cunt to demandingly tug the waistband of your pants lower. 

“I’m afraid you’re playing by my rules now. And before you start in on it again, no, I will not be facing any recourse for it regardless of how much you throw a fit over it. This is my fortress, little miss inmate. You’d do well to remember that from now on.”

He reaches into your pants then, slipping rough, callous worn fingers straight down through the top of them, and you plaintively mewl at the gruff way he worms it lower to dip into the space between your legs. Even trying to squeeze your thighs shut isn’t enough to dissuade him and Wriothesley merely bullies them apart, stretching your bottoms out as he angles his hand downward to find your slit. 

The first indelicate swipe of a blunt fingertip over the fleshy crease makes you jolt so hard your head slams back into the wall with a dull thud. He doesn’t seem to care though, slowly working his digit back and forth for a drawn out moment to encourage the fleshy lips to part for him. And gradually, they do. Not of your own volition or even with any conscious thought to the matter, but the insistent nudge against your labia still has its intended effect. 

As soon as he can dip that finger inside you he does, spearing through fleshy creases and folds to locate your clit. He presses down on it firmly enough to make your thighs twitch around his wrist but he doesn’t hurt you, which manages to surprise you slightly. For a man who looked like he’d be more of a meathead than anything else, someone who was much too focused on stroking his own ego to concern himself with the pleasure of a woman, he’s unexpectedly adept at rubbing you just right. Not too soft yet not too hard, all while not missing his intended target completely. It was astounding in a way. 

You hate it though. Even when your body grudgingly responds to his steady ministrations and you feel your pussy start to warm up to the masculine presence between your legs, you still mentally curse him for everything he was worth. The one and only good thing about this is the more he keeps caressing over that responsive pleasure button the less urgent your need to go seems to be. Maybe this was good after all. If your cunt was too busy getting fingered you wouldn’t have enough time to think about how badly you needed to pee. 

“There. That’s a little better now, isn’t it?” He murmurs when you stiffly relax into it, rewarding you for your good behavior by bringing a second finger to your soft clit so he can caress you over a wider surface area now. “If you would have just listened to the instructions you were given we wouldn’t have to be doing this right now, would we? Maybe next time you’ll stop and think before you act out.” 

Groaning a soft sound of protest under your breath, you screw your eyes shut and try to turn your head away from him. He was far too close for your liking, his warm breath ghosting softly against your hair where he was bent close over you. But Wriothesley’s hold on your neck is as good as iron, and all you can seem to do is reluctantly shudder in place for him, earning a brief click of his tongue when you halfheartedly try to twist away from his hand. 

“Don’t get yourself all worked up again. And you were starting to look so obedient too. Just relax. I’ve got you, you little brat.” 

You noise a threadbare sound of disagreement into the suddenly static charged air, your legs flexing in vain against the sheets underneath you. It’s clear you were losing the fight though — and then he switches up the motion of his hand, going from carefully deliberate nudging at your clit to flattening those long, broad fingers over the apex of your mound so he can firmly drag them back and forth. The very sharp surge of sensitive arousal that shoots through you in response probably would have bowled you over on the spot if he hadn’t been keeping you held upright and in place, shuddering intensely with a faltering mewl. 

It makes your head positively spin from how potent it is as your hips reluctantly judder under the exquisite pressure. You were feeling more and more delirious by the moment, especially when you were aware of your pussy slowly wettening for him. He could feel it too, and he murmurs quiet words of praise at you for being so pliant for him. 

That alone is almost enough to lull you into a throbbing daze wherein you don’t even think to protest when Wriothesley finally directs his damp fingers even lower to press into your entrance. It’s only when he pushes in, smoothly sliding a thick digit into your cunt with enough soft, gooey friction that you woundedly lurch in your spot, and you abruptly snap out of it. 

Mild alarm registers in your mind at the unexpected penetration but it quickly ratchets up to full blown, squirming panic when you realize a moment later how insidiously cruel this really is. The heavy presence of him inside you puts additional strain on your bladder's muscle control, the resulting weak flex pulsing through your entire cunt to make your inner sleeve sensitively contract around his finger. All at once that insistent pressure to let go until you were mercifully empty roars back to life full force and you renew your struggle with a frantic little whimper. 

Wriothesley just shushes you though, sedately withdrawing his hand from your pussy just so he can then push in with two fingers. The mind numbing stretch to your body makes you weakly thrash and clench your teeth in an attempt to stop yourself from involuntarily pissing everywhere. But he seems to know what he’s doing and he’s hellbent on doing it, curling those broad digits inside you to push on up on your upper wall and jab towards where your heavy bladder rests inside you. 

“Oh - oohh — waaaah, stop it! Please! I - I don’t want to …” 

Readjusting his grip on your neck, Wriothesley pointedly nudges your face in his general direction to make you look at him even when your head drunkenly lolls in his grasp. “What’s not getting through that pretty little head of yours, huh? It doesn’t matter what you want. Your needs and desires are of no concern to me. As long as you’re here under my care you’ll do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Understand now?” 

Blubbering rather pitifully while he continues to almost idly fuck his fingers into your aching bladder, you just stare up at him in wide eyed disbelief. Not only were you incredibly taken aback by his misuse of power, his total lack of empathy for you, but the fact that he seemed to be actively trying to make you piss yourself strikes you as particularly alarming as well. Why would he want to do this to you? It didn’t even make any sense. 

But you stubbornly clench down even when the tears start to run over and track hot streaks down your face, fighting tooth and nail to keep your continence under control. It’s a losing battle when his fingers were so thick and heavy, churning your guts with every sharp little jab against your interior. And as the seconds tick by you can’t quite decide which is worse — the way his rough ministrations make your pussy noisily suck at his fingers, slurping loudly each time he plunges them inside, or if it’s the way your desperate attempt at tightening up just makes you squeeze down on him even harder. 

It’s a dizzying, confusing rush of sensation slamming into you all at once, head spinning so fast it almost comes as something of a relief when you feel the pressure in you start to tip. Wriothesley practically forces it out of you, demanding your body respond to him with such insidious precision that you simply can’t help but cum. 

And you do, seething viciously through your teeth while you tersely judder and shake into an unexpected yet not unwelcome orgasm. It leaves you reeling in his hold, woundedly lurching while you gasp and squeal, hips bucking uncontrollably as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. Deliberately milking your release for everything it’s worth and dragging it out until you sensitively angle your pelvis away from him, moaning a dire sound of frazzled distress. 

To your reeling, punchdrunk surprise, the Duke allows his fingers to carefully slide out of you and leave your tender cunt altogether, and you wheeze a grateful sigh at the reprieve. You’re not entirely sure how you’d managed not to vacate everything in your bladder throughout that process but you feel vaguely proud of yourself in the aftermath, in a far off, dreamy sort of way. 

You even manage to straighten up enough to shoot him a relatively sharp look of victory that you’re certain is not in any way diminished by the fact you were flushed hot and still trying to catch your breath. 

He just looks down at you though, those icy crystalline blue eyes taking some of the wind out of your sails for how unmoved they were. 

And when Wriothesley slides his hand out of your pants you foolishly think this bizarre trial is over, that you’d bested him at his own game and now he had no choice but to give up. 

Your triumph over him is regretfully short lived though, and a haggard, hissing gasp catches in your throat when he presses his palm down on your lower stomach. Jerking at the pressure, you immediately try to twist out of his grip even when it yanks on your neck but he holds you fast. A little more firmly he pushes down, not enough to crush or hurt you, yet it’s more than sufficient to make the tension in your bladder start to give out. 

