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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year

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Demon! Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 3[***]

A/N: you guys really shouldn’t be encouraging my monsterfucking habits but here we are. Also, sorry it’s late!

Summary: You get stolen away by one of his half siblings, and he nearly tips over the irredeemable edge. You’re running. He’s hunting.

Warnings: monsterfucking (yk), demon!azriel, kidnapping, gore/violence, blood, beast form!Azriel (no, you don’t fuck him like that), soft!Demon!az (in his own way)

-Part 2- -Part 4-

He doesn’t understand how he managed to lose you so effortlessly.

He’d been keeping you in his private chambers, locked far below ground. But then you’d started getting ideas in your head after the mating, ideas of your own independence being important. It set his ire blazing, the thought you would any sort of individuality to separate yourself from him. You belong to one another now.

Still, an unfamiliar part of him had granted your offending requests of freedom, returning you to the mortal worlds from time to time whenever you claimed to be struck down by a sickness for your previous housing. His lip curled whenever he thought of it.

He’d allowed you out, and you’d been snatched away. Ripped from his claws, leaving him wounded and tender. And furious. Black flame incarnate. The embodiment of wrath, his body sensing something fundamental having been torn from his inner energies. You.

He needs you back, or he might wither under the unyielding might of his rage.

————————

The marshy land squelches beneath your feet, the wet slap of your toes as they sink into the mud. Icy razor blades slice the soles of your feet as the cold bites into you. The skin is a raw pink, the swampy terrain containing little but festering small creatures that cannibalise one another for the sake of prolonging their pitiful but desperate lives.

The beasts dragging you along have no place in your heart, twisted with malevolent cruelty to the point of being unrecognisable. You can’t even begin to comprehend them, yet they continue stringing you through the bemired ground, no care for the burning pain that slices with every step.

Salty paths have long since dried on your grimy skin, wind whipping at your hair as it howls in the skies, thunderous. Rain lashes at your back, stinging in its persistence. A crack of lightening above has you jumping, stumbling as you fall into a stagnant bog of putrid smelling water. The creatures pay you no mind, continuing on their slouching way as your ankles are pulled out beneath you.

Your mouth opens to scream before you seal you lips as you’re dragged under, your weight sinking into the marsh. You thrash until your break the surface, gasping for air as you try to push the mud from your eyes. The best you can do is wait for the unkind rain to rinse your skin beneath it’s torrential rage.

How much further?

The question repeats in your mind until it’s a dull throb of pain, hair pulled out from under you as you slide through the muck, sludge caking your back. It becomes unbearable when you hit stable land, the cold ground biting at your skin, tearing at the thin robes you adorned before you were snatched away. Again.

The thunderous crack of lightening whips closer, more regular. A small part of you hopes it will somehow seek you out, strike you down where you lie, freeing you from the endless hurricane of events you seem to have been unsuspectingly caught in. Things were just beginning to look up for you and Azriel. He’d allowed you freedom you hadn’t been granted even in the mortal realms, the promise of safety, gifting you with the liberty to run wild in forests, bathe in streams without worry of prying eyes or snatching hands that wouldn’t listen to your cries of agony. How false those promises had been.

Perhaps he’d gotten bored of you.

He was a creature of hel, after all.

The wind beats down on your accepting features with all the force nature possesses. It harrows your skin, lashing at your cheeks, stinging your lips as the wind turns every strand of hair into cruel, half bitten whips, cracking against your tender skin with sharp, wet smacks.

And yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call him a beast. The things dragging you by your ankles were the monsters, though perhaps he was simply a master to the arts of deceit and mockery.

Sharp stones scrape against the raw flesh of your back, surely the same bitten-pink as your feet. Had he really, truly abandoned you? The side of your throat stings, your hands automatically flying to sense out the pain. The bite marks are pulsing, throbbing with a burning sensation, prickling at your bloodstream. Azriel.

Where are you?

You manage to crack your eyes open, gunk teeming at the edges where the rain couldn’t slither in. There’s a black spec in the sky, darker than the thunderous rain cloud. Lightening cracks, silhouetting the shadow.

You hiss as rocks drag against your should blades, splitting up your spine as they grind against the bone. Fresh tears spill as unceasing pain lances through your back, flaying your torso.

The shadow is larger - closer. It’s dropping, plummeting through the air, terrifying wings slicing through the atmosphere silently. Lethally precision in the set of it’s form. He’s a very quiet predator.

Your breath catches, choking on air as it clogs your lungs, tongue feeling rubbery against the walls of your throat. The words blurs but not from the sting of rain, neither the dark haze when your squint your eyes in desperation to shield from the wild onslaught of the elements trying to corrode your skin. Hot wetness warms paths along your skin, neck stinging as his glittering ire slices along that eldritch connection, zapping at your mind.

The utter fury blazing along the bond warms your from within, heart picking up to the beat of the wind that whips unforgivingly across the flat moor, fog rolling in thick, suffocating clusters, sprawling above the fen. Your lower lip trembles as he dives, swooping down, shadows wreathing him in unhallowed darkness.

He crashes into the beasts dragging your human body so carelessly across the boggy flatland, piercing screams tearing from their bodies as they’re crushed beneath his razed sharp claws. The Dæmon lands in a mess of splintering bones, dark blood spraying into the mud as jaws snap viciously, tearing at rough skin as their bodies are pulled apart.

“Azriel…” You’re disbelieving, finally coming to a stop on the biting floor. Power fills the air, frenetic static building, lightening cracking above. It’s his fury incarnate, imbuing the world with depthless wrath as it zaps across the wet fields. Beastly snarls rips from his chest.

You shakily push up, hardly able to move from the bludgeoning numbness. His wings are larger, the talons glittering at their peaks sharper. His arms and legs are transformed into crushing paws, decorated with slicing talons that could spear your entire body. His thick fur curls in the torrential downpour, changed from his bi-pedal form into moving as a predator would, enabling his lethal speed.

He’s hardly recognisable save for scar peaking through the matted hair on his corded throat, a matching pair to the bite marks on your own neck. There isn’t an ounce of hazel in his blacked out eyes, snout searching for life to rip into as he shoves it into the disembowelled stomach of one of the pitiful creatures that’d been crushed beneath his weight.

It happens under a second, one moment he’s a spec in the air and the next he stalks over the bloodied carcasses of the beasts that have been hauling your roughly through the dirt. The once firm land now withers beneath their weight, saturated with blood, their corpses sinking into the morass, swallowed by the land. Pickled.

“Azriel,” his name grates against your vocal chords. You know it’s him. He’s found you, he’s come to save you. Fresh tears wrack your body as shadows slither through the cloying fog, snapping the locks on your rubbed-raw angles as you pull them against your body.

You’re pushing forward on trembling limbs, onto your hands and knees as you crawl forward, rain washing away the grit from your excoriated skin. “Azriel,” you whimper, his body looking so warm and you know even with the wetness soaking his fur you’ll be shielded.

The metallic scent in the air evens out as he shifts into a more familiar form, his own features surfacing, sharp cheekbones splitting through his animalistic demeanour, the darkest shine of hazel breaking in his blacked out eyes. A snarling roar drags from his throat as his gaze settles on you, prowling forward.

The shifting halts, as if frozen. As if he’s struggling to return to his form. Black swallows his hazel as it’s sucked down, size doubling as he doesn’t transform back. His crushing paws sink into the marshland, wings flared wide as he stalks closer.

You still, suddenly scared. All over again.

Your name to scramble back but your abraded skin stings. You collapse back into the mud. “Azriel…” you rasp as he traps you beneath his titan-like body. A scream rips from your throat as his jaws drop open, fragments of bone falling out as they enclose over you.

