#stage: infinit force

[yagirlomega]

Headcanon

that tails and infinite used to be online friends talking about sonadow

[woven-song]

i do kind of hate that infinite's definitely wearing a scarf.

in the first one you can even see the fucking neck hole

and also, when it zooms in enough you can even see the knitted texture

why is it a scarf i dont like it i know this has already been said for years but it still bothers me IT SHOULD BE FLUFF LIKE NECK FLUFF WHAT THE FUCK

actually no he was just cold during sonic forces and he has neck fluff under the scarf, trust...

[moe-broey]

First order of business.

Divorce Timeline.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Saw your ship name post, and I'm curious. What made you decide to make crystalbond and Metalicchaos? What type of dynamics did you have in mind for both of them?

Also own any thoughts on PhantomFox? It's definitely an odd one, but I'm willing to be sold on it.

Okay, so before I say anything, here is the rarepair list (in case someone reading doesn't know what these ships are)

ㅤ

Crystalbond/Crystalbondshipping

Why:

The "why" for this one is fairly simple honestly. The short answer is that as far as S3 of Prime is concerned, the reason we explicitly saw Nine create Alpha Grim Sonic and call him friend (despite proclaiming all of the Grim robots were his new friends) was so we would understand just how Sonic backstabbing Nine (in his eyes) affected Nine. In short, Nine pretty clearly was trying to fill the hole Sonic left in his life (while acting like he and Sonic can just easily part ways). Creating someone as a replacement for someone you try to pretend you don't care about anymore can be handled in a compelling fashion, especially when you add in that Alpha Grim Sonic is supposed to be a "mindless" robot on top of that.

The longer answer is that between S2 and S3 I actually became compelled by the idea of Chanine (or, more specifically, Nine using the prism to revive Chaos Sonic after the ending of Prime S2). I thought making Chaos Sonic Nine's companion and giving them complicated feelings (for example, Chaos Sonic being a robot who has feelings for Nine, but it's true these feelings began because Nine reprogrammed him to be loyal to him vs Nine very much using Chaos Sonic as a stand in for Sonic and to ignore his lingering feelings, but it’s also true that Nine is coming to value Chaos Sonic's existence too (and not just because he's his only link to Sonic without having Sonic himself)) was just a fascinating thing. And although I would be sad not seeing Chaos Sonic in S3, I sort of naturally channeled this disappointment into Alpha Grim Sonic

Or, to be more specific, I carried the basic idea from my chanine thoughts to Alpha Grim Sonic and Nine and imagined how their dynamic would be in this situation. I also thought "I mean, if people can imagine this situation with Chaos Sonic and Nine and ship them, then what if I shipped Alpha Grim Sonic and Nine for this same reason?"

Dynamic:

As for the crystalbond dynamic, this one is largely focused on the idea that the Alpha Grim robots aren't actually mindless thoughtless robots, and the idea that Alpha Grim Sonic is growing a soul. Post canon, I know Nine would miss Sonic a great deal, so it’s only natural for me to come up with the idea that Nine would try to rebuild Alpha Grim Sonic (so he doesn’t feel lonely and so he doesn’t feel unprotected against the universe).

For Nine, Alpha Grim Sonic becomes a comforting presence. But as time goes on and Nine grows more attached, he deals more with his hang up over the idea that he'd created Alpha Grim Sonic to do his bidding and protect him. In other words, on occasion, he feels stupid finding comfort in the robot, asking him to stay with him or hold him or do anything intimate, because this robot cannot feel back or think or make its own choices. To Nine, it feels stupid to be attached to a robot who cannot feel for you, a fact that (to Nine) can never change.

For Alpha Grim, he's slowly growing a soul, attachments, feeling new things. He is aware of what a robot like him should be capable of, and he isn't sure exactly what he is feeling at all times and why. But as time goes on, he yearns for Nine to understand just how much they care for him. They want to be considered someone important to Nine. And yet, he is unwilling to push boundaries or overstep their position, even by accident.

This dynamic is built upon a mutual slow burn yearning + miscommunication that revolves around Nine's statement that he'd made the Grim robots to be unable to talk back or think or have minds of their own so they'd obey unquestionably. They are both hung up on how Alpha Grim should be like as a robot despite the truth of what is going on, and it's tragic for the longest time (because Nine can't believe the robot could learn to feel for him of its own accord, and Alpha Grim refuses to possibly push boundaries or do what he has not been commanded (because to him, even as he wants to be important to Nine, he also makes himself okay with his place as long as he can be with Nine and protect him forever))

I'm not sure if it's ever resolved, but this relationship is meant to develop over time as Alpha Grim develops his soul and Nine grows more selfish at wanting the robot with him.

If you'd like to see more about this dynamic, though, I'd heavily suggest reading this post, this post, and this post, or looking through the #crystalbond or #crystalbondshipping tags.

ㅤ

Metalicchaos/Metalicchaosshipping

Why:

Okay, so there actually was a brief period before S3 dropped that people shipped Alpha Grim Sonic and Chaos Sonic. When all we had was a clip and a design, Alpha Grim Sonic was quickly dubbed "Chaos Shadow" and all depictions of this ship labeled as "Metal Sonadow".

However, as far as I can tell, after S3 properly dropped and Alpha Grims Sonic's name was revealed, this ship sort of died down.

I actually shipped this ship for funsies during this period, but even though these two never ended up meeting I didn't see a reason to give up on the ship. So that's pretty much it. I shipped it for funsies because I'm a Sonadow fan and I kept shipping it when S3 came out and we learned more about Alpha Grim because I still liked the ship idea

But, of course, they can't very well be called "Metal Sonadow" at this point (even if I do still feel like Alpha Grim is more Shadow's robot countepart than Sonic's), especially with the name reveal. So I collaborated with a friend to come up with a proper ship name for them

The other "why" is that I was shipping Chanine and Crystalbond and was like "why don't I just complete this triangle?"

Dynamic:

In all honesty, two different dynamics exist for them in my head.

The first is considerably less "shippy" than the second, but it’s their dynamic during these post prime S3 au ideas I've been rambling on about. Essentially, at the beginning, the two start out growing jealous of each other's interactions with Nine. Each one wants to be the one™ at Nine's side and is afraid the other will be confirmed as Nine's #2, even though each refuses to believe they'd be replaced. Alpha Grim Sonic gets irked when Nine talks to Chaos Sonic more and treats him more like someone who lives and cares about him (Nine), and he dislikes how much more insubordinate Chaos Sonic is to Nine (since Chaos Sonic is willing to call Nine out, collaborate in the conversation by coming up with plans, talk back, is unconcerned at times with annoying Nine, etc vs Alpha Grim Sonic who cannot speak and largely only does what is commanded of him). Chaos Sonic fancies himself Nine's one and only best friend, so he's stuck between jealousy for how Nine trusts Alpha Grim Sonic and cares for him and being prideful, putting stock in the fact that Alpha Grim Sonic is a mindless robot (in other words, he covers up his own insecurity by insisting Nine would never replace him because they're best friends and because Nine couldn't become best friends with some soulless robot anyways). If he believed Alpha Grim Sonic had a soul and thoughts and feelings, he'd probably imagine the robot to be haughty (although I'm sure Chaos Sonic can feel Alpha Grim Sonic's feelings about him exerting more freedom in general and in his interactions with Nine than it). Over time, though (a lot like Clara and Asmodeus from M!IK), the two grow to understand each other. While I don't think either would ever admit the jealousy, they grow to understand each other and form a pact of sorts as other people start to enter Nine's life. They bond over their mutual protection of Nine from others, from their shared/similar experiences, and they grow to feel secure in the fact that the two of them will be constants in Nine's life.

Now, the second dynamic is very different. I have a hard time thinking over the first dynamic as a shippy one so much as I imagine it as a strong platonic bond (although it's not impossible for it to be romantic/queerplatonic/what have you), which is why I created a second sort of dynamic for them I can muse over for shipping purposes. This dynamic revolves around creating a situation in which the two are rivals.

So, I propose a brief concept. Nine revives Chaos Sonic post S2, who ends up getting lost in the void or something like that. Then, he creates Alpha Grim Sonic and the other Grim robots. At some later date, Chaos Sonic returns (perhaps claws his way out of the void?) and comes across Alpha Grim Sonic (who is either performing a mission for Nine or also looking for Nine for some reason) while looking for Nine. Chain of memories Sora and Repliku style, the two begin to fight about the fact that both consider themselves the robot in Nine's life and believe the other is lying about their assertions of their place as Nine's friend. Each starts out believing the other is an imposter meant to hurt Nine, and neither wants to believe that they could be replaced/be a replacement for the other. While this kind of dynamic can be coupled with the first, giving them this kind of dynamic to start out with I think gives them more of a reason to be specifically fixated over each other and to be rivals before they inevitably bond over Nine.