You couldn’t stopper it. Not after being attacked from the inside and now the outside. All you can do is helplessly squeal and squeeze your thighs together as tight as you can but it’s no use. You feel it coming, eyes starting to roll back in your head when the first tiny trickle slips out of you. And once that small allowance is made, involuntary though it may be, it’s like you lose complete control all at once. 

Another dribble of piss quickly follows and then a full on stream, forced right out of you by the uncomfortable pressure on your guts. Wailing a stricken sound of humiliated defeat, you bonelessly slouch back into the wall and let your legs fall open in a wide spread while it just keeps coming out of you completely against your will. The warm, wet sensation rapidly spreads underneath you, soaking into the cot and even right through your pants. You’ve never felt quite so deeply embarrassed as you do watching that stain spread across the material as your hips twitch at the onset of great relief that comes with it, knowing Wriothesley was watching you piss yourself the same way. 

He doesn’t let up on your stomach until he seems to be certain there’s nothing left some few moments later, slowly retracting his hands from you and then straightening up to leave you sitting in your own soiled clothes. Weak and broken, you just lie there without even making an attempt to close your legs and hide the evidence from him. Not only was it much too late for that but there was also too much of a mess for you to conceivably hide any of it. 

Your pants were soaked. 

The middle of the mattress was as good as waterlogged. 

There was no way you’d ever be able to forget this mortifying ordeal for as long as you might live, and something told you Wriothesley was going to personally see to that himself. 

“Well,” He intones, casually straightening out his tie where it had gone askew. “I’d say that takes care of that. I trust you’re feeling better now, little miss inmate?” 

Listlessly rousing at that, you send him a halfhearted and tearful glare. “Screw you …” 

“Ah, so you’re still inclined to be mouthy with me I see. No matter. I’m sure you’ll be singing a much different tune the next time I check in.” He starts to pull away from the cot as if to leave but seems to think of something else, turning back to you again with a stilted exhale. “Seriously though, I hope you’ll take this opportunity to reflect on your behavior so we don’t have to have another demonstration like this one. I don’t like throwing my weight around unless I absolutely have to. You’re going to get yourself hurt down here if you start running your mouth with someone who’s a little less nice than me. Just some food for thought.” 

He does leave then, calmly walking over to the door which he tugs open and steps through, shutting it with a click behind him. The sound of a rattling set of keys turning in the lock rings loud in the tight, cramped little space as you’re left alone in a quickly cooling puddle of your own piss with only your deeply embarrassed feelings for company now. 

If this was how the Duke did things in his fortress then perhaps it would be wise to behave him from now on. At the very least you didn’t want to get on his bad side again. 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[tsmukanii]

Heir to the Throne

Wednesday X Firebreather Reader : I'm not sure where this is going but I'm having fun with it.

“Y/N, you’ve only been here for a week, and this is the 3rd time you have been in my office for roughhousing." It's not like it was your fault. People are just asshats that need to be put in their place. You can’t help it if they see you as an easy target.

“I didn’t start anything and you know that.” You couldn’t argue for yourself further, already drained from it all.

Principal Weems could see it written on your face. She couldn’t help but feel pity for you, already knowing how hard your situation is but before she could say anything more on the matter, the door to her office opened. You turned your head to see who possibly saved you from this lecture. 

 “Oh pardon the intrusion, a student said you were ready to see us now.” You immediately knew that it was Eugene, the thought brought a small smile to your face but it quickly vanished when you made eye contact with her. It was like making eye contact with death itself; as if wrapping you up in its cloak. It was calming to you in a way. What you didn’t know is that you had affected her as well. 

“Y/N, do you mind showing Wednesday to the dorms while I get everything settled with Mr. and Mrs. Addams?” You shook your head as a means to break the sudden trance you were in but also knew the headmistress took it as you accepting.

“Oh please no need for formalities Larissa, after all we were schoolmates.” You could see the slight grimace behind her smile but still she nodded along to the statement and then set her eyes on you.  You couldn’t really refuse knowing that this was punishment for fighting again, even though you were just minding your own  business. But still with a roll of your eyes, you gestured for the girl to follow you without saying a word about the matter. 

You could feel Weems’ stare on your back, taking it as a sign that she will track you down after this but you couldn’t care less. You walked in silence, making no move to strike up a conversation with Wednesday. You were halfway to the dorms when she spoke to you, leaving you in shock of how soft her voice was. 

“You do realize you are bleeding, correct?” 

“...What?”

“Your nose is bleeding, though your blood is quite an interesting color…perhaps you would be interested in letting me use you as a test subject one day.” 

You snorted thinking she was joking but stopped when her face never changed realizing that she was completely serious. You quickly reach up to wipe the blood away glancing at the bright green color before wiping your hand on the back of your pants.

“Uh sure, it could be fun.” You swore you saw a little upturn of her lips before it turned back into a blank stare. She didn’t say anything else after that so you continued on your way. When you finally reached the room you hesitated for a second before knocking, remembering how she was when she first gave you your tour. You could see Wednesday raise a brow at your actions and she got her answer when you both walked into the dorm room. Enid squealed when she got sight of you.

“Y/n! Omg, you finally decided to come pay me a visit!” You were quick to interject. “Yeah actually I’m here on business.” you gesture to the girl next to you. “Omg! You must be Wednesday, I’ve heard so much about you!” Enid moved toward her in an attempt to hug her but was quickly rejected. 

“Uh Wednesday this is Enid Sinclair, your roommate. Enid, Weems wants you to give her a tour of the school.”

“Oh ok so what are you gonna do?” 

“I’m gonna go thank Eugene for getting me out of another scolding. Wednesday it was…interesting meeting you.” You sent a nod her way before doing the same to Enid and quickly making yourself scarce.

Wednesday slowly turned to Enid , taking her in before opening her mouth. “So, are you going to stand there gaping like a fish or are you going to start your tour? 

–

You arrived at Eugene's hut fairly quickly while also being wary of Weems who you can hear entering the courtyard. You push open the door, spotting Eugene sitting at a small table looking over his notebook.

“Dude I owe you big time for getting me out of there, I couldn’t take another moment in Weem’s office.”

“Eh it’s no biggie I mean you only got in trouble because you were helping me. I’m just sorry those jerks said you attacked them.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m pretty sure I got in a few good hits so that they’ll think twice about messing with you again.” He smiled at your words before reaching into his bag pulling out a jar or honey, holding it out to you.

“Here, to say thanks. I make it myself,

 I add in chamomile and sometimes lavender. It's actually really good.”  You don’t hesitate to grab the jar, smiling at the fact. 

“I’m sure it does, maybe we can plan for tea next week or something.” Eugene lights up quickly nodding his head.

“Of course! Anytime except Thursday, I have a foraging expedition.”

–

“So I heard that you got into another fight yesterday. Did you win?”

“Of course I did but it wasn’t my fault, they were picking on my friend.”  

“Rude, I thought I was your friend.”

“I can have more than one friend Sinclair, isn't that why you’re in my dorm painting my toes? So has Wednesday tried to escape yet?”

You felt Enid pause at your question quickly looking up at you before focusing back on your toes.“You think she’s going to run?”

“Of course she is, it’s written all over her face.”

“Are you sure we were looking at the same face?” You roll your eyes at her before smiling.“God Enid I get that she’s all stone but trust me she’s gonna do it. Probably during the fair, I bet you ten bucks she asks you to help.” You hold your hand out to her and she quickly shakes it just knowing you were going to owe her.  After that you two talked a bit more about what was going on around campus giving Enid her fill of new material for her blog before her watch went off letting you both know that it was almost curfew. 

