#performance as a kind of honesty

[weatherfey]

I think a lot about the way Dorian used to see Cyrus as the perfect older brother, the perfect prince; the way Dorian felt free to go and find himself because Cyrus was capable and dependable and ready to be a leader. That isn’t the Cyrus we see! But I think it’s a lot more interesting, for both Cyrus and Dorian, to take that seriously. They’re princes, and we don’t know what that means because we haven’t seen their home, but socially a court is an elaborately constructed farce. And of course it can be easier to be competent in any familiar environment, but I also think it’s easier to know how you fit within a court environment specifically because there is an overwhelming number of factors to define yourself against and they all have expectations of you, and if they aren’t suffocating you like some kind of spider’s web then it might be perfect, like being a star in a constellation, or just the right puzzle piece. I think it’s reasonable to think that Cyrus was something like who Dorian thought he was, at home; except that Cyrus, like Dorian, wanted to choose the things he’s defining himself against. And I think it’s meaningful that he got swindled in the immediate aftermath of discarding that constellation of puzzle pieces. He was a fool (beloved), but it happened in the first blush of freedom, when he was just starting to figure out who he was or wanted to be without all that defined expectation, which is also - not coincidentally - the state Dorian was in when the spider queen sunk her fingers into his heart and twisted his alignment. The ‘hello world! uh oh’ of it all is something they had in common.

(Something they both had in common with Opal, too.)

I do think it’s interesting to look at Dorian’s sense of responsibility in light of this. I almost think Orym was a kind of north star for Dorian through parts of EXU prime, and I ship them, but it really felt like one of the things that made him able to reject the spider queen is that Orym needed him to. I think he wanted to be someone Orym could rely on, but I think Orym’s regard mattered to him because they genuinely had that protective urge in common - the pathway the spider queen used to skitter in was Dorian’s desire to protect his friends. And that drive to protect added a lot of poignancy to the in-universe reason that Dorian couldn’t return to bell’s hells after Cyrus’s debts were repaid, not just because Cyrus was still getting his legs under him but also because Opal needed help. That’s responsibility, again - he’s finishing what they started. Duty, obligation, but this time he’s chosen who and what he’s beholden to. Like maybe he’s chosen a new version of a puzzle piece that he might have thought he was throwing out entirely when he chose freedom and walked away from home.

I loved that Fearne’s vision also haunted Dorian; he misses her, and it also feels like a solid way to illustrate the spider queen’s effect on Dorian, that the danger of his own corruption has rarely been something he had the luxury to think about. His friends have always needed him. I don’t know if he had time to process his aborted fall during his time in Zephrah, or if there’s still something underneath, but I think it’s telling that this fear doesn’t look like Opal, the one literally bleeding ichor from her forehead; it predates that, it started before Opal was the one to worry about.

And I think he knows he didn’t fail them - Cyrus, Opal, Fy’ra - accidental thunder damage notwithstanding - but, with the way he felt through that suggestion spell and its aftermath, I don’t really know what to make of his abandoning Dariax. It’s a little hard to look at that and not see a drive to isolate. Determined to leave him with a good memory, but most of all, to leave. He started that one-shot interlude having just admitted to himself that he was longing to be Somewhere Else, but I almost wonder if he still would have gone back to bell’s hells if Orym hadn’t asked.

(God, the suggestion spell. The way they processed it was hurtful to me personally. Dariax immediately shifting from ‘won’t leave Opal!’ to ‘let’s go! Opal has a plan’ kind of broke my heart, and I actually think that the spell could have worked on Dorian by just making what was really happening feel reasonable - the last shred of your friend is trying to save you, and you can’t save her from anything except becoming your murderer, so you should do that. But the spell can’t make sense out of abandoning Cyrus’s body, so Dorian just goes numb with grief and rage. Mass suggestion is 24 hours. That is 24 hours of numbness, and rage, and walking, and walking, and walking, and every once in awhile Dariax’s voice, friendly and steady and sure, ‘Opal has a plan.’ And at the end of it the ability to feel returns, but he’s so tired, and he hurts, and everything hurts too much to think about, and poor Dariax probably stops in his tracks, just ‘Dorian? What was Opal’s plan?’)

And he really was so angry. It’s interesting to wonder if that’s still under the surface. He immediately turned to levity - for their sake, and his own - but that moment where the group tells him who killed Will and Derrig, and Robbie instantly wrote down Otohan’s name, didn’t just read like a player taking notes, to me, it read like Dorian putting a name in a ledger. I think it’s easy to let that go because he learns that she’s dead in the very next moment, but I think Dorian felt a weird kind of relief for that half-second, because so much of his anger at what happened to Cyrus and Opal was from being forced to acknowledge that there wasn’t anyone easy to blame, except perhaps a god; and blaming a god is like blaming the universe. What a relief, however short lived, to be faced with a problem you can solve.

[brittlebutch]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[protect-namine]

I am about to start a neji route (because I feel that I need at least three playthroughs to fully understand neji and his plays, so I can't leave him for last). so my thoughts on this may change, but for the moment, my thesis is that neji and kisa are the same kind of thespian, just in different fonts.

(I am slightly exaggerating kisa'a character here. there are hints and I do think pushing the envelope of what her character could be is part of what makes kisa... kisa. as I'll explain later, for better and worse, kisa is constrained by the conventions of being an otome heroine.)

anyway. in essence. neji turns Other Persons into stories,

and kisa turns Other Persons into performances,

while they both simultaneously run away from, avoid, or sacrifice Becoming Persons themselves, for the sake of theater

or maybe it's the other way around. something something discovery if not recognition of the self through the other... except they're both unreliable narrators so who's to say if the recognition actually takes hold, really. kisa at least is a little bit self aware. neji, on the other hand, deals with realizations of the self through writing, without actually processing them (e.g. ms robin, domina, etc).

I keep thinking about (novel) kisa closing her eyes and feeling like her sense of self would melt away until tsuki centers her and gives her theater as a way to heal from the grief of losing her mother. it happens again during tsuki's univeil performance: kisa curling in on herself and tsuki pulling her back to theater as way to help kisa move forward with her dreams. pretending to be others is more fun than being herself.

and then there is neji (insert spiderman pointing at spiderman meme). but in his case, he would rather play eccentric roles, caricatures, comic relief, than be a Person With Depth on stage. neji is always either a seer of some kind (a fortune teller, a ghost who sees 10 seconds into the future) or a bit character (employee A), or... whatever he initially planned for domina. he is the mechanic behind the stage, but never the lead actor. his vulnerabilities do not need to "stolen" for the story, though others' are fair game.

kisa does not think about gender as it applies to herself in her daily life (mostly) and only sees it through the lens of acting and theater. how does she act mukai vs maiden, charles vs chicchi? the same way that neji does not think about the motifs and characters he writes as a window to himself, but rather as objects to be put on stage. rukiora is based on a younger neji, mary jane is I Am Death: Revisited (mary jane is to takihime as gashadokuro is to jacob), sissia is always meant to be the foil to I Am Death. but neji doeen't really understand that just like how he didn't understand oh rama havenna. sissia (kisa route, jack jeanne ver) is to kisa as domina is to neji.

literally kisa at her most extreme is just theater thoughts 24/7

kisa "I don't like being me; I'd rather be other people" tachibana 🤝 kokuto "I need to experiment and witness visions I can't create or I'll die" neji: this is a totally sane and Normal way to cope with abandonment and grief 👍

(it is not implied in the game, but since kisa turned to theater to cope with grief as a child, I wonder if the reason she never looks too deeply into tsuki's disappearance is because she's once again using theater as an excuse to conveniently Not Think About It. out of sight, out of mind. tsuki must be doing well, wherever he is, whatever it is he's doing.)

there is also the meta perspective of how kisa in-game inhabits a role where the player can (and is expected to) self-insert. otome dictates that protagonist kisa must be malleable to the player (who can choose to focus on a variety of relationships in her stead), and the plot dictates that actor kisa must be malleable to her stage roles (jack or jeanne, maiden or hero, flower or vessel), and novel kisa dictates that kisa must malleable to pretending to be other people because it's more preferable to being herself.

every thought she has about herself must be tied to acting, somehow. kisa's personhood is defined through stagecraft. she is the maiden, and mukai, and charles, and chicchi, and sissia. she can romance anyone in the school, of the player's choosing. she can be jack, and jeanne, and jack jeanne. don't get me wrong; kisa is her own character and has a strongly defined personality, but the story also demands for her to be malleable. a painting and a blank canvass at the same time.

neji externalizes where kisa internalizes. where kisa Must Perform™ to function and to avoid herself, neji Must Create™ to function and to avoid himself. scriptwriter neji dictates that neji must use everything at his disposal — his memories, his classmates, his obscure knowledge — as inspiration for stories. director neji dictates that he must use everything he knows about his actors — their complexes, their relationships, their weaknesses and strengths — as inspiration for stories. from the cook (mitsuki) needing apricots for a recipe and wanting to harvest honey from a beehive, to mary jane (fumi) being good at sewing and wanting an equal in jacob. suzu and sou fighting and developing a rivalry leads to jire and fugio fighting over chicchi. kai limits himself as a vessel in hasekura, and kai learns to embrace his desires as the priest. from the water/ocean/drowning themes, to rukiora being based on neji's younger self, and her family life and relationship with domina.

every thought neji has must be tied to stories, somehow. neji's personhood is scattered through stagecraft. the more you read his plays and lyrics, the more you get a glimpse of who he is. it is to the point that neji himself doesn't... really see how his stories reflect himself. ms robin being a "random" song the jazz lounge singer sings thay hasekura and ando can dance to, oh rama havenna being a so-so throwaway play that neji doesn't understand why it's entertaining. lmao. neji, please.

and this is why when problems arise, neji becomes a demanding director and kisa becomes a chameleon actor with a shaky sense of self (we don't really see this a lot because jack jeanne is not that dark of a story and kisa is still an otome heroine of an uplifting game, but it's a reasonable conclusion if you push hard on the kisa from neji's "good morning" exercise, or kisa going ham on method acting as charles. kinda wish the game explored more of that. I think a very stressed kisa can get lost in method acting, just as a very stressed neji is almost paralyzed by the fear of the death of talent).

idk where I was going with this. just. them. they have the same issues, just in different fonts. and I think that's actually what first attracts neji to kisa. kisa "steals" (to borrow neji's own words) just like him. kisa is a fountain of inspiration, an ever changing muse. and neji provides kisa with an endless amount of prompts and characters for her to inhabit. kisa does like to play pretend a lot. that's why she's in theater!

kisa and neji: Art Imitates Life people stuck in a Life Imitates Art video game

ANYWAY usual disclaimer that I'm jotting down livebloghing thoughts and I know some spoilers to neji's route but I'm only just about to actualy start his playthrough so. yeah. this was drafted all the way back in may lol, opinions may change and all that

[shorties-unite]

If Taylor Swift can go through a long term breakup and come out of the other end not only thriving with a tour that is likely going to be one of the most successful and memorable in history but also a whirlwind relationship with cool British sexy man stereotype himself Matty Healy, then surely I can have a conversation with an average guy about how I fall in love easily and like him and want to “get to know him” but also protect myself because he doesn’t seem like he’s in it for a legitimate relationship.