ㅤ

PhantomFox/Infinine

Why:

Well...why not? I don't have any particular profound reason for liking this one, I just seem to have an affinity for shipping versions of Tails with different characters and I think (with their aesthetics) they look really neat paired up together.

Although, all in all, I must confess that when I was thinking over rarepairs for the post, a friend of mine posed the idea of this ship and sold me on it in like 2 seconds

Dynamic:

The cool thing about having a ship where the characters haven't met is you can do whatever you want. Personally, I kind of like the partners dynamic with them.

To explain, I like to think about the au idea my friend came up with. Essentially, the idea is that Nine gets ahold of the Phantom Ruby somehow and, while studying it, ends up freeing Infinite. Of course, depending on the point in Nine's life, this situation could go differently, but in general I think of Infinite (a jackal I personally read as a bit aimless, without true passion) ending up following Nine, and Nine who (even if he rejects it a bit at first) ends up willingly taking Infinite on as his companion.

While Infinite/Tails to me is interesting because of Tails' trauma and the idea of why Infinite might fixate on Tails, Infinite/Nine is interesting to me simply because I think it would be neat if the two worked together as partners (and maybe Infinite finally found ambition along the way?)

Not sure how well I'm explaining this but yeah.

If it's pre-canon, I can see a lot of freak out from both of their ends, and if it's Infinite who proposes a partnership, Nine would probably need more confidence/assurances to agree to partner up with him. With that being said, I can see Nine being naturally interested in the science behind Infinite and the ruby, and the two sort of holding each other at arms length initially as they use each other to perform their goals.

If it's post canon, I can see Nine being a bit more open to companionship (I mean. He *is* pretty much alone in the Grim as far as we know), though he'd naturally be a bit guarded.

Either way, no matter what time in the timeline Infinite and the ruby are placed in, I can see these two getting into a situation somehow where they end up choosing to work together for some reason. My ideal dynamic with them is like. Two people who hold each other at arm's length but choose to work together initially due to mutual gain of some kind and initial interest in the other person –> morally grey partners who are a power couple

ㅤ

Thank you for the ask, anon! I enjoyed getting to talk a bit about these ships🥰

And with that being said, if you'd like to know about/have any questions about/want me to talk about more of my rarepairs, more about these rarepairs specifically, or anything else, don't hesitate to send me an ask! I love the excuse to talk about ye old hyperfixation and make up relationships that don't exist

[mr-aftons-rotting-pussy]

stage 16 metropolis capital city means so much to me. capital city is soooooooo pretty. only gripe i have w it is: why is it all white

[kid-az]

Okay hold on! Lemme cook here!

Idea for Infinite: So like… bro got consumed by the OG Phantom Ruby, so dude is basically in a horrible, miserable situation & he really wants to kill Shadow both because of his grudge & also ‘cus he’s going half insane, so Shadow will have to fight Infinite while some utterly horrific body horror goes on (He appears to have two heads that're conjoined but also glitching out, one of which wearing his mask and the other his actual face. He also got multiple arms). He’d also be incoherently ranting.

The fight will involve Infinite shifting around the terrain and creating similarly effed up small Phantom Ruby copies of himself to try & kill Shadow, and he might also be able to create copies of “Shadow”, Chaos 0, Zavok, and Metal Sonic during his second phase along with just shifting the terrain in even more insane ways. He’d still use his red rubix cubes lol.

Idea for The End: So I remember it being stated that The End does not have a true appearance and actually takes the form of an individuals worst fear or what they believe to be a symbol of death, and I imagine this’ll make for really good angst potential for our favorite edgehog… as The End takes the form of his once distorted memories of Maria, one he initially believed wanted to see the world destroyed. All the while The End’s moon form is in the background of Cyberspace watching the fight go on between it & Shadow.

Even more angsty idea incoming, but wouldn’t it be cool if The End’s Maria form used many of the same Chaos abilities Shadow had, including Chaos Control (Necessitating shadow to activate his Chaos Control to move in the stopped time)? I think it’d be extra cool if during the second phase The End Maria copy sprouts Black Arm tendrils/wings upon her back, representing Shadow’s fear of himself & the world being consumed by Black Doom.

Apologies if my ideas sound like incoherent ramblings lmao, I’m just extremely normal for these concepts.

Currently performing blood rituals to see him in Sonic X Shadow Generations

[mosspapi]

Someone give me the confidence to just. Wear my hair down

[typicalnoise]

god i love women so so so so so so much

[gaast]

I also ended up not liking Sonic Forces, which should tell you something considering that I actually really like Sonic 2006.

[she-who-paints-with-fire]

KING'S FALL

Monarch pilots knew missiles well. The small, the medium, the large; the heat-seeking, the antiradiation, the radar locking; the agile, the powerful, the arcing.

Monarch pilots knew missiles very well. It was their domain.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING]

Not all kings could control their subjects.

[INCOMING MISSILE!]

Dawn Always Comes went into a steep dive; Lux strained against a force several times stronger than gravity and felt her mech strain with her. Her knuckles were white around the controls as her thumb pressed down the button for the first stage countermeasures.

[CHAFF FLARE / CHAFF FLARE / CHAFF FLARE]

Twenty thousand metres, falling at 600 metres per second and increasing. Slivers of metal exploded from small boxes in her mech, obscuring her back in a haze of metallic film.

[RADAR LOCK BROKEN]

Respite. She kept diving, just in case—

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

—that happened. 670 metres per second and increasing. Eighteen thousand metres above sea level.

[PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [CHAFF FLARE / CHAFF FLARE / CHAFF FLARE]

1000 metres and closing. Lux knew that instinctively.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [CHAFF FLARE / CHAFF FLARE / CHAFF FLARE]

Dawn Always Comes screamed warnings at Lux as she kept diving, jinking left and right all the while in an effort to find some sort of space or measure of safety. 730 metres per second and falling. Sixteen thousand metres above sea level. The air was growing thicker as she shot downwards, meaning the missiles following her would need to expend more fuel to keep up and retarget. Her fuel, on the other hand, was functionally infinite.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [PROXIMITY ALERT - MISSILE]

Fifteen thousand metres. Her pursuer had fired more ordnance. The lock-on warning tone howled in Lux's ear as she did her best to evade while her subjectivity suite screamed warnings directly into her mind. Her thumb pressed down the button for her countermeasures again.

As slivers of metal and thousand-degree magnesium flares shot away from her back, she felt a momentary searing heat, then a wash of fire as a missile detonated too close. Instinctively she flinched away, only to feel another missile detonate too close again, sending small electric shocks rippling across her frame.

The feeling jolted her brain, made something stand out over the haze of warnings. Gandiva. She was being shot at with Gandiva missiles.

[PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

Reality smashed back into her with the warning tone of ten thousand metres. 810 metres per second and falling. No time to think about how the hell her opponent, a small-time pirate lord Union wanted dethroned, had gotten their hands on mainstay BELLA CIAO weaponry. Only time to react.

Nine thousand metres. She kept moving, dodging back and forth, trying to evade whatever she could.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

In her mind she weighed a choice. It was clear she couldn't outrun the missiles, even as she closed in on Mach 3, and the countermeasures hadn't worked the second time. Her Javelin rockets and Avenger mini-missiles could function as an ad-hoc point defense, but to fire them she would need to turn around, bleeding away speed—and while yes, speed wasn't going to win this fight, it did give her time and time gave her options, which was something she was sorely lacking.

Eight thousand metres. 920 metres per second.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

Seven thousand metres. 930 metres per second. As seconds passed by so did distance. Distance gave time. Time gave options. She was running out of all three.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

Six thousand metres. 940 metres per second. Her thumb hovered over the countermeasures. She could feel herself pushing past the redline; the subjectivity suite that linked her neurons to her mech made it feel like her heart was straining to keep up.

[RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE! INCOMING MISSILE!]

Five thousand metres. 950 metres per second.

[ALTITUDE! ALTITUDE!] [RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY WARNING - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

Four thousand metres. 950 metres per second.

[ALTITUDE! ALTITUDE!] [RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY ALERT - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

Three thousand metres. 950 metres per second. Lux braced for the force of gravity on her to multiply even further.

[ALTITUDE! ALTITUDE!] [RADAR LOCK WARNING] [PROXIMITY ALERT - MISSILE] [INCOMING MISSILE!] [INCOMING MISSILE!]

Two thousand metres. 950 metres per second. This was insanity under the best of circumstances—suicide under the worst. Bleeding off nearly a thousand metres per second of speed in less than a second was near impossible.

[PULL UP! PULL UP!]