You won’t even make a mouthful as the others had.

But his tongue unfurls, the wet muscle scooping you up tenderly, bringing you into the hall of his mouth as darkness writhes around the outside. A weightless sensation overcomes you as he rights himself, accompanied by the thunderous thump as leathery wings flare, shooting you into the sky as it’s blacked out.

It reeks of blood and flesh, but it’s warm. His tongue is soft, your weight sinking into the tough, slick skin, heating your bones as you melt into the cavern of his mouth. After the overpowering stench of the marsh, the scent of death isn’t that unbearable. Besides, you’re still caked in it, so you wonder who’s really got it worse as you lie on his tongue.

Fatigue weighs on your eyelids, the hotness of the muscle beneath you paired with the repetitive thump of his wings lulls you into needed sleep, darkness filling your vision as you melt into him, stiffness seeping from your bones.

————

You wake to the feeling of falling, your muscles screaming to tense as you slide from his tongue. Blinding light fills your vision, forcing your eyes to shut again. You’re plunged into a warm pool of water, the sensation oddly pleasant as you can already feel the mud being soothingly worn from your skin.

When you break the surface, you’re spluttering, hands trying to scrub your face free of muck. You dip back under, the water burning at your eyelids but it’s preferable to the gunk that’s caking your skin.

A powerful arm hooks beneath your own, lifting you effortlessly from the water, setting you on a submerged ledge that leaves the cleansing water lapping just above your collar bones. Something dry and slightly rough is pushed against your face. A towel, you realise, hands raising to scrub yourself off, to clean your eyes.

You take in your surroundings, limbs resting in the water as your strength completely drains. You’re in a warm coloured bathing area, the vast pool containing creamy looking water, thick bubbles lathering atop the surface.

Beside you, the pool shifts as Azriel settles down, shifting into a form you’re familiar with. Hazel returns to his eyes, colour dancing if you look deep enough. Your eyes trail to his mouth, noting the canines that protrude from his lips, tinted a dark red. Almost black.

He’s still far too big to be normal. You bet if you were stood beside him in his current state, his hips would line up with your rib cage. You look up at him with tired eyes, his own dark ones watching you silently. “Where were you?” You hear the break in your voice, the raspy crackle. Fresh tears fill your eyes, the events returning to you in all their blistering pain.

His brow narrows and for a moment you’re worried he’ll be angry, lock you back up in his room, take away the freedom you were afforded. But he’s brought your to this open space in favour of the washroom that connects to his chambers. Maybe it counts for something.

You grow scared when he doesn’t reply, only watching you. It feels like that’s all he’s doing. “Azriel,” you cry, softly, “where were you?” He remains silent, observing you keenly. Then, he reaches one taloned hand forward. You flinch back, water splashing as you push away from him. His lip curls at the action.

Azriel reaches again, shifting fully as his large hand wraps entirely around your legs, dragging you forward. He’s too strong for his own good, and you go under, water shoving itself into your eyes, stuffing itself into your mouth. You gasp when you’re lifted out, spluttering painfully. It’s only when he pushes the towel into your face again and your eyes are clear that you realise he’s set you between his legs.

Traitorous heat flushes your cheeks as you note his powerful arms are casually wrapped around your middle, keeping you against him. You want to be upset, angry even but all you can do is revel in the feeling of security he gives you. The press of skin against skin, solid warmth behind you. You’re pleasantly surprised by the soft brush of fur, made infinitely silkier beneath water. It’s so nice you lean back, making him grunt softly.

You stiffen. He’s completely bare. At least you still have your clothes on - dirty as they are. Initially, you’re shocked at the hard press against your lower back, then your realise he’s doing nothing to act on it. No attempts to lull you to sleep, no attempts to seduce you into jumping onto his cock. Just allowing you some peace and quiet, while keeping close by.

But you don’t want peace and quiet right now. You want to scream at him. You tip your head back, so it’s pressing against his chest - maybe your ass pushes against him a little - peering up into his dark eyes. “Back out there,” you begin, determined to get answers out of him, “my throat was stinging. Why?” He cocks his head, expression remaining blank, “your throat?” You don’t like the way he says it.

You swallow, and his eyes track the movement, following down to your chest, your nipples just hidden by the water’s surface. His hips shift behind you, legs widening - allowing you to slide against him, you realise. It’s probably pleasurable to him, you guess. Your head bobs in confirmation as you tilt your head to the side, fingers dancing over where you had felt the pain.

His pupils dilate as he takes in the expanse of your throat, the bite marks. His bite marks. His upper lip twitches, wanting to pull back from his canines in order to refresh the scars. Drink from you. Hear your blood sing for him. It doesn’t help, the way your lower back is pressing tight against him. He’d half hoped you would accept his invitation, when he’d widened the stance of his legs to allow you closer.

Azriel’s mind shudders as you shift between his thighs, lips parting to speak, “the marks. They stung.” That’s all you’re giving him. His claws twitch with the need to touch you, to feel that you’re returned to him. A grin lifts the edges of his mouth, “you were waiting for me to come find you.”

He revels in the way tell-tale warmth flushes your cheeks. You keep your gaze on his, embers slowly heating in your irises as you come back to life. “I had no such thoughts. I was convinced you were the one who had me—” you cut yourself off. It’s far too soon for you to repeat the burning pain you felt, even through memories. You swallow, forcing down emotion, “I thought you were trying to get rid of me,” you mumble, your head lowering, breaking the connection, “I thought I’d spent my use.”

You tense as his arms wind tighter around your waist, feeling as he leans over you, front pressing to your back. Cock pressing to your— You swallow. “And that made you unhappy,” he taunts, quietly beside your ear. Awareness lights your skin as his claws wrap around you, so sharp. “You didn’t like the idea of me losing interest in you,” he drawls, the tip of one razor-like talon slipping beneath the hem of your clothing. You grit your teeth, squeezing your thighs together, in attempt to make yourself smaller, shying away from his touch. “None of my kind - as you so affectionately tend to stress - would revel in abandonment. It means nothing about you.”

Your back cools as he leans against the marble edge of the bathing pool that’s large enough to easily contain a few squadrons of creatures like him. He laughs, darkly, hips shifting so he’s pressing into you from behind, “remember the night we mated?” He drawls, watching as tension lines your small body. “I told you in no uncertain terms, should you continue, you would not deny me,” he taunts, “you’d accept the joining, the breeding.” The talon slices up the inside of your clothes, splitting them in two, making it easy for him to slide them from your torso.

You gasp in shock, legs folding over one another as you frantically try to cover yourself. But his hands have dropped to your hips and you squeal as he lifts you from his lap, turning you to face him. Your cheeks flush hot as you’re torn between covering your breasts and trying to shove him off you. He has no right to hold you in such an objectifying way.

Seeing no point in attempting to push him off you, your arms wrap across your chest defensively. He raises a single brow as your hips wiggle, trying to slide from his grasp. “Let me go,” you demand softly, through your embarrassment. His mouth lifts into a mocking grin, “what will you do for me if I follow that request?”

Your lips drop open as you’re rendered speechless. He hums deep in his throat, a smug glint dancing in his eyes. Anger burns in the pit of your stomach, all the overwhelming emotions that had been tearing through you for the past few hours manifesting as seething fury, “you—” Roughly, he pulls you down into his lap, your thighs spreading as he pulls you tight against his front, breasts against his powerful chest, lower abdomen squeezing against his cock, the soft fur brushing invitingly against your stomach.