Hey Siri play Sincerity is Scary by the 1975

[invisiblerhythmcat]

I have successfully performed live for the first time in three years!

Still kind of not feeling the impact of it

But I did honestly not quite believe I could until I did

so, like, I fucking did it. I can still do it. I still love it.

Now I need to sleep for a bajillion years

but I can fucking do it.

Go me!

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they act if you called them pretty upon getting catch looking at them…

Dan Heng: blushes. Hard.

He’s not use to someone complimenting his looks as it’s not something he finds important.

‘Are you really that shameless to say such things aloud?’ He’d say while avoiding eye contact with you.

Dan Heng would act as though you just shouted this out loud in front a hoard of people, even though you didn’t.

He’s awkward when it comes to taking compliments aimed his way but his reaction is too fucking cute to ignore and will warrant another compliment his way, which will only serve in making his face brunt redder.

‘Shut up, please.’ He’d plead as he covers a hand over your eyes, feeling as though they’ve stared deeply into his soul and actually see him as a whole person and more. ‘You talk too much about things you don’t understand the first thing of.’

He’s probably going to get teased by March 7th after this and it’ll be used as blackmail, probably.

Give him a moment to breath and calm down before complimenting on how pretty he is because he will combust from how flustered he is.

Argenti: would probably start a compliment war in all honesty because how can you say he’s pretty without admitting that you are also quite a sight for sore eyes.

If you were to compliment his hair, he’d resort back with how even the stars put on their best performance within your presence.

He’s got such a way with words that can easily leave one flustered without even trying. He’d even wax poetry on the spot about how the light catches your eyes in a way similar to that of a kaleidoscope, bright, vibrant and above all breathtaking.

Argenti doesn’t hold back, will not hold back, and will not back down from letting you know just how ethereal you look to him.

He can do this all day, you however could not do this all day seeing how this man has unlimited ammunition when it came to complimenting the beauty of pretty much everything.

(I mean this is the same dude who complimented a plant. 🪴 I bet that plant blushed, we just didn’t see it bc who wouldn’t blush if a chivalrous red head complimented them?)

Welt: smiles softly as a light blush coated his cheeks.

He’s well kept for someone who’s in his 60/70/80’s And he deserves to be told as such!

(all I know is that he’s grandpa age from other ppl)

So when you do compliment him and call him pretty, this old man is going to thank you for such kind words and probably give you head pats as a reward.

He appreciates a kind compliment now and then.

‘Why thank you, I try my best to keep in good shape if I’m meant to keep up with all of you.’ He would say in response followed by a chuckle.

Welt is young at heart and knows that his body isn’t how it once was but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a restless spirit within an old man’s body. So when you compliment him, it only makes him feel good and warm on the inside.

Blade: doesn’t know how to take compliments.

He’s not use to it and doesn’t know how to react to it other than saying something along the lines of;

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

Or just straight up. ‘No.’

And all the while his face is like this: 😐 or this 😒

It’s never one or the other, blade just doesn’t view himself worth the compliment, when the only things about him that people see most is that he’s a bad dude in a bad group doing bad things.

He doesn’t see why you’re wasting a kind, genuine compliment on someone whose entire body is riddled in ugly scars.

Blade is the type of person where you’d have to prove that your compliment is genuine or else he just won’t believe it.

Sampo: his ego is boosted to the max.

Well done you’ve made him even more insufferable.

He will smile that Cheshire smile of his and ask to hear what else about him you find appealing besides his pretty face.

You: your exposed hips, you slut-

However behind his cocky persona, he’s a giggly bitch who’s mentally kicking his feet and writing this interaction in his bubblegum pink diary with a glitter pen.

Sampo is deeply invested in what you thought about the rest of him but won’t let it show as he would consider it ‘out of character’ for himself. So he’ll continue to act the cocky and confident fool like he always does.

He’ll be the type to tease you about potentially killing him while internally screaming himself and telling other people that you find him pretty, much to your embarrassment.

‘You see them over there? Yeah they called ol’ Sampo pretty!’ He’d say to a random person while pointing towards you as you try to hide yourself behind a trash can…only for the trash can to grow arms and legs and walk off elsewhere.

Why were the arms and legs buff as fuck? What was their workout routine? You must know. now.

Sunday: takes the compliment in kind.

He looks like the type to get called handsome or pretty on the daily, so it’s nothing new to him but he’ll take the compliment nonetheless.

He’s probably the most calm out of the bunch when being called pretty, besides from maybe Welt.

He’s not bashful, he’s not overtly arrogant and he’s not in denial about it either. He just takes the compliment as it is and goes on about his day like any other.

Though people would take note on how he’s smiling brighter than usual. Your compliment would stay with him the entire day, as it serves as a reminder of his place within your heart and he’s secretly scheming on ways on how to stay within your heart.

Permanently.

[killergee]

Wrote this on my phone so sorry if the formatting is wonky. First fanfic since I was a teenager, so pls be kind and enjoy!

Soshiro x reader fanfic where you're cold towards him so he thought you hated him but you actually like him.

Summary: Hoshina thinks you're only out for his position but turns out you might not hate him as much as he thinks.

P1 P2 P3

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

"I am grateful and honoured to be recommended for the position of Vice Captain for the second division. However, I wish to be only Captain Ashiro's Vice Captain. Until then, I am happy to remain a platoon leader."

Those were the first words Hoshina heard you say. The first time he met you was at the higher up conference. It was decided that you would be promoted based on your performance in the latest Kaiju attack. But in all honesty, he was barely paying attention as he stood in his position behind Ashiro at the round table. It was one of those monthly meetings that seemed to drag on and on, and he couldn't help but try to stiffle a yawn. It wasn't like he had a say in the decision anyway, so what's the point of listening.

His interest peaked slightly when you walked in. He had seen you around the base a couple of times and had heard your name every once in a while. But his mind was always on training himself, the rookies, and keeping them alive.

He would be lying if he said you weren't a sight for sore eyes. Your gaze was strong, and you held your head high as you presented yourself to the higherups. One of those ice princesses, he guesses, as he shifts his gaze to look at the clock.

Who would've thought you'd be so interesting.

"HAHAHA! It's great to have aspirations," one of the higher ups laughed at your rejection, "too bad Hoshina has already got you beat. You want us to replace Hoshina with you?" A series of giggles erupted around the room.

"Not at all," you said, and Hoshina swears he saw a small smirk break your cold facade. "Hoshina is a fine Vice Captain and one that Captain Mina personally appointed. Simply put, when the time comes and Captain Ashiro needs someone else, I just want to be ready for the call," you replied with what he thinks is a bit of mirth in your eyes. He also could've sworn your gaze shifted to him at the end.

Your statement was strong, ambitious, and slightly threatening even. You've practically announced that you were out for his position and if he is ever deemed unfit, you'll be the one who'll snag it from him.

He swears that was the moment he was hooked on you.

Yet, it seems it wouldn't be easy to see that break in your facade again. Well, at least not easy for him. Somehow it wasn't until this point that he noticed how popular you were. According to everyone else, you were cool, fun, and kind. So why is it that you're always so cold towards him? He's heard your platoon absolutely gush about you to everyone they've met. He's seen you crack an unwilling smile to some of the younger cadets on the training field from a distance. Hell, he's even eaves dropped on you joking with his own squad.

"Hibino-kun, I heard you wanted to stand beside the Captain," you said slyly as you sat infront of Kafka in the study room. You were resting your head on your hand and eyeing at Kafka in a way that makes even Hoshina gulp. Though, probably in a different way from Kafka. Kafka flushed and tried to look at anywhere but you, "y-yeah I'm gonna try my best to do so... I also heard that you, um, were also aiming for Vice Captain?" He scratched his head a bit embarrassed but you only looked even more amused as your gaze sized him up as if evaluating him and his ambitions.

"That's right" you said with a mischievous smile.

"So I guess that makes us enemies for now, haha"

"No. Not necessarily," you sighed crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward as if to tell Kafka a secret. "You know the saying, the enemy of your enemy is your friend. So you and I are friends."

"And who's the enemy?"

"Hoshina, of course."

Well, isn't that something Hoshina thought. At least Kafka was enjoying himself.

"I guess he is," he said shoulders slumping, finally loosening up and laughing.

"Once he's out of the picture then we'll be enemies and I'm warning you, you don't want to be my enemy," Hoshina heard you joke back.

"Is that so?"

"Vice Captain!" Kafka shouted as he stood up to salute him as Hoshina entered the room. You on the other hand, seemed to be taking your sweet time getting up to salute him.

"Sir," you said flatly, all the humour you once had vanishing. Your eyes bored into his as if you were looking at an ant beneath your boot.

Right. Not easy. Definitely not easy at all.

"Do ya really see me that way y/n-kun?" Hoshina said as he walked to stand infront of you. "Why, you're hurting my lil' ol' feelings."

He knew he was standing closer to you than you'd like. With how your cheek slightly twitched, he can't say he wasn't enjoying this.

"I apologize, sir," you mumbled as if it pained you to say. "If it pains you so much why don't you go on leave? Take as much time as you need to recover."

"Oh? And let you take over my position?" He responded with a growing smile that showed off his fang.

"Or Hibino-kun can," you responded bringing back Hibino into the conversation.

"Um!" Hibino squeaked and both you and Hoshino snap your heads to look at him. "I-I uh... Nevermind."

"That's 5 laps for you, Hibino"

"What? Why I didn-"

"You want to do 10?" Hoshina threatened as a sliver of his eyes opens.

"No, sir!" Hibino salutes before hurrying himself out of the situation—scared he'll upset his vice captain even more.

With only the two of you left in the room, your slight step backwards doesn't go unnoticed by Hoshina.

"And how many laps do you want me to run, sir?" You asked in a way that Hoshina knows that if he were to discipline you, you'd pull your rank and find a way to refuse. Or perhaps you'll do it anyways and exaggerate his cruelty as a Vice Captain. So instead, why not take this opportunity to interrogate you?

"None. Just wanna talk"

"But Hibino-"

"Hibino-kun this Hibino-kun that. Do ya like the guy that much?" Hoshina cuts in, irked in a way he doesn't really understand.

"Negative. Just thought you'd be more fair," you responded flippantly, your eyes sharp and questioning.

"And who says you'll go unpunished?" Your eyes widened at that—but just as quickly as it did—your face returned to its calm and collected facade. Enjoying seeing the briefest crack in your composure, Hoshina started to wonder what else makes you tick and what other expressions can you make.