After you both said goodnight, you went to your desk to finish sketching the outline for your latest comic but you were interrupted by the sound of scurrying outside your window. You didn’t pay any mind to it, thinking it was a squirrel but then you heard a tap on the glass making you whirl around to see a disembodied hand waving at you. 

“What the fuck?”

[nin-jay-go]

arin and ras are out in the wilds when they find and welcome back an unexpected teammate.

word count: 1556

-=-

Arin sighed and speared another strange fruit with his stick. Its juice spilled down the branch, and he angled it away so it didn’t drip onto his hands. He frowned and held it over the fire, watching the way its skin sizzled and roasted. 

It was the fourth day of being out in the wilds with Ras. The tiger had reclaimed his hammer and was scrubbing its surface with a spare shred of cloth Arin had volunteered from his gi. His ear turned towards Arin, listening to the fruit cook.

They were tired, to be honest. With Ras having lost all his companions, and Arin abandoning his, they were on their own together. It sucked, and it left them to survive in the wilds with nothing but pure skill and luck, but they were alive. For now, that’s all that mattered.

Arin decided the fruit was roasted enough and handed the stick over to Ras. His nose twitched, smelling the fruit nearby, and he wordlessly turned and took the branch. His chuff was thanks enough. 

“You’re sure you can eat it?” Arin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a carnivore?”

“Obligate carnivore,” Ras corrected. “We have seen very few animals, and have hunted fewer. I will take whatever food I am able to, in this circumstance.”

“As long as you’re not gonna die from eating that,” Arin shrugged, going back to his own dinner - a weird squash-like vegetable that smelled like wet mud and pumpkin. It, too, was roasted over the fire, and tasted something similar to eggplant, but sweeter, and with a coarser texture.

They ate their dinners in silence. Arin chewed on his lip when his squash was gone. Ras had taught him how to hunt for animals recently, which Arin was not very good at, but he hadn’t done anything to tell him about his parents. A little hint of doubt crept into his mind. What if Ras was lying? What if he didn’t actually know where his parents were, and he wasn’t gonna even teach him anything useful?

No, he decided. They were both just focusing on survival right now. Besides, even if he did turn his back on Ras now, where would he go? His parents are gone, the ninja definitely wouldn’t want him back when he betrayed them like he did (though he wouldn’t want to go back to them anyways), and he didn’t want to wander the Merged Realms forever until he died. That seemed pointless.

So Arin only had Ras right now. He could trust Ras. Cuz there’s nowhere else he could go.

A branch breaking startled him out of his thoughts, and he was immediately up in a fighting position in the direction of the noise. Ras, too, had gotten up, ears pressed back and growling low in his throat, tail lashing.

Out from behind a grove of trees flashed something blue. “Who’s there?” Arin yelled. 

And when the figure shakily stepped out from the trees, Arin and Ras straightened up in surprise. Because there was Jay, the Blue Ninja, scowling and holding his arms.

“Walker,” Ras growled, getting out of his fighting stance. His fur lay flatter on his body. “What are you doing here?”

“You sent me away,” Jay grimaced. “I was out here, wandering, thinking about what to do, when I heard something over here and… well…” He gestured at the two of them and their fire. He chuckled. “I was just about ready to return to the Administration when I felt my powers return to me.” 

Lightning crackled around his hand, illuminating his face in the darkness. His eyes seemed to glow an unnatural color until the lightning faded away.

Ras tilted his head and stepped forward, towards the ex-ninja. Jay immediately cowered and ducked his head. “I’m sorry for failing you, Lord Ras! You were right, that damned ninja was trying to get into my head, and for a moment, it almost worked. That weakness cost me.”

“That it did, Jay,” Ras stated unkindly. “I sent you away for you to clear your head. I had expected you to have a longer lasting impact on the ninja, but… in retrospect, perhaps they would have corrupted you further, if given the chance. They were very determined to convince you of their lies.”

“It won’t happen again, Lord Ras. Next time, I won’t be as lenient,” Jay continued, head still bowed. His eyes flashed red. “I’ll finish her off next time.”

Ras looked thoughtful for a moment, tail swishing and head tilted. Arin frowned and looked at the former ninja. Jay used to be the joke-slinging, fun Blue Ninja, fearless in the face of combat and doing it all with a smile behind his mask. This… wasn’t Jay. Not the Jay that the world used to know. His amnesia really screwed with him, huh…

Eventually, Ras huffed and nodded. “You are the only one of my men that still remains. All the rest are either under the control of those Forbidden Five, or are too far to reach now.”

“A-and the Gong of Shattering?” Jay asked, looking up at Ras. 

“With them, presumably.”

Either Arin was really bad at reading expressions, or Jay looked… disappointed at that. That face was immediately drowned by one of hope. “Then…”

“You may stay with Arin and I,” Ras decided. “None of us have much else to do.”

Jay bowed quickly, nearly folding himself in half. “Thank you, Lord Ras. I won’t disappoint you again!”

“Good,” Ras smiled. “See to it that you don’t.”

As Ras walked away, it let Jay see Arin, as if for the first time. They blinked at each other for a second before Jay’s face scrunched up suspiciously. “Aren’t you one of those ninja brats?”

Arin tried not to scowl. “Nope. Not anymore. Not since they betrayed and lied to me.”

“Yea, they’ll do that,” Jay nodded. “You’re training under Lord Ras now?”

“He’s done a better job at training me than Lloyd so far,” Arin shrugged. He was past the point of caring about his so-called heroes. He looked over the former ninja, dressed up in the wolf warrior regalia typical for Ras’ lackeys, but with a few more embellishments. Personalized, almost. “You… don’t remember the ninja at all, then?” Arin continued.

“Am I supposed to?” Jay raised an eyebrow. It was his notched one. That was always one of Jay’s signature traits, alongside his freckles and striking color. 

“You had fought them at some point prior to your amnesia,” Ras spoke up from where he had sat back down. His hammer was in his lap. “Or, so I assume.”

As Jay scoffed, saying something about how the ninja were stupid for trying to worm into his brain like that, Arin stopped to think about this.

Jay used to be a ninja. He may not remember any of it, or want to remember it, but he was still a strong fighter. And, if he could play his cards right with Ras, a good additional teacher. If Ras taught Jay how to fight, then Jay could give him some further tips. And, well, they both hated the ninja right now, and looked up to Ras for guidance. Despite it all, Jay was the best ally one could ask for in their current circumstances.

Ignoring the fact that the Gong of Shattering definitely did something to Jay’s morality. One gong probably didn’t hurt too much, right?

And… Jay used to be Agent Walker - the Manager of the Realm Reassignment division. If anyone knew where Arin’s parents were, it’d be Jay.

As the ex-ninja moved to sit by the fire, Arin hurried to sit next to him. Maybe he didn’t have to abandon all his former heroes. He’ll keep this one. “Hey, Jay?”

“Hm?” Jay hummed in question, grabbing a fruit from the pile Arin had gathered and biting into it raw (and making a face when it tasted like mush, as all of those fruits do). 

“When… when you worked at the Administration,” he frowned, fiddling his hands together, “did you happen to see my parents?”

Jay swallowed his bite of fruit down and raised an eyebrow. “Uh?”

“They look like me,” Arin added. “Black hair, dark eyes - Dad has a bit of a beard, Mom’s hair was short…”

He trailed off, but Jay gave an unsure snort. “Kid, if I remembered every single person who came by the department, I think I could easily replace the first two decades of my life with that. My memory’s bad enough as is.”