“What you need,” he drawls once your seated, forcing your head to crane upward to see him, “is a good fucking.” Your mouth drops open as his hips buck gently against your own, and you feel the mocking promise he’s giving you. You want to smack him, to scream at him. Why does he lack such a basic understanding of human emotion?

His hands have loosened around your hips, allowing you to push up from his lap, standing on weakened legs, somehow managing to keep your balance. He only laughs, shadows twining beneath your skirts and up your thighs as he keeps you where you are, “and where do you think you’re going?”

Rage gives way to despair, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tremble in his grip, “fine,” you snap, lip wobbling as you try to push his hands away. Your slim fingers catch on his claws, the razor like blades slicing into you, blood dripping into the pool. His eyes widen marginally with anger as he watches it, scents your blood on his talons. “What are you doing?” He snarls, furious with you for being so careless of your delicate human body.

But you don’t reply, you’ve already settled your thighs either side of him, hand guiding his cock to your entrance. More tears roll as you push yourself down into his lap, burning pain screaming in your abdomen. You look up at him, anguish clear in your eyes, “this is what you wanted, right?” You cry, the stinging only worsening, “so hurry up and get it over with, you beast. Fuck me. Breed me. Whatever it is you so need to do to me.” You’re hitting your fist weakly on his chest as his hands hurriedly move to your hips, so careful not to nick at your skin. “Just get it over with.”

He’s panicked, unaccustomed to the foreign feeling of tension in his throat, heart pounding as he lifts you off his lap. “Don’t,” he snarls at you, anger coating his words as his eyes flick to your hands, bleeding steadily. He shifts into the form he’d been in when you’d met in the forest, claws shrinking into nails, fur disappearing entirely as he frame smallens. “Stop hurting yourself,” he growls, pushing you away from him slightly, panicked eyes flicking between your hands and teary eyes. It’s disarming seeing you like this.

“You wanted it!” You cry back at him, shoulders hunching over as you move to bring your bloody hands to wipe away the tears. He grabs your wrists firmly, jerking them away from your face as he glared at you. “Calm. Down.” Something snaps inside of you. You thrash in his hold, violently writhing, sending water spraying into his eyes.

“Fuck off, Azriel! My back is in pieces, I’ve been dragged for hours across a freezing wasteland, you’ve— you keep doing this. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” You can feel your throat tearing as you scream the words, hot paths of water cascading down your cheeks heavily. You want to claw at him, want to punch him, rip his skin from his body with your teeth. He’s unfairly strong. You know you can’t do anything. Meanwhile he can restrain you without even touching you.

You don’t even notice as his hands release your wrists. You fall forward into his chest, sobbing as you slam your fist over his heart over and over, pounding on his cage as if it’ll open up for you if you knock loud enough. “I hate you, I hate you so much!” You collapse against him, sobs still wracking your body.

It’s as though you’re bathing in hot milk and honey, the warm water licking at your wounds, numbing their pain. He’s warm beneath your fingertips, solid warmth beneath your fists. Unshakeable. It’s so unfair. Why can’t you be like him? Why don’t you get to have skin seemingly made of the thickest leather, talons that’ll slice should anyone get too close? You sob harder, tears dropping to the pool. Why are you so weak?

His arms wind around you, almost gingerly. His hands span your shoulders, tucking you against his chest as his shadows skitter across your back, soothing coolness blanketing your skin. You sniff, peering up at him. You almost regret it. His eyes are hard, cold. Glittering malevolence sprawling in their depths. More tears roll as the spark in your chest douses itself. It’s clear he has no attachment to you, only having saved you because you’ve been mated and bred.

Then you freeze.

His hands pull away from you, one wrapping around your wrist as he lifts it to his mouth. His eyelids flutter almost imperceptibly as he uses his thumb to separate your fingers. It’s almost tender as his lips part, licking up the blood that’s ebbing from your slim digits, trailing up to the small cuts. You hiss instinctively, expecting pain, but instead you only feel a vague tingle. It’s kind of nice, actually.

Azriel’s tongue laps over each of your cuts, sealing them so there isn’t even a mark left in their place. When he’s finished, he doesn’t release your wrist. Instead he guides your hands to splay across his shoulders, forehead pressing against your own. “Your back isn’t in pieces,” he murmurs over your mouth, making your brow furrow. You guess it isn’t stinging as it had been, but you had chalked that up to numb adrenaline.

“I know it is,” you snap softly, “I felt every sharp rock, every piece of gritty mud that abraded me.” His eyes lose their harsh cut, the edges mellowing every so slightly. “I carried you in my mouth,” he reminds, lips brushing over yours, making your hairs stand on end, “your back was on my tongue the whole flight. I could taste you.”

Heat flushes your cheeks as you pull back suddenly. His hands automatically tighten on you but relax when he sees you’re not attempting to escape. I could taste you. How can he say that with a straight face. And even after everything that’s happened, you’re left with a singular thought circling your mind. Did I taste good?

You don’t have a chance to foolishly voice the question as his hands lower to your hips, lifting you with him as he stands. Instinctively, your arms wrap over his shoulders and you hiss at the movement, a stinging feel coming from between your legs. He sets you down on the edge of the bathing pool, the cooks tiles pleasant against your thighs. “What— Azriel?” You question, confusion prominent in your tone.

Carefully, despite his now shortened nails, his hands press against your shoulders. The tips of his fingers dip beneath your sodden, still grimy clothes - now the only part of you that was dirty. Finally, your skin can properly breathe as he guides the wet fabric away from your tender skin, slowly stripping you down until you’re completely bare. His eyes drink you in, brow narrowing as he notices a few bruises - ones that are not from him.

His eyes settle on yours as he pushes your legs apart, gently. You resist, scared. You’re stinging, and you don’t want him to hurt you. “What are you doing, Azriel?” You ask, mouth trembling at the looming threat of pain. At this, his demeanour shifts, sending your fear. His hands moves to your waist, thumb brushing over your hip bone, “you’re hurting,” he replies, as if it’s answer.

“I don’t want you to fuck me again,” you manage, your words soft and small, scared he won’t listen. That he’ll inflict more damage upon your already battered body. His lips quirk at the edges, “I won’t.” Then he’s lowering himself into the water, until he’s between your thighs, spreading them.

Oh.

Saliva contains healing properties.

Carefully, he lifts one leg over his broad shoulder, then the other. Even now, your muscles tremble slightly, remembering the rigour they’ve gone through. You brace for canines, but are instead rewarded by the gentle lap of his tongue. You could almost cry at the feeling as your cunt tingles, the feeling that was zipping through your fingers when he sealed the cuts.

Almost immediately, you feel better, his saliva coating your heat as his tongue heals you. There’s still a vaguely piercing sting coming from inside, but it’s bearable. You wince when you shift your leg, pain prickling beneath your abdomen.

Inadvertently, you meet his gaze and you know he saw the reaction. His brow narrows. Swallow your tongue and be surprised when you choke, he’d once muttered to you. And now you can’t shake the urge to tell him. It’s like a strange compulsion. And he keeps watching you, with those dark, knowing eyes.

“Azriel,” you whisper, scared. He stops, giving you his attention, something surfacing in his black eyes. “I—… It’s still hurting,” you mumble. “Where? I can heal it,” he reassures. The second you articulate that emotion, you freeze, brow tightening in confusion. You swallow, shifting then stilling as you ache. “Inside,” you mumble, barely managing the word, shame crawling beneath your skin.

A grin lifts his lips, and suddenly he’s pulling away from you. “Stay there,” he orders, gently, as power thrums in the air, that same frenetic static as before. His eyes lock onto yours as he begins shifting, “don’t run from me.”

