#so used to needing to PROVE himself and not show 'weakness' that it's hard for him to accept ANY help or kindness even when it's NOT pity

[sai-int]

LOW COUNTRY | HIGH NOON

johnny mactavish x reader

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yearning—they're both so dumb.

Two weeks fly by and Johnny proves himself in ways you weren’t prepared for.

The first two days after he arrived, you’d spent hours showing him the ropes, expecting some level of difficulty, some struggle once he got down to actually doing the dirty work. Sure, he could listen and memorize to his heart's content, but if he couldn’t do the work, he wasn’t useful to you. 

But goddamn, could he do the work. 

The day after he arrived, you had him shadow you as you worked. You narrated everything you did for the livestock and important things to remember. Shimmer was on a diet and needed a little less hay in her stall. The water in every barn had to stay cool to keep the animals from overheating. The sheep’s bedding came from cornstalks harvested straight from the fields, and the barn doors had to stay open during the day for ventilation. Dixie had to be fed alongside the sheep—otherwise, she'd get jealous. The cows ate soybeans, and their barn fans had to run non-stop to keep the heat at bay.

On the second day, you let him take the reins. He remembered everything, every miniscule detail, down to a T. You were there if he needed help, but he never did. He fed the animals��hell, he did it all like he's been doing it his whole life, like he could do it blindfolded. 

It was almost jealousy-inducing how easy it comes to him. You’ve spent years building up the strength needed to handle farm work. You’ve got muscle, no doubt about that. Every long day under the sun has carved power into your body, earned through a lot of sweat and double the tears.

It’s unfair. It’s painfully distracting. He’s painfully distracting.

Regardless, you shove your pride to the side. This is what he’s here for, after all.

The division of labor falls into place easier than you expect.  He takes over livestock care and you handle the crops and the house. But together, everyday, you both fix the fences, riding out in the afternoons with supplies in tow, patching up the weak spots before they become real problems.

You don’t speak to Johnny much during the day—mainly during meal times. He spends most of his day to the left of the house at the livestock pastures and barns. The main pastures are all sprawled out, home to about fifteen cows and sheep, respectively. You spend most of your time at the crop fields, which stretch to the right of the house, along with the old barn your family stopped using years ago. Too much upkeep for what it was worth. The cornfields are there too, easy to reach on horseback. 

The stables sit in between both, a ways behind the house. The whole farm isn’t a big operation, not by most standards, but it definitely needs more than one person to run it. With Johnny proving himself capable, you both fell into an easy routine rather quickly.

Johnny's up at 7 a.m., like clockwork. He takes the biggest horse, Scout, and makes his rounds, feeding the animals breakfast, checking the water troughs and filling them up when needed. He lets the livestock graze before the sun gets too high. 

By 9, Johnny finally gets a moment to breathe while you’re awake and already in the kitchen cooking breakfast. You found that if you time it right, you can get an eyeful of Johnny from the kitchen window. You’ve unintentionally made it part of your morning, standing by the window, mug of coffee in hand, watching him. You repeatedly tell yourself it's to make sure he’s getting the job done, but the more you watch, the more you find yourself thinking about him in ways that grow exceedingly inappropriate for a boss-employer relationship. 

You should stop watching. If he were to ever catch you, he’d probably think you were some kind of freak. Maybe you should focus on the eggs in the pan, the bread in the toaster, but it’s hard to follow your better judgement with Johnny around. Pa’s been on your ass for how much toast you’re burning these days. 

Breakfast is never fancy, but it’s solid. Eggs, grits, fried potatoes, sausage, bacon. Sometimes fresh fruit if you’ve got it, a pitcher of orange juice on the table alongside the coffee. Variations of the same spread every morning, something hearty and filling to start the day.

Johnny’s damn near worshipful over your cooking. It brings a flush to your cheeks each time he comments on it, considering Pa’s never had too much to say about it. The way Johnny reacts, closing his eyes when he takes the first bite, letting out a quiet “Christ, that’s good”- or he groans under his breath, making it hard not to feel at least a little smug.

You’re used to running the cooking and cleaning on your own: the dishes, wiping down the counters, making sure everything’s in order. Pa never offered much help in that regard. He’s traditional in the sense that ‘it’s a woman’s job’ to take care of the home, with all of its chores and domesticities. He’s stuck in his ways but he’s got a kind soul.

But Johnny does it all with you. Doesn’t even ask.

He waits till everyone’s finished eating, then rolls up his sleeves and helps clear the table like it’s second nature, like it’s part of the job description. He stands beside you at the sink, drying dishes as you wash, putting them away without needing to be told where anything goes. He just remembers.

Most times, you both wash in silence. The only sounds are the clink of dishes, the rush of water, the occasional scrape of a sponge against a pan. But you can feel his eyes on you, watching as you scrub a pot or rinse off a pan. He never says anything—just waits for you patiently.

But it does something to you. Makes you feel small in a way you can’t quite explain. Not insignificant, but exposed. Like he sees too much, like he notices things you don’t even realize you’re giving away. It sets your nerves on edge, tightens something low in your stomach, makes your hands move a little quicker even though you don’t want to give yourself away. It’s ridiculous, really. It’s just dishes. Just a quiet kitchen. But under the weight of his gaze, it feels like something else entirely.

His arm brushes yours sometimes—subtle and fleeting but often enough that it doesn’t feel like an accident. Like maybe he’s finding excuses to touch you, even if it’s barely there. And it’s nothing, really. Just the briefest press of skin, the softest graze. But it burns and it lingers. It sinks into your skin like a brand, like something your body wants more of, wants to memorize. You keep your face neutral in the moment, your hands steady. Inside? Your pulse stutters, your breath feels too shallow, and your mind won’t stop spinning in circles. It’s ridiculous, how something so small can unravel you like this. But god help you, it does.

You try to brush it off. He’s just being kind, just paying attention. That’s all. Nothing more.

You remind yourself to be grateful for the extra set of hands, for the way his quiet presence makes the work easier. It’s a small thing, really—his help. But somehow, it takes the edge off the mornings, makes them feel a little lighter.

Johnny’s makes everything feel lighter, now that you really think about it.

Mornings used to be a race against the rising temperatures outside—shoveling down breakfast just to sprint outside and make sure the livestock were moved to the shaded pastures before the sun got too brutal. But with Johnny around, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. He’s got it covered. 

After breakfast, usually around 11, Johnny heads back out to do just that, while you get ready for your day’s work. You throw on something you don’t mind getting dirty���some overalls and a tank top, old boots, maybe one of Pa’s loose flannels if there’s a breeze.

You head to the stables and grab Shimmer, heading out to the crop fields. You pass the time, watering, weeding, checking for pests, making sure everything is growing the way it should. It’s tedious work, but at least now, you can actually focus on it. In a way, it’s calmer than dealing with the animals. 

By 3 p.m., you've made your final rounds around the fields, harvesting some cucumbers and tomatoes if they’re ready, checking on the other plants to make sure everything’s in place. The heat nears oppressive, and you’re already looking forward to heading inside.

As you ride back toward the stalls to put Shimmer away, your eyes find Johnny by the sheep pen. He’s herding them inside, guiding them with an easy patience, keeping them out of the harsh afternoon sun. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s got a good handle on them.

Your gaze drifts past him to Scout, tied to a fence post nearby. Shimmer must notice him too, judging by the way she whinnies, ears pricking forward with interest. They’ve been sticking close lately, choosing to graze together in the mornings and evenings, grooming each other like they’ve suddenly decided they’re inseparable. It’s odd, considering they’ve never paid each other much mind before—at least, not until two weeks ago.

It’s still August. Scout’s still in heat. You make a mental note to keep an eye on him.

Your gaze flickers back to Johnny—jeans slung low on his hips, a plain wife-beater stretched across his broad chest—and as always, you try not to stare.

But Johnny has a habit and it’s downright cruel. When the sun reaches its peak and the heat settles thick over the land, he peels off his shirt without a second thought. Like it’s nothing. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just trying to keep cool. But sometimes—when he catches you looking, when the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly—it feels like he’s doing it on purpose. Like he enjoys watching you struggle not to let your eyes linger on him too long, not to let your thoughts wander somewhere they shouldn’t.

You’ve never been so thankful for the relentless southern sun.

It clings to him, highlighting every sharp line and defined edge. His skin glistens with sweat, the golden light catching on the broad curve of his shoulders, the sinew of his arms as they flex with every movement. Thick and strong. 

The first time you saw him shirtless, you stared. You couldn’t help it.

And of course, Johnny caught you.

His gaze locked onto yours, sharp and amused, and in that split second of distraction, you didn’t even realize you were sliding right off Shimmer’s back—not until you hit the ground with a graceless thud, landing in a fresh patch of mud.

His laugh had boomed across the fields, full and unrestrained, carrying all the way to your burning ears. You barely had time to process the sheer humiliation of it before you wordlessly climbed right back onto Shimmer like nothing happened, like you weren’t covered in mud, like you hadn’t just been caught drooling over him.

Played it cool. At least, you had tried to.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts away from Johnny, and focus on putting Shimmer away. It’s easier said than done, but you manage, leading her into her stall and giving her a quick brush-down before heading back toward the house.

Lunch won’t make itself, and you figure you might as well get a head start—assuming you’re not completely covered in dirt from standing around, too busy staring at him to notice the dust clinging to your clothes. Which, if you’re being honest, happens more often than you’d like to admit these days.

At least he has the decency to put a shirt on before stepping inside. Small mercies.

You always whip up something light—sandwiches and a salad, maybe. You’re never in the mood to make anything too heavy. Pa skips out on lunch as usual, though. He always does, opting to head out to visit your Ma. She’s buried alongside a 200-year-old willow tree at the far edge of the property, the place that was always her favorite. Lunch used to be between you and a farm catalogue. Now, it’s between you and Johnny.

He never comments on how Pa slips away; he’s gotten used to the routine of it by now. It didn’t take long for him to piece it all together—Ma’s absence, the way Pa goes to kneel by the tree each day. He notices something in your eyes, too. He’s seen it in his own—loss. Grief.

When the aching sound of silence settles over the house—when the scrape of forks against plates is the only thing filling the empty space, when Pa’s vacant seat feels heavier than it should, Johnny’s hand inches toward yours.

It’s subtle, barely there. His fingertips just skim against your own, light and careful, like he’s offering something without asking. Like he’s reminding you, in the quietest way possible, that he’s here.

The first time he does it, you flinch and pull away before the warmth can settle, before the weight of it can mean something. But the next day, and the one after that, he does it again. Always the same way, always patient.

Day after day, you stop avoiding it.

It’s unspoken, something steady. A silent offering. He never asks for more, never demands, just open to  let you take what you need.

Today, your hand creeps to meet his. Your fingers slide to hold his own so easily—so naturally. Your fingertips graze over his knuckles before slipping between his fingers, not gripping, just resting. His other hand stills mid-stab of a piece of fruit, the fork hovering in place before a slow, knowing smile tugs at his lips—soft, easy, like he’s careful not to startle you. He doesn't tighten his hold, doesn't rush, just lets his thumb brush along your skin, as if memorizing the feel of it. His consistency is comforting. 

And day after day, without meaning to, you realize just how much you’ve come to rely on it.

Today, Johnny checks on the livestock one last time after lunch, but not before pitching in to help clean up. He’s quick about it, helping you get everything in order before heading out to make his rounds. He moves through the pastures, checking the water troughs, topping them off, and making sure the animals get their feed. It’s a rhythm by now—one that’s almost as natural to him as breathing.

You, on the other hand, head upstairs. The heat of the day still lingers in the air as you peel off your dirt-smeared clothes and step into the shower. The water hits your skin, hot and soothing, washing away the sweat, the dust, the weight of everything. For a few minutes, it’s just you and the steam, curling around you like a fog that keeps the world at bay. Thanks to Johnny, you can take more time for yourself, allowing for a few moments of peace.

Once you're clean, you retreat to your room for a bit, letting the quiet settle around you. The heat from the shower still clings to your skin, steam curling lazily in the air, and for a little while, you allow yourself the luxury of doing nothing. Just breathing. Just being.

But duty calls, as it always does. 

With a sigh, you pull on something comfortable—old jeans, soft and faded in all the right places, a loose tank top that drapes over your shoulders, and a pair of boots worn supple from years of hard use. You leave your hair down, still damp, cool against the nape of your neck as you step into the hallway. The air meets you in a soft contrast, brushing against your skin as you shake off the last remnants of stillness and head downstairs.

Pa’s sitting in his armchair, the low hum of the 5 o’clock news filling the first floor. His eyes are glued to the screen, but you don’t disturb him, slipping into the kitchen to prep dinner. The knives feel familiar in your hands as you chop the vegetables you harvested earlier, the scent of fresh tomatoes, onions, and herbs filling the air. You sprinkle salt over the meat, massaging it in gently, knowing it’ll make the roast tender for tonight.

The clock ticks past 5:30, and at 6, the last task of the day is waiting. Fence checks.

You and Johnny do it together every day. At first, it was purely for convenience—two hands are always better than one. But now, you look forward to it—to seeing him again.

You grab your jacket from the hook by the door, the familiar weight of it settling over your shoulders, and step outside. The evening air is cool against your skin, the sky beginning to soften into a wash of purples, pinks, and golds, the colors mixing together like paint on a canvas. The breeze picks up, gentle at first, but carrying with it the earthy scent of grass and soil. 

You make your way toward the stables, the gravel crunching under your boots in a steady rhythm. The evening air is cooler now, carrying the scent of hay and earth.

As you near the stables, you spot Johnny already there. He’s inside, leaning against Scout’s stall door, his back to you, speaking in a low murmur meant only for the horse. His fingers move through Scout’s mane with an absentminded gentleness.

There’s something different about him in moments like these—when he thinks no one’s watching. He softens. It’s endearing in a way you don’t quite have words for. And for a moment, you hesitate, just watching, before finally stepping forward.

You hum a soft, "Hey," and Johnny turns from Scout, a small smile tugging at his lips like he can’t help it, and he steps toward you with his hands tucked into his pockets.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, caught in some strange pause, like you’re both waiting for something. His head tilts slightly, eyes scanning your face with quiet curiosity, and the longer the silence stretches, the more unbearable it gets.

“You talk to the sheep like that too, or just Scout?” you ask, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

He stills, processing your outburst before he huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Only th’ ones that listen.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn away—too quickly, probably—and busy yourself with Shimmer, running a hand through her mane like she suddenly requires all of your attention. Anything to ignore the way your chest feels too tight, your pulse too loud in your ears.

Johnny doesn’t move right away. You can feel him still standing there, watching, like he knows exactly why you turned so fast but isn’t going to call you on it. 

“She givin’ ye trouble?”  he finally asks, nodding toward Shimmer as you stroke her mane.

“Always,”  you mutter, scratching behind her ears and she whinnies. “She thinks she owns the place.”

“Cannae blame ‘er. She’s got ye wrapped ‘round her hoof.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch despite yourself. He’s not wrong. Shimmer huffs softly, nudging at your shoulder like she knows you’re talking about her. You softly push her nose away, shaking your head.

Johnny steps next to you, leaning his arms over the stall door, softly scratching the base of her neck. “That why ye bolted over here, hmm? Needed an excuse tae hide?" His voice is light, teasing—but there’s something underneath it. Something careful.

Your hand stills for just a second before you scoff, shaking your head. “Please.”  You turn, meeting his blue eyes with a practiced ease you’re not sure you actually feel. “If I wanted to hide from you, I’d pick a better spot.” You’re almost teasing when you say it, but you do know the property better than him, afterall.

“Dinnae have tae hide from me, hen,” he hums, the corner of his mouth quirks..

You hate that it makes your stomach flip. Hate that you have to force yourself to look away, to pretend the warmth crawling up your neck is from the evening heat and not from him.

Johnny lets the silence stretch, like he’s giving you a chance to say something—anything. His gaze lingers, drifting over you. Taking in the curve of your shoulders, the way your hair catches the fading light, the way you hold yourself like you’re thinking too much but refusing to say why.

When you don’t speak, he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before pushing off the stall door. Letting it go, for now.

 He nods toward the fields, “C’mon. Fence line’s no’ gonna check itself.”

You follow without a word, slipping out of the stables with him. Long shadows stretch across the fields, swaying with the wind-blown grass, and somewhere in the distance, a few cattle call out, their distant sounds blending with the steady hum of crickets.

Neither of you rush. There’s no need. The fence line is long, stretching across acres of land, and it’s a quiet sort of work—just walking, looking, making note of any broken slats or weak posts that’ll need fixing. He walks alongside you, the toolbox rattles lightly in his grip as he carries it at his side, the sound punctuating the steady crunch of boots against dry earth.

For a while, neither of you speak.

It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but it isn’t easy either. You’re aware of him in a way that feels impossible to ignore—the way his steps fall in rhythm with yours, the occasional brush of his arm when the path narrows, the way he glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“Ye always this quiet?” Johnny asks, his voice low, barely disturbing the quiet, as if it’s a part of the gentle breeze.

You snort softly, eyes fixed on the fence as you mindlessly trail your fingers along the wooden slats. “Only when there’s nothing to say.”

“That so?” His voice carries easily with a sprinkle of amusement.

“Mhm.”

You keep walking. So does he.

Every so often, you test the fence with a firm press of your palm, checking for weak spots. He does the same. Occasionally, he stops to inspect a loose post, tapping it with the toe of his boot before moving on. It’s a simple rhythm—walk, check, walk again—but the silence between you is anything but simple.

It’s thick, growing heavier as the minutes tick by.

You can feel his presence beside you like a current, something you could fall into and get swept under if you weren’t careful. And maybe he feels it too, because every now and then, his hands twitch at his side, like he wants to reach for something, but can’t. Won’t.

“Ye ever get tired o’ all this?” His voice is quieter this time, almost like he’s asking himself more than you.

Your brows pull together slightly. “Of what?”

He gestures vaguely around you with the hand that isn’t carrying the toolbox. “Th’ same land, same routine. Mornings start early, work’s never really done. That ever get to ye?”

You consider that for a moment, kicking at a stray rock with the toe of your boot. “Maybe. Some days.” You glance at him. “You?”

His mouth tugs into something like a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah. Never.”

You don’t know what to make of that.

The two of you keep walking, keep checking the fence. The breeze picks up, stirring loose strands of your hair. Johnny exhales a slow breath, his shoulders shifting as he rolls them back, working out a stiffness from the long day. The movement draws your attention, and for a brief second, you let yourself look. Really look.

The sharp cut of his jaw, the way the light catches on his cheekbones, the way his shirt clings to the broad stretch of his shoulders, still slightly damp from the sweat of the day. The gold cross dangling from his neck and the dark, miniscule birthmark that sits just below his ear. His hair has grown a bit since he first came. Maybe you could cut it for him, like you do for Pa.

You swallow hard and snap your gaze forward before you get caught. Again.

Another long stretch of silence. Another step. Another brush of his arm against yours—so light it could be accidental.

Could be.

Johnny stops when he catches sight of a sagging section of barbed wire, his steps slowing before he finally comes to a halt. Without a word, he sets down the toolbox and crouches, running a hand over the worn wood of the post before reaching for the wire. Testing its give. Seeing how bad it really is.

You watch as he exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly before grabbing the wire stretcher and a handful of staples. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even complain about the extra work—just gets right to it, like it’s second nature.

Rather than hover over him, you hoist yourself up onto a sturdier section of the fence beside him, perching on the top rail with ease. The wood is solid beneath you, not like the weakened stretch he’s working on now.

The sun is nearly gone, but there’s still enough light to bathe the fields in a golden glow, the last remnants of warmth brushing against your face. You tilt your head toward it, letting the heat sink into your skin, letting the evening breeze lift strands of your hair. It’s the kind of peace that settles deep in your bones, the kind you don’t appreciate until it’s gone.