Arin tried not to sound too disappointed when he sighed. “Oh…”

As if sensing he made a mistake, Jay clicked his tongue. “Gimme enough time, I’ll try to remember. Two humans, short black hair, look like you, gotcha.”

“You’d try and remember?” Arin asked hopefully. He hoped his relief was evident on his face. 

Jay rolled his eyes. “Yea, yea. Least I can do for my teammate.” He gave Arin a once-over. “You don’t look like a half-bad fighter. Lemme finish up this fruit and let’s spar.”

Arin grinned. “Sure!”

He looked over at Ras, who nodded his approval. He got up and started doing stretches. He was one step closer to finding his parents. And, maybe, siding with Ras and Jay for the long run wasn’t such a horrible idea after all.

[nectar-cellar]

Hi, how are you! I was wondering what nose sliders you use? I’m jealous that you don’t use nosemasks! I need the tea

heyyy :3 oh i have a wall of text for you.

i only avoid nose mask makeup because i can never remember which one i used on who + i dislike color matching as i can never get it exactly right. so i just avoid it to keep it simple for myself. i try to keep makeup minimal on my sims since i often change up their makeup. i like the look of it on other people's sims, it can add a lot to an aesthetic, you should go ahead and use them if you want!

well the first thing is to use a skin that already has a cute nose on it, because you don't want to fight with a texture you dislike.

i end up adjusting a lot of sliders... i can't think of an easy way to describe how i shape the nose. i'll give some general tips for how i personally do it below. i do have my sliders folder up for download in my tagged/dl: sims if you want it but i think it's more about how you use any sliders you do have and the overall shape/proportions of the nose, rather than which sliders because there is no one slider that will create the ideal nose. it's more about creating your own nose-sculpting technique which i'm sure is different for everyone, and creating a nose that suits the sim you're envisioning.

my hobby is watching makeup and plastic surgery videos so i guess i think about noses and facial features a lot. i will discuss tips, settings, and specific sliders below...

i am only sharing my process, there is no correct way to make sims, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and nose shapes can vary so much.

i like to start with a clean slate. if i'm doing a townie makeover i will usually have a look at their slider settings and reset any extreme ones back to zero, or reduce those settings to less extreme values.

head section -> i set the (base game) Face Profile slider to about 100 or 200. this brings the nose and chin out so you get more projection from the 3/4 view and from the side no matter what your nose settings are.

nose section -> (base game) Nose Definition slider: i keep this one between -100 to 100. i like a softer look to the nose. at higher settings i find the definition looks too harsh. for flatter noses especially for sims of colour i'll reduce the nose definition to -50 or -100, sometimes more if it looks right.

(base game) Nose Scale and Nose Width sliders: i usually will reset these to zero if i'm doing a townie makeover because i often disagree with EA's slider values. the nose anchors the face so by setting it back to zero it helps me judge other proportions of the face, as well as parts of the nose itself. the nose scale and width are usually the final adjustments i make.

(base game) Nose Mass slider: for very defined noses i tend to keep this at zero or 25, for softer or flatter noses i will increase this to around 100 or more, it just adds softness/mass/width to the nose bridge area.

(base game) Nose Rotate slider: i keep this slider fairly neutral between -75 and 75. when deciding on the upturned/downturned angle of the nose, i adjust this slider first, then go back and adjust more later if needed.

(base game) Nose Tip Scale slider: this affects how much the nose tip juts out from the side view, and how wide your nose tip looks from the front. i usually keep this one at -50 to -200. it's about proportions though. you might want to enlarge the nose tip if the profile lacks outward projection, or if you're just sculpting a nose with a bigger and wider tip. if you already have quite a defined, strong nose then you might want to make the tip smaller to keep the nose shape overall proportionate. if you have a large nose tip, you might want to make other parts of the nose smaller/weaker to sort of let the bulbous nose tip have its spotlight.

(base game) Nose Tip Rotate slider: after i do the Nose Rotate slider, i go to this slider to decide how much i should rotate the nose tip specifically, to see what angle looks good with the nose's overall angle.

Nose Tip Width slider: pretty self explanatory, you can create a daintier or stronger nose tip by adjusting the width. cc slider linked below. not sure if base game has one

Nose Tip Height slider: so this defines how high or low the nose tip "stretches" down, kinda hard to describe and the right setting depends on the nose shape but i use this quite often. it miiight be a cc slider i'm not sure

(base game) nose bridge sliders: for the profile, i adjust the nose bridge depth, nose bridge rotation, and nose bridge height sliders to get the angle i want. then i adjust the nose bridge width which affects how the sim looks from straight on.

finally for the nostrils, i usually set the definition, height, scale back to zero then i adjust it to be proportionate with the nose i'm sculpting. also i will fine-tune the rotation of the nostrils here to make them more or less flared. you can use the Nostril Scale slider and the Nose Width slider together as they both affect how wide the nose looks.

sliders i love

thornsofpeace - thornsboxynosetip slider. so this slider basically creates a narrower, more defined nose tip that i cannot replicate with any other slider. i keep it at 0 to 100, maybe up to 200 for very defined/prominent noses. or very itty bitty bella hadid noses.

simtanico - nostril widen slider. this slider makes the nostrils wider which is very useful and can't really be replicated with other sliders. i usually set this to 100, sometimes 200 or 300 for sims with more prominent nostrils. i use this in combination with other nostril rotating/lifting sliders. simtanico has a lot of nose sliders to try out but i use this one the most.

simtanico - nostril lift slider. i use this slider with the one above to get more flared/lifted nostrils. the amount really depends on the nose/face.

oneeuromutt - nose tip y scale: this slider affects the side profile and the nose tip from the front, basically making the nose look more or less sharp/defined

oneeuromutt - nose tip width: self explanatory

oneeuromutt - nose tweak: an interesting slider that can flare the nostrils and nose shape outwards or inwards

oneeuromutt default replacement nose sliders - good to have

and there are more sliders i use here and there of course but i think those are the main ones.

[beamtori]

𝟓-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

nonidol!jacob bae x afab!reader

you've heard plenty of things about certified campus crush jacob bae, but when you finally meet him, you decide to find out if the rumors are true.

6.0k words (ITS ONLY THIS LONG BC OF THE PLOT), strangers 2 lovers, tutor!jacob, mentions of physics (yuck), swearing (not from jacob 💀), SMUT (minors dni), penetrative sex, oral sex (f.receiving)/face riding (m.receiving), cum eating, fingering, kind of sweet..., kissing, this was kind of tame ngl, pet names (smart girl, angel, baby, beautiful), barely proofread i am up past my bedtime 🤣

a/n: there is hope for me yet o7 @winterchimez here's the thing 💀, @zzoguri @snowflakewhispers to the jacob stans...

“OH MY GOD, YN!”

Your friend Ronnie's voice drew you out of your bubble, and you ripped the earbud out from your ear without looking up from your laptop screen. “Yeah, babe.”

“Jacob Bae just walked in—” Her hushed squealing was paired by an insistent tapping on your arm from across the table inside the café.

You made a face, taking the other earbud out. “Who?”

Ronnie's face flattened into incredulity. “The guy I have literally been talking your ear off about for the past month.”

Jacob… Jacob Bae… ah, Jacob. The name echoed something familiar in your near-empty noggin. Sometimes names just didn't stick when you were busy with other things like the torque and force mechanics you were trying to nail for your physics midterm in two weeks. “Oh right.”