Lux strained as hard as she could to level out before throwing herself around and firing every micromissile she had at the incoming ordnance. Her body felt like it was being crushed into paste as her momentum fought against the thrusters on her back and lost—900 metres per second, 700 metres per second, 500 metres per second, 400 metres per second, 100 metres per second. It made her ill. Her bones howled, her organs screamed, even with the interia cushioning provided by the Monarch—had she not had that cushion she would have been emulsified. Her micromissiles blazed away, seeking out the incoming missiles and detonating them prematurely a mere 100 metres away. Slivers of metal and white-hot flares shot out from her metal back, [RADAR LOCK BROKEN] finally freeing her from the enemy targeting lock, and [SCAN COMPLETE] her IFF system tagged the enemy mech as a Monarch named Dark Sky Stalker as it silhouetted itself against the setting moon.

Dark Sky Stalker, the personal mech of the pirate lord Lux was hunting.

[TARGET LOCKED]

[SHARANGA MISSILES ARMED]

[GANDIVA MISSILES ARMED]

[JAVELIN ROCKETS RELOADING]

[AVENGER MISSILES RELOADING]

She pressed the trigger, bore witness to a hundred shooting stars, and then the light of dawn.

[KILL CONFIRMED. NO FURTHER TARGETS. WELL DONE, LANCER.]

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: Backup Plans

Danny had a list of 'backup plans' and plans for his backup plans. If his secret got out and his parents didn't take it well he needed a backup. If the world found out he had a back up for that. If both happened there was a third plan. If the worst came true and his loved ones all died in a fiery blast and he was potentially forced to live with Vlad - there was a backup for that too.

Most of the back ups meant living in Sam or Tuckers house without knowing, leaving with Jazz to another city, moving into the Ghost Zone, or leaving America all together (he was thinking Antarctica because of the cold, distance and frequent Ghost Portals that opened there).

But there were backup plans for that too, because if Vlad was determined enough he would go to the ends of the earth (literally) to find him. So, with Clockworks blessing and very vague gesturing towards one section of the Zone he started looking for backup plans in the Infinite Realms.

Which is how he ended up in Gotham City when a natural portal opened up. It was the middle of the day - not ideal - and he appeared right in the middle of a crowded room - even less ideal. It seemed like some kind of... reward ceremony? There were people in spandex on a stage, looking surprised as Danny got ready to book it.

At least that was until one of the spandex wearers approached him. He was wearing all black with pointy... ears? and some kind of bat symbol on his chest.

"Alien, Meta or being from another dimension?" He simply asked.

"Uh... the third one?" Danny replied, looking around anxiously as the bat-guy reached into his belt, pulling out what looked like a PDA but without buttons. Seeing Danny's confusion he turned it on, the screen lighting up with a form.

"Alright. Come stand over here with me and fill this out."

Danny didn't know what was happening but was even more concerned when he actually read what the not-PDA said.

Alternate Dimension Traveler Documentation Form 301

"Do... you get visitors from other dimensions a lot?" Danny asked, following bat-guy to the corner.

"Occasionally."

"Oh... and that's okay?"

"If they're not here to cause trouble, yes."

Danny smiled at this, "Well I'm definitely not here to do that. I'm looking for a backup plan."

"Backup plan?"

"Mhm." Danny said looking at the not-pda curiously as he tried to figure out how to work it. "You know, in case my parents find out what I am and try to cut me open, my Godfather tries to kidnap or torture me, or my Government captures me and performs legal experimentation's on me as a way to destroy an entire dimension and potentially all connecting dimensions - including yours... say to you have a stylus or something? I'm not sure how this works."

Bat-guy simply blinked slowly, then put his hand on his shoulder as he lead him further from the crowd and sat him down. "You use your finger. See, tap where you want to type and go from there."

"Oh, neat! Thanks bat-dude."

"It's Batman, and you are?"

"Phantom. Danny Phantom. Nice to meet you."

[rainba]

Here it is... The fic where Luka kidnaps both his darling and Kairos.

TWs/tags: human furniture, dubcon, kidnapping, slight depiction of violence, pet play, NSFW, mind break, cucking (?), dark content, use of shock collars

Reader is GN, however, there is one paragraph where the reader is gendered. The asterisk* will mark the paragraph with afab reader, and the one in parenthesis is amab. :3c)

MDNI! 18+

In one previous post, I mentioned that Kairos and Luka do live in the same universe and city– and in a few other posts, I mentioned that they’d never share their darling. If one of them tries to kidnap darling, they’ll just report the other to the police. 

Then another idea came up, a way that Luka could circumvent that predicament: Luka figures that Kairos would instantly report him if he kidnapped his darling. So… In order to stop that from happening…

Luka would kidnap both you and Kairos.

Luka’s house is definitely big enough to keep both of you. In the beginning stages, he’ll keep Kairos locked up in the attic while he keeps you in the basement. The basement is much cozier– meanwhile the attic is all dusty, hot, and muggy.

Between you and Kairos, Luka will be much, much nicer to you. He’s (quite literally) obsessed with you, so of course you get the better treatment. He cooks your favorite meals and feeds them to you by hand. He gives you plenty of water and always showers you in attention– sometimes he’ll even place a TV down in the basement and let you watch random stuff. You know, just so you don’t get too bored. He wants you to feel at home–! When you learn to accept your new life, he’ll spoil you rotten.

But for Kairos..? Luka is absolutely brutal.

Luka will rub in the fact that he beat Kairos in “winning you.” He’s simply just the superior man– the superior partner. Luka loves you too much to ever let you go. After all, you're the only person that has ever made him feel anything at all. And he really drives in the fact that you belong to him, and that Kairos will never have the chance to even touch you.

Luka will walk circles around Kairos as he mocks him relentlessly.

“Nobody is looking for you.”

“You’re pathetic. Disgusting freak.”

“They’re all mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Kairos will scream, squirm, and cry as much as he possibly can– but nobody can hear him. Luka is right: nobody is looking for him. Kairos doesn’t have any family. He doesn’t have any friends. He’s stuck in this hell forever.

To keep Kairos alive, Luka gives him his leftovers. He dumps it onto the dirty ground and drags Kairos next to it, commanding him to “eat up.” Kairos is forced to pathetically writhe on the floor and eat without his hands– all because Luka refuses to untie him. As for water, Luka forces Kairos to drink out of a dog bowl.

Most of the time, Kairos can’t hear anything. Luka’s house is eerily quiet at night. And during the day, Kairos can sometimes hear the sounds of children laughing and playing outside, or he’ll just hear Luka casually going about his day as if there aren't two people locked up in his house.

It’s torturous.

Over time, Luka will get you to warm up to him– call it stockholm syndrome kicking in, if you will. Or maybe you already loved him and he just needed to build trust with you. Either way– you eventually upgrade from the basement to his bedroom. And that’s when things get infinitely worse for Kairos.

He’s not just listening to Luka going about his daily routine now– no, now he has to also listen to the two of you fucking multiple times a day. The way you’re moaning out another man's name… The sound of the bed creaking and banging against the wall… Kairos finds himself choking and sobbing as he’s stuck tied to the chair. Sometimes he starts to dissociate and pretends that he’s somewhere else.

Most of the time he pretends that the two of you just got married, and he’s playing out different scenarios of honeymoons in his head.

After a few more weeks or months go by, Luka will grow bored of keeping Kairos tied up in the attic. If he’s gonna keep a hostage, he might as well put them to good use. So what does he do with Kairos?

He uses him as human furniture. Forces him to also be a pet.

You’re horrified as you watch Kairos crawling around the house with a gag in his mouth and a leash attached to his throat. If Luka feels bold enough, he might even have the words “Luka’s Bitch” decorated on the collar. Oh– and it’s not just a regular collar, either. It’s a shock collar.

Any time Kairos acts out and disobeys Luka, he earns himself a shock so powerful that it causes him to seize and collapse onto the floor.

…This entire time, you thought it was just you in the house. You didn’t know there was another person. You’re not alone.

It makes your stomach churn.

And Luka encourages you to use Kairos as furniture as well. Use him as a footrest, use him as a table or a chair– do whatever.

Over time, deep down, incomprehensible and guilty thoughts begin to appear in Kairos’ mind. Things that made him once want to throw up now make him feel… Funny. He’s so happy that he gets to see your face again–!! He’s finally reunited with the love of his life, it’s just a shame it’s under such horrible circumstances.

Kairos doesn’t mind if you use him like furniture. It’s okay if you do it. But he loathes it when it’s Luka who’s using him.

The difference between you and Luka is like night and day. While Luka berates and degrades him, sometimes even depriving him of basic necessities, you always sneak around and give Kairos lots of love and extra food. 

Kairos always breaks down and cries in your arms when you show him kindness– he’s so very thankful for it. But be sure that Luka doesn’t catch you. If he sees you being sweet towards Kairos, he’ll harshly punish Kairos and then fuck you right in front of him. Every time.

Kairos always feels so pathetic as he's forced to watch you getting ravaged by Luka. The way you're moaning under his touch... The hot, sticky sound of Luka's cock sliding in and out of you... All of this happening while Kairos is tied down and unable to do a thing. He's so fucking hard, and there's nothing there to relieve him. Luka punishes Kairos if he dares to look away.