Johnny breaks the silence first.

“If I’d’ve grown up somewhere like this…” He pauses, twisting the wire tight before driving a staple into the post. “I think things would’ve turned ou’ different for me.”

The way he says it—flat, almost absentminded—makes you hesitate. You’re not sure if he’s inviting the conversation or just thinking out loud. You don’t want to pry, but something about the way his voice lingers in the air makes you ask anyway.

“Different how?”

Johnny keeps his eyes on his work as he answers, pulling the wire taut. “Would’ve been normal, I guess. Wouldn’t have joined up. Would no’ have spent years runnin’ toward shit other people run from.” He exhales softly, a ghost of a chuckle. “Think I’d have been calmer. More settled.”

You watch him work for a moment, the way his hands move with ease, deft yet steady. He doesn’t look unsettled, per se. If anything, he seems at ease out here, like he belongs in the quiet.

“You don’t seem unsettled,” you say finally, tilting your head to him.

Johnny huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pulls the wire one last time, before giving it a final staple to secure it. “Then ’m doin’ a great job at pretending.” His voice is light, but there’s something underneath it, something that makes you press your lips together.

You watch as he finishes up, hammering in the last staple before brushing the dirt off his hands. “If you aren’t happy here, you can always leave, y’know,” The words slip out before you can really think them through. “There’s plenty of families that need help.” It’s not a challenge, just a simple fact.

That stops him.

He straightens up, turning to you with something between bewilderment and confusion, like the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. Like he can’t quite believe you’d think that, let alone say that. 

“Ye think I’m no’ happy here?”

You shrug, glancing out toward the fields. “I mean…” you pause, exhaling as you look toward your boots, drawing shapes in the dirt with the pointed toe. “I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s isolating.”

Johnny sets the tools down in the grass beside him, his jaw tightening as he mulls over what you just said. It sticks in his head, gnaws at something deep in his chest. He hadn’t considered that you might think that—hadn’t realized he might’ve spoken in a way that’d made you assume he wanted out.

But when he looks at you now, perched on the fence, swathed in the gold, pink, and purple swirls of  light from the sun, he understands why you would.

You’ve been here your whole life. You know the weight of isolation, watching things in your life pass by and disappear before your eyes. You probably expect people to leave.

And maybe that should be the case. Maybe he should leave—move on to bigger and better things. But when he looks at you—really looks at you—it doesn’t feel that simple. It can’t be. It’s not. 

Your very presence buzzes with life, from your hair to the ever-present flush in your cheeks—from the heat or him, he doesn’t know. You’re sat on the fence like you belong here, like the land itself was carved around you. And maybe it was. Maybe that’s why he’s so goddamn unsettled. You’re everywhere; you’re in every breeze that brushes his skin, in each rooster crow that signals the wake of a new day. 

He’s spent his whole life moving, chasing something—war, adrenaline, a sense of purpose that’s always been just out of reach. He knows the weight of isolation just as well as you do. 

His throat feels tight as he finally speaks, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “I’m no’ unsettled because o’ the job. Or the farm.”

His gaze is locked onto you, unrelenting. Waiting. Willing you to understand—like he’s been holding this in for too long, and if you don’t get it now, he’s not sure what he’ll do.

And then it all clicks.

It’s not about the farm. Not about the work, the isolation, the long days under the southern sun.

“Oh.”

The word breathes out of you before you can censor it, before you can even feel it. 

You’re the reason he carries tension in his shoulders, the reason he looks at you like he’s already lost whatever battle he’s been fighting with himself. 

All at once you can feel the sharp pull in the air between you, the way his jaw tics, his breath slows, his fingers flex like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you.

And the worst part?

You wish he wouldn’t.

[jnw1813]

Courtship

The many ways Conquest courts you, feat. Viltrumite headcanons. No warnings except mentions of violence and a dead moose.

Upon coming to the startling realisation that he saw you as mate material and wanted you that way, Conquest had been mentally reviewing all previous interactions, seeing them in a new light.

And now that he officially lived with you, he needed to take things up a notch and properly court you. How else was he supposed to get you to agree to be his mate?

… which was easier said than done. See, Viltrumite courtship rituals– back when Viltrumites still courted each other to have partners and not just to mate– are… specific and hard to do when one half of the courting pair… can't do them.

Viltrumite courtship rituals have changed throughout the ages before falling out of favour, as even the simple act of having a committed partner to rely on and be loyal to was deemed a weakness– something about how it would cause attachment, which, obviously. But before they did, however, there were a good few steps to proper courtship.

The first step was, of course, making one's intentions known. This was done bluntly and honestly.

—

"What's the term humans use when they're seeing each other romantically, again?" Conquest asks abruptly.

"Dating." You answer simply, still doing your own thing.

He hums, nods, then says, "I want to date you."

You choke on your spit.

—

Hold their opponent down for a full twenty-five minutes,

The second step was– not all that surprising, really– battle. If a Viltrumite was going to take someone as a partner, they needed to make sure who they'd potentially be mating with wasn't a complete and utter weakling. And so a duel would occur from sunrise to sunset, the two Viltrumites giving it their all. If the approaching person (the one who proposed the courtship in the first place) managed to:

Knock them unconscious,

Break all their limbs,

or

then they'll have proved their strength to the other and everyone else.

—

Which, obviously, Conquest couldn't do with you.

He looked at you as he mulled it over, eyeing your arms, your legs, eye sweeping over other parts calculatingly.

If Conquest even flicked you on the forehead, you'd die.

Yeah, battling is off the table.

It's not like he needed to prove his strength to you anyway.

—

The third step was more common and expected: acts of service, proof they could provide to their mate, and future young. Back before Viltrumites just took what they wanted from each other and only mated for offspring, this was a necessary step as, even then, it was every Viltrumite for themselves (except when it came to outside 'threats'– then the whole empire would unite). So, this show of effort and care meant a lot. Especially since, again, back then, Viltrumite couples did stay together for the agreed upon duration– which could just be until their offspring grew to adulthood or even go on indefinitely. It depended on the couple, truly.

—

And this was the step you had fulfilled immaculately since the very beginning. Caring, polite, providing for him, talking to him and hearing, listening to what he was truly saying; the food you fed him as rich as ambrosia, the moments of play and fun as fulfilling as staining his fists with the blood of a strong enemy, the simple moments of domestic bliss simply spent in one another's vicinity easing something cold in his chest.

Yes, you've fulfilled your end of this courtship ritual and have proven yourself more than worthy of him.

Now it's time Conquest proves himself worthy of you.

The thing about Conquest is that he's a quick learner. Sure, he's better at adapting to a fight and learning a new opponent's physiology and abilities than anything else, but in the end, it's all the same.

He sees. He learns. He adapts. Not always in that order, but you get the point.

So when you complain about your tap leaking? He looks up tutorials online– the human's Internet being one of the more impressive parts of their technology if he's being honest. So much stuff, and it's not even all useful!– and, once you've left the house, he gets to work.

Gentle, he reminds himself, gentle. He uses a scanner he'd retrieved from his ship (hiding on the dark side of the moon for the time being) to find exactly where the issue was and then assess it himself. A simple fix, from what he's researched.

It's fixed in less than ten minutes. He almost finds himself disappointed, for some reason having expected it to be more difficult, to require more strength, to not need such a delicate touch from him.

Hmm.

He goes in search of more things to do.

The house has a fireplace; he spends a good twenty minutes outside chopping wood for it. He finds he likes the feel of an axe in his hands, even if he can do it with his bare hands. It's oddly fun and satisfying.

You have a few bird feeders hanging around, so he tops them up. Then he checks your garden, plucking a grasshopper off of your young lemon tree. He flicks it into space. Then, almost humiliatingly, he finds himself tidying up. Even as he makes sure your home is clean and warm for your return, he wants more. This isn't enough! These are common tasks! Not fit for courtship!

But what else is there? As much as he's learned about you and humans in general so far, there is still so much he doesn't know. And how can he appropriately prove himself if he doesn't know what you lack for?

But Viltrumites are blunt. Viltrumites are straightforward. Viltrumites aren't cowards.

Conquest ain't a damn coward.

So he asks.

"C'mon, darlin'." He exhales in frustration. "There must be something you want! You've been doing all sorts of things for me. Let me do something for you now!"

You'd already rejected his offer a few times, claiming you had all you needed and that you couldn't ask him for anything.

Pah, humans and their customs! What, did you feel guilty at the thought of asking for something? At the possibility of being a burden? You were going to be his mate, ask him for stardust for all he cares! He'll get it for you, just– please, ask him to do something, anything!

Conquest hates feeling useless. And that's how he feels right now. Because despite how you thank him, despite how praises fall from your lips and make his heart ache, it's not enough. He doesn't just want to make you happy with these acts. He wants to awe you. He wants to surprise you. He wants to shock you.

He feels frustrated that he just can't. He wants to hit something, but shockingly, doesn't want you to see it, see him, as a brute. So he swallows his frustration and thinks.

What can he do for you that you can't refuse, that'll mean the world to you, that'll prove he's the perfect mate for you?

The answer comes when you make a random comment under your breath about how much everything costs. It makes something ding! in his brain and Conquest is quick to go, leaving you with a quick promise he'd be back soon and a brief kiss on your head.

Oh-ho, this was going to be perfect! He was damn near giggling with how excited he was! Flying into deep space, he shot off, eager to fix this little issue human society had forced upon all its people.

Within the human's own solar system were quite a few planets with some interesting things to be found. Such as gemstones. More specifically, diamonds.

Rare and expensive on earth, but on Neptune and Uranus?

Conquest grinned, beginning to collect some at random. Oh, you'd be so happy!

—

A few hours later, you stared at the large clump with wide eyes, stunned.

"I…"

Conquest preened.

"This enough to have you living comfortably?" He asks, like he didn't just deliver five diamonds the size of bowling balls to your house.

"... yeah." You said, feeling faint. "Yeah, this– yeah." You say, voice sounding high and pinched. God, this– you needed to be careful, lest you crash the economy!

While you were worrying, Conquest just looked proud, all puffed up and feeling satisfied he'd dealt with such a big issue for you.

—

While you figured out how to sell the diamond (only one) without crashing the economy, Conquest sought out other ways to impress his mate-to-be. 

He got his answer while checking the food supply.

Sifting through your freezer, he finds it lacking in meat. There's a bunch of pre-made meals, packets of vegetables, and way too much ice cream, but not a lot of meat.

Conquest seeks to fix that.

Which leads to you coming outside after hearing a loud thud, and nearly shrieking in surprise because there's a fucking dead moose on your doorstep.

Your eyes are wide as you look from the carcass to your… something.

"Conquest! What the actual fuck." 

He stood with his hands on his hips, looking proud. "What? Don't you like meat?" He asks, gesturing to the body and– and…

You sigh. "Yes, but… God, is this even legal? I'm not sure hunting moose is fine…" Not that there were any moose near where you lived. Just how far had he gone to hunt for you? If it wasn't so shocking, you'd be flattered.

…

No, you were definitely flattered. How could you not be, when Conquest had spent the last week doing so much for you?

Conquest watched you patiently as you clearly mulled something over. His expression softened a bit as you walked past his newest gift, coming to a stop before him.

He arched his brow, heart oddly speeding up. "Darlin'?" He asks, uncharacteristically soft. But he was getting used to it, getting used to the way he was beginning to soften his hard edges for you, make himself something more than just a weapon of conquest.

He was moulding himself into the perfect mate for you, somebody that actually deserved you, even if it was difficult for him to do so.

You break the silence, shifting your weight from foot to foot, looking up at him with those mesmerising eyes of yours.

"You said you wanted to date me. Is everything you've been doing a form of… courtship?" You ask, needing to be sure; needing it to be stated plainly.

He inclines his head. "They have been, yes."

You take a breath, feeling… unbalanced, flustered in a way you haven't been before. You've never…

"Well then." With a smile, you reach for his hand, bringing it up to your lips. Pressing a kiss to his knuckles, you give him a soft look, hoping you convey your growing affection for this alien man clearly. "I accept."

Conquest's expression becomes one of sheer joy and pride, grin wide and happy. You shouldn't be surprised when he picks you up and hugs you, but you are, yelping as he (gently) squeezes you.

Laughing, you hug him back, not expecting a display of affection like that from him, but… maybe you've had more of an effect on him than you initially thought.

"Though… please don't bring me any more dead things." You tell him with a slight grimace. "The grocery store is literally five minutes away."

Conquest practically purred when he hummed in response. "No promises."

You sigh. "I'm dating a damn cat." You mutter, idly wondering how you're going to deal with his 'gift' to you.

Hopefully Conquest knew how to field dress animals. You certainly did not.

[prettyboykatsuki]

heaven in your eyes | zayne (li shen)

♡ tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, porn/no plot, role-reversal, so much dirty talk, soft dom + top!reader (using strap), slight brat + bottom!zayne, very light d/s dynamics, orgasm denial, rimming (m!recieving), anal fingering (m!recieving), pegging, zayne-centric, 18+

♡ wc ; 5.4k (just kill me)

♡ a/n ; this is so embarrassingly self-insert and self indulgent. im going to screamdfjkgs. so sorry. i hope its a good read at least.

title from lemme know by vince staples which will be good to listen for vibes. plus the lyric after this one. anjksdkj

additional authors note at the end abt his characterization here!!!

♡ synopsis ; zayne has a hard time asking for what he wants. you have a hard time paying attention when he wears his new outfit.

“My love. We’re not gonna make it to our—“ A deep shuddering sigh leaves his lips as you peer up at him, your hands just at his waist - lips against the column of pale neck. “…our date,”  

“Hm? Oh, I guess not.”  You murmur, not paying attention. You feel Zayne flush under you, the soft beat of his pulse under his skin.  

He gives you a long look. A half-hearted attempt to sway you. You’re almost out of the door by now, and if you don’t leave soon - you’ll be in a rush. All of these are fair worries. You applaud Zayne for being so considerate under the circumstances. 

Even after you’ve nearly jumped him by the doorway, hands wandering as you peer up at him. You feel a little guilty for potentially ruining your evening plans. But even if you did go to dinner now, you’re sure your patronage would be unwelcome. 

You’re not sure you have the self-restraint needed to not eye-fuck Zayne in a crowded dining room—even less that you don’t pay the bill too early to lay your hands on him in the car.  

And that has its own appeal, sure—you think about doing it just to be polite. But it’d be all sorts of inconvenient trying to drive back home in that state, disheveled and half-way to restless so you could get what you’re really offer.  

You nip at the junction between jaw and neck, teeth lightly scraping thin skin as you trail a kiss up to his earlobe and bite. “I feel sorry about our reservation but I can’t find a good reason to go when I could just bend you over right now,”  

His expression is charming. There’s an innocence to it, a novelty at his surprise hearing you speak so clearly that makes you shiver. A flush pinkness that deepens at the tips of his ears, the soft furrow of his brow. Like he’s embarrassed even though Zayne is not particularly self-conscious or coy.  

You suppose this element of your relationship still proves to be a bit much for him. It’s less that Zayne hates showing weakness - but more that control and the presence of it define his life. It’s hard to give that up so easily, you’re sure. Yet you want to do it anyway, so desperately the words fail you and lead you into cornering him for it. You like that it makes him self-conscious. It’s endearing and arousing in the same breath to watch him fall into familiar habits - unsure of himself. Fidgeting with his sleeve, thinking things over.  

A lot of things in your relationship are new for Zayne, but he must’ve had thoughts. Ideas about what love would look like and what sort of man he’d be. You feel a little sorry you’ve thrown a wrench in those plans simply by being what you are. But if he could see it from your view, you’re sure he’d understand.  

He looks almost displeased now though  - a silent plea in the small micro expressions of his face, yet he doesn’t do anything to turn you down.  

Truthfully you’re fond of this mild resistance. It fills you with a playful sadism seeing his general affect change so drastically in a heartbeat. You pull back to look up at him - kissing his jawline again. You let your hand ghost along the edge of his white blouse, tracing the folds of fabric with a thoughtful hum.  

“Would you be more inclined if I said please?” 

Zayne doesn’t say anything back, just looks down at you with expression nearly indiscernible from his others without the keenest eye. Fortunately you’d recognize that mild embarrassment anywhere. You grin haphazardly at him, head tilted.  

“Or maybe it’d be better to be direct and tell even if we do leave, I’ll be thinking of nothing but fucking you until we get home anyways,” You muse. His brows raise ever so slightly. You play innocently, pretending to think. “But if you’re feeling hungry or really want to go then I’ll wait it out. Is that alright?” 

His expression blooms, a bright red flushing down to his chest - avoiding your prying eyes. “You’re being smug,” 

A grin splits your face. “Am I?”  

“We shouldn’t…” He trails off, finally noticing the distant stare in your eyes as you him.  

“Proper as always, Doctor.”  

You’re at a stand-still. Zayne frowns, expression weary in that sweet way. A little more. 

“My love,” 

“It’s your call, sweetheart.”  

“You mentioned liking the outfit on me,” He says, soft and quiet. Not quite a protest - something closer to self-defense. You smile a little.  

“I did. I do. It’s distracting me,” You hum. “You wore it for me right?” 

His blush deepens, just a little. He frowns. “You’re rather easy to distract,”  

You’re kind enough to not point out his avoidance of the question. “Guilty as charged,”  

You let yourself push forward. Your fingers dip underneath the hem of his shirt before you slide your hands underneath, palms pressing hot against cool skin. Smooth and warm to the touch, you squeeze just above his hips, to the small of his back - tracing a line down the center curve until you’re just at the waistband of his pants. You peer up at him again, standing tall enough to press a kiss to his lips as a small offering.  

In many ways, you find this part of Zayne amusing. He’s not shy in the least bit, not really. He can meet your flirting with his own wit so well you’d go as far as calling him smooth. Charming in all the right ways. It’s fun to flirt with him and know he’ll always match your energy.  

But he’s surprisingly weak to directness. No beating around the bush, no euphemism or innuendos. Whenever you make your intentions as clear as you can are the few instances he seems to be sincerely surprised - almost coquettish in a way you find so charming on him when he’s often anything but. 

This specific attention draws it out of him most, and it’s fun. You think it’s less that the attention itself embarrasses him, and more that he finds it hard to admit that he enjoys it. Maybe it’s your own disposition speaking - but you like that aspect best. That he does like it despite himself, and that you get to exploit the few moments he lets himself be caught wanting such a thing.  

You can’t be sure if this is what he had in mind but it doesn’t change that he wore for you because you told him you liked it. And you do like it on him - both in memory and in aesthetics.  

They’re not clothes he’d pick for himself. Long and silky, an open chest and lace choker - layered necklaces and flowers. He looks like a prince out of a fairy tale, an unusually sweet appearance. He’s handsome enough on his own, really. Whenever you let your eyes linger too long you grow impatient.  

He always looks good. 

The clothes soften him is all. It’s a different look and you like it on him. You love it really - if you’re honest. Enough that every time he wears it a thousand thoughts run through your mind and none of them are especially appropriate. Surrounded by flowers, dressed in pink and white. Pretty. Zayne is handsome by nature, but it’s rare he ever looks so pretty. Pretty in the same daisy flowers are. He leaves you half-way between wanting to preserve him, string him into something nice - or wanting to ruin him completely.  

You pull away from the kiss, lips brushing his. A warm feeling settles in your stomach as you look at him again.  

“We’d better go now if you still want to,” You say slowly, eyes flickering to his as he turns the choice over in his head.  

Zayne doesn’t say anything but steps away from you. You find yourself ready to relent and go to dinner - but to your surprise he makes no move to leave. Instead he locks the door where it was unlocked and looks at you with a very faint blush. You laugh warmly at him, it’s just like him to do.  