Then his eyes are swallowed by pitch darkness, wings largening, fur lining his body as he grows. His talons return, as long as you are, longer. His hands shift into those paws that can so easily crush things your size as his features are swallowed by more animalistic ones, snout protruding.

Oh.

You suddenly understand why this bathing pool is so vast. It’s built to house him in any form, including this one.

You realise he’s halted his growth, keeping himself from filling the room as you’re sure he would should he completely transform into that beastly body. Instead it a vague in between. He’s probably triple your size, if not more. Maybe a quarter of his true form. You fight against the instinctive urge to run, remembering it’s him.

His pitch eyes drink you in, prowling forward, all the while not making a sound. You keep still, scared but not feeling in danger. It’s an odd combination. He stops in front of you, your back arching as you peer up at him. It takes a lot of will power to not look at what’s most likely directly in front of you.

“Azriel?” You whisper, unsurely. His eyes glint, and you recognise him. Even with his usual features twisted into a more animalistic light, your body recognises him as an integral part of yourself - not something to fear.

Shadows swirl at your body, lapping over your skin like waves. He moves forward, dipping down to be between your legs. You still, “what are you—” He cuts you off when his jaw opens, the wet muscle of his tongue rolling out. Your eyes snap open, lips parting in shock. The end is tapered, but thickens the closer it gets to his mouth. Oh gods.

“Azriel,” you stammer, “you’re not going to…?” He releases a puff of breath over you and you’re the most taken aback that you’ve been this evening. “Did you just laugh?” You inquire, disbelievingly. His eyes spark and you squeal when his tongue moves, dragging down your chest, over your perky nipples, settling between your legs. He huffs again at your surprise, and the tension leaves your body.

The tip of his tongue presses against your entrance, and you brace.

Your cheeks heat when he slides in, embarrassingly easily.

All your thoughts melt away as he fills you, saliva already working it’s powers as that pleasant tingling feeling blossoms across your lower abdomen. Your lips part and his shadows guide you back so you aren’t sat upright: reclining into the darkness.

Pure pleasure sings in your body as he starts moving, tongue pulsing inside of you as it slides gently in and out. Your back arches in response, hands cupping your breasts as sensitivity lights you up. His shadows don’t allow that, though. They twine gently around your wrists, replacing your hands as they flick at your nipples, refreshing cool, like a breeze on a hot summer day.

“Azriel…” you pant, peeking your eyes open. He’s already watching. Of course he is. Your toes curl, knowing he’s drinking in every second of your pleasure. You bite the inside of your lip as arousal coils in the pit of your stomach, already about set to spring free. “I’m—” you pant as he grazes a spot inside of you, mouth dropping open as you melt entirely into his shadows.

A growl of pleasure rumbles through his chest, and it feels so fucking good. Silver lines your eyes, flying closer and closer to that high. “Azzie,” you squeak softly, hardly a breath. A scream tears from you as he growls again, tongue vibrating inside you, the base of it pushing against your clit as you hit your peak.

Your back curves as the growls lose their harsh edge, softening as he feels you fluttering around him. He’s purring. His tongue retracts after the last aftershock has faded, shifting into his more recognisable form.

You don’t even think about it as you reach your hands out, making to grab at him. His brow narrows as he slowly prowls forward, “do you need something?” He asks softly, curiosity lying beneath the bland tone. “Come here,” you snap. His brow raises but for once, he obeys.

The second he’s in reach, your arms loop around his neck, tugging him into your chest as your legs circle his torso, locking around him tightly. You bury your nose in his hair, inhaling that scent that is so inherently him, so deliciously soothing. The feeling of his strong body encompassing you sends a shivering thrill humming through you, lighting you with incandescence.

You press kisses into his hair and his eyes widen, muscles locking up. He’s not sure what you’re doing. But he likes it. He likes feeling your soft skin beneath his cheek, having your thighs hugging his waist while your arms keep him tucked against you. He likes the feeling of your mouth pressing tenderly against him, repeatedly.

He decides it’s a good sign. A display of human affection.

Something tingles in his chest at the idea.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#Azriel x reader #demon! Azriel #demon!azriel x reader #Teeth and Talons #Teeth and Talons part 3 #[***]#Azriel smut #Azriel fluff

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starleska · 1 year

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Can we get a Wally Darling x Reader with scars, not like self-harm scars but scars from an accident or being attacked before. It's something I'm very self conscious about so I'd love to see some fluff with Wally would be nice.

oh what a lovely ask!!! of course anon, i'd be happy to oblige 🥰💖 as always with asks like this there's only so much detail i can glean, so i hope you don't mind my taking liberties with your request! content warnings for: references to implied past violence, mental health difficulties, and invasive behaviour. don't worry though, i promise this is sweet and fluffy :3c

Wally Darling x Reader with Scars headcanons

💖 unlike with most people, you never needed to tell Wally why you have scars: he never asked. for as long as you've had your scars you've been fielding off countless questions, both well-meaning and invasive - so when you move to the Neighbourhood, you're prepared for the temporary deluge of questions from your new neighbours. but Wally doesn't even do a double-take. he greets you with the same placid warmth he does everyone, but with a familiarity that makes you feel like you're old friends. it's been so long that you've encountered someone who doesn't make your scars the focal point of your first meeting, and you wonder if he's pranking you. but when you finally work up the courage to ask Wally why he hasn't asked about your scars, he looks baffled. "Oh? But it's your face," says Wally, his eyes crinkling in confusion. "I know what your face is. Why would I need to ask about it?" 💖 despite his incuriosity regarding your scars, Wally is highly sensitive to your insecurities. some days are harder for you than others; no matter how honest the reassurances of your new friends are, you spend some days locked inside your house, avoiding mirrors and reflective surfaces. the first couple of times Wally came looking for you, but you just didn't answer the door, hoping he'd go away. the third time, you mustered up the courage to peek through the peephole...but found no one there. however, when you turned around - there stood Wally, with an angry-eyebrowed sleeping-eye mask covering the upper half of his face. "Hello, neighbour!" says Wally brightly. "I thought you might like some company, so I borrowed this from Frank." The sight of Wally in a sleeping mask in the middle of the day is so absurd, the dark cloud hanging over your brain dissipates, and you burst into giggles. grateful, you guide Wally over to your sofa, where the two of you chat cheerily well into the afternoon - with Wally never removing the mask, of course. you have such a good time, you completely forget to ask how he got into your house without a key. 💖 Wally enjoys the tactile presence of your scars. you've been unfortunate enough to encounter individuals who've wanted to be intimate with you because of your scars - something which makes you terribly uncomfortable, given the circumstances in which you received them. but the first time Wally touches you, he reaches for your cheek and cups it softly, as if holding something impossibly delicate. with his other hand, he gently traces the outline of your scars, his short tongue sticking a little out of his mouth in concentration. "Textured," says Wally. "Like Impasto. You know - you paint real thick, and it makes the painting stand out?" He smiles at you. "You're like a painting!" i hope you liked this one anon :3c

#wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling x anon #welcome home #welcome home arg #starleskasks #starleskawrites

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philosophicalconservatism · 8 months

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"Freedom of conscience, which includes freedom of thought and speech on all subjects, is an inviolable attribute of individual liberty."

John Locke (1632-1704) English philosopher.

While emotional "safety" is not an aspect of individual liberty. In fact it is actually the negation of free expression.

#free speech #safe space

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yandere-romanticaa · 1 year

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Who has the potential to be more unhinged, Diluc or Ayato?