In order to gain more privileges, both you and Kairos need to work to gain Luka’s favor. If the both of you prove that you’re capable of being trusted, he might give you more freedom. He’ll let you look out the windows every now and then– might even let you use the kitchen. He's much more open to giving you privileges than he is to giving Kairos any.

Except, of course, he always hides all of the sharp objects in the house. He doesn’t want you two to have access to weapons. And if you try to poison him even once, he’ll immediately make the kitchen permanently off limits when he's not around to watch you.

Also, over time, another funny thing happens. Luka doesn’t really like punishing you outside of sex- he'd much rather shower you in rewards. He’d rather save the roughness and punishments for more intimate settings. After all, he’s trying to earn your love– not make you hate him. So, what does he do instead?

Every time you act up, he’ll drag Kairos by his leash and punish him in your stead. After all, he knows that you care about Kairos and his wellbeing, so he uses that against you.

Oh, you just tried to break out of the house? You tried to poison Luka? Well, that deserves a proper punishment. Luka will tie you to a chair and force you to watch as he brutalizes Kairos. Whips him with a belt, kicks him in the stomach, takes away his food privileges for the next 48 hours... It’s horrible.

And in a way… This would cause Kairos to start policing you, too. Which is exactly what Luka wants. Kairos really, really doesn’t want to get punished. I mean, deep down, he’s absolutely happy that he gets to take the beating instead of you– it’s like he’s your hero!! …In some weird and twisted sense. But also, he really doesn’t want to get punished, so… Please don’t act out.

However, when the months keep rolling in, Luka will slowly warm up to Kairos. All of the punishments will grow less severe– and sometimes, Luka just lets you all off with a warning. It’s obvious that a big change has happened when instead of Luka just fucking you in front of Kairos, he lets him join in on the fun.

Except Luka doesn’t really want to touch him– so, he’ll let you touch Kairos instead. It’s what Kairos always wanted– Right?

Kairos should thank him. 

Luka will tie his arms behind his back and keep him firmly locked to a chair, completely naked. Kairos feels so ashamed that he’s hard– but god, he can’t help it. He’s so excited to finally be able to touch you, his darling, the person that should’ve always been his–!

And Luka will make sure it’s enjoyable for everyone. Luka will strip you of your clothes, but he might put you in a cute pair of thigh highs, just for the fun of it. Luka will grab you by your hair and push your face into Kairos’ lap as he utters one phrase, “suck it.”

You’ll do as you’re told– you don’t have much of a choice. Kairos’ eyes instantly light up as you wrap your lips around his sensitive cock.

Finally– his dreams are coming true…! 

Sort of.

As you suck him off, Luka will lift your ass into the air and he’ll fuck your tight hole. He’ll keep his right hand on your hip while his left hand grabs the back of your head, lacing his fingers into your hair. He doesn’t care if you can barely breathe– he’ll shove your head all the way down on Kairos’ dick as he bottoms out inside of you. Occasionally, he’ll lift your head up and lean in to kiss you on the lips.

It’s all so hot– but ultimately, it’s all for you and himself. Luka will always make sure you cum, that’s his top priority. His second priority is to make sure he gets to fill you up. As for Kairos? Well… Luka doesn’t care all that much.

If Kairos doesn’t cum? That’s too bad. It’s Kairos’ own fault that he didn’t come undone. But if he does cum? That’s alright too. 

However, don’t expect Luka to make you stop sucking. Kairos will be squirming in his chair whining like crazy as you overstimulate him, his body trembling from the sensation, but you can’t stop until Luka says you can stop.

The second scenario is much more likely to happen than the first. The moment Kairos looks down and sees your fucked-out face choking on his length… He’ll cum right on the spot– every single time, without fail.

After the first instance of Luka letting Kairos join in the sex, he earns a lot more privileges. He can finally sleep in the same room as you two–!! But he’s not really allowed to rest on the bed. He’ll be forced to curl up and sleep on the floor– but hey, it beats the attic any day, right?

Luka also takes off Kairos' shock collar. Since Kairos has proved himself to be a good boy, he's now allowed to roam around freely. Hell, sometimes Luka will pet Kairos and give him some praise. It... Makes Kairos feel strange, but in a good way.

Kairos is also now allowed to cuddle you sometimes. When you’re simply sitting on the couch and trying to relax, Kairos will immediately hurry over to your side and rest his head in your lap– desperate to feel even an ounce of affection from you. He might ask you to stroke his hair and kiss the bruises Luka left on his skin.

* If Luka is at work and Kairos knows there’s no cameras around, he might beg to suck on your tits– you know, for comfort reasons! It would really make him happy to have them in his mouth– it would be therapeutic, even.

((And if you’re a guy, Kairos will instead beg to frot you. While it’s a lot more dangerous and the punishment for getting caught is heavy, Kairos is willing to risk it all. Don’t worry–! You can just sit there and relax; Kairos will be the one doing all the work with his hand.))

You know how stressful and traumatizing this whole situation has been for him… He needs to be comforted so badly… So.. Pretty please?

In some sick and twisted way, over time, Kairos grows to like the way things are– perhaps his mind does this as a way to cope. He tries his hardest to find all the positives in living this kind of life:

> He gets to spend every minute of every day with you!

> He doesn’t have to worry about talking to strangers.

> He doesn’t have to work and maintain a job.

> He doesn’t have to cook and clean for himself.

The list goes on. Kairos gains all of these benefits, and all he has to do is give up most of his basic human rights and submit to another man…!

Okay, Kairos still admits that is pretty bad. But… At least he has you…! That’s all Kairos really cares about in the end!

For Luka? He’s satisfied with the way things are. Not only does he not have to worry about Kairos ratting him out to the police, but now he has both the love of his life right by his side and a fun little pet to take his stress out on. 

So… Everyone… Wins? In the end? ❤️

[ataraxiaspainting]

chrollo & nobunaga reacting to the gf tax ( they want a gf so bad that comes at a cost of food being stolen of their plate)

i'm sorry this concept is fucking hilarious. 😭

Yan Chrollo + Yan Nobunaga / The Girlfriend Tax.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, some infantilization from Nobunaga, and mentions of violence against the reader/other people.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

“What is the matter, dearest?”

If you didn’t know him as well as you do now – which isn’t a lot, but it still counts for something; probably, someway, somehow – you’d think that Chrollo is attempting to be concerned about you. Attempting to be kind, attempting to be content, attempting to be something so human and real. But you unfortunately knew better now.

He wasn’t concerned; he was simply losing the patience you thought was as infinite as the number of stars in the night sky.

You don’t answer him until his grasp on your chin feels more like a pinch than a sweet caress. Despite him having short nails, you can swear that if you simply move away one more time his thumb will cut you and you will bleed. Perhaps he is more of an animal than something like you and thus perhaps he will lick your wounds clean.

Perhaps he will eat you if he smells your intoxicating scent.

“I have done as you requested, have I not?” He stares at you with such intensity, like he is one second away from biting your head off. “Why do you continue to resist?”

You’re not sure how to answer him, how to make up for the fact that you haven’t done anything affectionate towards him all evening. Kisses, nice words, sitting on his lap, helping him make the dinner that you requested; none of that.

None of what you promised, while Chrollo put his whole heart into the feast set in front of you two. He did his part. You haven’t done yours, and you flinch at potential consequences that are shown through your imagination.

You fucked up. Big time. To put it plain and simple.

“[First].” Chrollo never says your name unless you step way out of line – and even then, you’ve never heard his tone be more irritated than now. At least he isn’t fully angry, and at least he isn't going to threaten you with violence – that role was always reserved for how he treats your loved ones and how his friends treat your loved ones. “You know I never make deals that don’t benefit me, correct?”

Something slips from your mouth before your brain can stop it – it’s a survival instinct maybe, somehow. 

“I’m scared.”

Chrollo’s gaze seems to soften at that; this isn’t the first time that you had voiced such concerns when you are forced into doing ‘couple activities’ with your captor, and this isn’t the first time Chrollo stops what he is doing to assess the situation at hand. But still, this all feels so unfamiliar to you, like a show put on pause because you weren’t a good enough actor for the director and the audience.

His hand moves from your shoulder and there it stays. It’s so cold, but the hot food warms you up. At least you think.

“We can still take it slow. We are still in our… beginning stage, after all.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and suddenly all the fear comes back. 

But that wasn’t the intention, was it?

Nobunaga 

“You aren’t understanding me.”

You put your bare feet onto the front of the chair’s cushion and scoot yourself back until your spine is pressed against the wooden frame. You tuck your knees underneath your chin and bend forward hugging the lower part of your legs.