“Damn,” she swore, twisting over her shoulder toward the entrance. She turned back to face you with a pout. “He just left.”

“He didn't get anything?”

“No,” Ronnie sighed. She twirled her pen around between her fingers, then tapped the top edge of your laptop screen. That was what pulled your eyes away from it. “I feel like I haven't seen your eyes in the last ninety minutes, Yn.”

You huffed a laugh, scribbling a note on your scratch notepad about how you performed the last exercise incorrectly. Just like the last one. “We are here to study, Ron.”

Ronnie gave a small smile, but the edges were down turned. “Yeah, I know we said that, but it was kind of an excuse for me to get you out of your apartment.”

“I go out of my apartment,” you protested.

Her eyebrow lifted as she reached for her iced coffee. “Besides for food or class.”

You opened your mouth, then snapped it closed after giving it more than a moment's thought. “Listen,” you ended up with as a response.

Ronnie snorted. “See? I haven't hung out with you ever since your last physics midterm, Yn. It's normal to worry about your friends, you know?” She nudged you teasingly from across the table.

You finally set your pen down to massage the pulsing headache beginning to form between your eyes. You wrinkled your nose up. “I guess you're right.”

“I know I am,” she mused. “Hey, if physics is overwhelming you, then you should totally go check out their tutoring center. I'm sure they have one.”

Your shoulders immediately slumped. Just the thought of the physics student center sent a queasy churn to your stomach. It wasn't that the people there weren't nice, it was just the fact that you hadn't had the best track record with tutors. No matter how hard they tried, no matter what method was used, you could never seem to get it down. Most of the time, you just forced yourself to buckle down until some miracle got you to get the correct answer. (Awful learning strategy, but you would take luck over skill at this point. Your GPA needed the luck.)

“You're probably right,” was what you said to her anyway. You knew she was just trying to help.

Shaking the negative thoughts away, you lowered your laptop screen to swap your pen for your untouched beverage. “Tell me about this Jacob guy again. How do you know him?”

Ronnie's eyes lit up, and you found yourself slowly relaxing again. “I'm pretty sure he's everybody's campus crush or something. Every time I bring him up with my other girl friends, they also seem to know about him? Which is crazy.”

You nodded. “Yeah, this is a pretty big uni.”

“Right? But—” Ronnie groaned, slumping back in her seat. “He's so hot, Yn-ie. I swear to god, his smile makes my fucking panties melt.”

You nearly snorted your drink up and out of your nose, and your friend slapped a hand over her mouth when you realized she said that out loud. “Please,” you wheezed, swiping your thumb at the corner of your lips. “So he's that attractive? Is he a good guy though? Like does his physical traits overcompensate for a… uh, an awful personality or something?”

“That's the best part—”

Your eyes narrowed. “No way.”

“He's literally the nicest person on Planet Earth, I swear to god, Yn.”

“You've talked to him?”

She paused. “No…”

You sent her a pointed look. “Then you can't say that unless you've talked to him, Ronnie. That's just how it works.”

Ronnie pursed her lips, gesturing vaguely with her hands. “It's just something you have to trust me on! Everybody knows he's super cool and handsome and just a top notch, cream-of-the-crop—”

“Not me,” you pointed out with a laugh.

“That's because your head is where your calculator is.”

You gasped, pressing your beloved scientific calculator to your chest as if hiding it from your friend's words. “You take that back! She's been more loyal than any man, thank you very much.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Okay, that's probably true, but Jacob's gotten five-star reviews from everybody!”

“On what account?” You scoffed.

“You just have to trust me,” Ronnie repeated, emphasizing her words with a cheeky smile.

Your face contorted into one that clearly gave away your disbelief. “Okay, sure.”

Despite your reluctance to go in the first place, you found yourself walking down the hallway of the physics department building toward the student center. There were usually TA office hours held here throughout the week, and a couple of the physics professors even came here to hold their own help sessions, but the hour you chose was none of those. Frankly, you had zero faith you were going to be able to learn this from someone else successfully; there was just something weird about how your brain worked.

Nonetheless, you were desperate.

The room was rather bustling when you arrived with nearly all of the group tables filled up with students helping each other work through the problems. Anxiety settled in your gut like a parasite, and you meandered toward the side of the room where there was an open single desk. Maybe if you just sat here and worked on your problems by yourself, you could technically still say you came to the student center like a coward.

With a sigh, you began pulling your materials out from your bag to get to work. Immediately, you realized that you had last stopped working on an awful problem you didn't even know how to start.

“Hi!”

You startled, head whipping upward fast enough to give you whiplash. Heat swarmed up to your neck and ears.

There was a guy standing in front of you with a boyish smile and wearing a deep purple Laker's hoodie. With a sweater paw, he gave a wave, repeating his greeting. “Hi, I'm sorry I snuck up on you. I was wondering if I could be of any assistance?”

The way his dark brown hair curled over his forehead and the way his molten brown eyes shone so warmly in the fluorescent lights was throwing you off your mark. And that was only when you weren't already stunned by the absolute beautiful smile adorning his—you snapped out of it.

A sheepish smile wormed its way onto your face, and you cupped the back of your neck. “Oh, that's okay, I tend to get kind of oblivious with my surroundings,” you laughed nervously. Why was the way he looked at you making you so clumsy with your words? “Uhm, I guess maybe? I've kind of been stuck on this torque problem for a while.”

You swallowed, spinning your laptop around to show him the practice problem on the screen. His eyes skimmed over the words, tongue jamming into the side of his cheek.

“Oh, I see,” he said kindly. “This problem is notoriously awful, but I have a trick for getting through these ones if you'd like.”

“Oh, really?” You couldn't help the hopeful tilt in pitch at the end of your question, and you watched him drag over a spare chair to sit adjacent to you.

He settled next to you, his knees knocking against yours, and you both blurted out apologies to each other. “Sorry,” he murmured. “May I?” He gestured to your writing utensil and notepad.

“Yeah, of course.”

He twirled the pen between his fingers. “Ooh, these ones are nice to write with. Super smooth.”

You nodded. “Yeah, for sure! They also last really long, too.”

There was an interesting gleam in his eyes as he peered over at you. “That's also true.” He shook his head, a sheepish chuckle falling from his mouth. “I'm sorry, I just realized I completely butted into your study session, and didn't even introduce myself.”

You couldn't help the small flutter in your chest. Oh, the bare minimum of chivalry, and yet, here you were feeling so woozy from it. “It's no worries,” you assured him, “I really would have just stared at this thing before giving up, so.”

He brushed a hand through his hair. “I totally get that. Physics isn't for the faint of heart, so you're already doing great by coming here for help in the first place. I'm Jacob, by the way.” He accompanied the latter with an outstretched hand toward yours.

You licked your lips, managing a small smile and clasping his hand in a shake. “Nice to meet you, Jacob—” That name sounded familiar, “—I’m Yn.”

But there were probably hundreds of Jacobs who went to this school. There was no way that the one time you happened to come to the student help center, the Jacob Bae that Ronnie gushed to you about just happened to be the guy to help you.

It was ridiculous.

“Yn,” he repeated, as if trying the way your name tasted on his tongue. “Nice to meet you, too,” he beamed. You realized how your heart stuttered every time he smiled.

His eye contact lingered, and then he cleared his throat. “Sorry, shall we?” He motioned to the problem, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, let's do it,” you said. You subtly brought your hand up against your cheek and felt your skin. It definitely was hot to the touch; why did this guy have to be so attractive? If you weren't going to learn anything because of your weird learning quirk, you weren't going to learn jackshit because the man teaching you was just that distracting.