I want to say Ayato but truthfully both of them would be unhinged, it just takes them different things to force them to crack.

Ayato feels the constant pressure of the public eye and scrutiny, he can never make a wrong move, never. Even behind closed doors he usually keeps up the dignified and elegant persona which the world has come to know - the Yashiro Commissioner, the head of the Kamisato clan, elder brother and an important figure in Inazuman society.

The only time you could ever catch his mask slipping is if you try to escape.

The tension is too much and the weight of his stare is crushing beyond repair. He has the intense desire to lock you up and mark you up as his his his but he cannot. The shackles of his duties are too strong and the people do expect him to eventually marry and continue the bloodline.

Thus, giving him the perfect excuse to introduce you to the public as his adorable little fiance. You'll never see the light of day after that and all eyes will be on you 24/7. You are officially Ayato's little puppet and he will take good care of you... provided you stay in your lane.

Diluc, while still being in the public eye, has more liberty. He is a well known and respected figure to the public, not to mention a young bachelor with hundreds of ladies are dying to meet the tycoon but he just does not give them time of day.

Diluc will either lock you up and throw away the key or take an approach similar to Ayato and both ideas have their pros and cons.

The pro of making your relationship public is that no one can harass you even again. Hell, anyone with a single braincell would know better than to pick a fight with you because Diluc would be somewhere in the background, lurking, simply waiting to strike. The biggest con would probably be the sheer nosiness of the ordeal which doesn't sound so bad in theory but you should never underestimate the public. Rumors would spread lile wildfire and you never know just who might hear them. Any dangerous and scorned individual which Diluc had wronged in the past could just come knocking on his door and ruin everything he tried so hard to build.

Then you have the opposite side of the spectrum in which Diluc just keeps you locked up for good. It is much easier to keep you tame this way and it satiates his more possessive urges. He does not need to worry about anyone seeing you because the only contact you have is him which sounds far too appealing to him. But, if he does do this he can never confess his undying love to you publicly, he can never let the world know that he is a taken man. Not to mention that all of your friends and relatives would come looking for you which is just annoying.

#yandere ayato x reader #yandere ayato kamisato #yandere diluc ragnvindr #yandere diluc ragnvindr #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin impact

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transmutationisms · 22 days

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are you familiar with agamben / his ideas on bare life/homo sacer? i found it a compelling extension of a biopolitical analysis but he's a weird conspiratorial antivaxx adj guy now and i worry that the roots of this position run deeper in his analysis than i would like to believe

so i think a perennial spectre haunting a lot of academic analysis of biopolitics is a particular form of individualism that tends away from class analysis and toward right-libertarianism. i've said before wrt foucault that i have this problem, particularly where he tries to envision a political alternative or liberatory project (as opposed to just analysing / problematising the existing situation as he saw it). it's not that he's wrong per se when he talks about the 'massifying' effect of modern national politics and sovereign power. but, if the analysis over-privileges this distinction between individual vs [state / professional guild / institution] and doesn't investigate the relationship between the subjection of the individual and the subjection of the labouring class, then we end up with a politics that tends almost populist at points, and certainly tends liberal because it's unable to conceive of liberation as a project requiring class solidarity and action. this sort of writing is often appealing to western universities and academics for what i think are obvious reasons.

agamben is not someone whose career i have closely followed but what i've observed from a distance is a conception of biopolitics marked by the above issues and therefore pretty limited at the outset in its ability to do more than advance a negative (deconstructive) critique (which is not a bad form of critique by any means but is not, on its own, a political platform or call to action). plus i think, for someone who pays lip service to aristotle as much as he does, agamben is not very attentive to the valuation of human 'flourishing' or well-being or whatever you want to call it—instead the emphasis is almost always on (ironically) a pretty bare definition of liberty, a freedom-from forces of the state or institution or even the social body writ large, conceived as a kind of mob. in this framework (again, more than incidentally libertarian), you can see how things like mandatory vaccination or pandemic 'lockdowns' are prima facie bad. they are repressive, in the sense that they constrain individuals. the guiding axioms in the paradigm foreclose questions about what social living should protect or produce, and what an individual owes to their fellows and can expect in return. the position is that maximising individual freedom of choice is always better, and considerations like, yknow, not killing disabled people are simply not weighed the same.

in general this also comes back down to the point that it's not terribly useful to talk about biopolitics outside the context of a critique of capitalism. i think this critique was sometimes implicit in foucault's writing (& much of the biopolitics writing we have is lecture transcripts!) and is sometimes dropped entirely or avoided in certain academic circles. agamben is of course correct that the reason states 'locked down' when covid appeared was because they were trying to protect their biological capital—their workforces, militaries, and so on. he's correct that states do things like mandate vaccination for the same reason. like, we should be clear-eyed about this and not pretend that capitalist states are doing some kind of humanitarianism in any of their public health endeavours. that's not what those departments exist for and never has been. however, it doesn't follow that every action a capitalist state takes in the name of public health is in itself bad or useless, and if we form our politics around a reflexive oppositional impulse and a lack of class analysis then we end up saying shit like that the problem with vaccine mandates is the vaccines and not the character of the power doing the mandating.

i think this is an important distinction in general but especially germane to discussions of things like medicine. your doctor who exists in a system inextricably bound up with capitalist state power and its biopolitical interest in producing a labour force is not your friend and is not, structurally, protecting your interests. that doesn't mean that medical care is intrinsically bad (i hope it's clear that it is emphatically not) or that doctoring is transhistorically doomed to produce and depend on capitalist bio-exploitation.

i guess this is just a long way of saying i think agamben produced a few interesting analyses of existing institutions and structures of power, but relies on operating assumptions that make him really useless for theorising power in a way attentive to its (class) character. i think that whole milieu is more a politics of anti-sociality than anything else and that it has only limited, local points of overlap with communism (and then only when taken pretty far out of its theoretical context).

#agamben #foucault

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wisyhana · 4 months

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I don't know how to say this without sounding rude, but we need artists to learn how weight works so they stop missing on the holding like a princess type of pose.

EXAMPLE

Okay, this is not the greatest example, but I refuse to use other artist's art without their permission. I know I didn't make it correctly but let's pretend I did.

So, if you don't want to look for stock images as reference, I understand, but if you want to find the logic on how weight works you gotta understand how the body's weight works first.

This is how I understand it btw, if I'm wrong with how I explain it well I'm wrong, but this way I can help myself to not get so many floaty bodies.

The human body has a gravity point, if I'm not wrong in males is in the pelvis and females a bit lower. Most of weight on the body resides on head and torso. For infants all the weight is on the head for how big it is in comparison of the rest of the body. So how gravity affects all this points?

The gravity point helps the body keep the balance when you stand, if your were hold this way before you noticed how all weight go crazy, specifically in your lower part. This is gravity affecting the body. The parts of your body with more weight will obviously go down, meaning that your lower part and back will need an external force to not drop directly to the ground.

So depending on the type of body the weight will affect more parts than others. For example the male body isn't made to gain lot of fat but muscles, adding that it also tends to gain on the upper part than the lower. So for men to be held this way is their torso the one getting a lot of the weight and tension.

The person holding the other needs the strength to hold all that weight, so a hand crossing the back and locking under the armpit is more or less a good place to do (AVOID DRAWING EM HOLDING BY THE NECK, THE NECK DOESN'T HOLD SHIT OF THE REST OF THE BODY, THAT WOULD ONLY MAKE THE LOWER PART GET ALL THE WEIGHT AND IMMEDIATELY FALL). But then you have the lower part, where do you hold it? From the back of the knee is an ideal, in this drawing I didn't like how the hand looked in that position so I took some liberties.