“Guess we’re canceling,” You hum, pulling him towards you by the wrist. “Good boy for being honest,”  

“I was concerned for the patrons,”  

You laugh brightly at that. “I’m sure you were,”  

He trails behind you as you make your way to the bedroom, his hand in yours squeezed tight. You pull him without looking back, only stopping to shut the door behind you both. The room is dim as the sun gets close to setting - room painted in the warm shades of dusk. When the door closes, you crowd in on him until his back is pressed against it.  

He breathes a long, drawn out breath. The air in the room is thick, dense with tension. You draw your hands up the nape of his neck until both of them thread through his hair, tugging slight enough to draw a breath from him. You push up on your toes to kiss him like this, a hand on your back to hold you steady but obedient enough not to ask for anymore, not to pull you closer without permission 

Zayne always kisses desperately. His body is honest about his desires always, no exception to the rule. A shaky breath and a deep, murky desire , he’s eager for you when you slot your lips against his. You waste no time in stringing him along, giving him a deep kiss with tongue and teeth. You feel him melt in your grasp at the aggression, smiling into it - his sweet panting breaths like music to your ears.  

“So fucking cute,” You breathe, pulling away. His lips are pulled into a frown, but his eyes are something else entirely. He lets his forehead rest on yours.  

“You’re the only one who’d say that about me,”  

“I’m the only one who should,”  

His expression is honest. Eyes widening before the flush on his face goes deeper, glassier. He likes things like this. You always make sure to say it out loud just to see it, and it never fails to fan the flames of your desire. You loosen your grip, cradling his face with both hands to look at him more closely. A face reserved for you - hazy with anticipation and so eager. Wanting for your attention so seriously you feel your core throb just laying eyes on him. You kiss him again gentler, pulling away and pressing a thumb to his lip when you do. Zayne parts his lips unthinkingly. Your thumb slides against his tongue, watching as he closes around the digit. When you pull back, you brush his saliva against his lips, wetting them before kissing him again.  

“It’s good we stayed home,” You murmur. A kiss on the corner of his mouth as you speak. “I don’t know if I’d make it back to the car if we went to the restaurant,” Another, closer to his chin. “I’m sure I’d take my heels off and  get you hard under the table instead. You’re good at keeping a straight face so I’m sure we’d be fine,” One more, further down, closer to his pulse. “No one would catch us, so there’d be no good reason for me to stop doing it, either.”  

Zayne lets out a soft groan, something from the back of his throat. You trail down at to his neck, stopping your wet kisses to sink your teeth.  You suck a hickey into the open space. 

Zayne’s voice is a tremble - still on the edge of even. “You—That’d be… hard for me,”  

You kiss the bruise you leave, finger tugging at his lace choker to leave another one underneath it. 

“Right, of course. And you can’t make a mess even if you wanted to so you’d have to wait till after dinner,” You take a beat to bite down again leaving  a bigger mark this time. You feel the capillaries split underneath the dull scrape of your incisors as a hickey forms - throbbing as it bruises and blooms. “You’d have to wait until after dinner to get any relief, but I think I’d have to leave you on edge ‘till we got home,”  

“Why would you—?”  

“It’d be a waste to make you cum anywhere other than on my cock since that’s what I wanted anyway. Of course I’d feel a little sorry for you, so I’d take the edge off,” You trail down lower, nose brushing against his collarbone and clavicle as you stop to leave more marks. You hear Zayne inhale underneath you - making you smile. “I’d use my hand since it’s easier to tell when you’re going to cum but I can’t let you. And then, when you can’t hold it anymore - then we’d have to go home,”  

Zayne makes a noise. It’s a soft sound, throaty and desperate as you’ve set him on edge. Pleasantly needy. You kiss down his chest, over each brand new mark - adding color to the display of necklaces he already has on. You use another hand to slide down his chest, his stomach and waistband - until you settle over his cock. It’s hard, strained against your palm as you cup and squeeze. He lets he’s head fall back, eyes fluttering closed as you keep speaking.  

“But you’d have to wait a little while longer even we got home. You let me in here easier now,” You slide your hands around, squeezing his ass. Zayne makes a strained sound, muffling it as best he can. “But I can’t just shove it in right? You’re a good boy so you’d have to wait it out some more for me.”  

Zayne pants, eyes searching for you as the room slowly darkens. “My love,” 

“What is it, baby?” You hum. Your eyes meet as you rest, your thumb over the tip of his cock over his clothes. He lets out a shaky breath.  

“Please don’t tease me,” He says flatly.  

You laugh at him. It comes out a little meaner than you want, but it can’t be helped. “You don’t want me to?”  

He frowns at you. “No,”  

You pretend to frown. “Too bad. You’re fun to tease,” 

He looks at you with his face slightly pinched. “Please,”  

“I’ll play nice since you were a good boy for me today,” You praise. You see Zayne blush. “Think you can be good for me again?”  

He nods. You smile, pressing up to whisper against his ear. “Take these off and bend over the side of the bed. Wait for me,”  

Zayne meets your eyes. Obvious embarrassment has a flush crawling down your face, but he goes anyhow - waits for you as promised, as you creep to the other side of the room as you open a drawer in your bedroom. You strap into the harness first, tightening yourself into it until its snug - heavy weight between your legs secured. You take the lube next, assessing that there’s enough in the bottle to make it work. 

Your boyfriend waits for you like you've asked. Kind of. At the edge of his bed with his arms folded on the mattress and his knees on the floor - back arched. He’s slipped his pants just below his thighs but his boxers are on still. You turn a dim light on to keep the room from pitch black before you settle down behind him. Zayne looks over at you from his shoulder when you do - your hands on his hips as you bend yourself over him.  

It’s easier this way to talk to him, your chin on his shoulder and your body pressed to his spine - voice next to his ear. “I thought I told you to take this off,”  

Zayne tucks his chin. “I thought this would be fine,”  

You laugh “Is that right?” 

You do him the favor of leaving his pants on, pulling them down to his knees before you tuck your fingers in his boxers and pull them down entirely. Zayne flinches at the sudden change in temperature. You take a second to admire him. Smooth pale skin flushed rosy as you slide the boxers off, revealing him to you completely. His cock sits heavy, tip ruddy and leaking against your bed sheets as Zayne shudders from the friction. 

You run your finger on the underneath side of his shaft - watching his shoulders tremble at the featherlight sensation. Your lip twitches.“I barely touched you. Did you work yourself up thinking about what I said?”  

He clears his throat. “…It was very detailed.”  

You hum. “Yeah? What detail made you like this? The part about being teased or the part about being fucked?”  

You can see Zayne blush even deeper. It’s visible. His ears are red, but this time its all the way down his back. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it go down so far.  

“No answer?” You coo. 

“…If you already know, it’s impolite to ask,” 

“It’s fine to say it directly,” Your hand slides from his hips to his stomach “That you wanna feel me right here,”  

He shrinks underneath you, face buried in the mattress. You snicker at his reaction - nearly petulant with how he moves away.  

“Are you that embarrassed to say it? You’re good at dishing it out but you can’t handle it at all.”  

“It’s hard to say,”  

“I tell you stuff like that all the time,”  

A beat. “It’s different,”  

“It is? I see, I see. Think you can answer questions then? Just a yes or a no.”  

Zayne pauses, suspicious but unsure. “I don’t see why not,”  

“Do you want me to then?”  

“To what?”  

You grin. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?  You haven’t told me straight once even though I’ve been so direct about exactly what I want to do. I thought maybe you need more details to make you feel comfortable,”  

You can hear him flounder. “That’s not—“  

“See, I’ve got such a pretty picture of you in my head already. You look just like this but you’re getting stretched on my cock and fucked half stupid,” You trace your hand down his spine “Holding you down so you can’t run away from it and making you cum until there’s nothing left to fuck out of you. But I can’t do it until you say yes, see? So it’s a bit of predicament.”  

Zayne’s voice is hoarse. “You’re being unfair,”  

“You said you could answer me right? So answer me. Just a yes or no, with your words and we can make something even prettier out of you together. Doesn’t that sound nice?”  

He’s shaking under you. You almost feel bad.  

Almost.  

“Y-yes. Yes, just -“  

“It’s alright baby. I’ve got you,” You coo at him, and you mean it. And you’re sure Zayne is more than fine with keeping quiet for the time being.  

You kiss down his spine over his clothes, not wanting to take the shirt off even still. All the way down to the small of his back, lower and lower. You use your hands to spread his ass apart, amused by the way he trembles.  

It seems like he catches on too late to what you’re going to do.  

“Wait, wait, you don’t need to—“  

The words fall on deaf ears as Zayne falls forward with a shudder, his hips giving out almost immediately as your tongue slips against his hole. You can hear him start to say something but each time the words seem to fall flat, dying in his mouth. Replaced with what you’re certain are choked out moans that he’s trying  desperately not to let out. You press your tongue flat against the tight rim until you fall into a steady rhythm, feeling him twitch on each pass. He’s a mess above you - you’re not sure if it’s from shame or pleasure or both, but he hasn’t made a single attempt to push you away from it and it’s only goading you further.  

You’re being relentless - for no real reason other than you want to, want to see how far he can be pushed this way. You collect your spit on your tongue before pushing into tight hole with a little effort. Zayne lets out a sound like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, his cock twitching endlessly. When you sink in with your tongue in his ass as far as you can, you use one of your hands to wrap around his shaft.  

Zayne hisses, a broken huff forced out of him immediately.  

“P-please, just—mm,”  

It’d be easy to make him cum like this, you think. You tease him with it, hand rubbing over the tip - thumb underneath the head and over the slit. He twitches hard in your grasp, and you know a little more would be enough.  

So you stop, pull your hands away completely and watch with amusement as he chases friction, air, anything and finds none. Hips stuttering as he seeks relief you refuse him so openly - but still trying his best not to appear impatient.  

It’s an open secret that all Zayne has to do to get what he wants is ask. Throw away his pride for a split second, just long enough to whimper out a simple turn of phrase and it’s his. Whatever he wants. If he can’t yet, then he’s still not where you want him.  

Zayne shudders when you pull away from him completely. Hand and mouth at once, a muffled sound of displeasure at the sudden loss of friction. 

“Felt good, baby? Seemed like it,”  

Zayne looks at you briefly from over his shoulder. You shiver at his expression, so troubled. So frustrated. You smile at him unhelpfully. 

“Did you have something to say?” You ask, goading. Zayne pauses.  

“…No,”  

“You sure?”  

You can hear it in his voice. “I’m certain,” 

You shrug, wordlessly opening the bottle of lube you’ve brought with you and pouring it into your fingers. Pressing yourself to his spine, you fold over him and slide your land lower. Your fingers rub a slow circle against his rim, amused as Zayne breathes shallowly.  

“Hm. Guess you’re not relaxed enough then,” You murmur, voice hot against the shell of his ear “Deep breath, sweetheart,”  

He lets out a soft affirmative. It’s muffled where he presses his face into the mattress, buried into his arms. It’s easier then normal to slip your first fingers in since he’s already relaxed - though the fit isn’t much less tight. Down to the knuckle in one smooth motion, Zayne groans. You pull back slightly, kissing at the expose nape of his neck as his shirt rests haphazard.  

When you’re sure a second one will fit, you add in a second more slowly. His shoulders are trembling. Breathing heavy, thighs tensed from the sensation. You let out a thoughtful hum and scissor your two fingers until it doesn’t feel like there’s any resistance.  

You pause, waiting a beat before pushing yourself deeper and curling your fingers up. It’s helpful you’ve done this enough time to have it memorized. Your fingers press up against his prostate with ease, knowing his body better then your own.  

It’s easy to tell when you’ve found it. Zayne moans. It’s loud and unabashed, the kind of sound you know is completely involuntary - no longer able to hold it in. You use your free hand to continue stretching him open - the other one reaching from his face. Your hand slips in the small space, carefully pulling him up by the chin. His expression is flushed, mildly startled - but not strong enough to escape from your grip.  

“No more hiding,” You tell him, sharper than before. His eyes go lidded, nodding in an absent way. His brows twitch as you rub against his prostate relentlessly. Shuddering, nearly at the tipping point of his coherence. His hands are clawing into the mattress underneath him as he does. You can see how bad he wants it, but his teeth are still firmly in his lip. “You’re still being stubborn about it, huh? Even though it feels good,”  

“I d-didn’t say it didn’t feel good,”  

“You’re shaking,” You point out plainly “You still won’t tell me what what you want? Hm?”  

Still nothing. You take a deep breath, considering your options before slowly adding another finger. Zayne gasps quietly, sweat forming at the base of his neck from the tension. With your middle, pointer, and ring finger pushed inside of him down to the knuckle, you find his prostate a second time. Without mercy, you thrust and curl and push up against it - pulling away from him to get a view of him bent over.  

Zayne’s cock is twitching, silky strings of pre-cum pooling at the floor underneath him. So red it almost looks painful, balls tight. His cock looks heavy and strained - needy. You use your other hand to tease his length, never once getting close enough to give him any relief.  

It takes you wrapping your hand just barely around the head to evoke a whine out of him.  

You stop again. Zayne chokes, hips stuttering at the lack of friction. He pushes back against you, chasing the pleasure but you’re gone before he can. You tsk as you watch him strain himself, but you still give him a minute to breathe.  

The room goes quiet, silent as you let him cool off before Zayne finally breaks the tension himself.  

“Please,” He begs, sounding almost helpless.  

You put your hand on his waist. “Please what, baby?”  

Zayne sighs, exasperated - then hiccups. His voice sounds so different - so out of it. “Please, my love—it’s too much, please,”  

“Is that so?”  

He turns his face towards you more, eyes asking for mercy. “Please.”  

You won’t budge on it, though.  

“Please what?”  

A beat followed by a shaky breath, voice small. Almost fragile.  

“Please let me cum,”  

Without hesitation, you wrap your fist around Zayne’s cock and fall back into a smooth pace fucking him open. You feel him crumple immediately under the weight of the pleasure, his body wracking with shivers. His moans growing louder, less coherent.  

“Good boy,” You praise, increasing the pressure as high up as you can as Zayne cries out. You feel him finally give into the touch completely, desperate and breathy as you pump his cock and fuck him open on your fingers. Your mind is occupied suddenly by the sight of him. Bent over at the waist and shaking, pushing himself into the mattress with his body clasped tight. Like he’s at an altar - vulnerable and waiting. “I won’t stop this time so let it out,”  

His weight collapses, body slumped as you watch the orgasm he’s been chasing wash over him in a single go. His whole body wracks, thrashing as the sensations overwhelm him - swearing under his breath as you touch him through his high until he’s begging you let him off and give him a breather. Thick, hot ropes of cum cover your fingers as Zayne comes down.    

You use whatever left to stroke the silicone cock between your legs, rather then letting it go to waste. Once your hand is free of the mess, you lean forward and kiss the small of Zayne’s back as he re-collects himself.  

“You did good for me, sweetheart. It wasn’t all that hard to say right? But maybe it’d be better if we kept practicing,”  

“Please have mercy on me,”  

You grin. “No can do. One more time, yeah? Tell me what you want and it’s yours,”  

Zayne lets out a sigh, long and resigned. He looks at you from over his shoulders with a furrowed brow before speaking. “…Please put it in,”  

You pause before breaking out into laughter. He groans from embarrassment. 

“Sorry, sorry - I’m not making fun of you. Promise. It was better this time, so good work. Just relax, alright? For me,”   

Zayne nods. Gives in, ultimately - pushing back up on his elbows as you line the tip of your cock against him, sliding it up and against fluttering hole before pushing in with a silent promise to clean him up after this. Zayne tenses only briefly as you push the tip in, watching with heavy eyes as he takes it.  

“You’re stretching for me so nice,” You hum, both hands on his ass and pulling as you watch the pink rim open up around the narrowest part. Opening slowly as you slide your hips, his body reacting instantly.  

As much as it takes to get him to relax, this works every time.  

The tension melts out of his body like candle wax over low flame, hot and heady. “It’s not all in yet but you’re feeling it already. Maybe this was what you wanted, wearing this for me,” You murmur.  

“Aah, aah,”  

You slide yourself in, rocking your hips in measured beats until Zayne adjusts. All the way until you’ve bottomed out completely, cock swallowed all the way down to the base. Glancing where you’re sheathed inside of Zayne, you admire the view carefully. Holding still to let him adjust to the intrusion - you slide your hand underneath the billowy fabric of his shirt. It’s displaced - the nape of his neck and line of his back exposed. Blush-toned with a thin sheen of sweat rolling down the muscles while he hides himself away.  

You had plans to be kinder to him but they go out of the window fast.  

You place a hand on the back of his neck to keep him pinned down while the other one holds his hip. Your words come without ceremony.  

“Tell me when you cum, but you don’t have to ask,” You say. Not particularly nice. “So we’re even,”  

Before Zayne can manage a single coherent reply, you press down on him firm and pull your cock all the way before pushing it back in. It’s one swift gesture, not punishing - but quick enough to leave him off-center and clawing at the bedsheets at the sudden motion. 

A thrill crawls up your spine at the sight of him. The sound of him. The touch, the way he trembles under your grasp. Your stomach turns on itself from the sheer elation of watching him fall apart for you without anywhere to run to. Perfectly pliant and made to take whatever pleasure you can give him. You build a pace up slowly as the flames of arousal lick at your core, grinding yourself into textured end of your strap each time. Once you find the right pace, you find it hard to focus on anything other then fucking him.  

So you don’t bother on thinking about anything else, keeping your grip firm. Consistent and deep, eager as the room fills with the sound of skin hitting skin. Zayne’s moans come out stronger now, pushed out and spilling from his lips like a broken record. You hear him swear under his breath every now and again, when it gets to be too much. A litany of cries that sound sweeter than the chorus of a songbird - you find there’s nothing you want more then to fuck him completely out of his mind while you try and memorize the melody.  

Zayne doesn’t last long at this rate, and it’d be unfair for you to expect him too. But it surprises you just how quickly it all comes down. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been fucking him all that long, especially since he only came a little while ago.  

But you can tell - from the tremble of his hips and the sudden grip on the sheets that he’s close. 

“My love I’m going to—“ 

“Cum for me baby. That’s all you need to do,”  

And so he does, without any hesitation. Nothing comes out for it, but he does cum - and you see it in how he trembles and seizes. All the muscles in his body going taut like a bowstring before he breaks into something finer, like threads of fabric falling apart. He cums hard but nothing comes out, and he lays there in the aftermath.  

You wait a while, but you stay. Sheathed inside of him, kissing a line up his back, at his shoulder.  

“Aren’t you glad we skipped dinner?”  

Zayne laughs tiredly. “Yes, I suppose I am. I would like a break though,”  

“Oh?”  

He sounds embarrassed but firm. “A reward, maybe. I-If it’s alright.”  

You have the inkling that reward just means him laying between your legs. He’s worked hard enough to have it.“Mm. If you want. But I’m not finished with you yet, so it’ll be a little short-lived.”  

“That’s fine. More then fine,”  

You laugh at him. “Right. Then yes. You can have whatever you want,”  

♡ a/n ; some notes about zayne here!! i know a lot of people write him as a rather obedient sub but in my honest opinion - i think zayne has a hard time seriously relinquishing control. it's such a center-piece of his life that giving it up and really letting someone have that sort of influence on him makes him a little shy - even though he is imo notoriously forward.

so i think he can be a touch stubborn / a little bratty when he's being sincere about being submissive. rather then just playing along with you if that makes sense!!

anyhow thanks for reading!!! rbs and tags always appreciated

[madwomansapologist]

Please share your headcanon about gale's kinks!!!!

gale's kinks/turn ons

Navigation | More Wizard of Waterdeep | AO3

synopsis: A deep dive into what the smart wizard man think it's hot. Yes, the brain rot is that serious.

warnings: i'm sick so if this isn't good i will blame the pills. testing a new format. this is about sex, don't interact if you're a minor. remember: if you kink shame me i will get horny just to spite you.