In front of you was the same type you were always given, but even more of it – brown sludge with something on the side so disgustingly green it couldn’t possibly be a plant and halfway-cooked grains of rice. You asked for takeout instead of Nobunaga’s cooking. Well. You requested it nicer than that. You said that bonding during mealtimes was the easiest way to progress a relationship. You gave some meal ideas; pizza, ramen, stir fry; anything but the alien food he gives you daily.

Nobunaga still has some of the rice in his mouth, chomping away without a care in the world. The sounds are so loud, so painful, that you are tempted to ask him how he could just eat raw rice.

“Yes, I do,” His words are muffled, gnat-sized pieces of broccoli coming out of his mouth as he talks. 

“Why can’t you get something else?” You whine – it’s a desperate sound that comes out of your mouth more regularly now, not that you know why. “To… change the pace a bit.”

You added the last part not to sound rude – you’ll get sent to the bedroom right away for a ‘time out’ if you sound too aggressive again.

“There is a change to it, sweetie.” Nobunaga shakes his head, a tsk leaving his lips. “I added some spinach to the rice. Can’t you see it?”

You must remember that with Nobunaga, you must pick and choose your battles; whether that be not protesting to wearing a skirt that seems a few tads too short or refusing his kisses and touches that felt so cold and slimy somehow despite you knowing that he is human and he is made of the same things you are made of.

Somehow he is human, but he is stronger than you ever will be.

The way he broke your heels months ago, the way he punched and kicked his way through a building to get to you during an escape attempt, the way he restrains you to the bed when you are being too rowdy even for his tastes… They are all proof of that.

So… So… So…

So… So…

So…

So… you slurp up the somehow simultaneously wet and raw rice into your mouth and close your eyes, wishing to be anywhere but here.

[percheduphere]

The entire series is a love story in every sense of the word. It is a love story, and it is both triumphant and tragic.

The finale was gorgeously executed. It answers every point in Loki's development poetically.

1. He never wanted the throne. It was not about power but loneliness and the need to belong.

2. To have purpose is to choose your burden.

3. Love does not make one soft, it transforms us to be unimaginably strong.

S1 focused primarily on 2 things: 1. a second chance, and 2. Self-love.

The 3 main characters have a relationship in which love cascades. While Mobius loves Loki for who he is outright, his friendship and support allows Loki to have compassion for himself. Sylvie represents all of Loki's trauma and flaws. In loving her, Loki grants her a second chance expecting nothing in return. The second chance Mobius extended to Loki, thus extends to her.

S2 focused primarily on the love between friends, which I do believe turned into unrequited love for Mobius in S1E4 (manifesting as rage and jealousy).

That love turns resigned, and the jealousy reemerges in S2E2 albeit in a constrained, milder form.

Unbeknownst to Mobius, his romantic love is finally returned in S2E5, after Loki experiences enough platonic love for Mobius that the nature of affection shifts upon losing Mobius a second time.

The timing of this realization is profoundly tragic. When they are finally on the same page, the finale sets the stage for Loki to engage with the fourth, most powerful form of love:

AGAPE

A selfless love for everyone. Loki could not have reached this point without first experiencing self-love, platonic love, and yes, romantic love. All forms of love are demonstrated in the series, which gives Loki the strength of sacrifice, confronting his worst fear: being alone.

I find it deeply poignant that Loki uses his magical life force to create Yggdrasil, the tree of life, replacing the cold force of HWR's technology with his own heart, allowing everything and everyone to grow infinitely through space and time. There cannot be a more powerful ending for Loki's character, and the tragedy is the point.

But Loki embraces this burden willingly, lovingly, for all of them, most especially Mobius.

ON MOBIUS

It is only Mobius that senses something is deeply wrong. The first time, he asks, "Are you okay?" The second time, he notes Loki's odd comment, "This time?" The third time, (first for Mobius since he didn't remember each reset) instinctively, he becomes desperate. He grabs Loki by the lapels, "What the shit are you doing?" He tries to stop Loki, but Loki won't let him.

The fourth time, he simply says, "Loki?"

Throughout S2, it is Mobius that Loki turns to when he is afraid, doesn't know what to do, or seeks comfort. He returns what Mobius provides him in S2E2 in the pie automat. In S2E4, he defends Mobius's character to Sylvie and compares where he is now, as a person, with Thor's experience with Jane, a mere Midgardian mortal.

In S2E5, it is Mobius Loki timeslips to the most and the first person his heart seeks out once OB provides him with an answer to his fiction problem.

That Loki seeks Mobius's wisdom one last time and holds onto Mobius's hand as long as he can in the finale is significant. Mobius's words about choosing your burden are devastatingly true. These words propel Loki to make his choice.

And Loki walking out onto the platform in the finale is a direct reciprocation of this (S2E1):

This is an all-encompassing love story. Let noone tell you otherwise.

[moonsaver]

A dance, A death, A dream,

for humanity slumbers for the final rest, and dreams after the final rest.

➸ On the neverending stage of Penacony; there lies a mysterious masquerade that serenades those whose dreams stretch further than the expanse of the night sky. In this masquerade, the marble floor extends infinitely, and the windows are dimly lit by the full moon. Several hands extend to you. Whose do you take?

➸A/n; NOT IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER AS TITLE SUGGESTS. my writing's gotten a bit rusty, and this is majorly inspired by the Acheron and Black swan dance. Please read it with a grain of salt. 2.2k words. Yandere themes, gn reader but they're implied to wear heels, so just yassify your self insert. Bad writing because I've been out of it for so long.

—————

A death

Scars, calluses, and a plethora of secrets remain buried on and under the skin of Blade's hand. He gently and firmly guides you out of your seat, and into the centre. The grip of his hand is firm on your waist, and the warmth seeps into your skin.

“I've seen you, many, many times..”

He whispers into your ear, as the music begins. The rasp of it sends chills down your spine, forming a few goosebumps along the way.

“We've scarcely met.” You reply,

“In my dreams.”

You stay silent. He continues,

“The long thread of destiny lingered around you. Our souls were tied.”

He turns you, and pulls you in again, your back pressed to his front. He leans down in an instant and whispers into your ear again,

“You waited for me.”

The clicks of your heels coincide with his agile footwork.

Blade remembers the same dream, played over and over in his mind. The bite on your jugular, the hand over your nape, the red blood staining his teeth like wine.

“You didn't leave.”

Your heart picks up. You close your eyes for a momentary relief that never comes. You feel your body tense, and your lungs slightly constrict.

“I.. didn't mean to.”

His grip only further tightens on you, and he pulls you in closer. The spinning almost leaves you dizzy, or perhaps it's something else?

“You left. Intentions seldom matter.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

He stays quiet. His hands make gentle work, and gracefully guide you through the steps.

“those threads.. all came together and formed a tapestry of us.”

There were a multitude of them, although more monotone in nature. White occasionally graced the vibrant red thread, but was sooner stained with a murky black the further it went, infecting the red with its impurity. The vibrancy dimmed to a dull, dreary maroon.

“Some of them..”, he continues, his rough fingers snake around your wrist, bringing it up to his lips, where he tenderly kisses the inside, “..were tied around your wrist.”

“Around your waist..”

You turn again, your back presses into his chest momentarily,

“Braided into your hair,”

He pulls you in, leaning close into your face, to the point your noses almost touch,

“..wrapped around your throat.”

To you – it's like the dance halts for a moment. Something wrong happens.

His tone is warning, bubbling over the edge,

“You were mine.”

He turns you again, and roughly pulls you in, knocking your breath out of your lungs. Your shocked eyes meet his.

“You are mine.”

Your heartbeat thumps loudly in your ears. Blade pushes you around, almost mocking the gentleness and grace the dance is supposed to exude, stripping it of it's vulnerability like the harsh snap of a bear trap over the tender leg of a rabbit,

“I've pined, longed and stained you. I've ripped you apart and put you back together. Do you think it matters whether you left intentionally?”

Your lungs struggle to fill completely, you almost stumble from the harsh and swift movements Blade forces you through, and you stutter trying to get any word out, 

“Yingxi–! Wait!”

He pulls you in one last time, your face buried into his chest,

“You can not leave. Not anymore.”

The music halts to a break.

The dance stops.

His breath fans over your neck, the constricted space between you two rebounding the warm air. His teeth graze your jugular.

“Our flesh is tied. Struggle all you want, but we are intertwined further than dried blood over a wound.”

And this is how it is meant to be. Your hand on his weakness. His mouth on your heart.

The music starts again.

—––––––

A dream

Sunday's familiar gloved hand wastes no time wrapping around yours. He flashes you a smile as you give him a look.

“There are far too many spectators present tonight.”

You sigh, and smile.

“Of course. I'll do my best.”

“Thank you. As will I.”

His hand settles on your back, settling into the slight curve, and you straighten up, muscle memory kicking into action.

“Tonight's crowd mumbles and scatters to mystery as a moth akin to a flame. Dreams are not enough to quench their curiosity.”