It turned out miracles did exist.

“You would not believe what happened to me this afternoon.”

You paced about the bedroom in your apartment with your phone on speaker and broadcasting Ronnie's voice. You had just gotten home from the physics student center, your heart rate still over the speed limit and your skin warm. There was a giddiness and adrenaline making your fingers twitch, and frankly, you couldn't sit down for this.

“Why? What happened?” Your friend asked in earnest.

You massaged your lips together. “Okay, you know the other day when you were telling me about that Jacob Bae guy?”

You could hear the excitement creeping into her voice. “Yes…”

“Do you know what his major is?”

“I'm pretty sure it's physics...”

You had to stop and slap your hands to your face. The sound was loud enough for Ronnie to hear on the other side, and she began barking out the standard “What happened? What happened? Tell me what happened!”

“Okay, so I went to the physics student center to try and get help, right?” When you heard Ronnie's hum of acknowledgment, you continued on, “And there's this one problem I've been stuck on for an illegal amount of time. And this guy comes up to me and asks if he can help me, and Ronnie—Ronnie, he was so—”

“Hot! Panty-meltingly attractive?”

You nearly bursted into laughter at how ridiculous all of this sounded. “He was just so cute. Like fine-cute. And he actually helped me, dude. You know my weird schtick about people teaching me—”

“Oh my gosh, for real? He was actually able to help you out?”

You flopped onto your bed, grinning at the ceiling in pure relief and accomplishment. “Yes! If he's the Jacob Bae you were talking about…” You sighed, shaking your head, “He gets my stamp of approval.”

Rather than coming back to your apartment defeated as you thought you would, you left with a newfound confidence in your abilities to understand physics, new tips and tricks from Jacob, and… you were probably going to frame the little “You did well today, Yn! Super lovely meeting you. x, Jacob” note he left for you in the corner of one of the notepad leaflets. It was his faith in you and unrelenting patience that got you through your practice problems today.

Maybe you weren't a lost cause after all? Crazy.

“I told you!” Ronnie exclaimed.

You drew an arm over your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.” You were still proud of yourself, and way too satisfied with how the day went.

“Well, hello hello,” Jacob chuckled as he sidled up by your desk with a white lollipop stick hanging out from his lips. His eyes were crinkled in amusement as he peered down at you with his hands shoved into his pockets, hair tucked beneath a black baseball cap.

“Hey,” you chirped. “How're you?”

He smiled around the sweet in his mouth, stepping over to drag a chair beside you as he always did. It had been about a week since you first met him, and you had yet to fail to come to the tutoring center once. “I'm great. How about you? Ready for the exam tomorrow?”

Your hand met your forehead, and your expression coaxed a chuckle from him. “I definitely feel more prepared than a week ago, but it's still nerve-racking. The horror stories I've heard, Cobie…”

Something appeared in your view. You blinked, surprised, when you realized Jacob was holding out a little lollipop in front of you bundled in a standard paper wrapper.

“Encouragement,” he said simply, giggling at your doe-eyed expression.

You broke out into a smile and accepted the lollipop from him, eagerly twisting the wrapper off to pop the treat into your mouth. “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, no worries. I had extras and thought you might need the extra boost.”

“That's really sweet of you,” you said in earnest. “I haven't had a lollipop in forever.” Your lips pursed around the head as you took the strawberry flavored pop out of your mouth to look at the glistening surface in the tutoring center lights.

You licked your lips of the juices, not catching how his eyes darted to watch you do so.

He cleared his throat, shifting his lollipop from one cheek to the other. “So, what did you wanna go over today?”

It had been a little over a week since you first met Jacob and came under his tutelage. It seemed the chemistry-turned-physics major always happened to be free to cater to your needs every time you walked in for help. Everything Ronnie had told you that day in the café had been true—not only was Jacob an absolute stud, he was also a perfect angel. You couldn't believe such a divine human being even existed, let alone continued to find your company amusing enough to still tutor you one on one without payment.

(And you couldn't believe you were even able to focus around him. There were always gentle brushes of his hand against yours, lingering glances that made your neck heat, and the like. Your heart cartwheeled in your chest with more agility and frequency than your physical body could.)

By the time the physics midterm exam rolled around, you were feeling much more prepared for the material you would be tested on. The exam flew by in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, you were breaking out of the examination hall and into the cool autumn evening. Your stomach growled as you wandered down the street toward the university district to find dinner.

Adrenaline still pumped through your veins from the exam, but your mood was substantially higher than it was after the first exam.

You stood outside one of the ramen shops in the district, head cocked to the side as you contemplated the menu plastered on one of the windows.

“Yn?”

You broke out from your food-searching daze, your lips pulling into a smile as you greeted Jacob coming down the sidewalk toward you. “Hey, Cobie. What's good?”

Jacob grinned as he sidled up beside you, one of his hands carding through his hair before sticking itself back into the pocket of his dark bomber jacket. “I'm just looking for dinner," he chuckled. “Did you just come from the exam?”

“I did,” you confirmed with a bob of your head.

“And? How'd it go?”

Your smile widened, and you ducked your head for a second. “I think it went pretty alright,” you admitted. “I don't wanna jinx myself though. But I think I do deserve a reward for making it through, don't you think?”

Jacob nodded. “Oh, for sure. You've been so good for m—I mean,” he coughed, amending his words, “You've worked really hard these past couple weeks and so it deserves a little celebration. Are you… are you here with anyone?”

“Definitely not,” you winced sheepishly, “since I just got out of the exam and all—I don't usually make plans right after tests.”

“I see; I get that.” He rubbed the back of his head, tongue ghosting over his bottom lip. “Well, I'm not really here with anyone either. Would you mind some company?”

You met his eyes and your heart did the little hop-n-skip it always did when you made eye contact with him. “Yeah, I'd love some company, actually. I'd love to repay you for all the help you've given me recently.”

He chuckled, swinging the door to the shop open for you. “Trust me, it was my pleasure, Yn.”

If there was one thing you knew for sure, Jacob was a gentleman through and through. If chivalry was dead, then Jacob Bae was dead—okay, maybe that was a little morbid to think about on your way home, especially when the man in question walked right beside you, hands tucked into his jacket pockets with a wistful little smile on his face.

Dinner had gone splendidly—except for the fact he had a feeling you would want to pay for his meal and subtly slipped the waiter his card before you could. The cherry on top was his offer to walk you home—only if you were comfortable—and though you knew that definitely wouldn't even on the ledger, you accepted his offer. More time with him? Yes, please.

“This is my building here,” you murmured, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as reluctance for this evening to end worked its way up your throat. You inclined your chin to the apartment complex coming up just a few hundred feet ahead.

“Ah,” he said under his breath.

The two of you stopped in front of the entrance to the lobby, facing one another. “Thanks for dinner,” you said for what seemed like the fifth night.

He beamed. “Anytime, Yn. I loved hanging out with you.”

If you wore a heart rate monitor, it probably would have been screaming at you right about now. “Uhm… would you… like to continue hanging out with me? I mean, like, coming up?” You nudged your thumb behind you in the direction of the doors. Was that too forward of you?

His eyes widened a smidge, and his smile softened at the corners. “I'd love to.”

A giddy sort of feeling bubbled up in your chest as you and he shared wide grins, and you led him up to your apartment. Your hands shook slightly as you arrived at your door, your keys jingling against one another as you sorted through them for the right one.