But we can't ignore how this extra weight affects the gravity point of the other person.

The extra body easily press against the other, which will requiere more of the other to balance two bodies basically. The back bends to let the pelvis receive the weight of the second person. The work of the arms is to distribute equally the weight to the body, weak arms mean more weight to the body, which ends on unbalance.

You can also work a lot with the balance of the bodies depending on how tense the person being held is. Remember, losing your own balance means extra work of your body to find equilibrium, it probably will end on a very tense body, specially if the person is not prepared for it. If it's a surprise hold probably the person being held will try to grab to the other with their arms and hands, so there's a lot to play with them too. You can show how strong the other is by showing which direction their torso is bending, are they strong? they'd be standing straight for sure, are they weak? they'd bend backwards and instinctively waiting for their pelvis to receive all the weight. In this part body language is crucial to show the personalities of each individual.

Hope this helps in any way!

#art #some silly tips on weight

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lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

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I know that you're super busy with class stuff, but (no rush) do you have anything else in that Ratchet snippet where he was stuck in a pocket dimension for many vorns being punished by Primus?

Its not a lot because Ratchet decided to go get milk for a few weeks, but here is what I have managed to write for this fic. I believe I may get a burst of inspiration and finish it soon.

Previous snippet here.

Time Locked: Snippet #2

When Ratchet woke, he was practically shaking. He paced around his garden frantically, his optics on the only real entrance to his prison. He marched around the borders of his garden, checking his crystals and tending to shoots that had grown out of place. He even dug up fresh earth for some of the new sprouts. Anything to keep his servos moving.

Then, by some miracle, Orion Pax returned to the garden just as the nearest star fully began its rise.

“Pax! It’s good to see you!” Ratchet’s servos shook, and despite the fact that he was covered in dirt from his anxiety driven gardening, he hurried forward to greet the archivist. Orion regarded him with a curious helm tilt before nodding. Only then did Ratchet notice that the Archivist had brought something with him.

“Likewise. I assume you have more questions, so I took the liberty of bringing a few items with me.” Orion stepped into the center of the clearing and unfolded a small table, the kind one would use to serve only one or two individuals. He clicked everything into place, locking the table into formation before putting down a box on top of it. Ratchet raised an optical ridge, but he was too excited to question further as he rested on his knees across the table from Orion.

“Based on your previous queries, I have come up with some explanations for you as well as these items of interest.” Orion placed down a datapad beside the box. That alone left Ratchet gawking. The thing was so thin and transportable. The datapads Ratchet used when he was free of his prison were bulky unwieldy things meant to be stored in huge archives just to ensure nothing was lost or broken.

“Here, take this. It is a collection of major historical events and changes across Cybertron.” Orion slid over the datapad and Ratchet was almost too afraid to touch it. Even when he was the CMO, he was forbidden to put a digit on the records the archives kept. He had to have an archivist grant him a copy or access to the documentation. To just be handed such valuable data-

He paused as he held the datapad. Orion didn’t know about Ratchet’s curse. The datapad would be all but useless when left exposed to the elements. Ratchet sighed as he enjoyed the clean and sleek look of the device. Modern technology… If this was a common item, how much had changed?

“I have also brought a selection of other devices to sate your curiosity.” Orion smiled in a cunning manner that had Ratchet instinctively clutching his new datapad against himself. However, the Archivist merely slid the box over, prompting Ratchet to glare at it in suspicion.

“Open it doctor. I promise you that no harm shall come to you.” Ratchet hesitated before he carefully put the datapad back down and reached for the box. He searched for the series of hooks he was used to when it came to packaging, but his search was short lived as the box opened with a series of clicks. The lid came undone, and within was some sort of scanner and what looked to be a communicator.

Looking up at Orion, the Archivist maintained his smile as he pulled the items out and laid them on the table.

“This is an identifier. I thought you might appreciate having the ability to know more about the flora which you cultivate.” Ratchet gawked at the device and its many glowing buttons. He never had anything nearly as high tech as this during his time as CMO. And it was a mere gardening tool? By the Allspark, he had missed a lot.

“And this is a communicator that you may use to contact me from now on if you so desire.” Orion held up the communicator as Ratchet placed the scanner with his new datapad. Ratchet glared at the device, feeling the mark on his spark flare in disagreement. He was not permitted outside communication, that much was clear.

“I can’t use that thing. It is forbidden.” Ratchet’s voice came out low as he leaned back, instinctually driven away from the thing before him. Orion’s helm tilted in curiosity, or perhaps confusion. Then, before Ratchet could react, Pax pressed the device into his servos.

“FRAG!” Ratchet screamed as he threw the communicator, watching as it fritzed and then exploded mere moments after he came into contact with it. He whipped around to glare at his companion, anger running hot in his processors.

“I TOLD you that it is forbidden! I can’t use those things!” He all but snarled. Orion for his part merely hummed and closed the box with a thoughtful expression.

“I see. I believe I may have begun to understand this situation.” Then without missing a beat, Orion turned on the datapad and passed it to Ratchet. The smile returned and Pax laid out his own datapad in turn.

“Since I am here, shall we discuss more of Cybertron’s history?” This mech was strange. Very strange. What mech found a random doctor in a garden in the middle of nowhere who acted as out of touch as Ratchet was and then decided to return for a second visit? Why was Orion so accommodating? Why was he here at all? Ratchet of course had no interest in complaining, but he could see an ulterior motive from a mile away. Pax wanted something, and Ratchet was unsure he could give whatever Orion was looking for.

Ratchet held his datapad and nodded distantly as Orion directed him toward a certain set of files. Ratchet obeyed and listened closely as Orion began to describe everything following the Quintessons wars. He nodded along in the beginning, having already learned a good portion of what was being told to him. He noted a few differences, small details and events that the Council had evidently seen fit to censor. In those instances he spoke up and Orion hastily made notes before continuing. But past a certain point, all Ratchet could do was listen with wide optics and look at the various pictures Orion showed him.

So much time had passed, so much had changed. And everything would continue to move on without him-

So long as he was trapped in his prison.

“After the failure of Project Regen, the High Council diverted their efforts and implemented more restrictions on the castes. Too much freedom resulted in the death of the CMO of the time, a Prime, and quite a few well known scientists.” Ratchet’s optics widened as he listened closely. Everything up until this point had been largely information that he had been distantly aware of during his functioning but had paid little attention to. This was new.

“Castes were made more regimented, but also not quite as obvious. Social procedures took the place of numerical designators to denote castes and function. Medical knowledge also increased by leaps and bounds after the disaster of Project Regen.” Pax spoke with a smooth voice that hinted at vorns of performing this very function for others. Ratchet wasn’t startled much by the supposed leap in medical understanding. That was to be expected. When he was CMO he was already quite well aware of the new studies being conducted.

No, what caught his attention was the change from numerical designation to social procedures regarding caste.

“Once you have finished catching me up on our history, I would like to learn about the castes and the new medical system.” Ratchet made his request as he looked over the pictures of shining cities he hardly recognized. The history was all well and good, but it was the change in culture that mattered to him more. One had to know history to be familiar with culture, and by becoming familiar with culture, he could finally figure out just how out of touch he was.

Once he was the finest doctor on Cybertron. Once, he had sat upon one of the highest pedestals capable of being reached by a mech of his station. Did his knowledge and skill mean anything anymore?