The dance starts, and you relax after the first few steps, synchronising effortlessly with him,

“However, tonight's realm extends far beyond a dream.”

This was new.

Sunday always answered your questions about Dreams in a shapeless, vague manner. He often said it was to protect you.

This time, it was a warning.

“How so?” You ask. You don't expect him to go beyond surface level.

“Prime System Hours are during Midnight. A beautiful time.” He gently turns you, and brings you in,

“And why is that?”

“At this time, dreams become heavy. The memoria is dense enough to tear the thin membrane between reality and illusions.”

His wings slightly flutter. You feel almost hypnotized.

“The Dream realm and parts of The Reverie merge and collide. It bizarrely stabilises the lavish, shared dreams.”

You blink at him, slightly confused.

“And at this time, it is also easy to awaken from one's dreams, or sleep too deeply.”

You suck in a breath. A vision flashes into your mind.

Sunday stands across the empty ballroom. The candles are blown out. The windows creak with the gentle air of the night. The deathly pale light of the moon illuminates the side of Sunday's face.

Wake up? Sleep? Dream?

You breathe out, almost as if your soul had been snatched out of your body and harshly shoved back in. 

“Guests confuse their dreams and reality. They believe it's time to awaken, when reality seems pleasant, and dreams become bitter. Memories and presence blur together in an incoherent puzzle.”

He swerves you effortlessly, muscle memory keeping you from stumbling. But this time, your mind feels hazy.

“By the time they feel their consciousness return, they've already deeply penetrated into the dream realm.”

You blink again, and you're back at the same place. Except, this time, Sunday is closer. He takes your hand, and pulls you in. The emptiness of the ballroom is almost frightening, especially due to your confused and hazed state,

“As to whether they've woken up or not, relies solely on their ability to distinguish Reverie and the Dreamscape, which blurs more with the effect of the memoria.”

His voice echoes in your head with clarity, but your eyes blur the two figures, the contrast inducing dizziness in you to the point where you're afraid you might even fall,

“As for you..” He continues, golden eyes gently grazing over your confused and hazy expression, a smile stretching out onto his eerily perfect face,

“It's not time to decipher that yet.”

The silhouette of Sunday's fingers snap over the pale backdrop of the moon.

You open your eyes.

Sunday is standing before you with a warm smile. The candelabras are still burning. The crowd applauds you two. You breathe heavily, unsure of what has happened, your body suddenly zapped of energy, exhaustion straining your muscles.

“You seem to have overexerted yourself.”

Sunday's gloved hand trails up your back to your shoulder, guiding you gently back into the crowd, towards an empty table.

“Come now. The dust of this ballroom may be dulling your senses.”

Dust?

You blink for a moment, head slightly hanging as you collect yourself.

Sunday breathes out an ‘o’, and then chuckles softly.

“Do not mind it, dear”,

Sunday eyes the creaking windows. It has been a while since they were repaired. The room may need to be renovated. The dust on the floor is reminiscent of all the people that one witnessed your first dance with Sunday. The lack of it was always a reminder of your time with Sunday, the dust clinging to your heels instead. He stares towards the empty hall, where you dream of an everlasting dance.

“It is my mistake. I was thinking about something else.”

–––––———

A dance

“What makes you think I'd really want to dance with you?”

You ask, almost disgruntled. Rightfully so, too. The blonde man had been continuously pestering you throughout the night, asking you to accompany him. For a dance, a walk through the garden, a visit to the food table. Finally, he'd asked you to strike a bet with him, if it meant you'd at least spend an iota of your time with him and solely him.

“I have my ways, you know?”

His agile fingers flick and swerve a coin between his hands, tossing and turning it skillfully. The tablecloth slightly crinkles under the movement of his arms,

“I'm not betting, by the way.”

You say, pausing for a moment to confirm if he's listening. His eyes are intent on yours. You continue,

“If you have to go so far just to dance with someone, aren't you better off just giving up?”

Your gaze lands on the coin for a moment, and you continue watching it with interest. At some point, you force yourself to look away from the coin he was toying with, and take a sip of your drink. You lean back into your chair.

“Like I said, I have my ways. What I really want from you after all this time.. isn't it tempting? Don't you want to know?”

He tosses the coin into the palm of his other hand, and encloses it, before opening it. The coin vanishes when he opens his hand. Mirroring you, he leans back into his seat, although his body language is much more open than yours.

“making bets is easy, isn't it? But it's more trustworthy than pulling a few strings behind your back, right?”

He gets up, and languidly walks over to you. He leans down slightly, his sunglasses slightly skewing enough so that his vibrant Signoian eyes bore deep into yours.

“And for you.. I've thought about an offer that's taken me a while to cultivate. Join me for a chat on the Balcony?”

You think for a moment, and hesitantly ask,

“..Why not talk here?”

Aventurine only casts a side-glance somewhere in the distance.

“Prying eyes, sweetheart.”

He extends an open hand to you. You slowly place yours in it, with a self-assuring sigh.

-

“Penacony's relationship with the IPC has been quite bitter. Even our reception wasn't ready to welcome us.”

The air of the night sky was cold, forming subtle goosebumps on your skin. Various clinks and muffled conversations could be heard from behind you, the glass door blurring the view of everyone inside. 

“Not even my friends were allowed to enter the dreamscape except me. How lucky, right?”

He says, sarcastically. His eyes continuously gauge your face for any expression and hint as to what you feel.

“You’re a little too quiet.. am I not interesting enough for you?” 

You stay silent for a bit too long. Aventurine knows what you're going to say next.

“Listen, that night..” you start, your voice gradually softening at the remembrance of the memory,

“Don't.” He cuts you off.

Neither of you speak. You open your mouth to, but close it after being unable to decide on what to say.

“I mean, you don't have to remind me.” His languid tone returns, but you don't believe it was the same as before.

“I know everything ended that night.. I didn't think you were so averse to blood.”

You stare at the bubbles in your drink, rise slowly from the bottom of your cup to the surface, and pop. You don't know when, but the background of joyful conversation and ballroom music fades into distant screams, ones that have haunted your dreams ever since then. Aventurine continues,

“It won't hurt to.. act one last time like it used to be, right? Just for one night. It's a masquerade, and everyone hides who they are for a moment's time of detachment. Their past, their decisions, their mistakes. All of it is buried for a single night.”

You hear the shuffle of his stiff jacket as he moves closer to you, hesitantly moving your gaze to him as you steel yourself.

“Just one last time. For old time's sake. As lovers from the past.”

His hand extends out to you. His other hand is behind his back, his grip tightening over a coin.

Heads, or tails?

You take his hand with a sigh,

“Just once. Never again.”

Aventurine smiles. Luck has always been on his side. If it works well, then your expectations will never be honoured. His greed is fatally more important to him than your wishes. It won't be the last time, as far as he's concerned.

The coin shines under his palm, the moonlight creeping through the gaps between his fingers hitting the metal just right, but neither of you catch the glint. Your eyes are trained onto the main floor, and his are trained onto you. The coin decides both of your fates.

And Luck has always been happy to write it in his favour.

—————————

[acciotaitlynn]

⋆｡˚꒰sharp desires꒱˚｡⋆

You hand Zayne a list, each bullet point revealing your most secret desires. Instead, he devises something infinitely better than anything you could have imagined.

⤵

⟢ zayne⌇fem!reader

⟢ 18+ graphic sexual content. unprotected sex/no pulling out. p in da v. oral. fingering. light bondage. knife play. teasing. slight sub/dom dynamic. triggering situations such as depictions of cutting, staged assault, and a staged break-in. teensy bit of blood. i don’t normally write themes like this bc i feel i can’t do them justice, but this man and his scalpel been on my mind for a whileee now

* i know that last part is probably unrealistic but i think it’s hot sue me 🙈 zayne would never agree to this

⟢ 4,008 words

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You woke with a start, your senses immediately on high alert despite the grogginess of sleep. The dark room, bathed in eerie moonlight, sent shivers racing down your spine while fluttering curtains and an unsettling silence prickled your skin with goosebumps.

The digital clocks glow, flashing 2:44am, seemed unnaturally bright, amplifying the sudden creeping fear tingling through your body.

Gripping your firearm tightly, you moved with cautious steps to the kitchen, systematically checking the bathroom and closets for any signs of intrusions. Finding nothing, the unease settled deeper in your gut as you poured a glass of water and headed back to bed.

You were halfway down the hall when powerful arms wrapped around you from behind, a hand clamping over your mouth to suppress your screams. The glass shattered on impact as you struggled fervently, but the grip remained unyielding.

In all black attire, a hood masking their face, the intruder exuded a possessive aura that felt unnervingly familiar. Thrown onto the bed, you were pinned down with a roughness tempered by gentle caresses. Bright hazel eyes, burning with an intensity you'd never seen before, met yours.