With a smirk he leaned back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. "Say how long have you been in the force?"

The twitch of your eyebrow tells him you're thinking, what does that have to do with being punished. But you still responded, "six years, sir."

"Ahh so a little bit after me. No wonder. I would've remembered a face like yours in my cadet days." He said with a teasing smile. You seem to freeze a bit at his flirtation and it might be wishful thinking but did he see a small blush? Before he could think about it any further you responded, "yes, how very unfortunate we couldn't have entered the force together. Perhaps things could've been different if I had," insinuating something else.

"You're really out for my blood aren't you y/n-kun?" He chuckled lightly.

"Nope. Not really," you said nonchalantly seemingly finding his shoulder more interesting to look at. Hoshina leaned down to cut your line of sight. Face tilted at an angle, he leaned close to your face to force your eyes on him.

"Hmmm this is no good y/n-kun. We're supposed to be comrades, but where's the comraderie? How can we fight kaiju while bickering?"

"We'll survive," you said exasperated.

"Say, ya know what? I think I've thought of the perfect punishment for ya!" Hoshina exclaimed with an almost boyish excitement. He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. "Since ya wanna be Vice Captain so bad, for your punishment ya have to follow me 'round and help me out with my duties."

"Like a servant?" You responded bewildered with his idea.

"Servant, slave, Vice Vice Captain. Call it whatever ya want. This way we can form a better relationship, which, hey, will set a great example for the kids," he joked only to be responded with your incredulous face that couldn't even bother to hide your grimace. "If anything, it'll benefit you too since you get to see what I do," he continued, shrugging slightly. "Maybe you can even find all my weaknesses and make a huge list to use against me to get my position," Hoshina chuckled at the thought.

After a beat of silence, Hoshina was moments away from taking it all back when you said, "okay, send me your schedule." This time, it was Hoshina whose eyes widened. He fully expected you to reject it. Hell, he suggested it in the first place because he wanted to see your reaction and how'd you go about rejecting him. Well, things are about to get fun.

His mouth curled into a grin. "Meet me at my office by 7am tomorrow," Hoshina said as he headed out of the room. "Get some rest, you'll need it."

"Whatever you say, your highness, bowlcut motherfucker," he heard you mumble under your breath as the door clicks close behind him.

Oh yea. This will be fun.

‐------------

It's been three weeks since you've been tasked to follow him around. Three weeks of teasing and getting to know each other. Three weeks of little change in your attitude towards him, Hoshina thinks sadly. He thought that he would've been able to win you over with this extra time together. Yet, it seems that he was the only one being won over.

He couldn't stop himself even if he tried. Your quick and witty comebacks. Your cold phrasing and comments that are unintentionally funny (or perhaps they are intentional and it's just your humour?). Your earnest efforts in completing the ridiculous tasks he's assigned you. The glimmer in your eyes and your attempts to stop a smile when you're trying to pretend he isn't funny. He couldn't help but be drawn towards you—basking in the light that you emit, the light you try to hide behind your cold facade.

He wonders if you could tell. If you noticed the glances he threw your way. If you saw how he lit up when you entered the room. If you could see how distracted he became when you sat and worked beside him. Shoulders only a hair's breath apart. So close that he could only smell your sweet perfume and watch your fingers fiddle with the edge of paper. He always had to stop himself from leaning closer until his nose rested in the crook of your neck—until he could breath you in deeper. Oh how he longed to close his hand over yours so that you could hold onto something more stable than paper. How he wished to distract you the way you distracted him.

Hoshina huffs out a sigh as he walks out of the captains meeting with the other divisions. Ashiro couldn't attend so he went in her stead—much to Captain Narumi's displeasure. He did take you with him hoping that after this maybe he could convince you to get ice cream with him or something on the way back home to base. He can already imagine how bored you were waiting for him and how that might higher your chances of saying yes. He remembers you were talking with some other recruit from the 1st division when he left you in the break room.

The sound of your voice makes him halt a couple of steps infront of the break room.

"Eh? No way you think Captain Narumi is cooler than Captain Ashiro," he hears you argue.

"I'm sorry are your eyes broken or something? He's so hot. You can't compare him to her like that. They're two different kinds of hot" the girl he assumes he saw earlier responds passionately.

"Sure I'll concede to that but not to him being cooler." That's not something Hoshina wanted to hear right after his hours long meeting. Leaning back against the wall beside the slightly opened door, he can't help but feel irked. He couldn't believe he's getting jealous of Ashiro.

"Ugh that's just cuz you haven't seen him up close yet, " the other girl responds. "But hey, at least there's one thing we can agree on."

"And what's that?" You ask and Hoshina can tell your interests has been peaked.

"That Vice Captain Hoshina is the worst of the bunch." Hoshina's eyebrow twitches and he has half a mind go in there and make the recruit do 200 push-ups or try to find Narumi and beat him into a pulp. He doesn't because he was more curious about your response.

"I saw you rolling your eyes at him before the meeting. It must be tough working for him," the recruit continues.

You let out a tired laugh, "oh yeah, he's the worst. He's got me running around like a servant!" You say with a sigh and you lean your head onto your crossed arm on top of the table.

"Really! That's crazy. I just can't get over his bowlcut."

"RIGHT! His stupid bowlcut. His stupid fangs. His stupid cocky attitude..." Alright, well. Hoshina couldn't handle anymore of this. He pushed himself off the wall ready to open the door.

"God, I want him so bad." Huh? Hoshina froze in his steps, eyes wide open. Did he mishear you? He must have misheard you.

"HUH?" The recruit repeats a second later. "But you were just calling his hair stup-"

"It is stupid. He should not look that hot with that hair cut," you ramble on seriously as if in a world of your own.

"Stupid little fangs. I hate the way he uses them to nibble on his lips when he concentrates. Why the fuck does he have fangs?! Is he a vampire? God, it's so distracting." Although you're saying all of this like a rant, Hoshina can't help but overheat in his uniform. Covering half his face with his hand he already knows he's red.

"What? Are we looking at the same person?!" The recruit exclaims exasperated with you.

"I think I'm losing my mind," you say running your hand through your hair trying to soothe yourself. "He's so annoying. Always teasing me and sticking so close to me. God I feel like I'm always a second away from tearing at my hair or tearing that stupid compression shirt off. Any tighter and he won't be able to breath. It's like he's doing it on purpose to show off his abs." Hoshina chokes on his own spit.

"You know what? M-maybe it's cuz you haven't gone on a date in a while. Maybe you just need to get laid." The recruit says with a touch of worry—genuinely trying to find any rhyme or reason to your attraction.

"Ughhhh," you say sliding down your chair. "Maybe you're right, I should get laid." There's a pause before you're suddenly sitting back up straight. You lean towards the recruit across the table, "maybe I'll ask Captain Narumi out."

NO "NO!! He's off limits don't you fucking dare!" The recruit screams standing up abruptedly and slamming her hands onto the table.

By the sounds of your maniacal laughter, Hoshina hopes you're only joking.

"Don't worry," you wheeze out, wiping a tear from your eye. "Your precious Captain is all yours." Hoshina hears the humour and mischief in your voice and he can't help but smile too. From the sound of your voice, he knows you're not done teasing the recruit.

"PLUS-" Ah, there she goes " Vice Captain Hoshina is much much MUCH cooler than Captain Snorumi anyways."

The scandalous gasp does well to hide his own snicker.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"That's just the truth, hun. We all know it," you say matter of factly as you lean back into your seat crossing your arms.

"You can't even compare someone who's only a Vice Captain to a Captain! Captain Narumi climbed the r-"

"Oh is being Captain all it takes to be cool? Well Narumi must've been a drag before he became Captain." You argue back defiantly and cheekily, clearly enjoying this.

"Well swords are powerless against a gun! He can't-"

"And yet he was able to be promoted to Vice Captain with his swords while some of us can't even become a platoon leader with their guns." Both the recruit and Hoshina gasp at that and Hoshina decides to interrupt before the situation escalates further. If only he was a little less responsible. He would've loved to see how far you'd go for him. Oh well, he has all the time in the world to corner you about it.

"Yoohoo! The meetings over y/n-kun- Ah, sorry, was I interrupting something?" He says with a grin as both your heads snap towards him scandalized. Well, the recruit appears to be scandalized. You seem to be mortified.

Your jaw dropped open and the red that was flushing your skin from the tip of your ears all the way down to your neck was so pleasing. To think that you yourself would be the downfall of your cool and collected image amuses Hoshina greatly. He can only stare and admire the mess you've become. Too cute. Way too cute for his heart.

"C-captain!" Your voice cracks. Oh, even cuter. "I uh- I, we were- you didn't interrupt anything at all" you say clearing your throat and trying to regain your composure.

"What's got ya all worked up l/n?" He asks with false innocence as he tilts his head, "were you talking about something you shouldn't be?" He teases with a slight lilt in his voice.

"Of course not!" Growing a shade brighter you add "Sir!" to try to save yourself.

"Well alright then, come on let's go, I'm over this place," Hoshina says nodding his head goodbye at the recruit and exiting the room. He hears you whisper shout your own goodbyes before running to catch up with him. You stop and walk slightly behind him and he can't help but revel in your embarassment. He wonders if he should let you off easy or see how far he can push you...

"So you think my hair is stupid?"

He swears he can hear you internally scream.

[astrolovecosmos]

❤️‍🔥Venus & Mars❤️‍🔥

Written from the perspective of Venus representing femininity and Mars masculinity. Please take this with a grain of salt.

Aries Venus: Warrior Queen, hellfire eyes, won't take no for an answer, upfront, hungry for action, red petals and lips, all eyes on her, can leave a burn or scar.

Aries Mars: Ardent eyes and lips, fiery protector, a good competitor, rescuer, conquering libido, always at 100, hot days and unforgettable nights.

Taurus Venus: Irresistible charm or look, low-key seductive, enduring and magnetic, slow burn, dream weddings or dates, romantic touch, comforting and content, careful with hearts.

Taurus Mars: Caring hands, hedonistic attitudes, down-to-earth until they're not, things are always on their time, level-headed or stable assertiveness, smells good, shares with those they love their soft spot.

Gemini Venus: Shapeshifting enchantress, leading you astray or into ecstasy or both, bright feathers and dazzling wings, sharp talons and a sharper tongue, curious creature, get lost in her eyes, movements, or storms.

Gemini Mars: Lightning-fast energy but airy to be around, wins you over with humor, takes pride in his intellect, upbeat and always around a crowd or working one, bewitches with ease and passion.

Cancer Venus: Mysterious and soft glows, gentle and kind, a protective force of nature, messy and engulfing feelings, hard to fall but when they do they fall hard, can be others safety, gets her way.

Cancer Mars: Silent and strong type or insightful and tenderhearted, deep and sensitive, trustworthy vibes, that moody artist or introverted mystery, a wall or door people are tempted to investigate, a powerful guardian, never gives up.