PRAISE KINK

That's a man willing to write poetry about your body, mind and soul. His tongue has only two purposes on life, and both of them involve making you see stars. If his mouth isn't in use, he will be praising you.

And when Gale feels so good he can't even speak, isn't that a praise on itself?

But that we all know. His reaction to receiving praise is what makes me want to bite my fingers off.

Gale Dekarios knows his value as a wizard, but not as a man. His ambition isn't a consequence of his desire to pursue more, but to be more. To deserve love, he must prove his worth. As we all know, it often doesn't end in a good way.

I don't think Mystra ever wasted her precious time to assure Gale of the contrary. And when she did, it wasn't about Gale Dekarious: it was about Gale of Waterdeep, her chosen. How his control of the weave was impressive, how he could conjure any sort of images, how his illusions could fool everyone.

So when he receives praise for any other part of his life that isn't his academic pursues, a part of his brain burns. Be as intricate as his poetry or as lascive as one can be, Gale can feel his knees getting weak. Weaker.

FOOD PLAY

Not only Gale loves to cook and bake, but he loves the whole idea of being responsible for making someone stronger and healthier. Hunger is a hurtful thing, that he knows, and he don't want anyone else to deal with it.

It comes hand to hand with his praise kink. When you eat something good, you don't need to use words: your whole body shows it. He would apreciate the compliments, nonetheless.

To spoon feed you would be such a turn on. It's so intimate, such a show of trust and care, nothing but human. The way your mouth opened for the spoon, how your tongue licked it clean. Can you blame him?

After helping you eat, it would be his turn to end his hunger. You don't mind being his plate, do you? Gale promises to lick you clean. You always taste so sweet for him, what's a bit of honey to add to that?

OLFACTOPHILIA

Your scent can turn him into a fucking mess. There is something so human about it. So natural and real about it. Is just you.

After a fight, when you are covered in sweat and blood, he can't help himself. To be around you can make him drool. You fresh from your shower, smelling just as you and not as any perfume. When you spend the day laying around and is too lazy to get clean.

The amount of times his cheeks burned red because he breathed in when you walked past and a companion noticed can't be numbered.

Gale prefers to undress you rather you doing it yourself. That means he will be able to breath deep against your undies before getting them off of you.

Wanna get him as hard as a rock in mere seconds? Give him a underwear you used for a long time. Just threw it at his face and go on with your day. He will be quick to follow.

Gale loves how he can still smell you on his upper lip after going down on you. If you squirt, he will cum on his trousers. I don't make the rules.

FACE-SITTING/FACE FUCKING

Again: his mouth has only two uses. Is almost therapeutic for him. Just get on top of him, use his mouth however you want. The place in between your legs seen perfect for him to die on.

Gale Dekarios is a service top looking for a pillow princess/prince. I VOLUNTEER!

FINGERS IN MOUTH

You know that feeling of not knowing what to do next? Where to put your hands, what to do with your mouth? Since he prefers to be the one doing things, this can be a problem. A problem that can be easily solved by your pretty fingers.

It can hit even harder if he's in the process of casting something and you stop him by just putting your fingers into his mouth. Gale won't even know hot to react. Actually, he might suck them.

Ok, he might have a oral obsession. What are you, Freud?

BONDAGE

Hand to hand with that sort of anxiety about what he must do next. Make sure Gale stays put in place and use him. Remember guys, your service tops also deserve to be fucked around a bit.

Magic restrains or ropes, and make sure to do some beautiful knots. He could break free from them, but Gale won't desobey. Not after you spend so long getting him ready for you.

shadowheart turn ons/kinks

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[sundeathh]

Spicy Headcanons 🌶

MASTERLIST

Featuring: Shota Aizawa • Words: 1.3K+

CW: NSFW | 18+ only. MDNI. Kink description, explicit sex language, implied heterosexual dynamics.

Shota has a sensitive neck and ears. All it takes is a kiss on his neck or a lick on his ear to make him melt. He's also weak to nibbles or whispers - it turns him on a lot, and if you dare to do any of those things, you better not stop there.

Shota is a switch. He likes to take control in bed and enjoys being dominant, but he also likes to be on the bottom and be taken care of from time to time.

Shota can be quite the demanding one, but when he's not dominating, he likes to be gentle and sweet. He can act pretty much vanilla when he's stuck in a rough routine. (It doesn't mean it won't be good, though.)

On the other hand, he can engage in hard-core stuff as well. Gotta a rough, BDSM kink? Talk it out – he's in the game.

He likes to spank you and punish you when you're being a brat. (You're always a brat just so he has an excuse to punish you). 

Aizawa didn't have toys of his own aside from ropes he bought to use on you. He's not against using toys, though – if you have them and want to use them, he'll do so; if you'd like to acquire a new one, he'll buy it, too. It's just something he didn't have before you asked for it.

He sometimes lets (or explicitly asks) you to take the lead. Sometimes, he's just so tired and stressed out from work that all he wants to do is get home to have you ride or go down on him.

And how he loves your lips there! Don't get me wrong – he loves to give you oral, too. (In fact, he'll drive you mad and have you begging whenever he eats you out). But honestly, if he had to choose, he'd say he would rather receive it than give it. Your mouth is just too good. 

He has high stamina and can go on for hours, but oral is something that can bring him to climax and wear him out quite fast if you're not careful enough to let him last longer.

When he feels like himself, he usually goes for the second round. But when he's exhausted from work, he'll want to finish after the first. Sometimes, he goes for the third one, but it's rarer. He feels rather tired after the second one. Usually, when he goes for the third, it's way quicker than the other two.

Aizawa has a praise kink. He likes pet names, little compliments, and to be told about how good he is and how great he's making you feel. He wants to prove his worth, and hearing you praise him makes him feel good about himself. 

He loves your thighs. He'll squeeze them, nibble them, suck on the inner sides, and kiss all the way up to your core to have you squeeze his head between them.

Hair pulling is a must. Both yours and his. If you do it the right way (mild force but firm grip right above the nape), you might even yank a moan out of him. 

Shota likes to be marked and to mark you. He'll make sure to leave at least one hickey somewhere in your body every time you're intimate (usually, he leaves more than one). He doesn't like to show it around, of course. But he likes knowing he has a mark you left on his skin under his clothes. 

He didn't know this, but he has very sensitive nipples. Once you find out about this, it's a whole new world of pleasure you can unravel on his body for him. But be careful! It's a new sensation to him, and he can become easily overwhelmed at that spot.

He's not opposed to pegging. In fact, he likes it – but only if it's done with care and gently. He won't let you do that if he doesn't trust you enough for fear of getting hurt.

Shota LOVES to tease. To make you beg for mercy. To have you whimpering his name, hoping he'll grant you what you so desperately need. It makes him feel powerful to hold your pleasure like that. He'll let you reach your peak afterward, but not without a long road of pleading. 

However, when it's you who is teasing... God forbid the punishment you'll get once you're done with him. He is an absolute BRAT when he's getting teased and will misbehave a lot. (Still loves it in the end).

Aizawa doesn't care much about giving you anal – he'll probably never ask for it. He doesn't see much sense in putting unnecessary strain on your body, especially that you might not be comfortable with. So, if you actually like it, you'll have to ask him directly. (Maybe even talk to him beforehand, to let him know clearly that he won't hurt you).

Because, yes, he's terrified of hurting you unintentionally in that sense. He'll immediately stop if he senses that you're uncomfortable at any point.

And when he does inflict pain on you intentionally because he knows you like it, he'll always start gently and progress slowly to see your level of comfort. He will always check on you.

Talking is another must. Shota takes sex very seriously, and that's not something he does with just anyone. So, before you get to that point with him, you'll have to make things clear and set boundaries for the both of you to be comfortable.

Shota is not very vocal when he's on top since he gets too focused on pleasuring you. Usually, he only makes some low grunt sounds, depending on the intensity of the moment. When he gets closer to climaxing, he'll hold back his moans, but you'll still know he's getting close because his breathing gets a lot heavier and louder. And sometimes, he growls when he finally comes.

However, if you're the one on top, he can relax further and it becomes easier for you to get a moan out of him. Still, they're usually low and breathy. 

On the other hand, he LOVES to hear your voice. Whether you're moaning, whimpering, or whispering, it gets him really aroused and makes the whole experience a lot more enjoyable for him. He will also praise you for that quite often. 

Shota also has a breeding kink. The thought of getting you pregnant with his child makes him excited, but he'll never push it if you're not into the idea. Still, he likes to come inside you and will ask your permission for him to do so once you become regular with each other. He'll stop asking once you two get close (he tends to let you know when it's coming, though). If you don't like having him spreading his seeds inside you, he'll pull out and finish on your belly, back, or thighs. 

Shota is not open about which position he likes the most, but you can tell which ones he enjoys since he often goes with the missionary or horizontal cowgirl positions. He likes to have your bodies pressed together and to see your face when you're intimate. He loves the sense of intimacy and connection it gives him.

He's not very talkative during aftercare. However, he'll always ask you how you're feeling and if you need anything (like water, for example). He'll get up to provide you with whatever you ask him and will help you clean up, but afterward, all he wants to do is cuddle with you in silence and stroke your hair or rub your back. 

He also loves it when it's you the one caressing, but he might fall asleep pretty fast that way, so he doesn't always let you do that because he feels guilty for leaving you awake.

In general, Aizawa believes that sex is not something banal one does with just anyone but rather an activity to do passionately with someone he trusts and cares about.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[peggythestrange]

Shen Jiu was the only family Shen Yuan had.

Or it would have been better to say that he was the only family he had in that life.

It didn't matter to him because, after all, after reincarnation, the only brother Shen Yuan knew was his twin. And for the first half of his life, he couldn't even remember he was a transmigrator and spent his days exactly as his brother did.

When they were younger, they had the same childhood and A-Jiu took care of his A-Yuan the best way he knew, protected him, and helped him when he was sick or sad.

A-Yuan was born with a sickly body and frail condition and the actual Shen Qingqiu, the fearsome Shen Jiu, worked so hard to get them out of the awful condition they lived in. Shen Yuan knew it was mostly to prove that he was worthy, but sometimes A-Yuan liked to think that his brother did all of that also for him. This was true indeed, but Shen Jiu would never tell, and Shen Yuan was fine with it.

When the younger twin remembered who he really was, he was so shocked that he stopped talking for a week. And Shen Jiu was so worried he almost thought A-Yuan had been struck by a curse and tried his best to heal him.

A-Yuan eventually started talking again after a while and he promised that he would have saved his brother from his fate. He knew the future. He was ready. The "scum villain" was his family and now he knew he wasn't so evil. He wasn't so easy to deal with, but did not deserve such a horrible death.

His whole life, A-Yuan kept the secret from his brother working on his personality only because he wanted the other Peak Lords to appreciate him enough to forgive his brother's harsh words, and always tried to help him when he was near qi deviating.

His brother. His wonderful, smart twin. He did not deserve his future. He wanted to save him.

Shen Jiu taught him a lot of things. He helped him with his cultivation and helped him learn all the things he needed to know to protect himself when he wasn't around. And A-Yuan tried to reciprocate his kindness by protecting him in the shadows, smiling and acting like the perfect little brother, living a second life behind his brother's back only because he wanted his well-being.

Shen Yuan remembered when A-Jiu taught him to hold his tears because showing their vulnerable side to the world would expose them to danger. And his A-Yuan was so frail and weak that he couldn't afford to fight back.

A-Yuan smiled when his brother wiped his tears and patted his head. It was fine. He didn't need his family to know his double face, because if A-Jiu knew, he would have stopped him too worried that he would get hurt.

He worked his whole life.

He worked all his life.

He worked so hard.

So why.

Why.

Why??

When Binghe came into their life he tried to help him several times and eventually, he grew fond of him preventing his brother from hurting him, he... changed a lot of things in the plot, A-Jiu knew about his special care and affection towards that young man and tried to not show the same hatred he wanted to show.

Shen Yuan always thought that his brother didn't liked him only because Binghe reminded him of when he used to be poor and unlucky. But... but he worked on their relationship and it was tense, but not horrible like it was in PIDW.

So why.

Why.

Why???

What happened? What had slipped through his fingers? What had he forgotten? It was not fair.

He worked his whole life.

Only to kneel in the snow now, looking at Binghe's scary smile, blood all over his face and hands. Not his blood, of course.

A-Yuan chest hurt. His breath was laboured. And between his hands, he was holding A-Jiu's heart still pending. Blood was dripping through his fingers soiling his white robes.

He couldn't believe that.

He couldn't believe something like that happened. And he just could ask why.

Knowing that he was going to be the next victim.

[vor-leser]

Benny now an animal, I knew AM would let him play.

(Stuff about my own version of pre-monkeyification Benny below the cut because i have too many thoughts on this)

It's kind of hard to make heads or tails of any of the ihnmaims characters since the cannons of the different adaptations contradict each other so much, so I reconciled my own version of events in my head as to what I think Benny was like pre monkeyfication. I tried to fit everything from the comic, game and book in though.

Benny was a very masculine guy, excelling in every sport, and despising everyone who did not live up to his standard of what it meant to be a strong man. All his life, he tried to embody this ideal, not only marrying and having two kids, but going on to join the military. When he became general, he was known amongst the soldiers as an authoritarian punitive leader, often abusing those below him to whip the weak ones into shape. His ideals were solidified under the pressure of the continuing third world war, instilling a kill or be killed mentality into him. Eventually, he came to the realization that he was gay. However, because this reality threatened to break apart the way he viewed the world and his masculinity. With the mounting pressures from a chain of losses and his own internal struggles, he reacted by overcompensating and becoming more brutal than ever, leading him to kill multiple of his own men. Returning from the Chinese American War, he developed a severe case of PTSD. Constantly making him feel as if his life was at stake, he found himself unable to show any weakness. He hid his own war crimes thoroughly, all the while continuing to receive accolades from his superiors for his tenure. He constantly felt the need to not only hide his crimes, but also his sexuality, making him paranoid that people would realize he was a fraud. This did not only put a strain on him, but also on his family.

AM specifically chose Benny, because he embodied the many ways in which humanity tore itself apart through war, constantly finding new methods to make their own existence miserable for an imagined ideal.

At first, Bennys presence among the survivors proved very useful. Out of all of them, he had the most experience in dangerous situations and a lot of physical strength. His wisdom and leadership helped them a great deal, eventually though, they would inevitably disappoint him. Falling into his old patterns of behavior, he would berate Nimdok the most for his obvious weakness, saying he was holding them back. With time, he did the same with Ellen, Ted and even Gorrister, which formed a rift between himself and all of them. He felt as if he could rely on no one but himself.

Still, his usefulness irked AM. He had gotten one over on him too many times, but this would make his coming defeat even more crushing. It started with his mental state. Paranoia had already slowly crept up on Benny, but when he was forced to relive his trauma, it spiraled out of control. Being starved, beaten and defeated, he started to lose his humanity. His egoism, distrust and brutality, all born out a desire for survival made him a nightmare for the others. AM found it amusing, how he had turned Benny into a parody of humanity and its worst aspects, seeing it fit to strip him of his last remaining bits of humaneness, breaking his body into the shape of an ape-thing.

His spirits were now completely broken, being reduced to a bumbling fool. Even though his shame mellowed him out, there were still occasional outbursts. Now ironically enough, he had become the survivors greatest liability. Luckily for him, the others pity him and keep him around, a kindness he likely wouldn't have awarded them.

(Also drawing a guy thats canonically supposed to look handsome while making him resemble a monkey is hard :,) )

[mrsshabana]

Modern/after all odds Gyutaro definitely did it on the motorcycle despite the risk in being a secluded alleyway or smth since someone was needy and impatient. Gyutaro would have it on or even rev it up sitting backwards while having y/n ride him. The hypersexual thoughts have lead me to a wild imagination once again 😞 Also can I be the 🍰 anon if its not already claimed? ^^

𝐀𝐀𝐎 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, Against All Odds au, public sex, vaginal sex, creampie (if you aren't familiar with my Against All Odds fic, it's an au where demons live amongst humans in a modern au. And all of the kny demons go to university with reader.) ꒦꒷‧₊ Note I decided to write about AAO Gyutaro since I really miss writing that au! And of course, you can be the 🍰 anon if you'd like. Sorry for answering this so late btw. I've been working on other things lately but I was in the mood to write something quick today so I hope you all enjoy it. ♡

"That fucking student council meeting took so long, what the hell were you guys talking about anyways?" Gyutaro growls as he parks his bike behind the science building.

"Douma couldn't decide what color banners we needed for the festival this weekend," you giggle, watching your boyfriend's face contort in annoyance.

"Idiot," he rolls his eyes and turns off his bike, "Making me wait so damn long..."

You look around, confused as to why he is stopping behind the science building on campus. "Um Gyu, why are you stopping here?"

He flips around so he can face you and begins to unbutton his pants, "Cuz I'm gonna fuck you."

'WHAT!?" You yelp, and Gyutaro immediately covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shut it!" he snarls, "I've been so horny all goddamn day ever since you put on that stupid skirt this morning. And now since you made me wait so long, I don't have any other choice but to fuck you right here."

He smirks and pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, already incredibly hard. The large vein that runs down the side of it already popping out, that's how you know he's been hard for quite a while.

"B-Babe I-," you start but he cuts you off.

"Shh, it's ok. The sun's already gone down so no one will see us. I promise..."

He bites his lip and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand goes under your skirt, slipping into your panties to feel you've already started to get wet. But how can you not when seeing him so hot and bothered for you?

Pleased by this, he groans and pulls you into his lap. Slowly bucking his hips, gliding his cock along your slick panties.

"Gyu..." you whimper, "maybe we should move off the bike. I wouldn't want it to fall over..."

"Typical human, always worrying," he smiles, showing off his sharp teeth, "It won't fall over, I promise. My feet are on the ground so I can balance it while you ride me."

"R-ride you?" your entire face goes red. Usually, your boyfriend is on top, taking control and plunging into you aggressively is his favorite way to have sex. So it isn't often that he asks you to be on top, but you can't deny that you enjoy doing it. And he does too, it's just that most days he can't stop himself from fucking you silly. But today he doesn't have much choice.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it right?" He smirks mischievously as if challenging you.

"Of course I can!"

"I dunno... maybe you're too weak to take it. I mean you are just a pathetic human after all," he teases.

You furrow your brows, determined to prove him wrong. So you lift your hips, move your panties to the side, and gently lower yourself onto him.

"F-fuck," a breathy moan leaves his lips as he sinks into you and bottoms out.

"That shut you up, huh?" you tease back as you begin riding him.

He can't deny that you took his breath away, he didn't expect you to take control like you did. His nails dig into your thighs as you pick up the pace. Moaning loudly as you bounce on his lap, squelching sounds filling the air as his thick shaft splits you apart.

"C-C'mon babe ah, if you k-keep movin' like that I'm gonna cum too soon," he clenches his teeth and tries to hold back his moans.

"I don't want us to get caught," you gasp, "Ngh- you do want to cum in me don't you?"

"C-course I do," a needy moan escapes him. He moves his hands to your hips and begins to move you up and down, assisting you in your motion.

You lean forward until his cockhead slams into your sweet spot, "Ah- right there!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the mess between your legs spreads all over your thighs.

Your legs are beginning to feel sore but you're too determined to chase your high to even care. Moving faster and faster despite the pain and your thighs trembling.

Usually, your boyfriend would take over at this point but he's too high on cloud nine to pay attention to anything but the way your slick walls wrap around him and squeeze him so tightly. Making it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

And with a strained groan, his nails dig into your skin, his cock twitches inside of you, and he leans back - accidentally revving his bike. But he's too busy filling you with his seed to even care.

Wanting to make sure he got his cum as deep as possible he tightly grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. Creating an absolute mess. A combination of his cum and your slick splattering all over your skirt and the seat of his bike.