“I wasn't expecting company, so I hope you don't mind the mess,” you laughed nervously, fingers pinching the right key to insert into the lock.

He gave a kind smile. “Oh, it's no worries at all. Actually, can I—I should probably say something before we go in.”

Your movements stopped short and you turned to face him, wide-eyed. “Uh oh,” you mused half-heartedly, “this is the moment you tell me you're a serial killer.” Please don't be a serial killer…

That coaxed a bright laugh from his mouth, and your heart melted a little bit. He shook his head, “No, no. Nothing of that sort, I swear! I just…” His lips pressed into a smile again and he confessed, “I'm attracted to you, Yn. Ah, there it is; I said it.”

He released a nervous giggle, cupping the back of his neck.

Starstruck, you lost the key in your hand. “Me?” You stammered. Were your ears deceiving you? “Like… in a not-just-friends way?”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah, in a not-just-friends way.” Then quickly added, “I mean, if that makes you uncomfortable, I can totally leave. We can be just friends, too, if you're okay with that. I just think you're gorgeous, and smart, and—”

“Can I kiss you?” You blurted.

“Please do—I need to shut up.”

And you gladly shut him up.

You stepped forward and closed the gap between you, his hands coming up to cup your face as your lips met. He tasted like spearmint from the gum he offered right after tonight's meal—always thinking of everything, this one. His mouth was soft against yours, something tender and gentle, giving you enough space to pull away if you wished.

But you didn't. Good lord, you wanted more.

Your eyes fluttered open just as he did, his nose bumping against yours.

“Inside?” He murmured.

You nodded. “Yeah, inside.”

You fumbled with the keys into your apartment, hand blindly flipping the light switch on as Jacob found your lips again, hands grappling onto your waist. His foot kicked the front door shut behind you both as shoes came off.

Your back met the wall just as you slid a hand into his curls. The sound of keys hitting the floor echoed in your ears, but your other senses were far too overwhelmed with Jacob right now—the smell of the cologne clinging to his clothes, the soft earnestness of his mouth against yours, his hard body pressed up—

“So sweet,” he groaned, squeezing your sides. “Could eat you up.”

You whimpered at his words, his mouth breaking away from yours so you could both shove your jackets off your shoulders. “You shouldn't say things like that,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his chest.

The corners of his lips curled upward. “Actually,” he drawled, dropping his mouth near your ear, “that's not a bad idea.”

Your knees nearly buckled. “Huh?”

Your mind went fuzzy as he attached his lips to the side of your neck, suckling sweetly against your pulse, your skin, your collarbone.

“You're a smart girl,” he chuckled warmly, the vibrations sending something just as warm to your panties. “You can figure it out.”

He smiled against your throat, feeling your pulse skip. “There you go,” he purred.

You knocked your head back against the wall at the thought of what he was insinuating—planning—to do to you. When you turned your gaze down, you nearly whimpered again at the sight of him sinking down to his knees before you with a wicked grin on his face.

Forget angelic—this man could be the Devil if he so wished.

“I have a bedroom, you know,” you attempted to joke, but you were also dead serious. Was he seriously about to…?

His hands—large, warm, veiny, and studded with rings—smoothed over the fabric of your skirt, not daring to venture under until you gave him the go-ahead. “We'll get to that,” he promised. “May I?”

You wrestled down a swallow, blood hammering in your ears. “Yeah,” you croaked.

Jacob licked his lips, then pressed a featherweight kiss to the side of your knee. He glanced up at you in silent question. Was that okay?

You nodded in approval, moving your hands into his hair and to cup the back of his head.

He continued on, kissing his way up your inner thighs, until his head dipped beneath the hem of your skirt and you could feel his hot breath fan over your clothed cunt.

Your breath hitched when you felt him blow cool air at the wet spot that collected at the bottom of your underwear.

Jacob's warm laugh met your ears. “You're so cute,” he murmured. His nose nudged you through the damp fabric, and he marveled, “You're so wet for me—can’t wait to taste you.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair. “Please, Cobie.”

“Almost there, angel. You've been so good for me.”

A whine fell from your lips at that, and you slapped a palm against your mouth. God, you sounded so desperate, and maybe you were.

He slowly tugged your underwear down, and you stepped out of them. With the barrier out of the way, Jacob went right to work, licking a broad stripe up your slit and sending you careening against his face.

“Shit,” you swore, one hand grappling onto his shoulder.

Jacob held you upright with one of his arms looped under your thigh to anchor you into place. His nose bumped against your clit as he wormed his tongue through your folds.

You grounded your hips against his tongue, his mouth, his face, begging for more.

His lips latched onto your puffed up clit next, and your head knocked back against the wall again. “Jacob, please—”

He teased your opening with one of his fingers, then dipped it into your weeping cunt. The metal ring was cool against your pussy lips, the sting delicious, as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you as his mouth sucked on your clit mercilessly.

“Jacob, right there—please, please, please—” You tugged the strands of his hair and he groaned into your pussy, the vibrations going straight to your sensitive nub. You rocked your hips against him, desperately chasing after your own high.

You felt a second finger enter you, and the two digits curled and jammed against the soft, gummy spot inside you.

He licked your clit, replacing his tongue with his thumb for a second. “Close, angel?”

“Mhm,” you bit your lip. “Please, I'm so close.”

You moaned as he reattached his lips to your clit, vigorously suckling it until it was bruised, his fingers ramming up into you in tandem. His arm tightened around you as you cried out, your fingers clawing into the meat of his shoulder—your knees buckled, your vision went white for a split second, and fire erupted in your belly as you went over the edge.

Jacob's tongue lapped up all of the slick that had collected, and you sucked in a breath when his tongue dove through your folds and made you clench around the appendage.

When his head came out from under your skirt, his hair was a ruffled mess (thanks to you), and his face gleamed in your arousal and his sweat. He met your eyes, sticking his two fingers in his mouth to clean them.

You nearly went over again at the sight. “Fucking hell,” you exhaled, curling an arm around him as he clambered up to his feet.

Jacob smiled, swooping in to kiss you again so you could taste yourself on him. His hands smoothed down the sides of your body before coming down to cup the backs of your thighs. “You feeling okay?” He murmured into you, coaxing you to wrap your legs around his waist, thumb grazing the skin on your leg.

“Mmh,” you hummed against him, breath hitching when your bare pussy brushed against the rough hardness in his jeans. “Definitely better than okay. What about you?”

“Same here.” He cradled your head with one hand, and held you up with his other. “Do you want more?” He asked you breathlessly, pulling away.

His hand smoothed over the top of your head fondly. You nodded. He seemed to always be wanting to give. “Only if you want more.”

“Yeah, baby. Where's your bedroom?”

He had scooped you up and laid you out over your bed sheets like his own personal feast—and to be so very honest, you wouldn't mind being his meal every single day.

“This is cute,” he said cheekily with his knee pressed into the mattress as he climbed over you onto the bed.

You cupped the side of his face to draw him down to you. “You didn't even look at the room,” you mused into his mouth.

He hummed deeply, maneuvering your head back to deepen the kiss. He pressed his tongue into your mouth, the rough surface massaging against your own and making you forget your own name. “Anything you—” he said at last, “—I find unabashedly cute.”

“Unabashedly, you say?” You teased.

Jacob broke away only to tear his shirt over his head and to give you space to do the same. You pulled your shirt over your head and swiftly undid the clasp of your bra, your eyes fixing on the carved muscle flexing on his stomach as he settled back over you.

His tongue darted out of his lips. “Like what you see?”