Leo Venus: Strength and beauty of a goddess, instant connections and passion, object of adoration or desire, demands your attention, worship and heart, romance in their veins, she is the sun - center of your universe.

Leo Mars: Draws you in with his performance, wins, or adventures, brave in the bedroom, will risk it all, life of the party, maybe vain or selfish but always on top, a king, lust and power, feverish and flirty, are you his muse, trophy, or queen?

Virgo Venus: The answer to all your prayers or questions, devoted blood, sensuous and erotic, always has it together, earthy vibes and quiet affection, thoughtful, but may bite, will you grow with her or will she outgrow you?

Virgo Mars: Innocent eyes with a mischievous or know-it-all smirk, reliable arms, secret vitality but not-so secret intellect and wit, observational, appreciative, discerning in preferences and partners, will work hard for you but what will you do for them?

Libra Venus: You can't miss her when she walks into a room, candlelight and wine, charm, beauty, and brains, falls easily, likely has a line of admirers, elegance and grace, now you know why lust and love are seen as ✨magic✨.

Libra Mars: Knows how to make you happy or calm, secretly a hunting hound, hard to resist, if you're with him you're BEAUTIFUL, affectionate and chivalrous, charismatic one minute and introverted the next, can you figure him out?

Scorpio Venus: THE seductress, passionate and dramatic temptation and lust, says forever and means it, rapacious lover, deep and hypnotic, a heart-stopping and mystic medusa, jealous and unforgiving but will give you everything.

Scorpio Mars: Eyes that look into your soul, the dark and edgy type, sex-appeal is their weapon along with mystery or secrecy, an intense enigma, sensitive yet powerfully assertive, an unstoppable force, may be obsessive or easily misunderstood but knows you more intimately than anyone else.

Sagittarius Venus: For true adventurers only, free spirit and a rebellious heart, more independent than you, the most fun you've ever had, a huntress, lucky in love, desire + lust + companionship, can you handle her honesty?

Sagittarius Mars: Always taking their shot, will explore and challenge you, a wild ride, infectious and attractive optimism, humor, or even clumsiness or awkwardness, chronically adaptable and energetic - can you keep up?

Capricorn Venus: Ice you want to melt, respect or admiration are the only options, reliable and grounded, always in control, you know when she's approaching, true faithfulness, hard to satisfy, she's the authority.

Capricorn Mars: Relentless and calculated pursuit, private and cool-headed, #relationshipgoals, provider vibes, an underrated smooth talker, powerful influence and drive, all about longevity...

Aquarius Venus: Magnetic sorceress, intellectual babe, sparkling and different, always keeping you on your toes, can do it all on her own but likes your company, unconventional relationships, falling in slow motion or fast-forwarding into love at high speed.

Aquarius Mars: Visionary wizard with enticing charisma, pushing boundaries, special aurora and bedroom moves, erratic and strong-willed, sees the best in you, channeling passion into each other's minds and bodies.

Pisces Venus: Sensational siren, dreamy and karmic, elusive moments, drowning in feeling, flip a coin for love or lust - throw it in the fountain for both, making your dreams and/or nightmares come true.

Pisces Mars: That hopeless romantic, sweet and sensitive, imaginative moves and touch, will give you their heart and soul, captivating and addicting, your fantasy lover.

[lowkeyremi]

jjk men and aftercare ft. Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Toji, and Geto.

a/n: I saw something like this awhile ago and forgot to write abt it but here I am now babyyyy. also not proofread bc im tired :P

cw: really suggestive, established relationships, how they are after sex basically :)

Gojo Satoru

When you two first started hitting third base Gojo was all about himself and about how he felt. When you had cleaned yourself up and prepared for bed that night Satoru finally realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong, babe? I thought you liked it??" He asks, worried about his performance in bed. Your silence prompts him to try and figure out what he had done wrong, and honestly he couldn't even think of anything.

"Pleaseeee tell me. I won't know if you don't say anything." Those invasive thoughts that tell you, "you don't matter to him." start to attack your brain once again. He's way out of your league you start to think.

"Aftercare. You didn't even offer to help me clean up, Satoru." Saying it out loud makes you sound kind of petty in your opinion but it does matter.

"OH. Shit baby I'm so so so so sorry!!!!! I- It's just-" He cuts himself off and tries to reword his sentence, "Well, back then I.. I was sleeping around so my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to me. It's different.. you know? Dating. I'm still working out everything. I won't forget next time I promise."

He'd been telling the truth because from then on he always went all out with aftercare. He would run you a bath with your favorite salts and oils, he'd make you your favorite snacks, he'd even cuddle you afterwards until you fell asleep. (rich boyfriend privileges)

Choso Kamo

He'd been waiting so long to finally sleep with you for the first time so he had done all his research prior to the day. He was looking at your dilated pupils, messy hair, and the cum that sat on your stomach.

"Okay so, according to the article I read, I should run you a hot bath, yeah?" He asks nervously.

A small smile braces your lips. In all honesty you probably should have expected this much from Choso. He wants to make sure everything is perfect.

"You looked up aftercare???" You sit up on the bed and a back cramp decides to hit right then and there. As soon as he hears your groan he sprints the the kitchen, only to return with a heat pad.

"Heat pad for cramps?" He's truly nervous, and eager to please you, the love of his life.

"Thank you, Cho. I'll take you up on that bath."

"Of course, I'll get in with you if that's okay." The smile on your face is enough of an answer.

Nanami Kento

YOU ARE WINNING!!!!

Massages, baths, homemade snacks, you name and he'll do it for you. In his mind it's the least he can do for you, because you treat him so well and give him that pretty pussy he loves so much.

"Right here?" He's currently working those skilled fingers into your tight muscles after bending you every which way.

"Ohhh... yes right there, baby. Hurts so muchhhh." You whine and moan at the same time. At this point you two have already bathed and he's made sure to moisturize your body leaving you clean and refreshed.

He seemed to notice the way you limped and asked if you need anything. The sex was good really, but you didn't want to tell him that folding you in half wasn't the best idea. Oh, but he's persistent would not leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

Once you told him he had immediately sat you down, picked up your favorite lotion and started to work out the kinks in your body.

"I'm so sorry, again." He mumbles quietly.

"Stop apologizing, Kento. These things happen. At least I know to stretch before hand next time." His face softens at your giggles and he presses a small kiss to your thigh.

"Oh do not get me started." A smile creeps up his face, while blush slowly spreads across yours.

Toji Fushiguro

BOOOOOO no aftercare. well maybe not much at least.

Has not properly cared for a woman since his late wife but he realizes if he wants you to stay he'll have to fix that.

At first he would throw a wet rag at you and give a simple, "here clean up." When he got out the shower he was genuinely confused why you were no longer at his apartment.

As soon as you picked up he could tell you were pissed, "What do you want, Fushiguro."

He's a little shocked, did not expect that from you, "I'm your boyfriend so it's Toji and not Fushiguro. The hell is your problem??"

The silence is so loud. For a second he thought you'd hung up on him. "Hello??"

"I'm giving you some time to think about that dumbass question and figure out why I'm mad at you." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes too. He's lucky you can't see it.

"Ugh, I don't have time to play the damn guessing game. You're always mad about the little things.. what is it?" He's running through anything he could have possibly done wrong recently.

"Toji, you threw a fucking wet washcloth at me and told me to clean myself up. I'm your girlfriend, not one of your one night stands!" There it is, and the bad part is he doesn't even see what's wrong with that. (at first)

"I don't even give them something to clean up with, I just leave. But damn if you want me to get all fancy and shit I'll try." He scratches his head and begins to wonder why women are so hard to please.

Let me tell you he's no Nanami, but it's getting better. Still falls asleep afterward most times tho :/

Geto Suguru

You do it yourself for the most part, and here's why.

He's over here washing you up in the tub and he can't stop staring at your soapy titties and it just leads to more sex.

It's never just aftercare with him. He's always chasing more. Like that time you asked him to massage your legs after you two had finished fucking in the tub.

"Yeah shit why not? Lotion or oil??" He asks looking through your products.

"Uhhh lotion's fine." You'd grabbed your phone to see if your mother left you a voicemail which she did. She talked about how you need to pick up the phone or at least text her your alive if you're not gonna pick up. You were NOT going to pick up earlier though. Suguru likes to tease and you learned that the hard way when he was eating you out while you were discussing group bonding dinner ideas with your boss over the phone.

Anyway, he made his way to the bed with your lotion and all things went to hell. It was slow at first, nothing too sensual, then of course he had to slip a finger in your pussy and you sat there and stared.

"We are not doing this, we just got out of the bath." You were so serious, but so was he. (you were also aroused so)

"Another bath never hurt anybody, 'fraid of a little water baby??"

(such an annoying whore)

[llamagoddessofficial]

Llama, could you share any datemate Fae!Dream you may have please 🥺

What a lovely, silly, complicated guy.

We know he's got... issues. His whole life he's been surrounded by yes-men and people who think the sun shines out of his ass. He really, genuinely believes that his worth as a person is directly tied to how 'good' of a King he is; hence his habit of hyper-focusing on a new partner, then gradually drifting away from them as his need to continually prove his 'goodness' begins to rear its head again.

I think Dream, deep down, really wants someone who doesn't think he's all that. Someone who doesn't admire him, or get swept up in his power and prestige. Someone who actually sees him.

He would really like someone blunt. Someone who sees through him. Someone who will say "Dream, I feel really abandoned, you're being a shitty partner." or "I'm hurt that you keep sending gifts as apologies for not spending time with me, it feels like you don't care enough to actually come apologise."

He wants someone who'll talk with him for hours. But if not more, he wants someone who will stay even when he's silent. Someone who'll sit with him by the lakeside, his head in their lap, doing nothing. Saying nothing. Reading together is one of his favourite activities.

He wants someone who won't rush to 'fix' that he isn't happy.

Someone who doesn't need a performance.

Being with Dream means understanding that he's the King of a massive, sprawling realm. He will be busy. You won't always have his time.

He's much more perceptive than he lets on. He'll remember if you expressed interest in something.

He has taken many lovers to the most beautiful areas of the Summer realm. But he has a place that's 'his', where no one else is allowed to go. It has a small pond, not as pretty as the big lakes. A tree, old and wizened but still bearing fruit. A tiny garden with flowers he planted himself.

He'll take you there. He wants you to see it.

You'd probably constantly be surprised that he keeps coming back to you. Everyone else in his life says exactly what he wants to hear, why does he always refuse to dismiss you from his side, even though you're the only one who dares to tell him what you really think? All the other fae look at you like you're insane when you plainly tell him your thoughts. Yet he still brings you everywhere.