“Of course, although I do believe we will not have enough time this cycle to complete this discussion of history.” Orion looked up, and it was only then that Ratchet noticed the nearest star beginning to set. He scrambled to his pedes, taking his scanner and datapad and hurrying toward the techtite tree in the center of his garden. It wasn’t much, but it would at least partially guard his new gifts from the weather.

“What are you doing?” Pax questioned as Ratchet slid his gains into a small gap in the trunk of the tree.

“Keeping these things safe. I can’t take them with me, and I don’t want them destroyed.” Orion made a curious sound and Ratchet shook his dirtied servos covered in grime. He felt the beginnings of exhaustion starting to weigh on his frame as he turned and tried to smile.

“Thank you for coming to my garden again. It has… it has been a very long time since I have seen anyone at all.” Again, Pax looked at him curiously with those cycling optics of his. Ratchet momentarily feared he had scared his newfound conversational partner away, but that fear eased as Orion nodded. That seemed to be his preferred reaction to just about anything.

“Please, come back to my garden on this cycle next vorn. I would like to know more.” Ratchet did not bow, he refused to sink that low. But he did try to make his genuine desire for further interactions clear with his tone. He had to keep this acquaintanceship. He had to. He wasn’t sure he could remain sane after being given a small taste of normal interactions again.

“You are quite fortunate that I am an archivist. My function is to teach and to preserve knowledge. Based on our interactions, it seems aiding you fulfills both those criterias.” Pax turned away, leaving the table he brought with him and only taking his belongings. Ratchet watched on quizzically but did not comment as the Archivist left his garden.

Settling down against the trunk of his tree, Ratchet vented deeply. He did not think it was fair, but the fate he endured was a little less tormenting now that he had someone to talk to.

His digits brushed over the datapad in its hiding place as the light faded. His optics cycled slowly and his frame relaxed as weariness settled in. For once, it was a peaceful restfulness that overcame him. If Pax returned once, there was a good chance he would return again.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #ratchet #orion pax #alternate universe #transformers fanfic #fanfiction #writing wip #yeeeeeeeeah heres the snippet #its coming along #lots to write still #its going to be broken record level long at this rate

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sarahmackattack · 1 year

Text

The Philly Squid Quiz has launched

The Squid Quiz has hit the streets of Philadelphia this morning!

Over the next couple days about 10 of these squid will be posted around the Fishtown/Northern Liberties area. 5 went up this morning!

Each squid is paired with an "exam" (each one slightly different wording) which states the challenge. For example:

Many squid I have explained

But how much have you retained?

Prove yourself with my squid test

I'll reward you for this quest

Limitless number of tries

Ace the quiz, you’ll get a prize

Text "Squiz" to 1-833-SCI-TEXT to begin

When participants succeed, they are given the location and code to a lock box, which I have SNEAKILY placed in my own "front yard".

Inside the box, I have prepared prizes for those who reach the end of my 13-question, not-very-easy quiz.

I couldn't land on a wording I liked, so I put a bunch in there and people can take whichever one they like.

Each little squid came individually and I punched a hole into their mantle to add them to a keychain. This was the crafting equivalent of sinking your teeth into a starburst, and I have to recommend the experience.

So now all we can do is wait and see if people like it! Let's cross our fingers for a good reaction!

Do you LIKE projects like this? Do you want to see more of them in the world?

Welllllllllllllll I have good news and great news. Good news, I do this for a job (in addition to connecting people with science in many other ways)! Great news, if you want stuff like this to keep existing, you can support us so we continue existing! Support us on Patreon or donate directly to the nonprofit that makes this stuff happen, Skype a Scientist.

#Science Communication #Support your local weirdos #squid #cephalopods #public art #street art #Hark! A Quest!#puzzle

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honey-beann · 1 year

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Bro please can I get “I broke the lock. You were screaming” with nines and our little detective? I don’t really have much of an idea for a story… maybe a case gone wrong and nines insists on staying with her because she’s clearly shaken?!? Idk I love your writing it’s def one of the things I look forward to on my feed <3

Okay SO first things first thank you, Anon, for your super kind words!! You are the sweetest <3

Secondly, I took the liberty of assuming based on the descriptor of "our little detective" that you're talking about the reader from Ruiner, Ruination, so I wrote this fic within that universe (which i hope is alright).

This idea led me to the creation of an offshoot series stemming from Ruiner, Ruination, which I have titled Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus. The point of this series is to highlight little canonical moments that have occurred between Nines and the Reader that went unsaid in the main series (hence the name Indictus, meaning "unsaid").

The creation of this series is super exciting for me because it allows me to write out requests in the Ruiner, Ruination universe AND make them canon without it being too confusing or weird to map out, since I can simply say where each fic takes place in the timeline as things are planned out and published in the original fic.

Anyways, sorry for the rant on the new series, but I hope you enjoy this fic and any upcoming Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus pieces that follow!

Avoidance Tactics (rk900 x reader)

A Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus chapter

Timeline - This fic has a lot to do with the events of the 7th Ruiner, Ruination chapter and takes place after the (currently unpublished, oops) 8th chapter.

Nightmares/sleeping dialogue prompt #2 - "I broke the lock. You were screaming"

Word Count: 3,586

"Could you hover a little bit less ominously? You're really creeping me out."

You muttered under your breath as you passed a wandering gaze over the incident report you had spent the past few hours filling out. Once you were done, you would finally be finished with the process of submitting Nines' work related injury to the DPD's HR department, which you were eager to be done with for good.

It had been two days since your partner's accident, and you had spent nearly every waking hour since avoiding the subject as much as possible by working yourself to the bone.

The unfortunate downside of this was that just 48 hours later there was nothing left for you to do but file away the very incident report you'd been avoiding, and honestly, that had been just as awful as you'd feared it would be.

It required you to go into immense detail pertaining to not only Nines' injuries, but also his reactions to them, the lethality of them, and the traumatic responses that may have occurred as a result of them.

Gavin had filled out his end of the form on the day of the injury back at the DPD with you, and now it was your turn to fill out the individual portion.

And to an extent you hadn't truly expected, the memories were haunting.

Your hands had shaken vigorously above the keyboard as you'd typed out the amount of blue blood that you had gotten on yourself in the process of stopping the bleeding,

the stickiness that lingered between your fingers for hours afterward,

the way it had remained spattered on your clothing even when you could no longer see it,

the scent of it and the way it had stuck to you until multiple showers later.

You had bit back tears when recalling the staticky quality to Nines' voice as his vocal modulator had struggled without the support of his circulatory regulator,

the slightly glazed quality of his eyes,

the way he had groaned in pain as they loaded him into the android care ambulance,

and the trail of blood he had left behind in the process.

It had all been so awful.

And the extent of his injuries had been no small issue either.

Without his stock circulatory bio-component, Nines' thirium pump regulator, and therefore his thirium pump as well, had been put under unnecessary strain for days now, unnecessary strain that would doubtlessly cause a machine like him to falter and shut down sooner than he ever would have otherwise.

And somehow, it was this fact that terrified you the most.

Sure, you had always known that Nines would outlive you,

that fact had never once bothered you,

but the idea that his likely absurdly long life would be cut short, even slightly, by this accident?

It unsettled you that such a thing was even possible.

Years off of the life of a thing that some didn't even view as living at all.

The humanity of it all struck you in the very worst way,

But fortunately you wouldn't really have to dwell on that for long.

"I am not hovering, Detective."

Nines replied coolly from where he stood beside the entryway of his dining room, where you had been sitting for hours as you worked tirelessly to write up your incident report.

"I am simply analyzing you to discern whether or not you are still capable of writing your report in a manner that will meet the Captain's standards."