Recognizing the intruder was Zayne brought an initial wave of relief that quickly dissolved under his predatory gaze. His eyes traced your form with an unfamiliar hunger as he held your arms over your head, watching raptly as your breath hitched in an intoxicating blend of fear and arousal. 

Despite your angelic demeanor, you had often shared desires for darker, more intense experiences, even recently presenting Zayne with a list that truly challenged his boundaries.

He had grappled with the idea of inflicting pain without mutual arousal, ending up in a struggle to align your fantasies with his own pleasure. Thankfully, a realization had dawned on him, igniting a surprising, twisted excitement that fueled a resolute plan.

In the midst of trying to persuade him to explore some of the acts you had listed, your main selling point was the notion that letting go in such a way could potentially alleviate the intense work-related stress he habitually bottled up. Zayne, however, failed to grasp this perspective—in his view, causing you pain would likely only escalate his stress levels. Yet, the night he had endured was nothing short of harrowing, and it was thoughts of indulging in precisely that release that saw him through the ordeal.

Apart from the moments he was forced to focus solely on a surgical procedure, visions of you beneath him—just as you lay now, eyes swirling with an utterly captivating blend of fear and desire—danced persistently in his thoughts, gradually consuming his mind entirely. Abandoning his unfinished paperwork on the desk, with plans to return to the hospital once his encounter with you concluded, he hastily made his way home.

The bag, meticulously prepared and awaiting its moment ever since he first conceived this plan, beckoned him from the edge of the bed.

“You’ve haunted my every thought today,” he confessed in a low voice laced with longing, his eyes fixed on yours, fervently searching for a response that mirrored his own tumultuous emotions. “Perhaps your theory was correct—it's as if the weight of the day is beginning to melt away… It’s intoxicating.” 

Zayne found it intriguing to see the way your eyes had flickered with relief upon seeing him, only to quickly morph into anxiety as you realized the darker intent lurking behind his gaze. There was a faint question lingering in the recesses of his mind—what was happening to him? Never could he have imagined that witnessing your struggle against him, and the realization sinking in that he had no intention of releasing you, would stir such a potent, almost primal arousal within him.

His breath brushed lightly against your skin as he drew close. His voice, low and teasing, carried a startlingly cold edge as his lips ghosted over your jaw. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Number 5 on the list, correct? ‘Use force to use me, Zayniee. Even better if u break into the apartment and scare the ever-loving shit out of me when u do this,’ in squiggly brackets with a smiley face—technically, I’m just following orders.”  You glared at him, irritation flashing in your eyes, which only earned you a cocky smirk before his lips crashed onto yours.

There was nothing gentle or tender about the kiss—something you had come to expect from Zayne. It was bruising, possessive, and all-encompassing, his mouth devouring yours as your body instinctively stiffened under his touch.

While you had indeed asked for this, the intensity of his actions caught you off guard—the thrill he was exuding from instilling fear in you left you feeling a bit queasy. His entire demeanor was different—charged with an excitement that was both unsettling and exhilarating. But mostly, it was just incredibly hot.

His dark hair framed mocking, sultry eyes, which gleamed beneath the hood of his sweatshirt as they roved over you. Dressed casually in sweats and a hoodie, with giddy eyes and tousled hair, Zayne exuded a youthful energy that starkly contrasted with his usual professional appearance.

For so long, you had wondered if it was even possible for Zayne to let go like this. Now, seeing him so unrestrained filled you with a happiness that you could barely contain.

Fear and arousal simmered within you, battling for dominance—but the fear was a relentless force churning in your stomach, no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Your mind scrambled to remember why you ever thought this was a good idea. The notion of someone breaking into your home to assault you had quickly lost its appeal, even if the intruder was your fiance. He kept your arms pinned above your head, his weight still pressing you into the bed. You hadn’t even noticed the black bag resting there until he reached over and rummaged through it.

Your eyes widened as he pulled out a length of rope, a smile curling his lips as he caught your hesitant expression. “Zayne?” you whispered, uncertainty threading through your voice. He stayed silent, skillfully binding your hands to the headboard before you could fully comprehend what was happening. In a blur, your loose tank top and snowflake-print pajama shorts were pulled down the length of your body, a startled squeak escaping you as the fabric was roughly yanked down your legs.

Zayne’s full weight returned to settle beneath your knees, giving him an unobstructed view as his warm finger traced your folds. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you looked away, unable to bear the sight of his finger glistening with your arousal, which he then licked clean with a grin. “It seems like you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on, love,” he mocked, his voice dripping with amusement.

His fingers continued their exploration, sliding deep inside you, stretching you with a steady rhythm. Your hips began to grind against his hand, seemingly of their own volition. Zayne groaned lowly, his teeth closing over his lip as he watched your body’s eager reaction to him. Suddenly, he was consumed with the desire to help you push past your fear.

He captured your breast with his lips and teeth, eagerly sucking, licking and biting every inch of skin he could find. When your eyes met again, he was pleased to see that fear was slowly giving way to arousal.

His touches grew gentler, his fingers tracing soft patterns along your stomach and sides, drawing out those adorable giggles he cherished so much. His kisses became tender and lingering, no longer bruising. Hands cradled your face lovingly as his tongue danced passionately with yours. The room filled with a symphony of soft groans, gentle whimpers, and the cool night air, creating a beautiful, intimate melody. “Let’s see if we can’t make this everything you dreamed of,” he murmured against your lips, his voice softening with his touches.

The more he thought about it as his fingers traced your breasts, the more Zayne wanted this experience to be free of fear—at least for the first time. At first, he worried that his newfound tenderness wouldn’t be enough for you—but when your body relaxed beneath him, going almost limp in his hands after you released a deep sigh of pleasure and relief, his worries melted away.

His lips roamed over the marks from his earlier roughness, soothing them gently with every touch. He continued to straddle you, but his weight eased off, and his gaze sought yours with a sudden intensity.

The idea Zayne wanted to try tonight wasn’t on your lengthy list of fantasies, and he wasn’t even sure if you’d be interested—but he found himself hoping with all his heart that you would be; letting this go would be surprisingly difficult for him. A blush began to spread across his ears and cheeks as he began to speak, a faint hint of nervousness and hopefulness beneath his words. “I’ve wanted to try something new with you for as long as you’ve asked it of me,” he admitted, returning your soft smile as his hand brushed your cheek. “But I’ve struggled immensely to find something that would be pleasurable for both of us—I’m simply incapable of hurting you if it’s not appealing to me too.” Slowly, he reached for his bag and removed two small, identical items that glinted in the moonlight. Your eyes widened, locking onto him with curiosity and a tinge of returning fear as you realized what they were.

Zayne removed the protective cap from one of the scalpels, balancing it on his fingers as he turned it over slowly. His eyes, brimming with longing, drifted back to you. “If at any moment you want me to stop, I will,” he said softly, his tone unwavering. He searched your face, and the vulnerability in his expression struck you deeply. Zayne, always selfless, was rarely ever selfish, and more rarely did he ask for anything for himself. The hope in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings, and despite the fear once again coursing through you, you nodded softly, granting him the permission he sought.

His eyes sparkled with a mix of disbelief and adoration as he processed your answer, finally rewarding your trust with another passionate kiss. His lips moved to your cheeks and eyelids, pressing soft, thankful kisses as your eyes fluttered shut. He kissed you until you were breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your breasts swaying with every movement, practically begging for his attention.

“This first blade is very dull. I’ll use it to get you accustomed to the sensation before switching to the sharper one,” he explained, his calm, professional tone instantly reassuring. You nodded again, too anxious to speak, your mind racing as the metal inched closer. Your body tensed at the scalpel's cool touch, but you quickly relaxed as you realized it was merely the backside tracing a slow circle around your nipple. A groan escaped you when the dulled edge took its place, moving gently over the sensitive bud before gliding down your stomach. His hand eagerly replaced the scalpel on your breast, kneading it firmly as he continued to explore your skin; the dull blade traveling over spots you assumed the sharper one would later revisit.

As your body relaxed, you began to surrender to its unfamiliar, tantalizing sensations—the slow, deliberate dragging and tapping motions Zayne was applying with just the right amount of pressure brought you more pleasure than you'd anticipated. “How does it feel?” he whispered. “It’s… different,” you managed, your voice barely above a murmur. “But good. Really good.” A satisfied smile spread across his face as he continued his careful ministrations.