You were already getting so close, but now the breeding instinct of your demon boyfriend brings you over the edge. Your walls tightening around him as your desperate moans fill the air.

Gyutaro smirks, pleased with himself as you slump over onto him. Feeling your body shake uncontrollably, he feels satisfied.

"That's it baby," he whispers as he gently kisses the side of your face, "You did so good for me."

"We should do this again sometime..." you whimper and nuzzle against him.

He smirks, "Hell yeah, but let's get you home and cleaned up for now."

He ignores the mess on his bike and pulls his pants up. Then he turns, positions himself properly, and shifts his bike back into drive.

"You good back there?" he shouts, making sure you're holding on tightly.

"Mm hm," you nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head on his back.

"Y'know, maybe we could do this every week after your student council meetings," he snickers as he revs the engine.

[slut4thebroken]

Little Prey

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Vampire!Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jonathan catches his prey.

Warnings | Non con, smut, blood drinking, duh, hunter/prey, kissing, biting, blood as lube, creampie, praise, fear play, ionno what else.

Words | 2k+

Notes | Impossible challenge: don’t reuse the same five gifs for him skdhsk. Also btw… I edited this like once lol so don’t judge me

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Part one

“Run.” He grinned predatorily, finally showing off his fangs. “You better hope I don’t catch you.”

Jonathan stepped back once more, then you took off into a sprint. He watched you run out of the alley with a small smile on his face, but didn’t move yet. Instead, he looked down at his suit to inspect the damage; there was a hole in the lapel of his jacket and in his dress shirt, no doubt with holes in the back too. Looking down, he found the bullet on the ground behind him and picked it up, slipping it into his pocket. 

Once your panting breaths and stifled sobs started getting quieter, he sighed, then began the chase. Truthfully, he didn’t like running, but he found that usually his prey would start to slow down, especially when they could no longer see him. He was proven correct when he heard your stomping feet slow into more of a jog, then finally into a fast walk. 

When he heard your voice, he faltered. “Please, there’s a man,” you were breathing so hard, you could barely get the words out. 

“What? Hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Jonathan immediately bristled at the sound of another man’s voice. How dare you disrupt his game? “What man?”

“H-He… He’s chasing me.” Jonathan rolled his eyes, but started walking faster. If you weren’t going to play his game— fine. 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, he just cornered me in an alley and I ran.” 

He heard heavy boots take a few steps, then saw a large man peek out from an alley into the main street. When he saw Jonathan, his apprehension turned into blind confidence. 

“Him?” He asked in disbelief, pointing at Jonathan. You peaked out as well, then shakily agreed. “I’ll take care of it, darlin’.” He told you, sounding equal parts protective and self assured. 

“No, you don’t understand… He— He’s not human,” you tried to warn him, but the man didn’t listen. 

“Why don’t you leave the little lady alone, huh?” He called out, walking in Jonathan's direction. 

In response, he rolled his eyes again, then used his enhanced speed to rush over to him in less than a second. The man froze, staring down at him with wide eyes. When Jonathan moved forward, he instinctively tried to fight him off, but it was too late. The man’s scream was cut off when Jonathan ripped out the front of his neck with his teeth, but it was replaced by a scream from his little prey. 

Blood dripped down his lips and chin, staining his already ruined suit, and after a couple seconds, the man dropped to the floor. When Jonathan met your gaze, you started stumbling back, but you tripped over your own feet and landed on your butt. He watched you cry violently and scramble away from him, deeper into the alley, then he started taking slow steps toward you. 

“P-Please, leave me alone!” 

“I thought I told you to run?” He asked rhetorically, irritation heavily lacing his voice. 

“I’m sorry— please, I’m sorry.” You cried, barely able to get the words out. 

“Count yourself lucky, little one. You’re already trembling with enough fear that we don’t need to continue our little game.” His words gave you absolutely no comfort— not that he was really trying to... “So, shall we get started?”

“Please, don’t hurt me! I- I’ll do what you say.”

“It should only hurt for a moment, pet. Then you’ll start to lose enough blood that you’ll barely feel anything.” He smiled— this time he was trying to comfort you, but it was clear he wasn’t successful. That was something that always annoyed him; his prey never listened to him. They kept fighting until they were too weak to move, and every time, he’d prove himself right— that it would only hurt for a little bit at first.

He could tell you were going to try and beg some more, so he quickly ran to you, making the sounds catch in your throat. Since his suit was already ruined, he decided to go down on the floor instead of lifting you to your feet. He pushed you onto your back and crawled over you, making your crying intensify. 

“Shh… Just relax, sweet girl…” He cooed. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he said it anyway. You were weakly fighting him, so he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand. With his other hand, he gently grabbed your cheeks and turned your head, barring your neck to him. 

Your little heart was beating so fast and hard, he was worried it might give out completely. When he dragged his nose up the side of your neck and inhaled deeply, you let out a strangled sob, your body quivering violently underneath him. 

Finally, his fangs punctured the delicate skin of your neck and you screamed— an overreaction more than anything else, honestly. Jonathan groaned low in his throat when he got his first taste of the blood rushing into his mouth, then he started sucking greedily. His eyes rolled back in his head as he drank from you, completely losing all self control. 

The amount of fear he could taste was so potent, it was almost too overwhelming. It was like rich dark chocolate; utterly decadent in its intensity. 

He noticed your screaming and crying had died down and he couldn’t help but smile a little against your neck. “Good girl… Just relax.” He murmured, tenderly kissing the puncture marks on your skin. With the hand holding your cheeks, he turned your head to the other side, then let go. You were practically limp underneath him, your eyes barely able to stay open. You didn’t protest at all when he leaned down to bite the other side of your neck and start drinking from a new spot. 

You whimpered quietly when his fangs pierced your skin, the sound going straight to Jonathan’s cock. He couldn’t help it when he started rocking his hips, humping your body as he greedily devoured your blood. 

He released your wrists, but you didn’t move them away from above your head, then his hands started wandering. He groped your perfect tits, caressed the curve of your waist, felt the soft skin of your stomach beneath your shirt, and even cupped your sex over your pants. 

He could smell your minimal arousal even through the overwhelming scent of your blood. So he pushed a hand inside your pants and under your panties. He moaned quietly when he dragged his fingers through your slit, feeling the tiniest evidence of your arousal. 

Finally losing patience, he reluctantly moved away from your neck to lean up. God- you looked so incredible like this; completely debauched and covered in your own blood. He quickly opened your pants and pulled them down to your knees along with your underwear. When he got a waft of your cunt, any remaining shred of self control he might’ve possessed was gone in an instant. 

He scrambled to open his own pants, then leaned back down over you, then he hesitated. You'd feel discomfort, but you were too weak to really react… However, he didn’t want you to hurt too badly after you recovered from this… So he leaned down and sucked from the holes in your neck, then spit your blood into his hand and quickly reached between the two of you to stroke his cock, adding some lubrication. 

He pushed in slowly, needing to use quite a bit of force to actually get his cock inside. You let out a soft sound and your face scrunched up in pain. The feeling of your tight pussy almost made him bust his load right then and there, but he managed to hold back. Part of him wondered if maybe you were a virgin, but he figured your body just wasn’t aroused enough to be fully prepared to take him yet. 

Your pants around your knees were keeping your legs mostly shut, making you even tighter for him. When he bottomed out, he went completely still, just savoring the lingering taste of you on his tongue, as well as the vice-like grip of your cunt around his throbbing length. 

“Such a good girl.” He groaned, laying himself down on top of you and placing his face near your neck. “Feels so good, little one.” 

You didn’t respond— didn’t even move— but he didn’t care. You were perfect like this. He could hear your faint heartbeat and shallow breathing and knew he was close to reaching the limit before he drained you completely, but what else was he supposed to do while he fucked you? Not enjoy his prey to the fullest extent? The thought was almost laughable. So he started thrusting, forcing a barely audible whine out of you. 

Once he found a steady pace, he leaned his head back up, deciding to drink drink somewhere else this time. He pushed your top and bra up, exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened instantly in the cool night air and he leaned down to suckle on one, moaning quietly against you. 

Part of him wished you were responsive, but he knew you would’ve just been fighting him and trying to escape, so having you completely limp and on the verge of unconsciousness was the next best thing. 

Jonathan moved to the swell of your breast, then bit down, making you groan. He wouldn’t get nearly as much blood from this part of your body, but that was a good thing since he needed to be careful now— He didn’t want to accidentally kill you. Most of the time, he’d feed until he was satisfied, whether that meant killing his prey or not, but he couldn’t do that to you…

He was already fantasizing about doing this again; finding you, chasing you, devouring you in more ways than one. He almost wanted to take you home, keep you as his little blood pet, but he enjoyed the chase too much— He’d just have to make sure you understood the rules next time. 

Maybe over time you’d even start to enjoy it. Maybe you’d beg him to fuck you before he fed so you could experience it with him. Maybe…

Jonathan’s orgasm was rapidly approaching, much to his disappointment, but he was content to let this end soon and not try to draw it out because he knew he’d be doing it again eventually. He leaned up from your breast, taking in the way your skin had lost some of its color. Then, without thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed you. 

You didn’t kiss back— obviously— but you whined at the taste of your own blood on his lips and tongue. He licked into your mouth, his thrusts becoming frenzied and desperate. When his fang accidentally nicked your lip, he let out a guttural moan and his hips stuttered before he pushed in all the way, finally coming. He sucked on your lip, practically whining at the taste of your blood as his cock twitched inside you, spurting out ropes of come deep in your little cunt. 

After another minute, he went completely still and sagged down on top of you, making your already labored breathing even worse, but he didn’t care— it wouldn’t be long enough to actually suffocate you. 

He caught his breath and calmed himself down, then finally sat up on his knees and slowly pulled out. A light pink mixture of his come and your blood slowly trickled out of your gaping, fluttering hole and he made a mental note to not drink so much at first so he could actually make you come next time. Poor girl, looking so incredibly needy, even while on the verge of unconsciousness…

Jonathan admired the sight of your cunt for a moment longer, then pulled up your pants and underwear before fixing your top and bra. Using his suit jacket since it was already basically trash anyway, he wiped his stained cock clean before tucking it away. Normally he’d just leave the person and trust that someone would find them and call the police or an ambulance… But normally he doesn’t fuck his prey. 

What if he left your here and some pervert came and raped you— or worse, killed you? He couldn’t possibly let that happen, not to you. So he rummaged through your purse and found your wallet, then retrieved your driver's license. Your apartment was only four blocks away and it wasn’t like he was in a rush for anything… So he grabbed your purse, then effortlessly scooped you up in his arms and started walking. 

Bonus delulu!Crane content <3

[h8ani]

Prompt #21 with Sasuke from Naruto please! 🥰 Surprise me!

Part One → Part Two → Part Three → Part Four

Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha x Reader

Anime: Naruto

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: you hate him and he hates you, but when he shows up out of nowhere demanding to speak to you all of those years of pent up hatred come out

Warnings: this is the first smut I wrote in years so that’s a warning in itself, rough doggy, all characters are of age/aged up, dirty talk, angry sasuke, oral (female receiving), missionary for 2.5 seconds, angry reader at sasuke

Prompt: “This doesn’t change anything between us.”

A/N - look I actually tried really hard on this and I lowkey wanna make a pt2 to this so please tell me if y’all would want it! Feel free to request a prompt!

"Isn't he so cute!"

"I'm going to marry him someday."

"Sasuke is so cool!"

Hearing his name you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You couldn't stand his attitude even at your young age. It was always someone trying to one up the other, whether it be you excelling in your chakra control or him beating someone else in seconds in a sparring match. You hated him, you hated his attitude and you hated how every girl would throw herself in front of a kunai for him. You hated Sasuke Uchiha and he hated you.

Your feelings towards him weren't one sided either, he could've left you alone but no, he had to bother you any chance he got. Clearly he developed damage to his brain where he can't learn to develop the skills of empathy and self control.

The teasing wasn't that bad, it was the shitty tricks he'd pull and act like it wasn't him. If you wanna pull a prank on someone at least take ownership instead of being a pussy. Did you just call a 12 year old a pussy? Yes. Yes you did. Sasuke Uchiha at 12 years old was a pussy and you've told him that to his face too.

                                          ~~~

"You're leaving." You say as more of a statement than a question. You look at the brooding kid in front of you, his hand on his backpack strap tightening as he stares angrily at you.

"What does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't but-"

"Then shut up and mind your business." He interjects quickly causing you to stare daggers at him.

"You're a pussy." You push off from the wall you were leaning on and brush past him. "You were weak during exams and you're weak now." You begin to walk away past him when his grips the collar of your shirt and slams you back into the wall you were on. "Hey asshole!-"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." He cuts you off, his face only mere inches from you.

"You wanna kiss pretty boy?" You shove him away as hard as you can creating some distance between the two of you. "Just get the fuck out of the village already."

And so he did.

You couldn't feel any happier once Sasuke was out of the village. The pain in your ass wasn't there anymore and you felt like you didn't need to prove yourself as the top of your class anymore even though you have been graduated from the academy for over two years. You were perfectly fine without him, everyone else he supposedly made 'friends' with, if he was even able to make actual friends that is; they were worried, suddenly wanting to go out and retrieve him like he was taken. Once again Sasuke was the top priority to everyone minds.

You couldn't care less about Sasuke Uchiha.

                                      ~~~

He hasn't crossed your mind on your own accord in years. You hadn't seen him in years, you know he's still a topic around the village but you tend to zone everyone out when he gets brought up and at this point in time it's been working. Out of sight, out of mind, he could have gotten himself killed in a random battle and you don't think you'd shed a single tear for him.

You hear a bang at your front door which catches your attention immediately, you go to ignore it thinking it's the neighbor's kid across from your apartment kicking the ball they had against your door until the banging becomes repetitive, the more bangs coming from the other side of the door the louder they became. You swing the door open looking to see who or what was the cause of the annoying noise only to be shoved to the side into the door frame. "What the hell!" You raise your voice grabbing the wrist of who barged in, you get overpowered and pulled back into your apartment and the door gets slammed. You look up at the intruder who shoved his way into your home and see him. "Sasuke?"

Sasuke looks frustrated to say the least. He has the same signature scowl he's always had on his face and the same posture with his arms crossed over his chest while looking around your apartment. There doesn't seem to be a difference in the way he looks at you either, the same hatred behind his eyes as always, even with him being the one rudely shoving his way inside.

"(Y/N)." He said simply with nothing coming after. You waited a few moments if he was just trying to be dramatic with his entrance. He never said anything after that.

"Why are you back in the village?"

"I'm not." You roll your eyes and huff a sigh.

"Why are you here in my apartment then?" You mimic his body and cross your arms over your chest, his head turns to face you and his eyes stare at you intensely. You'd say you were used to this but after so many years you've grown unaccustomed to the look he used to give you because it was nothing like this.

"I'm here to talk, I need to-"

"Why am I supposed to care what you need?" You  insert before he's done speaking. He huffs a breath and soon enough his eyes shoot the daggers you remember.

"I don't expect you to I just need-"

"How about you tell me why you left the village in the first place?" You cut him off mid sentence once again. You don't care about his needs, you don't care about him at all, but you'd like some answers. "Was it like everyone was saying? That you just wanted to grow stronger? So did you find it? Did you get stronger like you wanted?"

"That doesn't matter I don't need to answer that right now, you clearly already know the answer to that." He rolls his eyes and let his arms fall from his chest.

Sasuke was never a man of many words, he was never a man at all he was just a little boy, but with his responses you can't help but bug him about it. Call it being nosy or call it you always zoning everyone out the second you hear his name so you never actually found out the reasoning for him abandoning the village.

"So you're still weak? You're still that little kid who does nothing but bitch and complain about wanting revenge. You may have grown up in these last few years but you're still that sad, pathetic, weakling-" Your shoulders are shoved and pinned to the wall behind you in a moment, you gasp out at the sudden jolt in your back and look up at the angry ravenette.

"Shut up." He growls lowly and if looks could kill, not that he could but you'd probably drop dead if he wished it.

"Make me you prick." You look at him, your stare unwavering as the pressure on your shoulders feels tighter.

There is no sound in your home but everything seems to be buzzing in your ears. Sasuke's face only inches from yours, seemingly just like when he left the village. You feel a sudden wave of nostalgia if you can even call it that as it wasn't a fond memory to think back on. You wait for his response, you look into his eyes and can't decipher what's going on in his head. His grip on your shoulders loosen before he crashes his lips onto yours, his hand now finding a place onto the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him.

Your eyes widen in shock as you don't kiss him back. The kiss surprising you but what is even more of a shock is who is kissing you. You feel him pull away and the look he gives you is mixed with annoyance and frustration. "Just kiss me back." He pauses and smirks, "Or are you too much of a pussy." Your eyes darken with anger as he used your insult to him against yourself. He doesn't wait for your answer before he pulls you back to his lips, you instantly kissing back.

The kiss was hard and the only emotion behind it was the hatred you feel towards him. Your lips molded together as you two kissed, his hand found it's way from the back of your neck to tangling itself in your hair while you felt his grip tighten sending a tingling sensation to your scalp. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue in heating the kiss up in an instant.

You could feel him press against you, his leg sliding between yours and pressing against your clothed core, a small sound comes out but is quickly swallowed down by him. His lips leave yours to slowly kiss down your jaw, it was excruciatingly slow the way he kissed you, from your jaw to your neck to the sweet spot he found almost instantly. You bit back a moan but he made sure to take his time marking up your neck.

The feeling of his thigh was hard to push to the back of your mind, all you could feel was Sasuke and what he was doing to you. You hate him, you hate how he's making you react right now and you hate at how good he is and neither of you have even taken a single piece of clothing off of each other yet. You hate even more the needy words that come out of your mouth next.

"Bedroom." You say almost breathlessly, you could feel the smirk he gives against your neck before quickly going back to your lips. His hands slide to your waist and pull you to him and walk you back not daring to break from the kiss. He pushes open one door and you feel your ass bump into something hard and cold, you pull away from him to see you backed up against your washing machine. "You idiot, this is the wrong room." You roll your eyes and walk past him going into your bedroom.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that it's not like I've been in your apartment." He scoffs following you and kicking the door shut.

"Oh I bet you must've dreamed-" your words were short lived as he spun you around and kissed you quieting you down.

Kissing Sasuke wasn't like all the books you've read, it wasn't sweet, it wasn't like being with your ex's when you were in love. His kiss was full of passion, it's a kiss of desire and a feeling of pent up frustrations he nor you have been able to let out. Frustrations at each other, at the world, at everything. Sasuke was a damn good kisser too which annoyed you even further.

His lips left yours to tug off your top, the fabric quickly being discarded to a random corner in your room. His eyes ate your figure up, seeing how your breasts layed there perfectly in your bra you were wearing. A low groan left his lips as he went to kiss up your chest, his fingers hooking onto the waistband of your skirt and started to tug it down past your thighs pooling around your ankles. You quickly kicked them away and pulled at his shirt. "Off." You demand and he takes no time in removing his shirt before pushing you back to the edge of the bed and dropping to his knees."

"Spread." He now is the one demanding. You go to spread your legs before pausing and closing them causing a confused look to cross his face.

"This doesn't change anything between us. I still hate you." His confusion quickly deadpans before shaking his head.

"God shut up." He spreads your legs and pushes your panties to the side before slowly swiping his thumb along your slit and pressing it to your clit causing you to gasp. "You're soaked." It was more of a statement than anything but feeling his thumb start to roll little circles on your clit sent a shockwave up your body. You watched him as he stared at your pussy.

"Are you going to sit and stare or are you going to actually do something pretty boy?" Your words rang in his ears and he slowly looked up at you, the same irritation growing in him like it did all those years ago when you'd call him that name. His thumb left your clit and his index and middle finger slowly pushed it and curled causing you to let out a small moan. He could feel you already clenching around them as he started to pump them in and out of you. "Stop calling me that." His head dipped down between your thighs and licked a long swipe before settling on your clit making you let out another moan.