He deeply craves that kind of reality check. You're always calling him out, but never in a malicious way. It's just honesty. And even when you do tell him he'd being a (pardon my British coming through) massive git, you still treat him with kindness and stay by his side. You see his flaws but remain anyway.

He's surprisingly not overly physically affectionate. He shows physical love in more restrained ways - taking off his gloves to help you down from a horse, seeing you for the first time in a while and spinning you when you jump into his arms, quietly resting his head on your shoulder when he's so tired but the day isn't over yet, letting the kiss on your hand linger that fraction longer.

When it's just the two of you, he doesn't smile as much. You come to realise just how much that means he loves you.

[wutaijiemei]

@saharadesertaj i mean it could've been worse but as former tumblr user miyokichi, op of this post, and an individual who i suspect has written more paragraphs on this woman than anyone else in this sad, sad world, i think a lot of her depth is owed to subtext past a point where it's realistic to confidently say it was all the product of authorial intent.

like her actions are mostly just positioned as the behaviors of a kind of erratic woman desperate for male attention with a few tiny hints at more complex motivations but nothing that delves into it nearly enough for her relative importance to the story imo.. and i do think kikuhikos role presents a v convenient out by making any shallowness in her portrayal a plausible narrative tool in and of itself but knowing kumota its just not one im convinced was wholly intentional..

and like. on that note. she was created by an insane bl author who openly admitted hayashibara's performance changed her conception of the character and plans for the ending bc she was never meant to be that deep ajsjhdhf

so personally i think it's very fair to say she was not developed to her full potential bc i cannot in good conscience call it lack of underdevelopment to throw in the "im tired of the role of woman" monologue at the bitter end of the series, even though it is certainly what i would deem a set of individually good writing decisions. this comment did not even annoy me btw im just genuinely this obsessed with miyokichi i cant stop talking once i have an excuse to think about her .

imagine baby trapping a man so u can make him marry you but not because you love him or even enjoy his company just so you can cut him off from your ex to get back at him after u finally admit to yourself when he officially breaks up with you that u always knew he was gay and in love with your newlywed husband who was in love with him also but then u baby trap him doubly in the sense that u abandon him to poorly raise your daughter because u didnt actually want a daughter or a gay husband and then the whole thing backfires because your ex is like theres no way those two can raise a child ive gotta go see whats happening and finds his lost love single parenting this kid so then he settles in and plays house for months and co-parents and then u come back and realize what happened and have a total mental breakdown and stab your husband miyokichi is literally the underdeveloped woman of all time who would do something like this its been nearly 2 years and im still obsessed with her

[amis127]

As someone who is also in the "do people only like me because of how I make them feel" camp, let me just say Sam definitely appreciates how honest Evan is with what he's feeling at all times. Sam's de-escalation tactics are really tied to her presence and honesty in the moment, and that sometimes gets conflated with just being nice (which is good ofc but also superficial/surface level).

In the same way Sam isn't just being nice to Evan, there's a directness that she doesn't get to experience often because people feel a need to match her energy. She can just say the truth to Evan and he can respond in kind and they can both trust (or learn to trust) that the other isn't just performing a social script. That's just as beneficial to Sam as it is for Evan

[whatawaitsus]

It's your final year at Killian Argent's School for the Supernatural; a prestigious boarding school for supernatural beings. In theory this doesn't mean much. Your future has been set since you were a child: graduate from a prestigious boarding school, get into an equally prestigious college that your parents will pay for, and then get a prestigious well-paying job with your father's connections. It is what is, you're past the point of complaining at this point in your life.

Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework.

That is until students start to go missing.

Oh, and you start having prophetic dreams of your missing brother. But, that's probably better to unpack later, in all honesty.

What Awaits Us is upcoming choicescript interactive fiction project. The game is rated 16+ for violence, manipulation, kidnapping, strong language, drug use, religious imagery and trauma and optional suggestive content.

Choose what kind of witch you are; customize your gender, pronouns, sexuality, physical appearance, personality, magic class, uniform style, dorm decor, familiar, and more.

Balance trying to solve the disappearances of your peers and your performance as a student.

Establish your relationships with your parents and older brother by playing through flashbacks.

Deicide on your class schedule and extracurricular activity that will have the ability to affect your stats.

Choose one out of five romantic options; a moody kitsune, an expressive siren, a bubbly godling, or a quiet godling, or an apathetic arachne.

Solve the mystery of the missing kids and potentially get a lead on your runaway brother.

Unwillingly gain a weird almost mentor figure in the form of one of your teachers.

Rei Nakamura [they/them, kitsune]: C's roommate. Rei has been at this school as long as you, though your interactions are next to none. You always spot their name at the top of all the classes you share. They generally keep to themselves, only interacting with C and the kids they tutor. When they do talk it's usually an insult or a refusal to do something. It's not a surprise that they're generally disliked by most of the school. How they happened to befriend an outgoing siren is beyond you.

Cleo/Cyrus Valtameri [gender selectable, siren]: Rei's roommate. C is.. a lot. They transferred during your ninth term; originally from Drialia, which is clear from their accent. They joined the theater club nearly as soon as they were enrolled and have landed nearly every lead since then. The two of you don't interact much, but when you do happen to cross paths they're always animatedly nice to you; they're like that to everyone except Rei, really. You almost swear you've seen the two of them point at you and laugh.

Lydia Taylor* [she/her, godling]: Lukas's twin sister. You've been partnered up with Lydia a few times for projects and she's always a diligent student. She's in the boxing club, which is honestly kind of intimidating, especially after what happened between her and Stephan Kim in your sixth term. But, she's always been plenty nice to you too, not fake nice like you've realized most of your classmates are. She and her brother are never apart from eachother, either.

Lukas Taylor [he/him, godling]: Lydia's twin brother. Lukas Taylor has been going through an 'emo phase' about as long as you've known him. You vaguely remember the mop of strawberry blond hair that was on his head when he first came here, though you have a suspicion he bribed a mage to wipe it from the yearbooks. Lukas is quiet; the polar opposite of his sister. You don't think he's in any clubs, though he is always carrying around a weathered sketchbook.

Nico/Nadia Ruiz-Estrada [gender selectable, arachne]: Your roommate. N and you have shared a dorm for the past five years, and they're possibly your best friend. Despite constantly skipping all of their classes, barring the ones the two of you share, their grades remain high. Even after knowing them for six years you still don't know if they care about anything besides displeasing their older sister. They started a band in your ninth year; Bite The Bullet. Half of the kids in your term are convinced they were formerly in prison, something that makes N laugh hysterically whenever you bring it up.

Polyamorous routes available with Rei & Cleo/Cyrus and Lukas & Nico/Nadia.

*Lydia is only romancable by female and nonbinary MC's.*

[queenpiranhadon]

Hey hey

I wanted to request a dad aizawa x singer daughter :))

She is his only and biological daughter and wanted since she was little to become a singer and musician but never told Aizawa becase she thought he would told her to become a hero, and one day he finds her singing and playing an dificult instrumen.

Thankss

A/N: HIII IM SORRY THIS MIGHT BE KINDA BAD BC I HAVENT HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH MY DAD IN A WHILE LOLLL Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): reader uses she/her pronouns, slight cursing, inaccurate Japanese translations lol, violin terms bc I'm a violinist :), reader's biological mom is dead, Aizawa became a dad at 19 - he's like 34 in this jsyk, reader's 15-16 yrs old, mentions of being disowned, fluff, mentions of depression and death, Kae makes a really bad pun, hime means princess in Japanese

Pairing(s): Shota Aizawa x daughter f!reader (PLATONIC)

Link to the song in this fic~

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜʀɪ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

“Goddamnit!” you groan, as you fiddle with your violin. (LMAO PUN!! sorry) 

Your fingers ached, as you tried to nail down the pizzicato run at the top of the page. However, your fingers refused to move with the fluency they used you, and you felt the calluses starting to develop on the surface of your fingertips. 

Self-teaching yourself to play the violin was a pain in the ass, but you were determined to go to a performing arts school once you graduated junior high. 

The only problem? 

Your father was Shota Aizawa, underground pro hero Eraser Head, and was not only a pro, but also a teacher at UA High School- one of the top schools for pro heroes in training. 

You loved your father to the ends of the earth, as he did you, considering your small family only consisted of the two of you, your mother having died during childbirth. Aizawa, only 19 at the time, struggled with the loss of his lover, but you helped him get through it. 

You were his pride and joy, the perfect combination of his love and himself, his precious daughter. 

Nothing you could do could make him hate you. 

And you knew that, but your insecurities were bigger. 

What if he wanted you to become a pro hero like him? 

In all honesty, you didn’t see that future for yourself. It was an honorable job, one that you knew was very important, and a job many children wished to have in the future, and yet, that was never your dream. 

Pro heroes went out every day, fighting with their lives on the line, patrols constantly, dealing with paparazzi, not to mention the

paperwork

. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t ambitionless, no, certainly not, but it wasn’t something you found passion in. 

But to be fair, if you were successful in your career path, there would sure be a lot of paparazzi either way. 

You were set on following a path into the performing arts, but it was always a little disheartening whenever you heard your Uncle Hizashi or Auntie Nemuri go “Awww Y/N! You’re going to be an amazing pro hero when you’re older, so kind and so determined” 

You knew they meant well, but still. 

Sighing you set down your violin, gently setting it down in your case and safely securing you bow in before tucking it underneath your bed. That’s where most of your instrumental arsenal lived, all compact and tucked away, awaiting your every musical whim. 

You worked tirelessly to earn enough money for each of your instruments for the past two years, combing through online marketplaces and sales to find decently priced quality instruments. 

Grabbing your keyboard and setting it up, your fingers find their way to ivory keys that played a sequence you knew well. 

The notes left your fingers immediately, music filling your bedroom walls as a stream of tunes flow like a waterfall, smooth and connected, and yet, somehow still intense in its own way. 

Music is a form of communication, you always thought. The right notes paired together convey moods, thoughts, feelings. It always amazed you how something as simple as sequential pitches could convey something words never could. 

Ai shika kanjitaku mo nai (I don't want to feel anything but love) you sang, letting yourself get lost in the music. 

Mou nan no wakehedate mo na (There's no difference anymore)

Matomete kakatte kinasai (Please call all at once)

Ima nara subete uketomeru kara (I'll accept everything now)

~

You finish the song with a resounding chord, the room eerily quiet without any music flowing through it, until a slow clap breaks the silence. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

You jump in surprise, scrambling away from the keyboard to see your father standing in the doorway of your room, the look on his face unreadable. 

You turn bright red and feel your heart sink. 

You never told your father about your dreams and aspirations for the future- what would be say now? 

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath. 

Calm down, Y/N. He wouldn’t disown you because you don’t want to be a pro. And plus, it’s my life! I should have a say in what I want to do. You think to yourself. 