He was absolutely drunk on your reactions, and the two of you had barely even begun. Your eyes had long since drifted shut, soft sounds of ecstasy filling his ears as the blade danced across your skin. He could see it—you had completely surrendered to the pleasure he and the blade were bringing you. Setting the scalpel aside, he captured your lips in a fervent kiss, greedily devouring the beautiful noises spilling from you.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and glistening, eyes bright with excitement as you beamed up at him. The joy he felt at your newfound eagerness was overwhelming. He couldn’t decide whose excitement was greater—yours or his—as he reached for the second scalpel, a small smile playing on his lips. You couldn’t help but burst into a wide grin at the look on his face. His smile didn’t waver as he met your eyes, raising an amused eyebrow. “What?” he asked. “Nothing, it’s just… you literally look like a giddy schoolboy right now, Zayne—it’s adorable,” you teased. He huffed a gentle laugh. “Truthfully? I feel like one.” He paused. “Would you like me to untie the restraints?” You gave him an affronted look, as if he’d just asked the stupidest question of the day. “Absolutely not,” you answered firmly. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he chuckled and moved closer, the sharper scalpel glinting in the dim light. “Alright then,” he murmured. “Let’s continue.”

His fingers brushed the soft skin of your neck as he gently tilted your head to the side. His mind wandered, imagining how that first cut would feel against your flesh, and what delicious sounds you might make in response. Leaning close, his lips grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I need you to stay very still for me,” he murmured, his voice a blend of calm and command. “If you feel the need to move, let me know so I can pull back the knife first. Do you remember your safe word?” You beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with excitement as you whispered, “Yes! Now come onnn.” A note of amusement crept into his tone. “I’m not convinced you were listening,” he taunted, noticing your barely-contained squirming. “I’m not coming near you with this until you calm down.” He ran the back end of the scalpel along your arm, sending shivers through your body.

Suppressing a giggle, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to relax. The sight of Zayne holding the scalpel was insanely arousing, but you focused on your breathing, trying to ignore the hard press of his body against yours. Gradually, your muscles loosened, and your breaths evened out. Tilting your head to the side once more, he brought the scalpel near the nape of your neck. As the blade lightly traced your skin, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Zayne's eyes widened, fixated on the faint line forming beneath his touch. Awestruck, his fingers brushed over the mark, gaze flickering up to meet yours. Seeing your happy, aroused smile, he knew you were okay, but you didn’t give him a chance to ask. “Keep going, please,” you softly begged.

With newfound confidence, he moved the blade with precision. His focus was intense, almost trance-like, and you couldn’t help but wonder aloud if this was what he looked like during a medical procedure. Breaking your thoughts, his low voice responded, “Such a situation would be missing two crucial elements—my arousal and you. So no.” Before you could reply, your nipple was in his mouth, tongue eagerly lapping at the bud as he ground against your core. He pulled back, his fingers pinching the opposite nipple as he methodically slid the the knife across your breast. “Holy shit,” you whispered, the mix of pleasure and pain sending shivers down your spine and heat pooling between your thighs.

“More,” you breathed, heated eyes locked on the scalpel. Zayne’s hand traveled downward, and with deliberate precision, he made a cut on your lower abdomen. The sting of the pain mingled with a faint soothing sensation, causing your body to relax deeper into the comforter on a deep sigh. “You have such soft skin here,” he murmured, admiring your body beneath him. He added a few more cuts there, each one followed by gentle kisses that felt like a balm to your burning skin. Pausing, his fingers glided through your folds, playing messily in the gathering wetness. You whimpered as he circled your sensitive clit, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered, resting his head against yours as two long fingers slipped deep inside you, wiggling to press that sweet spot that made your back arch off the bed in sheer ecstasy. A soft laugh escaped him as he moved to kneel between your thighs, spreading them wide, his mouth replacing his hand as he devoured you like a man starved.

Tiny kisses and licks punctuated by quick, light cuts along your sensitive inner thighs intensified the experience beyond words. The initial pain was almost overwhelming, the safe word dancing on the tip of your tongue with the second cut. But then, it transformed—pain melting seamlessly into a pleasure even more intense than the last.

Zayne relished your response, pausing to savor your taste in between each pull of the blade, feeling you grow wetter and wetter on his tongue with every cut. He lingered between your thighs, mouth working fervently, fingers brushing over the shallow marks scattered across your skin. Peering up, his blissed-out gaze met yours, sending a sharp pain of need through your core. “Go ahead and come for me, love,” he commanded, his voice low and sultry, a caress in itself. His mouth found you again, hands squeezing your increasingly sensitive thighs as your hips moved eagerly against him. Whispers of his name filled the air as your walls throbbed around his tongue, your entire body succumbing to pure ecstasy. You were still floating in your high when Zayne’s cock pushed into you. Taking his time, he stretched you slowly, filling you completely, his low groans intertwining with your soft whimpers as he watched your bodies meld together.

You became a teary mess under the intensity of his thrusts, your breasts bouncing in his face as your love-drunk voice whined, “Feels so gooood when you fill me up," on a giggle. Without warning, his cock slipped out of you, and he reached above to untie the restraints. A protest was forming on your lips, but it died when he plunged back into you, stilling once he bottomed out. He took your wrist in his hand, guiding the knife just below the inside of your elbow. “Don’t look away,” he murmured. The pain in this spot was sharp, yet fleeting, replaced quickly by the throb of pleasure as his cock twitched eagerly inside you.

He'd made this cut the faintest bit deeper. Tiny beads of blood bubbled to the surface, and Zayne groaned, hips pumping into you before stopping to choose another spot. Again, the cut was controlled, precise, just deep enough to bring the smallest amount of red to the surface.

This tormenting rhythm continued—a few thrusts, then the gentle drag of the knife. It was exhilarating, made even more so by Zayne’s intense focus. His hazel eyes were bright and enchanting, a stark contrast to the rise and fall of his chest and the steadiness of his hands.

Feeling his orgasm approaching too fast, he pulled out, capturing your lips with his. “You are everything to me. You know that, right?” Your hands tangled in his hair as you nodded, deepening the kiss with a smile against his lips. He sat back on the bed, motioning for you to join him. As he lowered you onto his cock, he pushed you hard against him, your back flush with his chest. “Good girl,” he murmured, grinning when your body tightened around him in response. You began to grind softly on top of him, squeaking when you felt the backside of the knife trace the area around your shoulder blade. “Be still,” he reminded, flipping the knife to trace your skin with the edge. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before making a cut directly beneath the first one, then moving to the area between your shoulder blades.

Even as your body trembled and silent tears streamed down your cheeks, your blissed-out, dreamy expression never faltered. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, setting the blade aside to hold your hips tightly. He moved inside you, the sensation of your warm, tight cunt wrapped around his length and your ass clapping against him with each movement driving Zayne absolutely wild. Breathless utterances of his name escaped your lips, enough to ruin him completely.

He stilled within you, his hand keeping its grip on your hip to keep you from moving. The scalpel traced a delicate line down your spine, your body immediately tensing with a nauseating mix of anxiety and tension. But when Zayne removed the knife and continued to grind against you, cock pressing deeper with each movement, that tension transformed into sheer pleasure.

He kissed the fresh marks along your back. His hands wandering from your hips to your slick folds, each languid circle of his fingers promising to drive you mad. “Would it be okay if I finish inside tonight?” he murmured in your ear. You smiled, nodding eagerly—he knew the answer would always be yes, but ever the gentleman, he never stopped asking. His fingers and lips softly traced the marks left by the knife as he moved inside you, gently rubbing your swollen clit while you moved over him.

Suddenly, his hands dimpled your ass, holding you just high enough for his hips to pound into you harder. You glanced down, practically drooling at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you. When he sat you back down, you pressed hard again, forcing him deep inside as you wiggled around him. He held you close, pressing worshipful kisses along your neck and shoulders as his fingers glided through your heat with more deliberate strokes, lifting you higher and higher until you were utterly drunk on him.

Zayne's own release was approaching fast, and this time, he didn’t want to hold back. As you came undone above him, your walls pulsing wildly around his cock, he watched with rapt fascination as you gripped his thighs tightly, your release trickling around his length. Holding you open with one hand, he reached for the scalpel with the other. Neither of you breathed as the blade hovered over your glistening skin. His fingers grazed the sensitive area around your opening lightly. “This is where a group of veins drains blood from this perfect cunt,” he whispered, his voice low and controlled. Gently, he made a tiny cut, just enough to part your skin and bring the pretty beads of red to the surface. You whimpered and gripped him tight as his cock pulsed inside you, coating you with his warm essence. His thumb idly played with the little cut until you had milked him dry.

Leaning against him, you both tried to calm down, his arm holding you tight as he rocked you gently. “Well, was our first time trying something new everything you thought it would be?” he teased. You nodded enthusiastically. “And more. Your idea was far better than anything I came up with.” His breath was a warm puff against your hair as he chuckled softly. Lifting you off him, he stood before scooping you up in his arms. Meeting your quizzical stare with an amused one, he explained, “We need to get cleaned up so I can treat your wounds before bed.” Your eyes turned imploring, using that voice you always did when trying to get your way. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed his cheek and grinned. “Maybe after we clean up, you could show me how to do some of that to you…” Zayne’s response was immediate, his tone leaving no room for negotiation—“Absolutely not.”