"I can't help it." You say running your fingers through his hair. "You're a pretty- ahh fuck..." Sasuke sucks on your clit harshly, his fingers curling and uncurling from your gspot making your mind go fuzzy with the pleasure he's giving you. Your fingers tighten in his hair tugging slightly, "Fuck Sasuke." You throw your head back taking in the feeling of his tongue and fingers working on you. You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten up and you screw your eyes shut feeling the pleasure hit you. You feel dizzy and can't focus on anything but Sasuke. He tugs your panties down past your hips and tosses them to the side before finally undoing his pants. You fall back against your bed, chest heavy as that was one orgasm that knocked the wind out of you.

You feel the bed dip down before you're turned over to your stomach, a harsh smack heard before you felt his hand come across your ass. "Ass up." He says, his voice low as he picks up your hips positioning them to his liking. You feel him bring the tip of his cock up and down your slit causing you to shiver. You can just feel the smirk on his face before he pushes in giving you no moment to get adjusted. You let out a mix of a moan and groan feeling him stretch you out, you not having any sort of sex in a while is the excuse you'd like to give but you also didn't expect Sasuke to be big in the slightest.

His hands gripped your hips and brought you back with each thrust, you arched your back and dropped your head letting out small moans as he hit a spot in you that you haven't felt before. "You ever felt this good before with anybody else?" You could hear the smugness in his voice. "You're so fucking tight, don't tell me, you weren't saving yourself for anyone were you?" He chuckles as he thinks what he's saying is funny, you throw your hand back ready to smack him but he quickly catches it and pins your arm behind your back pushing you further into the mattress as he slams into you at a slower pace. "Of course you weren't, you take my cock too well."

You could feel every inch of him with every hard thrust he gives you, feeling him deep in your stomach as you grip the bedsheets tighter and tighter.  "Please go faster." You whine out without meaning to. Sasuke pulls out and flips you to your back before slowly pushing back in making you moan. He leaned forward his thrusts picking up pace and making you look at him.

The close proximity of him making you nervous all of a sudden, missionary was for eye contact, kissing, all of that intimate shit. Doggy style is much more your style with Sasuke. You don't have to look at him. The smirk on his face makes you question him before he speaks. "Who knew you were such a needy sub." Your eyebrows furrow as you go to speak but the words died on your tongue when Sasuke brings his fingers to your clit again bringing you close to your second orgasm. "You're just taking my dick like a good girl, aren't you?" You shake your head refusing to listen to him. His fingers move faster on your clit giving you the perfect amount of pressure to send you back over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut and head pressed back in your mattress as you orgasmed for the second time in the night. You can feel Sasuke's hips stutter as he fucks you through your orgasm, his pace quickening even more before you felt him stop and let out a low groan as he came inside you.

Your eyes shoot open as you smack his arm, "You did not! Not inside you idiot!" You shove him off of you as you quickly go to your bathroom that's connected to your room.

Sasuke chuckles to himself before letting out a small "oops." He sits himself up on your bed and gets himself dressed. He can hear you grumbling in the bathroom and the shower starting to run as he gets finished. He stands up and makes his way around your room walking to the door before his eyes laid upon picture frames on your dresser. He can faintly see pictures of your closest friends, some recent and some old but what catches his eyes the most was a picture taken when you were in the academy. It was when the top of the class got a picture taken and both you and Sasuke tied for number one. Both of you were upset that you had to take a picture together and it was evident on your faces. Your arms were crossed while glaring at the camera man and whoever had to have forced the picture and Sasuke was looking over to the side, his hand on his hip and looking as annoyed as ever.

Out of all the photos you put in a frame you put that one even as you hated him.

Hate. It's a funny emotion. Isn't it?

[greenandsorrow]

~Her man child~

Headcanons 📺

Vox is the definition of a manchild and I think it's kinda obvious.

He's the mean kind, acting with so much spite, sometimes without it being necessary or justified.

He NEEDS to be taken seriously. He tries so hard, blurring the lines between respect, fear and tolerance.

But when you two are alone... the telly-head man is a whiny boy.

He complains like it's a form of art. You can't help but roll your eyes playfully when he lets out a too loud sigh, but after doing so you're always ready to give him all the reassurance and attention he desperately craves.

Your man prefers being the little spoon. He's like a lap cat.

If anyone finds out about his cuddly nature, he's gonna die a second time...

Vox feels the need to constantly prove himself to Velvette and Valentino, but with you he feels safe. He can be overly emotional. And weak. And needy.

Very needy.

If you're not somewhere behind the camera admiring him and boosting his confidence, his day is ruined.

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

In the mornings he doesn't even turn on his screen... settling for the protection setting instead.

You have to be patient with him.

Bring him a steaming cup of coffee and hug him from behind and he might as well start giggling like a schoolgirl.

He's too sensitive for harsh jokes. Being in Hell means ONLY dark and cruel humour, but Vox can't take it sometimes.

His ego is fragile.

In order to feel loved, Vox has to be showered in extravagant compliments on a daily basis. Whether it's about his appearance, his job, his amazing and very interesting personality... He needs them.

When you tell him he's better than the radio demon.... he literally gets rock hard.

Vox is in a constant dilemma between showing you off for all Pentagram City to know you're his, or keeping you secret.

It's the same as a boy with his favourite toy. If other kids see his toy, he's gonna have to share.

What if someone steals his favourite toy?! Or even worse... BREAK IT?!

That being said, he doesn't objectify you, but he's terrible at showing affection or appreciation.

He's gonna be there for you, help you with anything you need, laugh with you, spend quality time with you. Still, deep communication is a difficult subject for him.

Thank god you're observant enough to catch all the messages he tries to pass to you.

Such an attention seeker though.

Have you ever seen a six year old trying to impress his crush?

Just look at Vox trying to woo you. It's the same thing.

But he's not that bad... His self-esteem is an obstacle alright, but he becomes a rug for you to step on and use as you wish most of the time.

Vox would definitely go out of his way if you asked something from him. You're his rock. It's the least he can do.

The guy even whimpers in his sleep.

Vox loves to fill his hands with your thighs when it's bed time. They're warm and soothing to him, like stress toys. Being a walking television has its disadvantages temperature wise.

He would bend you over and take you in front of a mirror so he could see himself while at it, but he hasn't done so yet. He wants to ask you beforehand and make sure it won't make you feel weird.

Vox is easy to rile up. A breathy compliment and a squeeze of his thigh and he's more than ready to go.

He doesn't actually feel dominant, but he tries to act like it. This Vee member has the stereotype man = dominance engraved in his subconsciousness and so he fights to live up to it.

But between you and me... Treat him like an inexperienced and innocent boy and he'll be crying out in pleasure.

Aka... be a femdom. Even a soft one. You won't even have to try that much.

Another thing. Vox is loud. (Like his name implies 🫣)

He also pants a lot. Almost like he's hyperventilating.

Unlike Alastor, this man is very insecure about both his performance and... size.

I'm not saying he's lacking in either though. It's just how his mind works. Always comparing himself to his opponents and in this case, his opponents are other men that could perhaps satisfy you more thoroughly than him.

Allow me to say that he fucks in an anxious way. Hands shaking and his mantra "Does that feel good to you darling?"

You just need to praise him a little. (A lot)

He doesn't last that long but he'll be sure to rub your clit so you don't either.

When it gets too real, he tears up at the end, like a baby that's holding back from crying. But you're there to hold him until he calms down.

He's usually too tired (and still nervous) afterwards for proper aftercare. Vox likes to be babied though. It's more personal attention after all.

Oh to be cleaned up and tucked to bed! Only then will he feel comfortable enough to run his fingers through your hair and mumble a faint thank you.

Vox's head has a bit of an awkward shape for cunnilingus. However, he has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach more than enough to have you moaning out how good of a boy he's being.

He usually cums in his pants while eating you out.

And when you return the favour it's usually to relieve his stress at work. He feels like a teenager when you do it. It's an act of service, really.

He low-key fucks your face, not enough to choke you but you do gag around him. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like a man.

To sum up, Vox is a bit dependent on you and on your validation, but he would never hurt you or become too overbearing.

He's needy, but not stupid.

He is the definition of a manchild and I think I proved my point.

But he's your manchild sis!