“Dad, I don’t want to be a pro hero...” you mumble out, refusing to look at him. “I want to be a musician, or a singer! I really like music and it just...really makes me happy.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you think with a sinking heart that he’s furious, but then a chuckle is heard, almost deafening in the silent room. 

“Oh, thank god.” he exhales in relief, leaving you staring at him, dumbfounded. 

“Y-You’re not mad...?” you ask, extremely confused. 

“Oh no, of course not hime - don't even think that. I'm so sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me anything. ” he says, and you’re put at ease. “Everyday, pro heroes go through pain and hardships to try to save the people of this world.” 

He sighs “Many pros lose their sanity and fall into an abyss of depression and despair because it’s too much for them. “he looks at you, his eyes genuine and sincere. “I don’t want that life for you.” 

You hug him, and his arms wrap around you comfortingly. 

“I love you dad.” 

“I love you too, hime.” 

Then he pulls away with a sly grin on his face. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?” 

Your face flushes and you shove his arm playfully. 

“Dad!” 

[atzaurora]

Can I request an Ateez Yeosang where the reader is at the concert and after send off Yeosang notices a blood stain on her skirt and pull her to the side and take her to his hotel. As they get to his room her cramps are unbearable so he fingers her and then fucks her until she feels better?

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] crimson nights

❥ 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓: Yeosang

➤ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: fem!fan!reader x idol!yeosang

➤ 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: imagine (smut)

➤ 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑: strangers to ?, idol x fan

.ᐟ.ᐟ𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.ᐟ.ᐟ: 18+/smut/suggestive content, MDNI!!!

➤ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Who knew that her period during a concert would actually be something positive? As Yeosang takes her back to his hotel room due to the visible stain on her skirt, the atmosphere quickly shifts and leads to something far more exciting...

➤ 𝒘/𝒄: 3.0k

➤ 𝒂/𝒏: I have a few open requests and I'm trying to get them all done!! so in case you have requested something, it is being worked on <3 always feel free to leave requests, I love writing them ! enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]!

[𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here!

[about me] + [guidelines]!

In the throbbing heart of the stadium, the electric air buzzed with the excitement of thousands of fans, their energy almost tangible. The concert’s final notes resonated through the space, a sweet symphony of voices and instruments that seemed to hang in the atmosphere, lingering in every corner of the vast venue. As the lights dimmed, the cheers rose to a deafening crescendo, and the eight figures on stage took their final bows, sweat glistening on their faces like stardust under the glow of the stage lights. Amid the sea of waving lightsticks and reaching hands, you stood with your heart pounding, the thrill of the music still pulsing through your veins.

As the sea of fans began to disperse, you caught fleeting glimpses of ATEEZ as they made their way toward the exit, waving and smiling at the devoted crowd. Your eyes locked with Yeosang’s for a brief, electrifying moment, and his smile grew a notch wider as he heard your cheering from the mass of people. You called out to them, expressing your admiration and telling them how much you enjoyed the performance. Being so close to them felt surreal—like a dream—but the energy between you and Yeosang made it feel incredibly real.

When the send-off concluded, the crowd slowly began to dissipate, leaving behind only echoes of excitement and the harsh lights of reality. You lingered at the edge of the stadium, allowing the rush of people to fade before you followed. Organizing your belongings, you made sure everything was accounted for, taking your time before heading out. The stadium grew quieter as the majority of Atinys made their way home, leaving a hushed atmosphere in their wake. You were about to join them when you felt a soft touch on your shoulder.

Startled, you turned quickly, your heart skipping a beat as you faced the person before you. Your breath caught in your throat—it was Yeosang. Your bias, standing right in front of you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "Yeosang? What—" Words failed you as your mind raced to catch up with the situation. "Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you," he apologized, pulling his hand away with a soft, reassuring smile.

"Oh, no, it’s fine," you quickly reassured him, trying to steady your nerves.

His smile deepened, and he continued, "I just wanted to let you know that you have a blood stain on your skirt. I assume it’s... you know, that time of the month?" He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you were grateful for his honesty. "Oh my God, thank you for telling me. Yeah, I’ve been on my period since yesterday," you admitted, quickly wrapping your hoodie around your waist to cover the stain.

Yeosang’s expression remained kind and understanding, and he didn’t shy away from the conversation. Ever the gentleman, he offered a solution that made your heart skip a beat. "I’m staying at a hotel nearby," he said. "If you’d like, I could take you there so you can freshen up a bit." His tone was casual, but the offer felt incredibly personal.

You nodded without hesitation, still not fully believing this was happening. "Yes, that would be great," you agreed, your voice laced with excitement and disbelief.

The car ride to the hotel was a blur of nerves and awkward laughter, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. You sat there, acutely aware of the fabric of your skirt sticking to your skin, your mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts. Yeosang, ever considerate, made sure to help you out of the car while keeping your skirt discreetly covered, shielding you from any potential embarrassment. He walked beside you, guiding you from the car, through the hotel’s entrance, and into the elevator that would take you to his room.

The hotel suite was a stunning contrast to the chaos of the stadium—vast, luxurious, and filled with a quiet elegance that put you at ease. As Yeosang led you inside, his eyes met yours with a silent question, his concern for you palpable. He gently guided you to the bathroom, his hand resting lightly on your back, offering comfort as you battled the sharp cramps that had been a constant, dull throb throughout the concert. You bit your lip, trying to mask the pain, but Yeosang noticed immediately, his gaze darkening with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine care. You nodded, attempting to downplay the pain, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Without another word, Yeosang scooped you into his arms, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. Your heart raced, both from the pain and the surreal nature of the situation. He carried you to the bed, laying you down with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. His hands smoothed over your stomach, warm and comforting, as he whispered, "You’re in pain."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes, the overwhelming combination of pain and his kindness making you emotional. Yeosang didn’t hesitate—he disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a glass of water and painkillers. You took them gratefully, your eyes following his every move as he tended to you with a quiet efficiency that spoke volumes about his character.

As the medication began to take the edge off your cramps, the tension in the room shifted, growing thick with unspoken emotions. Yeosang sat beside you, his eyes dark and intense as he reached out, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. "I can help," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him in surprise, but before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss.

The pain of your cramps momentarily faded into the background as he claimed you, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate exchange that left you breathless. Yeosang pulled away just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours as he reached for the hem of your skirt. You lifted your hips in silent agreement, allowing him to slide the fabric down your legs, the material whispering against your skin.

He paused for a moment, his gaze darkening as he took in the sight of your underwear, stained with crimson. But instead of pulling away, his expression grew more heated, and you felt a thrill of desire coil low in your belly. He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he began to press soft kisses along your inner thigh, his hands sliding up to cup you with gentle reverence. "You’re so brave," he murmured, his voice a sweet balm to your nerves. "So strong."

His lips hovered just above the stain, and with a soft, sensual kiss, he pressed his mouth against the fabric, his tongue swirling around the cloth in a gesture that made you gasp, your hips jerking upwards involuntarily. Taking this as an invitation, Yeosang moved higher, trailing kisses along your thighs, slowly working his way toward your most sensitive areas. When he reached your clit, he circled it with his thumb, watching your face intently as you squirmed beneath his touch.

"Does this feel good?" he asked, his voice rich with desire.

You could only nod in response, your breaths coming in short, shallow pants as the pain in your abdomen receded, replaced by a different, more intoxicating ache. Yeosang’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear, his touch cool against your heated flesh. He teased you, sliding his fingers in and out in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you clutching at the bedsheets, your body arching into his touch.

"Yeosang," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. He responded by sucking on your neck, leaving a trail of dark, possessive marks that you knew would linger for days.

As your orgasm built, he added another finger, his touch becoming more demanding, rougher in a way that only heightened your pleasure. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the pressure in your belly growing, twisting into a knot of pure ecstasy. He kissed you again, hard and deep, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hand. With a cry that was a mixture of pleasure and pain, you shattered in his arms, your body convulsing as your orgasm tore through you.

The tension in your muscles finally broke, leaving you trembling and breathless as the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing. Yeosang pulled back slightly, his fingers still buried inside you, his eyes watching you intently. "Is the pain still there?" he asked, his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind.

You nodded slowly, your body still tingling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. "It’s a little better, but it still hurts," you admitted, your voice worn out from the intensity of the moment.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Yeosang’s lips as he curled his fingers inside you, making you groan with satisfaction. "Mhm, in that case, we might need another round," he teased, his voice low and sultry as he began to move his hand again.

Your abdomen, which had been tight with pain, began to loosen under his ministrations, the cramps giving way to a different kind of tension. Yeosang’s eyes remained locked on yours, watching the way your body responded to his touch, seeing how close you were to the edge once more.

"Come on, let it out, baby," he urged, his voice both commanding and encouraging. The intensity of his touch, the way his fingers expertly curled and pressed against your sweet spot, sent you spiraling toward another climax. The tension within you snapped like a tightly wound coil, and you came with a cry, your body convulsing around his hand as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Yeosang watched with a look of deep satisfaction as you fell apart under his touch, his own breathing heavy as he maintained his focus on you. "Better?," he asked, his voice a husky whisper as he slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath, but the answer was clear in the way your body relaxed, the pain of your cramps nearly forgotten. He took this as his cue, stripping off his own clothes with deliberate precision, each movement revealing more of his toned, muscular body. He was a sight to behold, his skin glowing in the soft light of the room, every muscle defined and rippling as he moved.

As he positioned himself between your legs, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The anticipation built, your body humming with a renewed sense of desire. When he finally slid into you, filling you completely, you gasped at the sensation, your body stretching to accommodate him. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, pushing all thoughts of pain far from your mind.

Yeosang set a rhythm that was both slow and deliberate, each thrust deep and measured as if he were savoring every moment, every sensation. The earlier urgency was replaced by a languid intensity that only heightened the connection between you. He kissed along your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heated marks on your skin, his teeth grazing your flesh just enough to send shivers down your spine.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper, eliciting a deep groan from him as his hips snapped forward, meeting yours with each thrust. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you with a powerful rhythm that had you arching off the bed, your nails digging into his shoulders.

With every thrust, you felt yourself climbing higher, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within you until it was all-consuming. His words, low and breathless, were a constant stream of praises and sweet nothings whispered in your ear, each one sending you further over the edge. You were lost in the sensation, the world around you narrowing down to the feel of his body moving against yours, the sound of his voice, and the intense pleasure that radiated through you.

As you neared your climax, the tension within you became almost unbearable, your body tightening around him as the pressure built. Yeosang, sensing how close you were, increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he too approached his peak. "You’re so tight," he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I’m going to come."

And with those words, he did, his body tensing as he released deep inside you, filling you with his warmth. The sensation triggered your own orgasm, and you cried out, your body shaking with the force of it as you clenched around him, milking him for every last drop. The two of you stayed locked together for a moment, breathing heavily as the intensity of the moment slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a deep sense of satisfaction.