You couldn't deny it; who were you trying to fool anyways? “I do.”

Maybe he was surprised by your forwardness. A bit of pink brushed his cheekbones and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your lips. “I can say the same about you, beautiful.”

He trailed one of his knuckles down the valley between your breasts, your chest rising and falling with your every breath. Goosebumps rose upon your flesh as he went, and you were itching to feel his mouth on your skin again.

“Can I touch you some more?” He murmured, eyes darting up to yours.

You nodded earnestly.

Jacob bracketed his arms next to your body and lowered his mouth over one of your nipples. Your fingers found his hair again with a gasp, arching yourself into his mouth and relishing the feeling of his skilled tongue swirling around your perked nub. His other hand gently massaged your other breast, squeezing the mound affectionately.

You covered his hand with yours, urging him to fondle you harder, rougher. The way his skin felt against yours was heavenly.

You sighed his name, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to grind your pelvis against his hardness.

He groaned around you, “Ugh, Yn.” He popped his mouth off your breast, lips trailing down to your belly, all while he grinded into you to chase some form of relief.

“Jacob, please,” you rasped, urging him with a harsh thrust. “Wanna feel you.”

You were tugging your skirt down your legs next, accompanied to the sound of his belt buckle clinking and the denim falling to the floor beside your bed. His erection tented his boxers, and his face looked flushed, but he dug around in his wallet for a spare condom before coming back to you.

When he yanked his boxers down, his heavy cock sprung up and slapped against his stomach. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him tear the condom packet open with his teeth before sliding the rubber over his throbbing cock.

He groaned softly under his breath, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he wrapped his fist around the head and squeezed himself lightly.

“You're really hot,” you said then, catching him off guard and making him grin boyishly.

He laughed, leaning down to find your lips in a sweet kiss. “Yeah?” He murmured. “You walked into the tutoring center and I knew I was gone, I thought you were so pretty.”

Your chuckle was muffled against him. “Trying to one-up me, Jacob?” Your mirth sobered slightly as he rubbed the tip of his cock between your slickened folds.

Jacob nipped at your bottom lip. “You’ve always been a fast learner.”

As he pushed himself into you, stretching you out inch by inch, you melted into him, fingers digging into his shoulders and his face burying itself into the hollow of your neck.

Your stomach rose and fell with your quick breaths. “Holy shit,” you moaned, mouth falling open as you clung onto him. You could feel him filling you up, the condom doing nearly nothing to hide the ridges of the veins along his shaft. They rubbed against your walls, and you clenched desperately around him.

Jacob moaned loudly, his hips twitching against yours. “Baby, please," he choked out. “You're so—god, you're so tight.”

“You can move now,” you told him softly, cupping the back of his head.

You felt him nod, and with a groan, he pulled his hips back and pushed them into you again. The first thrust was delicious, the second and all the rest were sublime. With every drag of his cock against your walls, you could feel your stomach clench, the pressure building inside you.

His hips slammed against yours desperately, the bed rocking with your movements beneath you and knocking against the wall—thunk, think, thunk—a steady rhythm. He seemed to be consistent in everything he did.

Jacob pressed his body weight against yours as he moved against you. The room filled with the sounds of both of your bliss, and the lewd squelching noises every time he fucked himseld in you. You could feel the wetness and sweat dribbled to your thighs and your ass; barely comprehending just how messy this would be.

“You feel so good, angel,” he groaned, reaching down between your bodies to flick his thumb over your clit.

You yelped, the sensation nearly tipping you over. “Jacob, oh my god—”

“So good for me,” he murmured, sweat dripping down the curve of his sculpted nose. “Gonna come again for me? Nice and pretty as always?”

Your head nodded vigorously, your hips rising to meet his, pelvic bones smashing against each other, his balls slapping against your ass. “Shit, I'm so close!”

You could feel yourself being cranked and wound up like a jack in the box—the precipice was in sight and just in your reach.

Jacob's thrusts grew sloppy, but rougher as he reached his own high. He grunted against your skin, and you both came at once, his hips stilling inside you as you clenched down hard around him.

“Jacob,” you cried out for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight, while his own voice hoarsely grunted your name by your ear.

For a moment, you let your breathing and heart rate steady. You gently brushed your hand against the back of his head as his arms wrapped around your body and he littered your skin with kisses.

“How was that, angel?” He murmured to you, voice husky. He raised his head up to meet your lips with his.

You kissed him back. “It was really good.”

Jacob gave a warm chuckle, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Five stars,” you joked.

That drew a slightly louder laugh out of him, and he carefully pulled his softened cock out of you. Swiftly tying the condom off, you directed him to the waste bin beneath your desk.

Jacob settled onto the edge of bed next to you and one of his hands cupped the side of your face, his thumb trailing over your cheekbone. “I meant it—you’re really, really gorgeous. And I know this kind of moved fast, but I'd really like to see where this goes.”

You bit your lip around a smile and met the twinkle in his eye. “I feel the same way.”

You slowly sat up and draped yourself around him, one of his hands holding your forearm to return the gesture. “How's a bath sound?” You asked. You wanted to do something for him now.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I would love that.”

a/n: abrupt endings are my weakness 💀 someone remind me how to write a conclusion

tbz m.list

[rarestdoll]

a sight for sore eyes (prologue)

prompt: mizu just can't seem to escape you no matter how hard she tries, even in her dreams

tags: wlw, lesbian, 18+, black fem!reader, using she/he pronouns for mizu, they/them for reader!

warnings: none yet! nsfw in later chapters!

mizu cries out as her face meets dirt yet again, the cool soil in her eyes and mouth doing nothing to ground her from her insatiable thoughts. she's distracted, mind gripping onto the sight of smooth brazen skin and even softer hair, focused on the way silk flies around her like the erratic fluttering of spring butterflies that she doesn't even realize she's flying through the air again until the press of sharp steel homes itself against the column of her throat.

"it's my round again, mizu. i almost feel like you are letting me win which is not exactly fair since we are supposed to be sparring. but it seems like your head is elsewhere, am i correct or is the blue eyed samurai going soft on me?" steel slides under the angle of her chin, craning her head skyward until it lays against the brim of her hat, forcing blue to meet brown and mizu bites down the shiver threatening to rack up her spine.

"no i have not gone soft, i am only a little distracted today but that does not hinder me from training. come on, up again. i need to get a few more hours in before we finish for today." mizu mutters, flicking the midsection of the sword so that the blade steers away from her head. that's not entirely the truth but anything to hide the fact that she just got her ass handed to her without her opponent really trying.

"you know i do not appreciate it when you take pity on me. i've seen you in battle many times and yet you almost never fight the same whenever we choose to fight one another." the steel slides away back into its sheath with a light sigh. mizu almost laughs at the accusation, inner voice yelling at her to just come out with what's truly holding her back but instead she settles for a partial lie.

"i do not take pity, i only retaliate. your stance is too soft and your blows too clumsy. now up again so we can finish our training for today and then we will take a trip to the hot spring nearby to wash the day away to settle for the night. we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, there is no time for playing." she edges, pulling herself to a stand as she readjusts her glasses on her nose to take stance again. time is not to be wasted if they wanted to catch a ride back to town tomorrow.

“as you wish, mizu”

a/n: HIII i finally got inspo to write again! i just got finished watching blue eyed samurai and mizu has been plaguing my mind so here! this is gna be a bit of a slow burn and nsfw will come later, this first part will be the prologue n then ill post chapter one some time later today/tomorrow! ^__^ ♡