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my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🦷

~~~

Vox divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

[merakiui]

Mera! I'm not sure if youve done this before but who are the winners and losers(and their tap out times) for no nut November??

Winners

✧ Riddle - the rule is to last the entire month without cumming; you know he's going to take it way too seriously.

✧ Jack - something something Ace and Deuce (losers) tease him about being easy, and he has his pride as a wolf and he always brings his all to competitions so,,,, he will ultimately win.

✧ Ruggie - if you bet money or food on him losing, he's going to win just to make sure he gets that from you. He is very serious and dedicated.

✧ Jamil - unfortunately, he only wins because he's too busy. </3 rip Jamil. You'll have all of December to make up for what you lost.

✧ Rook - no one knows how or why he does it, but because Rook was in the mood to see how he would fare in NNN he ends up winning somehow. He is so bewildering. Epel wants to know his secret.

✧ Azul - he would've gone in the loser category, but something tells me Azul is another type who is too busy to bother with NNN. And so he'll win solely because his mind is on other things (academics, Mostro Lounge, contracts, money, etc).

✧ Silver - he wasn't even trying to win. He just can't stay awake long enough to deal with his arousal. :(

✧ Sebek - miraculously, Sebek survives the entire month, but that's only because he treated the entire thing like it was a form of training. Also, he couldn't let Silver win all of the glory!! >:(

Losers

✧ Deuce - he lost the first day because he forgot what month it was and by the time he remembered it was NNN he had literally just came in his hand. T_T better luck next year.

✧ Ace - genuinely tries to do better than Deuce so he isn't teased for having a weak dick, but he folds like a week or so in.

✧ Cater - he is not winning NNN. </3 I think he can last at least half of the month if he isn't spending his time scrolling through risqué content.

✧ Trey - he's too stressed playing big brother to the underclassmen and making sure Riddle isn't overdoing it with the beheadings to pay attention to NNN. Stress relief is one of the few things he looks forward to when he has free time and isn't using it to do other hobbies. But also,,, he doesn't care as much for NNN as others might.

✧ Leona - another one who doesn't really care about NNN. He's a few days in when he loses, but he's not even participating.

✧ Floyd - lost right at midnight LOL. Not that he had any plans to genuinely try. Bragging rights isn't a good enough reward. Why is he going to suffer through a hard-on just for something as measly as bragging rights? :/

✧ Jade - you'd think he'd win because he's Jade, but it's precisely because he's Jade that he loses. He'll push himself to see just how far he can go and how many days he can last. While everyone else plays normal NNN, he is playing X-games mode. This eel is going out of his way to purposely get aroused just so he can edge himself throughout the month. Ultimately, once he's had his fill of fun and sated his curiosity, he'll handle his business. <3

✧ Kalim - he forgot NNN was a thing for a moment. He's the type to be like "Oops, I forgot about that! Can we pretend those four didn't count? Let me start over!" T_T he probably lost three days in.

✧ Vil - he is not going to deny his body what it needs all for a silly challenge. Firstly, masturbation can be healthy for the mind and body. Secondly, there's really nothing substantial to gain from a challenge like that. Vil sees no point in it.

✧ Epel - this means everything to Epel. It's to test his restraint as a man! To prove to himself that he isn't going to fold so easily! To show that he has what it takes to be strong! (He loses at the end of the first week. He really was trying his best...)

✧ Idia - no chance he is winning. He'll give it his best effort if he's feeling it, but it's impossible to resist the temptation when he's watching hentai. He either taps out in the very beginning or somewhere in the middle of the month.

✧ Malleus - he doesn't even know what NNN is, but based on these rules he lost towards the end of the month. In his defense, the horny nature of a dragon far surpasses that of the pride gained from winning NNN.

✧ Lilia - he goes on and on about how he may be old, but he's far from impotent. Thus, he will prove just how impressive his restraint is. After all, back in his day, it was impossible to find the privacy to get a good wank in when sleeping outside in inclement weather conditions. But perhaps that will serve him well now as he proceeds to win this NNN without trouble! ...he loses in just five days.

✧ Rollo - he is above these foolish, filthy challenges. Or so he claimed, but suddenly your undergarment is wrapped around his dick on the last day of November. He is strong, but lust is stronger.

[shangqinghuasbiggestfan]

Shang qinghua is someone I love (if you can’t already tell), but he needs to die.

I need a fanfic where Sqh dies in the most horrific brutal way known to man. Even better if it’s in a way that makes people feel bad, like he, idk, got clawed to peices by a verendre-wolf (but an actual thing) because one of the other peaklords wanted to have its fur, but was stupid enough to not do the research before hand, and know that that specific beast has no merchants selling its fur. And that there’s a reason for that.

Because the beast is extremely hard to kill. There’s almost 0 show of the beast ever BEIBG defeated before in the past.

Does Sqh know that? Of course he does. Does he also know that he’s going to get teared into at the next meeting by whatever rich spoiled peak lord told him to get it? You betchya.

Normally, he would have taken Liu qingge, but he was already out with sqq on a hunt. So, being the author, and the only one to know the beasts weakness, decides “fuck it. I can at least try to kill it” (even better if he’s drunk). And he goes. And almost kills it. Just to get his body ripped to shreds.

The news hits the sect hard. The peak lords don’t know what to do. This shidi of theirs, who was always quivering and anxious, who, despite being among them for years, they never knew anything about, was dead. It’s really bad. Liu qingge feels bad, because, like, even if he never liked or understood (tried to understand) the mousy man, he should have atleast been there, right?

Yue qingyuan would feel really bad. He, as sect leader, should have been looking after his shidis and shimeis, but he never bothered with shang Qinghua. He would be lying if he said he had anything of a comrady with thwt man. Shang qinghua was just so nervous, so quiet, that he never really stood out. Yue qingyuan immediately blames himself, and even reprimands himself. -what is that was xiao-jiu-

Sqq is the worst (sy). It takes him a while to even realise. It only occurs to him once, while eating melon seeds and thinking if giving it to sqh, that he remembers- he can’t. Sqh, the only thing that was a way to his previous life, the one person who he could talk too, the only other transmigrator, who understood him and his emotions too a deeper level then anyone else.. was gone. And was never coming back. Sqq, blames Sqh for being stupid enough to get himself killed at first, but soon that turns into “if only I was there” or “it only I helped”- just “if only”’s all about. Because despite it all, sqq did care about that stupid airplane. Of course he did. How could he not?

Mobei jun takes it the worst. After finding out the news, he destroys most of the palace, before locking himself into his room (id imagine this would be before luo binghe falls into the abyss. Let’s say sqq and sqh knew about each other earlier). This human was crafty yet always nervous. He was quiet but smart and constantly proved he had infinite potential and knowledge. And. To be honest. He.. was important to mobei.

Luo binghe knows that his Shishu died. He didn’t particularly know this shishu well, however he did know that sqh was important to his shizun. That has to mean he was a good person. Lbh often asks himself if shizun would be as sad when he died. He knows it’s bad. That he completely just irrelevates this shishu of his.. but he barely knew the man. (Sqq freezes up around lbh all the time. Why does he look and act like sqh so much? Why?)

Sqh, on the other hand, wonders why he’s alive again, but instead of as sqh, he’s in his old straight and red haired body, and yet, still in his book. The system simply says “user 001 had died. Due yk the amount of points he has accumulated and his repeated use of the system, he has been given a second chance without a story line! User has unlocked “the writing of god” storyline! Well done!” And it disappears.

Edit: part 2 :)

[doonalli]

The Dummies, Midori, The Banquet, and what it truly means to "be human"

And here we are at the finale. if you haven't seen my previous analyses on the Dummies I recommend you read them before reading this one since i am going in assuming you have. But if not here they are in order; Why Anzu is Important Hayasaka and how humans change Kurumada and trust in your allies Ranmaru: Doubts in Humanity, and Humanity in Doubts Mai and Humanity in Autonomy Hinako; Humanity in Affection and Connection

With that said, let's start talking about the Banquet, Midori and what that says about the dummies' humanity.

At first the Banquet seems like a strange choice for the finale of the chapter, after all, we just went through a whole chapter about proving the humanity of the dummies, yet here they are all killed of one after the other here for the sake of Gin, a human. It comes off as a bit jarring, even seeming like YTTD is going back on its message a bit.

But I’m here to argue that isn’t the case, that the Banquet not only doesn’t conflict with the messaging of the chapter and the game as a whole, but instead works to push it even further to culminate in a perfect ending.

And to start with that, let's talk about one of the key players in the banquet, Midori. In a way Midori is everything it means to not be human, and he himself revels in this inhumanity. Midori has thrown away his own humanity, and this is shown to us in so many different ways, but the main one is the way he treats his own body.

What's particularly interesting about Midori is how unclear the line between what's real and what's fake is when it comes to him, from his relationships with the participants during their pasts, to the constant lies and half truths the tells over the chapter, to his death itself, it's hard to get a grasp on the reality of the situation when it comes to him.

And this of course extends to Midori himself, as he is presented as a mystery ever since Alice told Keiji about his murder, and in the way we don’t quite know if he is human or not until the banquet itself, and even then we don’t know exactly how much of his body is human.

During the Banquet Midori reveals that he has slowly been replacing parts of his body with doll parts, 

And to Midori this is equal to no longer being human, this mentality can only be achieved if you equate humanity to what you physically are, and it's through this that Midori acts as the opposite of what the dummies all stand for,

Where the dummies stand for Humanity not being tied to the physical truth, Midori stands for the opposite notion, that the physical truth stands above all. In his eyes humanity is a weakness, and we see that in how he treats them and the traits that prove humanity.

And so Midori tries to escape it, to escape his own humanity, no need for allies or connections or doubts or fears, all those "human" traits when you can just stand above it all, as some unstoppable force.

Midori is the perfect example of this because he constantly rubs it in your face just how inhuman he is, he does so when he starts spinning his head and when he rocket punches Yabusame and literally asks

And he furthers this mentality with his actions too, because Midori is denying his own humanity, he denies his fear of death, he constantly berates and betrays his allies like Maple or Hinako, he denies others of their choices and autonomy, laughing at their despair and refusing to connect, and even his “affection” for Sou is a twisted, messed up version of what affection is. All of it to dehumanise himself and others.

It's honestly hard to call Midori human after it all, and that's just what Midori wants. That's why Maple’s last act of defiance near the end of the chapter was so important, because it shows us and to Midori that that's all it is, a facade.

Just one small moment where Midori wasn’t in control and that's all it took to show us that he isn’t invincible, and with that the image of a fearless unstoppable force is shattered, and it shows us that he isn’t as above humanity as he thinks he is.

It's important that this happens here because it allows the cast to fight back during the next section, both himself and his ideals.

Midori’s mentality of humanity being defined by what you physically are goes head to head with the Dummies in the banquet, and that's what it's about, it's a battle between Midori, and the Dummies, who are trying to prove their own humanity, with all the ups and downs that come with it.

The banquet itself plays into this too, the hint system draws a straight, clear cut answer on who is a doll and who is a human, using exclusively what they are physically.

And the cast isn’t exempt from doing this too, with many of the first discussions being centred around “who is human?”, whether it be figuring out what the lights mean, questioning whether Midori himself is human, or questioning who among the Dummies is a human.

And it's only when Mai’s hands are revealed to be Midori’s human hands, that the lines start to blur. 

Does Mai having human hands make her "more human"? What if they aren't even hers? Plenty of people use body parts from others in real life too right? It gets you thinking about the line between human and doll and just how fragile and unclear it can be.

And sure we designate Midori as the human here, but later we find out we were wrong, because trying to designate a human through physical traits is wrong. But before that…

After picking a coffin and killing either Hayasaka or Kurumada the next hint reveals a human, Sara tells Midori that he must be afraid as hypothetically there is a 50% chance he dies, but Midori denies he is afraid of dying and picks the coffin anyways, revealing it to be Hinako

This just blurs the lines even more, since up to this point we thought all the dummies were dolls, yet a human was able to sneak in there entirely undetected. Can you really say they're that different if you didn't even realise it at first?

And importantly, as we discuss who Hinako really was, we confirm her humanity, but not through any physical traits like many people tried to do during the banquet, but through a painting and the connection between Alice and the real Hinako.

During the next section we figure out the truth about Midori, and about how he has more doll parts than human, spinning his head all the way around to prove it. Obviously this isn’t something that any human could do, but more importantly it shows us Midori’s inhumanity in an undeniable way, it's so flashy, bold and in your face, that you’d be hard pressed to call him human.

When Sara then stands firm and states that this proves Midori is a doll and Gin is a human she is agreeing to the line that Midori drew and separates Humans and Dolls even further. This goes as far as to picking a red coffin, picking a doll, just to keep Gin the human safe, Midori even calls Sara out on it if she is really alright with picking one of the dummies, and notably Sara’s internal monologue doesn’t question that fact, but instead wondering why Midori is so confident, and why he doesn’t seem to be scared.

Sara is being pushed even further into believing Midori isn’t really human anymore at this point, Questioning if their logic was even correct. Until…

The surviving dummies inspire Sara through their words, and with that, prove their own humanities in their own separate ways, showing Sara and the player that their lives have purpose, have value, and that they are truly human.

On the surface it seems like Sara is simply making a choice to sacrifice the dolls for the sake of a human, and the tragedy of that is the fact these scenes show the truest form of their humanity. There is a reason these scenes are such a focal point in my analysis of each of those characters (Mai, Kurumada, and Hayasaka) and it's because it shows that they are able to make their own choices, for the sake of their allies, despite their contradictory emotions, and that's something that's inherently human. 

We see this when characters like Mishima, Kai, and Kanna all do something similar, and it all just works to prove that fact the dummies aren’t separate from the humans.

So why does this happen? Well to me it shows that despite their efforts, Sara still couldn’t shake her bias, playing right into what the Banquet and Midori want, by dehumanising the dummies.

But it isn’t over and the dummies still have a chance to show their humanity.

Tragically, Sara misses, not knowing at this point that Midori isn’t even in one of the glowing coffins, and Midori now has a free shot that's basically guaranteed to hit Gin, but Midori gives her a chance to talk to Gin, and that confidence ends up being his undoing.

While talking to Gin he mentions Keiji, reminding Sara of her wish she got from signing the consent form. She demands Midori to change it, and after some arguing, he does. Only he picks the #2 coffin, killing Anzu, and it's here where we reach our lowest point, where Sara herself admits that she undeniably sacrificed a doll for the sake of a human.

However it's always darkest before the dawn, and that's true here too, this is the Dummies’ last chance to prove themselves, and they won’t go down without a fight.

Through a discussion the cast figures out that Hinako swapped coffins with Midori before the banquet even began, meaning he is actually in a non-glowing coffin, and through this they are given an actual chance to fight back, because, as Sara rightfully called out, this proves Midori is afraid of death.

Despite his claims otherwise, Midori is scared of death, and because of that he swapped coffins with Hinako out of a fear he’d die outwise.

Midori claims that this doesn’t matter though as no matter what all 3 of the non glowing coffins have dolls inside, meaning the hit will be red no matter what. 

Regardless Sara presses the hint and it ends up blue, meaning that there is a human inside, much to everyone’s surprise.

The fact that Midori believed so strongly that the coffins would end up red only for it to be blue just blurs the lines between these two options even more. The fact that the contents in this coffin are unknown is just the first step in this counterattack.

Before that however, Ranmaru’s coffin is picked, sending Sara to give up, but Q-taro tells her that it's not what she thinks, as Midori is revealed to be struggling with his next choice.

This goes into the war of words against Midori, and the thing about this one is that compared to the other war of words our goal here is to confuse Midori as much as possible. First we refute his claim that Keiji isn’t in the coffin, despite it being blue. Then when he brings up the victim videos we tell him that the Hinako in the video isn’t even the Hinako of the dummies. He reasons out Maple must have told Keiji about the Banquet, and reveals that the coffins designate between human and doll through the collars, as both dolls and humans would be ashes after being cremated.

All these contradictions are designed to blur the lines between red and blue, real and fake, human and doll.

The way Midori doubts a human is in the blue coffin, or the way we bring up how not all the dummies are dolls of people who died, or how he admits that the coffins don’t even tell the content apart by physical traits but instead by the collar put on them.

And by the end we’ve blurred the lines so much that Midori thinks the coffin contains his collar, despite his own claim that he himself would be counted as a doll. All due to Q-taro's trick.

As if Hinako being a Human among the dolls wasn't enough, there has been a doll among the humans the whole time, and no one could tell, not even Midori, who dies before he ever learns the truth.

The fact that a doll of someone could so easily fit in just shows how vague the lines really are. We see just how much a doll can seem like a human, how they can feel and learn and grow like any human, how they laugh and cry and shout like any human. And at that point... was there ever really even a line at all? And this all culminates in the final act of the Banquet, Midori and Sara’s last choices. Midori is now doubting himself,

struggling between the 2 options he has to target, struggling with his conflicting feelings,

 and Sara thinks to herself that Midori has no allies to rely on now,

because he denied that connection, and killed them all himself.

She tells him to choose, to make his own choices now,

and he does, he picks the non glowing coffin… Missing Gin and ultimately dooming himself.

Sara ends up making her choice, choosing Midori’s coffin, and as the drill goes through Midori, he realises just how scared of death he is, but it's too late for him.

We prove his mentality of humanity being decided by physical traits is wrong in this moment, because here, in his final moments, Midori is undeniably human, and even he can’t run away from that.

"I'm a human. Which is why I don't wanna die..."

Unlike somebody such as Rio, who also spent his last moments as a human, Midori doesn’t deserve any sympathy, because he did that to himself. Just like how he denied that connection to his allies like Hinako, and killed them, Midori essentially killed his humanity, or at least tried to, so when he’s backed into a corner he doesn’t get to rely on his allies, and while we’ve proven that his mentality of humanity isn’t right, Midori himself he only realises this right as he is about to die, when it's far too late to go back now.

Through the Banquet and its final choice we prove to not only Midori, but to the cast and ourselves that humanity can’t be defined with just the physical truth, and that's what victory means for the dummies, because if someone who actively threw away his own humanity, with all his rocket punches and spinning head can still struggle with contradictory feelings, can try to rely on his allies, can still be forced to make his own choice, and can truly fear death, then humanity  just can’t be defined by something as simple as how much of your body is a doll, and the lines that seemed to divide that, ceases to exist at all.

================================================================================================ Afterword: So that's it. This set of analyses is finally done. Some of you all might have noticed that this is being released exactly one year after my first Anzu analysis, and I just wanted to thank everyone for reading this with me, the fact that there are people who like and agree with what I have to say is still unbelieveable.

I started this series because I thought the dummies were an underappreciated part of YTTD and 3-1 was underappreciated in general. To me this chapter is just incredible, my favourite bit of fiction ever, and I just wanted to put it into words why I love it so much, and as I wrote this series I only grew to love it more!

I hope I was able to share that love to whoever took the time to read any of my posts, its been an incredible time, thank you so much! and i hope you're able to love it a bit more too.

Sorry this one took so long to come out, I've been working on a few projects that i'll hopefully be able to drop soon, and if you're a fan of the dummies I think you'll like what I have in store.

Lastly I want to thank Crazy Sunshine for being such an incredible friend and for helping me so much with the latter half of these analyses, they were improved so much with their help!!!!

And I'll try to be more consistent with these posts but uhh i said that before and that hasn't exactly worked out, regardless this isn't the end, i have a few asks to catch up on still and i am not even remotely close to saying all there is to say about this incredible chapter, so I hope you'll be there when it drops. I hope you've enjoyed this era of my blog and moreso I hope you look forward to the future.

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed! and I hope I got you thinking about this incredible chapter even just a little bit more.

[arc852]

Abandoned and Found

Summary: Skizz is ten years old with a father who hates him. One day, his father tricks him and leaves him to be found and caught by the human kid. It's a death sentence, but thankfully, Impulse is a lot kinder than Skizz had been anticipating.

Warnings: fear, abuse, child abuse, neglect, leaving a child to die, parent blaming child for other parent's death, crying, and panic

Word Count: 6008

AO3 Link

It's time for Impulse and Skizz's backstory in the bbbcau! Here we go! I hope you guys enjoy!

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

 Skizz was not wanted.

 It was hard to not see that, with the way his father ignored him time and time again. Over time, Skizz learned to like being ignored. Because if he was being ignored, then that meant he wasn’t being hurt. 

 You would think that borrowers would treat their kids better. Wouldn’t turn to the same hatred or neglect that some humans did with their own kids. Borrowers were so few and far between after all. Each borrower child should be treated with the utmost care and love.

 That’s what should have been the case. But it wasn’t for Skizz.

 So, one day, when Skizz was barely ten, his father told him he was coming along on his borrowing trip. Skizz wasn’t sure what to think but part of him, the part that always longed for his father’s approval, hoped this was the start of something better. That maybe his dad had realized where he was wrong and that Skizz was useful. That Skizz could help him.

 Skizz’s excitement grew as he grabbed his borrowing bag, unused until now, and followed his father out of their little home and through the tunnels in the walls. Skizz tried catching up with his dad, falling in line with him for just a moment before his dad turned to him with narrowed eyes. Skizz tensed and paused, falling back behind his father before walking again, his head a bit lower this time.

 Still, he didn’t let that get him down. His dad was finally trusting him with a borrowing run. He could prove himself here and show his dad he was worth keeping around.

 Skizz hesitated as they made it to the wall’s exit, the open area of the house waiting for them beyond the small hole. His father sent him a look as he went through and Skizz bit back his nerves as he followed. The sheer scale of everything never failed to make Skizz’s knees weak. 

 They appeared to be in a bedroom and underneath a desk. Skizz went over to the leg of the desk and looked around the room as much as he could. It was empty, thankfully, but as he glanced at the bed pushed up against the wall and the toys decorating the shelves and floor, Skizz realized they were in the human child’s bedroom.

 Skizz blinked and looked over toward his father, wondering what it was they needed to borrow from the kid’s room of all places. It was sort of an unspoken rule that you didn’t go anywhere where kids were likely to be. And their bedroom was the main one off limits.

 “Dad, why are we-” Skizz was cut off by a harsh shush from his dad and Skizz quickly shut his own mouth. His father glared at him before turning away and motioning for Skizz to follow as he moved away from underneath the desk.

 Skizz swallowed thickly but followed close behind, his hold tightening on his bag as his eyes darted around the room, half expecting the human kid to jump out at any moment. The room was empty though and he and his father continued to walk until they reached the nightstand near the bed.

 His father remained silent even as he dug into his bag and pulled out his hook. Skizz simply watched, a bit mesmerized as he watched his dad unfold the string before winding it up and throwing it to the top of the nightstand. It wasn’t until he noticed his father’s glare that Skizz realized he was meant to do the same.

 Skizz tensed and scrambled to get his hook and string out, nerves alight as he realized it had gotten tangled together. He heard his father huff angrily as he tried to untie the knots and glanced up to see his father already climbing up the string. Skizz bit his lip and tried going faster, finally untying all the knots and unfurling his hook from the string completely. He had no time to waste, so he swung the hook around his head and threw it up.

 By some miracle, it hit its mark on Skizz’s first try.

 Skizz grinned and looked up toward his father. His grin faltered as his father, now at the top of the nightstand, simply stared down at him with crossed arms, his foot tapping against the wood impatiently. Skizz lowered his head a bit and tugged on the string to make sure it was secure. When it didn’t come undone, he started the climb up.

 Skizz wasn’t as skilled or seasoned as his dad in climbing, so it took him a bit longer to shimmy up the string and haul himself up and onto the nightstand. His dad barely passed him a glance as he headed over toward the edge of the nightstand that was facing out into the room. Skizz bent down to collect his hook and string but his father stopped him.

 “Leave it.” He said roughly and Skizz did, snapping his hand back and standing back up. He turned away from it and followed his dad over to where he was. 

 “Help me open this.” He said, again not even looking over at Skizz. Skizz came closer and realized his dad needed help opening the drawer of the nightstand. His father currently had his feet against the lip of the drawer as his hands laid flat on the nightstand behind him for leverage. Skizz copied his position and together they both pushed until the drawer was open enough where they could slip through and then some.

 Skizz scrambled back as to not fall in and stood up, going a little bit closer to peer over the edge and into the drawer. He expected to see some paper clips or pencils, maybe some tissue paper. But to his surprise, the drawer was empty.

 “Wait, but then what-?” Once again, Skizz was cut off by his father. But instead of it being from a shush or a glare, Skizz felt himself being pushed. Skizz fell with a cry, landing in the drawer with a quiet thud. The drop hadn’t been too big but it still hurt and it still left him a bit winded. He recovered fast though, the adrenaline of the moment giving him the strength to push himself up and turn himself over, looking up at his father with wide eyes as he did nothing but stare down at him. 

 “D-Dad, what...?” Skizz tried to get out because…well, he must be imagining things right? His dad hadn’t pushed him. That was-that was absurd. He must have just slipped and fell in himself. Right?

 But he remembers feeling something press against his back, pushing him into the drawer. And seeing the look on his father’s face made him shiver in realization. But before Skizz could say anything more, question him further, his dad spoke.