Yeosang eventually pulled out, leaving you with a sense of loss, but before you could even begin to protest, he was moving between your legs again. This time, his mouth replaced his cock, and you cried out at the overwhelming sensation. Your body was still sensitive from the previous orgasms, and the feeling of his tongue teasing your swollen clit was almost too much to bear.

He licked and sucked with a focused intensity, his eyes never leaving yours, watching every reaction, every tremor that passed through you. Your body bucked against his mouth, your nails digging into the sheets as you tried to hold on to the last threads of your sanity. "Yeosang, oh my God," you breathed, your voice hoarse from crying out his name.

He chuckled against your clit, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. His hand gripped your thigh, holding you firmly in place as he continued his assault on your senses. The pleasure was overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, and before you knew it, you were coming again, this time even harder than before. Your body convulsed under him, your cries filling the room as you were pushed over the edge once more.

Yeosang didn’t stop until you were completely spent, your body trembling and sensitive, every nerve ending alive with the aftershocks of your release. When he finally slid back up your body, he kissed you deeply, sharing the taste of yourself with you. The kiss was slow, sensual, and filled with a level of intimacy that made your heart flutter.

You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and instinctively, your hand reached down to stroke him, wanting to give him the same pleasure he had given you. But he stopped you, placing his hand over yours with a gentle but firm pressure. "Let me," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his as he positioned himself at your entrance once more. This time, when he entered you, it was slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second, every sensation. He stared into your eyes as he filled you, his gaze unwavering, and you could see the depth of his desire mirrored in his dark eyes.

The rhythm he set was slow and deep, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your already sensitive body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to connect with him on every possible level. He kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of his thrusts.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and pleasure. The slow, deliberate pace allowed you to feel every inch of him, every movement, and it wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm building, this one slow and powerful, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

Yeosang’s breathing grew more labored, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he neared his release. "You’re so tight," he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I’m close."

His words pushed you over the edge, and with a final, deep thrust, he sent you spiraling into another orgasm, your body clenching around him, milking his cock as he came with a low, guttural groan. His seed spilled inside you, filling you with a warmth that spread through your entire body, leaving you both utterly spent.

Yeosang collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re amazing," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with genuine admiration. You felt your cheeks heat up, a blush creeping up your neck at his words.

"Thank you," you murmured back, your voice shaky but filled with contentment. He kissed the top of your head, his hand stroking your hair gently as you both lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

After a moment, Yeosang shifted, his hand trailing down your back as he suggested, "Let’s get you cleaned up." He helped you to the bathroom, his touch always gentle, always considerate.

The warm water of the shower washed away the evidence of your time together, but the memories remained vivid in your mind. As he held you under the spray, his hands moving tenderly over your body, you felt a connection with him that went beyond the physical. This wasn’t just a fantasy come to life—it was something deeper, something real.

You stepped out of the shower, feeling more alive than you had in months. Yeosang handed you a towel, his eyes lingering on your naked body. You dressed in the clean clothes he'd laid out for you, feeling like Cinderella after the ball. But this wasn't a fairy tale; it was real. And as he walked you to the door, the promise in his eyes was all too clear. This wouldn't be the last time you'd be in his room, feeling his touch, hearing his praises.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Slasher!Soap x Suicidal!Reader

Sometimes false kindness is better than cruel honesty. You learned that lesson the hard way.

Slasher Masterlist

Warning: MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE, DEAD DOVE, NON CON, smut, deep throating, forced blowjob, cruel behaviour, impact play, knife play, cum play, blood kink, spit play, slight breath play at the end, mild gore and blood play, dacryphilia, dark themes, suicidal ideation, pred/prey dynamic, hunting, stalking, mention of murder and attempted murder, horny thoughts, dub-con behaviour, crude and objectifying language, harassment and torture, manipulation, lying, fear mongering, roughhousing, taunting and baiting, threats of violence, threats of sexual violence, acts of violence, acts of sexual violence, sorry if I missed any.

Your vision was blurring. And the trees had started blending into an abstract concept, much to your dismay. You were tethering on the edge of your downfall but you needed to play the long game if you wanted to achieve your end goal. What did real victims do in this scenario? Would they shout? Would they scream for help? Or would they keep running, unable to think about anything else but escaping their would be killer. You were ill prepared, you overestimated your acting skills. But it didn't mean you weren't going to try your best. Taking a deep breath in, you prepare yourself for the next step.

“SOMEONE! ANYONE! PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE! I’M BEING CHASED!” You were running out of dirt paths to take. He was close, you knew he was close. Even if you couldn't hear him over your pounding heart and screaming, you felt the chill of his sinister eyes on you.

“HELP! SOMEONE! PLEASE!” Despite you trying your best, a nagging itch in your head was telling you that it wasn't going to be enough. That you weren't enough. You weren't sure if the darkness was messing with your eyesight or that you were seeing black dots due the lack of oxygen from screaming. You were quickly losing your voice to the frost in the night air. The next few sentences that left your mouth came out broken and hoarse.

It wasn't long before you couldn't shout anymore. Your body forces you to stop from exhaustion and the lack of oxygen from belting your lungs out in hopes of pleasing your soon to be killer. Frantically you look around towards the direction that you just ran from. You couldn't see anything, he wasn't in the tree line.

Cold shivers run up your back as you whip your head around in every direction in an effort to spot him before he pounces on you. Your nerves are frayed with anxiety and anticipation. You just wanted to get this done and over with. You did a good job, didn't you? This was enough, wasn't it?

The longer you waited in the eerie silence of the forest where only your heavy breathing could be heard, the more your irrational thoughts ate away at any confidence you had in your performance.

What if it wasn't enough?...Fuck…you're so fucked…He's going to hurt you isn't he? Your mind again began screaming at you, telling you to run away while you can, telling you to get away before he finds you. But you couldn't move. Your limbs were locked into place. You might as well have become a deer in headlights.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you completely missed the shadow emerging from behind you. Soap took in your disheveled form, noting the drip of sweat coming of your clammy hands. Oh you poor thing, you were nervous. He twirled the knife idly in his hands, handling it as if it were some type of toy rather than the lethal weapon he knew it to be. He studied your body, he was mesmerized by the way you stood frozen with your breath heaving. It truly was a sight for sore eyes. Well to him it was.

The pretty outfit he had dolled you up in today was going to look so good shredded on the floor next to you. He was going to have so much fun slicing it from your body. He wonders if he should feel bad for what he's about to do to you but then again he has to remind himself that you brought this upon yourself. You wanted this. You forced his hand.

He'll give credit where credit is due. You tried your best, you really did. You ran like you meant it. It was a good 20 mins of you sprinting. You even screamed towards the end when the panic started setting in but he was in a vindictive mood. Also he couldn't quite feel the fear in your voice and that was enough to set you up for failure.

He wasn't going to let you win even if you did sound fearful, not now, not ever. You'll die when he's ready to kill you. But that doesn't mean he can't have fun with you in the meantime. He'll make sure you’ll both get something out of this. If nothing else he'll make sure you learn a very important lesson today. With his mind made up he took the final step towards you.

“Boo” You scream, your body jolting while trying to run away frantically but he's already tripping you up long before your legs kick into motion.

“H-HELP! SOMEONE!” You come tumbling down, your fate sealed in stone for the night. Knife gleaming in his hand, he depends upon you as you scramble to get away. Good…You were going to make this fun for him.

-

Your hands were bound. Too tight, just shy of cutting blood circulation, but you still felt the blood pooling and numbing your fingertips. To Soap you looked like an angel with your top shredded and your hands bound in front of you with its scraps. He stood above you with your face nestled into his groin as he continued to rub his hardening cock against your teary face and busted lip.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. P-please let me go..” Soap laughed at your poor attempts at negotiating. You sobbed harder after he slapped your lips with his leaking cockhead while precum stained your lips like lipgloss. It was too late for any apologies now. They weren't going to help you anyway. You dug your grave and now you were going to lay in it.

“Oh sweetheart, what's wrong? What's with the tears Dove? You wanted this, remember?” Ye were practically begging me tae hunt ye down. Bit off more than ye could chew huh?” You don't bother answering his questions realising there was no way you were going to convince him to let you go.

So you try to change tactics, you try to use your busted knees to pull yourself away from his reach. But even that is quickly halted with a boot pressing painfully down on your mound. He uses his sole to grind up cruelly, catching your clit in the process.

“Think ye can escape from me do ye?” You cry out as he nestles his boot directly below your entrance so he can force you to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Don't act like ye don't like it. Ah can hear yer slick shining my boot. Now open up or do ah have tae cut yer mouth open?”

You looked pathetic in your current state. Bloodshot eyes. Makeup ruined from crying. Bruised and busted knees. Clothes torn to shreds and your breasts decorated with red slashes. The night air had your nipples pebbling as snot and tears formed rivers flowing from your nose and eyes. But despite this you kept your mouth shut stubbornly.

“That's how ye want tae play? Fine then…let's do this the hard way.” Sudden pain erupts from your left breast. You try to trash away but the fist in your hair keeps you in place as you feel the burn and sting of flesh opening and blood spilling out. You feel his knife digging in deeper the fat of your bosom eliciting a pained scream coming from your mouth. It presents the perfect opportunity for him to shove his cock inside as he pulls your head back with his tight grip, maneuvering you like a rag doll.

You gag immediately, unable to accommodate his growing cock but that didn't stop him from trying to push it in further while you struggled. Another inch goes in and you feel your jaw locking and teeth scraping his sensitive skin.

“Watch yer teeth ye whore! Ah've no problem knocking them out” He pulls out temporarily while using the time to squeeze your jaw so it'll open wider for him. You sob and splutter out pleas to stop him but they come out intelligible. And not a second later your mouth is tasting salt and iron again. Your busted lip stretching to accommodate his whole girth. The blood mixing in with the already overwhelming taste of his seed has your brain short circuiting. Your mind was shutting down. It was trying to lull you into a dreamy headspace where you didn't have to think.

Your body on the other hand had other ideas. It screamed at you, keeping you vigilantly aware of what was happening to you and how painful everything was. Your jaw from being forcibly held open, your skin from being lacerated and bruised, your clit from being stepped on and your throat from being used so brutally. Yet you were shown no mercy for your pain.

He jerks his hips, forcing himself further into your mouth as you continue to try to pull away before your gag reflex forces you to vomit. The salty musky taste of his percum was invading all your senses. And you couldn't do anything to get rid of the overwhelming taste of him.

You wanted him out, you wanted him gone. This wasn't how the night was supposed to end. He was supposed to kill you. He was supposed to end your suffering, not add to it. Anger tears spill from your fatigued eyes at the unfairness of the situation. You had tried your best, so why wasn't it enough? Why weren't you enough?