  “I tried. I really did.” His father said, turning his head away from Skizz for a moment. He seemed to stare off into the distance before shaking his head and turning back to glare down at Skizz. Which caused Skizz to flinch. “But each passing day you started to look more and more like her.” His father grit his teeth, his glare burning with anger and hatred, more hatred than Skizz had ever seen. “And you don’t deserve to look like her. The only reason she’s even gone is because of you.”

 Skizz swallowed the forming lump in his throat at his father’s words. He knew he was talking about his mother. He knew all his father’s past aggressions toward Skizz was because his father believed it was Skizz’s fault that his mother had died. In truth, his mom had died giving birth to him. And with how much his father constantly reminded him of this fact, Skizz couldn’t help but believe him. It was his fault his mother had died.

 But he never would have thought his father would take things this far. With the way he was speaking, it sounded like his dad planned on leaving him in here.

 “Dad, please, I-I don’t…I’m sorry-” Skizz tried but was once again cut off and ignored.

 “At least now I’ll get some peace. I won’t have to see her eyes haunting me everywhere you go.” His dad sounded final but Skizz couldn’t just leave it like that. If he was left here, he would surely be caught.

  Maybe he could use that. His dad obviously didn’t care about him. He was seeing that now, should have seen that before. And he had, he had just stupidly chosen to ignore it. But while his dad might not have cared about him, he had to at least care about the secrecy and safety of all borrower-kind, right? “You're…You’re just going to risk borrowers being discovered?” Skizz said with a shaky voice, trying hard not to cry. “If I’m found then…then you’re putting yourself at risk too!”

 But his reasoning fell flat as his father just huffed. And what he said next made Skizz’s blood run cold.

“He’s a kid, and a little boy at that. He’ll probably kill you before he even realizes you're alive.” His father said it so casually, as if he wasn’t talking about leaving his son to die.

 Oh god, he was leaving Skizz here to die.

 Skizz watched as his father turned around and started to walk away and out of sight. His eyes widened, realizing this was really happening. “Dad, wait! Please don’t leave me here! Please! Dad!” Skizz yelled, tears falling from his face. But his dad didn’t so much as answer. Skizz could vaguely hear the sound of his dad climbing back down to the ground using his hook and string. And Skizz could only assume he was taking Skizz’s own back with him as well.

 “Dad…” Skizz attempted one last time, his voice trailing off as he realized his dad was probably gone. He choked on his next breath as he sobbed, rubbing at his eyes to stop the constant stream of tears. His dad had left him and now he was going to be caught and killed by a human kid. 

 He didn’t want to die.

 He wasn’t sure how much time had passed after that. His tears had stopped a while ago but his heart still raced at the thought of what would happen to him whenever the human kid got back home. He curled himself up into a ball in the far corner of the drawer, nothing to do but wait and dread.

 It both felt long and not long enough when Skizz finally heard the door to the bedroom open. Skizz’s breath hitched and he looked out toward the opening of the drawer with wide eyes, despite the fact he couldn’t see anything more than the ceiling from this angle.

 “Make sure you get your homework done first!” A faint, female voice yelled from somewhere beyond the bedroom. 

 “I know, I will!” This voice was so much closer and louder but otherwise not unlike his own in the sense of how young it sounded. Skizz could feel himself shaking at the voice, at the very little distance between himself and the human kid. 

 As he heard the door to the room shut, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

 He almost just wanted to curl up and ignore everything, let his death come as a surprise. At least then it might feel quick to him. But instead, he couldn’t help but strain his ears for any sort of sound. Any indication that the human was getting closer. He heard the sound of a bag rustling and some papers moving along with some footsteps. But as those sounds grew slightly louder, they suddenly all stopped.

 “Huh?” Skizz heard the human say and Skizz held his breath, his eyes never leaving the gap. “That’s weird, I could have sworn I left this closed…” The human continued and then slowly, but surely, a towering figure came into Skizz’s view, overtaking the ceiling and making it so that all he could see was the human’s face as he peered inside the drawer.

 Skizz couldn’t move as the human’s eyes widened in shock.

 “What the…?” The human started and suddenly Skizz was jerked as the human opened the drawer more, pulling him into the light of the room. He fell onto his back at the sudden motion and opened his eyes just in time to see the giant hand coming straight for him.

 “N-No!” Skizz shouted, bringing his arms up and trying to shield himself despite knowing it wouldn’t do anything. If the human wanted to grab him, the human would grab him. 

 He expected to be grabbed at any moment but when several seconds passed and still nothing happened, Skizz hesitantly lowered his arms enough to peek up and over them. The hand was gone but the human’s face was closer now, watching him with furrowed brows. 

 “Sorry.” The human said, his voice low. “Are you…okay?”

 Skizz blinked and almost jumped when his vision blurred, only to realize a moment later that he was crying. Again. He tried to wipe his tears away, he needed to be able to see. He needed to know when the human would make his move. But more tears simply replaced the ones he wiped away and his vision was still a blurry, wavy mess.

 “Oh geez…” He heard the human mutter and that was all the warning Skizz got before he finally felt what he had been dreading. The human’s hand curled around him and Skizz forwent trying to stop his tears to thrash against the grip. He pushed and kicked against the massive fingers but they barely even flinched against them.

 His arms got caught within the grasp and as the human solidified his grip they got pinned to his sides. “L-Let me go!” Skizz cried but his voice was too shaky and thick from his cries. After a moment, Skizz fell limp, knowing everything was fruitless. The human had him and there was nothing Skizz could do about it.

 As he was lifted out of the drawer, the human spoke again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He sounded…panicked? That was weird and not at all what Skizz had been expecting.

 He also wasn’t expecting to feel himself settle on something solid either.

 He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) just as he felt the grip around his body leave. His tears still blurred his vision but he could at least make out the fact that he was now back on top of the nightstand. He looked back up at the human as he suddenly started to speak.

 “Sorry, I just, I didn’t really know what else to do. I-I figured you wanted out of there but…I mean, you’re crying and I just…” the human looked sheepish, maybe even a bit guilty. “I’m sorry.” He said, this time in a low tone that was much more mumbled than before. “I should have asked first…especially since you had already shouted at me to stop.” The human winced at that, as if just remembering that had happened.

 Skizz took in several deep breaths and once again tried wiping away his tears. Thankfully, no other tears followed this time and his vision cleared up. It did nothing to lessen his fear though, in fact, it almost made it worse to see the human so clearly looming over him. But then, as if reading his mind, the human lowered himself down so that he was now eye level with him. It wasn’t much better, but it was something.

 “Are you okay?” The human asked once again and though Skizz still felt shaky with fear and like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, he answered.

 “N-Not really…” Skizz said quietly, his voice somewhat back to normal now that his sobs had subsided. 

 The human winced at his answer. “I’m sorry.” The human bit his lip and Skizz could tell he didn’t really know what else to do. “Is there…can I do anything to help?”

 Skizz was so confused. Why would the human want to help him? Why wasn’t he being grabbed again? In fact, why had the human put him down in the first place? Everything he had ever heard about humans told him that they wouldn’t hesitate to grab you, or keep you, or play with you, or kill you…there were so many things a human could do.

 But not once had Skizz ever heard of a human being kind.

 Skizz felt like he was being tricked.

 He narrowed his eyes at the human and scooted back, putting more distance between the two of them. Not that it mattered when the human could just reach out and grab him from wherever he ended up on the nightstand but the distance still made him feel a bit better. “L-Leave.” Skizz answered, his voice shaky with fear as he made his request known.

 The human looked sad at what Skizz said but to Skizz’s utter shock, the human nodded. “Okay…if that’s what will help.” The human then stood up and turned around, walking back towards his door.

 Skizz watched him walk away with wide eyes, his brain trying to process what was happening here. The human…listened to him? The human was leaving just like Skizz asked and it didn’t seem to be a trick. It couldn’t be, not with the way the human was fully leaving Skizz alone.

 Skizz didn’t know why but he scrambled up to a stand and yelled over to the human before his hand was even on the doorknob. “Wait!” Skizz almost felt his knees give out as the human looked back at him, but he stood firm and looked the human in the eyes.

 The human stared back, looking at him expectantly and Skizz was having a hard time finding the words. Any words. Why had he stopped the human from leaving? This had been his chance to escape and now he had ruined it. But as he tore his gaze away from the human and looked out over the nightstand, he realized with a growing dread that he would not be able to get down on his own. His father really had taken his hook and string and without it, there was no way he would be able to climb down.

 So, it looked like he needed the human’s help after all. But it wasn’t just that. He wanted-no, needed to know why the human was asking how he was. Why this human was turning everything he had ever been taught about humans on its head.

 Skizz took a deep breath, trying to appear much more put together, and bigger, than he actually was. “Why are you…not…I mean, why are you…” Skizz hated that he couldn’t get the words out. The human titled his head and stepped closer, causing Skizz to take a step back. The human stopped short, looking sad and Skizz’s eyes widened. “That! Why do you keep doing that?!”

 The human blinked, looking down at himself as if that would give him the answer to what Skizz meant. “Doing…what?”

 Skizz huffed. “You keep…listening to me. You grabbed me but then you let me go and apologized and I don’t…I don’t understand…” Skizz’s shoulders rose up to meet his chin and he turned away.

 “Oh…” The human stood there, looking sadly at Skizz. “I mean…why wouldn’t I?”

 And Skizz…really didn’t have an answer for that.

 He had heard so many horror stories of humans doing terrible things to borrowers but there was never a reason why they did those things. Not a real one anyway. His father always waved him off and said that was just what humans did. Borrowers were smaller than them, weaker, and so they took advantage of that.

 But that never really made any sense. After all, Skizz always thought if he was human and found someone smaller than him that he would help them and treat them well.

 Just like what this human was doing.

 “Well…thank you for getting me out of the drawer.” Skizz said, grateful despite how it had happened.

 The human looked surprised but nodded and then looked sheepish once again. “Of course, uh…sorry again for just grabbing you though.”

 Skizz swallowed once again at the, what? Third apology? It was strange but Skizz realized it was not strange in a bad way. “It’s okay.” Skizz said quietly, looking down. “You…didn’t know.” Honestly, what else could he have done in that situation? Skizz hadn’t planned on calming down any time soon after all.

 “Um, I’m Impulse, by the way.” The human, Impulse, said with a slight hesitant laugh. “What’s…your name?”

 Oh. Wow. Even after the strangeness of this interaction he hadn’t been expecting for the human to ask for his name. For Impulse to ask for his name. “Skizz.” He said simply, a very faint smile on his face.

 Impulse had a bigger smile after learning Skizz’s name but it soon turned hesitant again. “It’s really nice to meet you. Um…did you still want me to leave?” Impulse asked, pointing to the door behind him. Skizz had almost forgotten he had asked that of Impulse.

 “No.” Skizz said and looked back over toward the edge of the nightstand again. “Actually, can I get your help off this nightstand?” If Impulse was willing to do that, he could get back into the walls no problem.

 Impulse perked up. “Oh, yeah of course!” Impulse stepped closer until Skizz was within reach. Skizz tried his best to not flinch back. Just because he figured Impulse wasn’t going to hurt him, didn’t mean he no longer had his fear of Impulse’s size. Impulse hummed and then carefully set his hand down, palm up, a few inches away from where Skizz stood. Skizz looked at the offered hand and then back up at Impulse. Impulse smiled. “I figured this would be better than grabbing you again.”

 Skizz was very thankful for that. He nodded and came up to the hand, hesitating slightly before stepping on. He crouched as Impulse started to move, the hand lifting into the air and then slowly lowering all the way to the ground. Skizz’s stomach did flips but otherwise the ride was smooth. As soon as the hand hit the ground, Skizz was off of it, back on solid ground.

 He turned to look at Impulse, his gaze appreciative. “Thank you.”

 Impulse nodded and then bit his lip. “Will I…ever see you again?”

 Skizz tensed and looked back toward his entrance into the walls. “I…don’t know.” He wondered if knowing that would change Impulse’s mind. Thankfully, Impulse just nodded.

 “Well, you are always welcome back.” Impulse said and then stood up and walked over to his desk to start on his homework. He figured Skizz would want to go off wherever it was without Impulse watching him. And he was right, Skizz was thankful for the lack of peering eyes.

 With Impulse at his desk, Skizz instead turned toward the bed, where he knew another entrance was, and rushed toward it. As soon as he was back in the walls, everything came crashing down on him all over again. He had gotten so caught up in how Impulse was acting and such that everything else had gotten pushed out of his head. Until right now, when things were calm again. He remembered how his father had led him out into Impulse’s room and pushed him into a drawer with the intent to-to leave him for dead.

 It was only because Impulse was kind that his plan didn’t turn out.

 But despite everything awful about his father, he…he still found himself seaking the man’s approval. Maybe, if he went back and his dad saw that Skizz was okay, that Skizz got away from the human, then maybe his father would think he was something after all.

 It was a longshot but Skizz couldn’t help but hold onto that little bit of hope.

 Skizz rushed through the walls, going down the familiar winding paths as he finally made it to the little corner they called home. He took a deep breath, but as he entered, he froze in the makeshift doorway, his eyes wide as he took in everything.

 It was a mess. Nothing like how they had left it before going out. Their home had been ransacked, everything was toppled over and broken or just completely gone. Skizz walked through the house, feeling numb as he noticed what kinds of things were broken or missing.

 All the food they had saved up in their reserve was gone or completely ruined. Squashed and too dirty even for a borrower to eat. All the makeshift furniture throughout the home was broken and flung all over the place but the worst of it all was in Skizz’s room.

 The sock he used to sleep in was cut in such thin stripes there would be no way Skizz could ever repair it. His other set of clothes were the same, cut and scattered around, though with his clothes Skizz noticed some of the pieces of fabric that had been cut out were just missing altogether. His wall had a fairly large hole through it and the dent had him looking at the toy block he used as a table. Which was far from where he had left it before.

 And finally, his hook and string, which were left in the middle of his messed up room, was destroyed as well. The hook part was bent so out of shape and the string was cut not once but 18 different times. Skizz counted, his numb mind latching onto the numbers to try and ground himself.

 He fell to his knees in the middle of his room and felt his tears fall yet again. He had lost track of how many times he had cried today. His tears fell and his lip wobbled and he couldn’t stop the sobs that escaped him as he bent over his knees, hugging himself tightly and wondering what he had ever done to deserve this.

 His dad hated him so much that in the off chance he had escaped from the human, he had ruined Skizz’s chance to ever survive.

 Skizz cried harder.

***

 Skizz wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that but eventually his tears dried and his throat was too sore to continue. He stood up and slowly realized he…he couldn’t stay here. There was nothing left for him, nothing he could use to try and make his own way. And even if there was, Skizz wouldn’t be able to stay here anyway. There were too many painful memories, every broken piece of their lives reminded him too much of his father.

 It took everything Skizz had to leave the only home he had ever known. Empty handed except for the clothes on his back and the borrowing bag still wrapped around his shoulder, he left his old home behind, not looking back as he made his way through the halls of the wall once again.

 Skizz wasn’t even sure where he was going until he stopped at one of the exits and realized it led into Impulse’s room. Skizz grabbed tightly at the strap of his bag and looked down. His body was shaking but…Impulse had been kind to him. So much kinder than anything Skizz had ever experienced before. At the very least, maybe Impulse would help him move.

 And at the most…

 Skizz took a deep breath and exited the walls, finding himself in Impulse’s room once again, underneath his bed. He looked out into the room, noticing Impulse was still at his desk, still scribbling away at his homework. Skizz looked up toward the window, realizing the light outside was fading quickly.

 He walked a bit, walked until he was no longer underneath the bed and then closer still to Impulse and his desk before pausing in the middle of the room and speaking up. “I-Impulse?” He called out. He didn’t think he had been loud enough at first but Impulse was quick to turn around. His eyes scanned the floor until the human’s gaze landed on Skizz. Skizz froze involuntarily before forcing himself to unfreeze. Impulse had already proven that he was nothing like the stories his father had told Skizz about.

 “Skizz! You’re back.” Impulse said and then carefully got out of his chair before kneeling down on the ground a few feet away from Skizz. “But I thought…” Impulse trailed off as he noticed the look on Skizz’s face. Haunting and sad. Impulse frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. “Skizz? Is…everything okay?”

 That alone was almost enough to make Skizz cry again but he held it back and walked forward. He kept walking until he was right in front of Impulse. Impulse looked like he wanted to say something else but all the words left him as Skizz leaned forward and pressed his face into Impulse’s knee.

 Impulse’s eyes widened. “Skizz…” Impulse’s hand reached out but he hesitated. Skizz didn’t though. The borrower looked to see where Impulse’s hand was and moved closer to it, inviting Impulse to meet him halfway. Impulse wrapped his hand around Skizz and Skizz buried himself within the fingers. The feeling was overwhelming but also warm and safe and Skizz needed that right now. Needed it more than he could properly convey.

 Impulse scooped Skizz up and lifted him until Skizz was chest level, He then hesitated a moment before moving his hand closer to his chest in the best hug Impulse could do with someone so small. Skizz took the opportunity to bury himself again, this time into Impulse’s chest.

 “What happened?” Impulse asked softly and Skizz didn’t think he could say. Not now. Not yet. So instead, he asked something else.

 “Can I stay with you…please?” His words were soft, quiet, because any louder and Skizz was scared he would burst into tears again and he had had enough crying for one day already.

 Impulse’s grip got ever so slightly tighter. “Yeah…of course.”

 Skizz had never felt more relieved.

***

 “Skizz?”

 Skizz was brought back to the present by the sound of Impulse’s voice, the present, adult Impulse who he had known for years at this point. He blinked and looked up to meet Impulse’s gaze. He was currently sitting on his thigh, using his stomach as a backrest. The two had been just hanging out, enjoying each other's company as Impulse had finished up some homework. Impulse’s head was titled, his expression curious.

 “You alright there buddy?” Impulse asked and Skizz blinked again before nodding. He hadn’t realized how into his own memories he had been.

 “Yeah, sorry. I was just…thinking.” Skizz said, wondering if he should tell Impulse what exactly he had been thinking about or not.

 Impulse hummed a bit but he didn’t turn back to his homework. “...What were you thinking about?” 

 Skizz hesitated for a long moment, before sighing. “...My dad.”

 Impulse’s expression quickly turned to concern. “Skizz…”

 “And about how we first met.”

 Impulse stopped and looked at Skizz with wide eyes. “Really?”

 Skizz chuckled. “Yeah, it just so happens that my dad is a big part of that…” Skizz was glad he had met Impulse, obviously. But he wished it had been in any other way. He hated thinking about his dad in any context and it sucked that meeting his best friend for the first time had been ruined by that.

 Skizz sighed, looking away from Impulse. “I'd much rather think about the day after we first met.” He said, a slight smile appearing on his lips. “When I had woken up on that little makeshift bed made from a dishcloth you had scrounged up from somewhere.” Skizz thought back to the memory fondly. “I was still scared at that point, even though it had been my choice to come back and ask to stay with you, I was still scared of your size…and maybe of you changing your mind. But then you woke up and looked at me with those wide and kind eyes of yours, and…I had felt a warmth rush into my chest that I had honestly never felt before that moment.”

 Skizz knew, now, that what he had felt back then had been love. Love from his now best friend. That was what Skizz liked to remember the most. The first time he had ever felt like he was loved.

 The fact that it was by a human, a being who he had been taught since birth to fear and despise, and not from his own father, was more than a bit ironic.

 “Aww, Skizz…” Impulse said, eyes alight with fondness. Before Skizz could react he was being scooped up by Impulse and held up to chest level. “I didn’t know you had felt like that. I mean, I could tell you were still a bit scared back then but I didn’t realize…” Impulse trailed off with a small smile. He nudged Skizz gently with his thumb and Skizz leaned into the touch.

 “Impulse, you were the first person to ever show me love.” Skizz said, feeling a bit vulnerable admitting to that out loud but wanting his friend to know how much them meeting had meant to Skizz. “My father hated me for things completely out of my control. And I…I didn’t deserved that.” Something Skizz had learned and accepted fairly recently thanks to Impulse’s help.

 “You didn’t.” Impulse said, his tone firm. “And if I ever cross paths with your dad I’m gonna show him-”

 “Impulse.” Skizz said with a raised brow.

 Impulse coughed into his free hand. “Right. Sorry.”

 Skizz chuckled. “I appreciate the sentiment buddy but I don’t think we’re ever going to cross paths with him anyway.” In fact, he may never cross paths with any borrower ever again. The closest he had gotten was seeing the abandoned home in the walls, telling him a borrower had been here before. 

 “I know, part of me just likes thinking about avenging you and getting back at him. For everything he did to you.” Impulse said, looking into the distance with barely concealed anger in his tone. Skizz was unfazed though, knowing the anger was never directed at him.

  “It’s in the past.” Skizz said, with a small smile as he caught Impulse’s eyes again. “Besides, I have you and that’s all that matters to me.”

 “Geez.” Impulse said, a slight flush on his cheeks that Skizz noticed and laughed at. “So sappy.” Impulse teased but his fond smile told Skizz all he needed to know.

 “Oh really? And who’s the one who wants to avenge me again?” Skizz asked as he crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. Impulse sent him a look and then smirked as he reached his pointer finger down and ruffled Skizz’s hair like crazy. Skizz yelped and pushed Impulse’s finger off of him, which Impulse moved as soon as he felt Skizz push up at him, and then tried his best to fix his hair.

 “You jerk!” Skizz shouted, still trying to smooth his hair out.

 Impulse laughed and Skizz couldn’t help but join in. They settled back down and Impulse set Skizz on his shoulder so the borrower could lean against his neck and have a better view of the laptop as Impulse saved and exited out of his essay, opening up netflix to find something for them to watch. It was time Impulse had a break from homework anyway.

 “What made you start thinking about all that anyway?” Impulse asked as he set everything up. Skizz shrugged despite knowing Impulse couldn’t see him.

 “Not sure honestly…” Skizz admitted, scooting further into Impulse’s warmth. “It just…popped into my head for some reason.”

 Impulse hummed. “Weird.” He clicked a few more buttons on his laptop. “Well, if you ever need a distraction from those kinds of memories, you know I’m always here.”

 “I know.” Skizz smiled. “I know.”

[me-kume]

Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

nsfw warning

“Are you home?” Everything felt a little different in the darkness of the spacious house. The silence was stifling and strange, when in a few months you had already gotten used to the constant presence of the rough but painfully beloved King. 

When had things gone so badly wrong? The initial surge of emotion, the copious release of serotonin was replaced by calm and stability, degenerating into routine. What was supposed to be your safe haven was now more like a heavy stone hanging around the neck of a drowning man. Pulling you to the bottom, not giving you a chance to surface and take a breath of air, leaving you floundering in the dark waters.

Hot kisses were replaced by a quick, chaste kiss on the forehead, in a hurry before the next day began. Long, passionate nights in a man's arms turned into quiet snoring, your head touching the pillow, and while he slept, you tortured yourself with thoughts: dark, unpleasant, to the point of tear-stabbing pain in your eyes. 

And Sukuna didn't notice. He preferred to pay attention to more important things, even if he did try to cuddle you before bed. 

It's hard for him. The insignificant details that cling to your gaze pass him by willy-nilly, and even if he knows what flowers you like, he won't remember the last time he gave you a bouquet of snow-white daisies.

“I am here,” the voice, with the usual velvet hoarseness, appeared as if from nowhere, causing an involuntary shiver in the weak human body. “Stop being scared, rabbit.”

Ryomen would be lying if he said he didn't feel your distress at all. He just... doesn't understand, doesn't know which way to turn in order to restore your eyes to their former glow.

He acts roughly, decisively, as he knows, as he knows how, as he is used to. His broad palms slide over the thin waist, tracing every seam of the satin blouse, savoring the sensations, the warmth of your body, which he has grown accustomed to.

He could deny it all, but why? Even the creepiest and most dangerous monster is weak in the face of his only love, and Sukuna is weak. Nauseous, disgusted with himself, but ready to drop to his knees at the word.

“Why are the lights off everywhere?” You don't recognize your own voice: quiet, barely audible against the languid longing for his touch. You turn around to snuggle up to him, like a cat after a long separation from its master.

“The senses are heightened in the dark.”

Even at arm's length you can't see a sign, but you feel with every cell of your body the sly, sly smile spreading across his face and exhale. He does, he really does.

Loves and is ready to show it day in and day out, every second of his immortal life. Every king has his queen, but to Sukuna you are a goddess, no less.

He leans down, the heat of his own breath against the sensitive skin of her neck, a gentle kiss affirming his own feelings.

“I don't know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, but tonight I'm going to prove to you that you're the one for me. And if need be, we'll repeat that lesson over and over again," Ryomen is frighteningly serious, squeezing your soft buttocks, pulling you off the ground with ease. It takes a few rooms to get to the bedroom, but for him it's a moment and you're already on the bed, and he's hovering over you. A gaze not kind, but full of love, slides over the now so interfering fabric of your shirt and Sukuna pulls down the weak barrier between him and the coveted view with a confident motion.

He really does need all the courage in the world not to take you the way he wants to take you. Nail you to the damn mattress, make you whimper, whine, wriggle under the heat of your own arousal.

One second, another. Closes his eyes, trying to regain his ragged breath. Just a couple of touches, and the hard cock is already pooling blood and resting painfully against the fly of his pants. It's maddening, your innocent gaze driving him crazy, leaving him in absolute prostration with a sense of his own helplessness in front of the best woman in his goddamn life.

He exhales, not realizing such a thing himself as he holds his breath for so long, admiring the view.

“Perfection”-for him, you're perfection, and if you need to talk about it to make you happy, he'll talk, he'll scream if he has to.

He kisses the lips he loves carelessly, rubs circles along the line of her collarbone with his thumb, and moves lower, to where the moisture has already seeped through the thin lace. 

Slowly, unhurriedly sliding your panties aside, his fingertips slide between your folds, as if asking permission, and a moan, tight and needy, serves as his answer. The green light to love you every second of this damn night.