You were so frazzled, especially with your intrusive thoughts, that you didn't clock the feral look in Soap's eyes. You continue to rub your wrists raw in a desperate attempt to gain some control back. Anything to make you feel like you weren't going off the deep end. But it was futile, no matter how much you pushed and shoved you remained firmly planted between his feet.

As you continued your pointless fight you felt his blade circle your nipple making your treacherous legs clench in need. Soap noticing your predicament withdraws the blade before another incision was made.

“What wrong luv? I thought you didn't want this. Why are yer legs rubbing together like that?” You glare at him with venom, his taunting causing your blood to boil to new heights. You hated yourself for feeling this. For being so turned on by being used like an object. There must be something seriously wrong with you. But you should have known that already, sane people aren't suicidal like you. Sane people don't taunt killers into chasing them. Sane people don't let murderers into their home and they definitely don't let killers take them out on dates.

Your many wounds sting as you feel blood trickling down your torso. Your bound hands push at his thighs trying to create some distance again but the fist in your hair was unyielding. He gives it a mean tug making you gag around his thick girth as it hits the back of your throat where it meets resistance. No doubt he was trying his best to bypass it. He was aiming to use your throat like a fleshlight.

“Yeah Gag on it ye slag! Keep fighting, it just turns me on more.” A large hand forces your head down further on the hard cock obstructing your airway while the other holds a sharp knife to your jugular. Spit was pooling and spilling down your neck leaving a sticky mess while you try your best to claw your way out. You try to kick, to scream, to pinch, anything to try to get away from this monster of a dick. But the only thing that has done for you is leave cuts all over your neck as you trash. This was exhausting, on one hand you had to physically fight off Soap and on the other you had to fight your mind for being so horny when you definitely shouldn't be.

Your bloodshot eyes glare at him through your tear stained lashes. You watch his face twist into one of ecstasy as he gets you to deep throat another inch while spit spills out of your overstuffed mouth. He closes his eyes briefly to collect himself and you take the chance to grab and twist his balls as hard as you could. If you were going to be in pain, so was he.

You think you've succeeded in your payback, you foolishly believe this would give you enough time to escape as he shouts before hastily removing his dick from your mouth. But before you could even try to get on your feet, you're struck across the face. A blinding pain blooms across the skin of your cheek. One that had your ears ringing and your vision blurring more than it already was.

“Ye fucking bitch!” You're on the ground clutching your face as you realise you've just been back handed. The inflamed skin immediately heats, while the bones in your face feel like they've been misaligned. You don't even have the time to cry from the pain as you watch him rub his balls to soothe the ache before his boot cruelly descends your clit.

“Two can play at this game!” He presses down sadistically as you trash on the floor unable to move while the sharp sting of having your clit crushed immobilizes you. You watch through tears as he frantically jerks off to your pained cries.

He grinds his boot down, rubbing the delicate flesh of your pussy raw with his abrasive soles. It's only when you begin to earnestly sob and plead for mercy does he have the decency to remove his foot.

“Oh look at that tsk tsk ye've left a wet spot, ye filthy girl.” Crouching down he gives your cunt a mean slap causing you to flinch before he kneels above your face while you cry out for grace. He holds his cock in one hand as he brings the others to your throat again. The knife digs in while he smears his saliva drenched rod all over your bruised swollen cheek. Making sure to give it a slap from time to time as he sandwiches his cock between his hand and your face. You jerk your head away, causing the knife to leave shallow cuts in its wake. While you try your best to keep his cock away from you.

“Keep doing that and ye won't have skin left tae cut anymore” He groans out placing his balls over your lips while straddling your head. “Kiss them better ye slag” Fear overrides your mind immediately as your mouth opens to kiss and suckle the skin of his musky balls. You turn up your nose at the overwhelming smell of sweat. But you couldn't escape this predicament even if you tried. And tired you did. He moans as he jerks off his hard cock in front of your eyes while all you could do is follow his orders.

“Open up.” He taps your tongue with his cockhead as you push your thighs together to alleviate the discomfort you were feeling from your abused clit. Your slowness to follow orders seemed to have ticked him off because not a second later the knife at your throat is being dug into the ground beside your ear nicking the edge of it. You let out a broken cry from the torment he was putting you through, but your pained sobs fell on deaf ears. He continues to ignore you while he pulls the blade out again to dig it into the skin of your cheek. The sharpness made your body jerk and shiver as you quickly opened your mouth to please him.

Despite your body struggling to accept his whole length, Soap gives you no respite. All he does is groan while shoving more of himself down your throat, taking great pleasure in hearing all the lewd sounds of you choking and gagging. He uses the knife to trace up your jaw leaving small knicks before it settles dangerously close to your bleeding ear. He digs the knife into the dirt again, freeing up his hands but leaving the threat for you to stay obedient.

“Fucking take it ye slag” both his hands tighten viciously in your hair as he uses it like a leash to pull your head to his cock while he sits his weight down on you.

Your esophagus seizes making you gag and splutter spit as he pushes through the gag reflex again and again while bullying as much of himself down a hole that had little to no training to accommodate his girth or length. The unnatural stretch of your muscles burned beyond understanding. And yet another gag erupts as his cockhead pokes your tonsil. You feel the knife digging to your cartilage when you try to jerk away. Tears are streaming down your face by this point but Soap laughs as you struggle to keep up to his pace without hurting yourself even more. You slurp and suck to keep him placated but it didn't seem like it was enough. He wanted more, and that's exactly what he took from you.

He settles his full weight on you as you feel his cock swell with his coming release. There's spit, cum and blood everywhere as Soap looks down at you almost affectionately. He watches your blown out pupils shake and flicker as you frantically look around for help. But how stupid of you to think that someone was coming to save you.

You've stopped actively fighting him. But that didn't mean your body had given up. He still feels your hips squirm and move in an effort to take his weight off your chest but he remains seated regardless. Too lost in his own carnal pleasure to care if he was hurting you. He needed to teach you a lesson after all. You couldn't be let off the hook just because you were crying and choking on his monster of a cock. You deserved to be punished after the stunt you pulled.

He's brutal in his pace refusing to let you get an air in through your mouth. But as he hunches over you and begins rocking his hips more. You begin panicking as your face is pressed to his pubic hair. His hands have left your hair in favor of placing them on the ground while he ruts into your mouth like a madman, treating your mouth like it was a fleshlight. Your throat burns from the foreign intrusion battering its walls and all you can do is lay there with your mouth open as your eyes drown in their own tears.

“Fuck I'm coming. Take it ye slag! Swallow every drop!” Soap quickly adjusts one hand to hold his weight while the other goes to pinch your nose as his hips stutter to a stop forcing your face flush to his sweat drenched pubic hair. You push your bound hands frantically at his legs to get him off before you die from the lack of oxygen in your brain but that just encourages Soap to grind his hips down more while you choke and splutter everywhere. Your eyes roll back as he seats his cock fully inside of you.

Your air gets completely cut off just as you feel the hot splash of thick viscous cum go down your burning throat while your body tries violently buck him off you but it's no use. You aren't strong enough. You'll never be able to overpower him, no matter how badly you tried. Your mind goes blank as your legs shake from the lack of oxygen and air. You feel your vision spotting while hot cum fills your stomach.

He holds down your jerking body for a good minute before he's ready to remove himself but even then his cock wouldn't soften as it continues to come all over your tongue and face. You're covered in his load. Covered in his sticky white mess. What made it worse was the way he continued to hold your jaw open to lean down to spit on your tongue and face. You had no choice but to accept his ‘gift’ since the only form of air you were getting was from your mouth.

Your muscles felt tender and wrung out. Every surface on your skin was burning with discomfort. He stops pinching your nose realising you're about to pass out if you continue to choke on his cum and spit. He looks down at you with such a satisfied yet condescending smirk and you feel yourself breaking all over again.

You stare at his smug face with your dead expression. What was all this for if he wasn't going to kill you? You take a painful breath in. One that has your body slumping with exhaustion instantaneously. Air finally re-enters your veins as you curl yourself into a ball trying to protect yourself from any further onslaught.

Now that you weren't actively choking your mind starts focusing on things that you rather not think about. The potent stench of cum, the salt and iron aftertaste, the sticky mess of cum and blood painting your abused skin. And worst of all you couldn't do anything about it. You were at his mercy until he decided he was done with you.

The smell might haunt you for the rest of your life. Just like his memories do. A broken sob leaves your body. You feel yourself shake from the impact of your cries.

What was all this for? What was the point of anything if you weren't going to die tonight?

Your sobs are the only thing you hear for the next while. That is until you hear him move. And you immediately knew your suffering wasn't coming to an end any time soon.

“We're not done” you sob louder as your wrists are cut free but not a second later he's placing you on your stomach with your face pressed into the dirt. You can't see him from your position but you feel his calloused hands all over your skin. Poking and prodding your wounds and your cold skin. Your arms are once again twisted as he cuts away your skirt to use as a makeshift rope. It's not long after your panties are being inspected by the very knife that was used to mar your flesh tonight.

“Your dripping Dove…” he says nonchalantly. As if it was just a simple fact among lovers. You feel the chill from the wet streaks of arousal decorating your legs. An involuntary gasp escaping your mouth as you feel him press the blunt side of the blade on the tip of your clit. But unfortunately for the both of you it doesn't elicit the reaction he wanted. He pushes down harder hoping to hear you beg while simultaneously raising your hips so you're propped up onto your sore knees. But you don't have it in you to speak anymore. Or to ask for mercy when you knew for a fact nothing was going to save you tonight. Only quiet tears leave you as you try your best not to hyperventilate.

But all you were hearing, tasting and feeling was him. And you wished you were anywhere but here. If you're going to survive you needed to shut him out, you needed to disassociate to get through this.

“What? Yer not going tae fight anymore? Come on Dove don't bore me so soon, ye said ye'd make is as good as the real thing.” When you don't respond other than your labored breathing he decides he'll use other methods to make you beg and scream.

“Ah think we need something tae show everyone who ye belong tae, don't we luv? How does a tramp stamp sound?” A cold shiver jolts your body as you hear the false sweetness in his tone. Your body reanimates with his threat, forcing you to try and escape his hold but your face is quickly pushed back down into the dirt. Tears water the dirt beneath your face but even if you cried all night long no mercy was going to bloom out of your pain and suffering. He was sick to phrase your predicament as a question when you knew he was going to do whatever he wanted.

“No! Soap stop! Im s-sorry I'm s-so sorry. Please don't do this.” You feel him reposition his knife directly at the small of your back as you body tries to sway away from his hold but it's no use. You know his mind was made up.

“Should ah be nice and only do the initials? But ah think Jonathan MacTavish would look beautiful carved into yer flesh, don't ye Dove?” You just sob louder feelings the bite of the blade already cutting into the skin of your back.

“Don't worry my sweet. Ah'll make it feel good while ah do it.” With a blade to your back and a hand caressing your folds you curse yourself for ever thinking you could outsmart a killer.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.