You rolled your eyes,

"Well that really doesn't matter now, because I just submitted it."

Nines gave a low hum in response, but neglected to say anything more.

You were right though, he had most definitely been hovering, and for quite some time, at that.

He had started making his way throughout the apartment around the time you'd started your write up, and had been careful to ensure that he never stuck around you for too long as he performed his scans, which allowed him to discern whether or not your actions were causing you any emotional strain.

And every time that he had scanned you, the results always came back the same: judging by the amount of cortisol present in your bloodstream, the report was almost assuredly bringing back traumas you were not yet ready to unpack.

And yet, try as he might to think of something he could do, Nines had yet to come up with a single solution.

He was resigned to let you finish, and then, maybe, he might just get you to talk about what was bothering you.

Except now, as you looked over at him for the first time in hours, he could see how exhausted you were, and pushed the thought out of his mind.

It was time to get you to bed.

"Would you like to stay the night, Detective? The spare tooth brush you utilized the other evening is still in the bathroom, and I believe you packed an extra work outfit in your trunk after last time."

You glanced towards your partner quizzically, raising a brow as you closed your laptop,

"Seriously? I thought for sure you'd want me out of your hair by now."

Nines shrugged a bit at your statement before he moved to plug your computer in on the counter where the cord was located, just out of your reach.

"I have no qualms with you sleeping here if it would be easier. It is not as if I require the use of my bed for any particular purpose."

You gave a small laugh at that, but Nines was quick to note that it didn't reach your eyes, despite the distinctive lack of sarcasm found within it.

Your mannerisms were certainly concerning, but he tried not to over analyze for the time being.

You spoke up,

"Yeah, I guess not huh? In that case, if it doesn't bother you I think I might as well just stay over again. It'll give me a little extra sleep, which I could really use right now."

Nines gave a brief nod in response before heading into his bedroom at the end of the hall,

"Alright, in that case I should find you something to wear to sleep for the night. Any preferences?"

Your cheeks were dusted a slight pink as you spoke, and Nines noticed a sudden increase in your body temperature as well, but even so he chose to ignore it in favor of paying more attention to your response instead,

"Uh, I didn't mind the shirt you gave me the other night? If its clean?"

Nines hummed and retreated to the bedroom without another word, leaving you to make your way to the bathroom to get yourself ready.

You sighed as you stared at your face in the mirror, taking note of your haggard and saddened appearance.

God, that report had taken a lot out of you.

Forcing yourself to give a brief smile, you squeezed some tooth paste out onto your tooth brush before beginning the familiar motions that went along with brushing your teeth as you waited for Nines to return.

To your surprise though, by the time you were finished, your partner still had yet to come back from his detour at the end of the hall, so curiously, you opened the bathroom door, only to shriek in surprise when you saw that Nines was standing on the other side, that familiar shirt of his that you had worn the other night in hand.

You placed your palm against your chest as you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, shooting your partner a wordless glare as you did so.

"My apologies, Detective, I didn't mean to scare you."

You groaned and rolled your eyes before ultimately choosing to forgive the man in front of you, offering a gentle thanks as you took the shirt from him and re-entered the bathroom, closing the door behind you once more.

You took another deep breath as you looked back into the mirror, the scent of Nines' shirt wafting into your nose as you did so. You were a bit surprised to find that this was oddly soothing, and elected to ignore the comfort that warmed you as a result of it.

Afterward, you told yourself that you just happened to require a rather deep inhale at the very same moment that you were pulling the white undershirt over your head.

You glanced over at yourself in the mirror, legs bare and hair mussed from changing your shirt, and let out a soft sigh as you ran the pad of your pointer finger over the dark circles beneath your eyes.

It was definitely time for bed.

So, with that idea in mind, you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, letting it absorb some of the heat from your palm for a while as you basked in all of the external stimuli that surrounded you, grateful for the proof that the world around you was real at all.

And then, quietly, as if afraid you might be frightened once again, you pulled the bathroom door open, allowing yourself the time to glance up and down either end of the hall before making your way over to the door found at the very end of it, which remained cracked as an invitation for you to enter.

Nines looked up at you in greeting as you pulled the door open further, closing the door to his closet before he made his way over to the bed you were now working to climb on top of, his foot steps quiet and lithe behind you before they halted at the foot of his queen sized bed, which was fitted with the same huge black comforter as last time.

You glanced up at him as you laid your back against the soft pillows found at the head of the bed, struggling to make eye contact as you tried not to think too hard about the comfort his scent had offered you previously.

God, what a weird thing to think about your partner. Maybe you should buy him a cologne so he smelled different or something.

You shook off your thought as Nines brushed imaginary lint from the blanket you were now comfortably laying beneath as he finally spoke,

"Is there anything else you need, Detective?"

He watched you intently as you shook your head, and gave you a few moments afterward to change your mind before he finally started turning around to head back out the door.

"In that case, I'll just be out in the living area. I will remain in light stasis so you won't have to worry about me being hard to wake up if you find that there is something you require my assistance for. I will also be locking the door, as my research has supported that this will help you feel safer. Is that all agreeable with you, Detective?"

You were a bit taken aback by the sudden influx of information, but nodded nonetheless after allowing yourself a few seconds to comprehend what was being said to you,

"Oh uh sure, yeah, that's fine, whatever you want."

Nines gave a slight nod in response before clicking the lock in place, taking a step over to the other side of the door frame before he turned back to look you over once more, his eyes traversing your frame slowly as he did so,

"Sleep well, Little Mouse. I will see you in the morning."

And with that, he was closing the door behind him before you could say a word, leaving you with nothing left to do but drift off to sleep.

And drift off to sleep you did, though it was far from the peaceful slumber you had anticipated.

You fought back a cry of pure anguish as you watched the android, the same AV500 model from the abandoned car factory, shoot Nines for the fifth time that night, this time right between his eyes.

Your partner fell back soundlessly, his body hitting the ground with enough force to make the floor shake as he stared up at you with those unseeing gray-blue eyes of his.

They were so haunting like this, when you could tell they were observing nothing despite their unnatural openness, and you forced yourself to reach over the close them in spite of the blue blood that coated your fingers as you did so.

It was sticky and warm, just as it had been every other time he'd been shot within this hellish nightmare, and you had to stop yourself from vomiting as everything started all over again.

Here you were, for the sixth time, standing in that same room with that same murderous android, and once again, there was nothing you could do to stop him from killing your partner.

You couldn't plead for mercy, tackle the man to the ground, or even shoot him with the gun Nines had provided you with. You had no choice but to simply stand there and watch as he gunned down your partner, your friend again and again.

It was torturous.

And this time, as he shot Nines right in his thirium pump, and you saw that pained and confused look on his face for the sixth time that evening, you couldn't help yourself.

You screamed.

You screamed out of fear, out of frustration, and above all else, out of grief.

Here in this nightmare, you couldn't even tell what was real anymore, and with each passing murder, you could swear that Nines had really died back at that factory, and that this reality, where you simply had to watch and suffer wordlessly, was the real one.

You screamed for so long your throat hurt even within your own dream, raw and painful as you prayed internally for this torture to end, eyes squeezed shut and brimming with tears as you heard distant gunshot after distant gunshot go off before hitting thick plastic over and over again.

You would never be able to forget that sound.

But then, even more distantly than those gunshots, came the sound of Nines' voice, far off and calling out to you as if he were searching aimlessly while alone in the dark.

And without a second thought, you called back.

You awoke gasping for air, throat aching tremendously, and eyes stinging both from your tears and from the much too bright light coming from the lamp to the left of you.

But none of that was nearly as noticeable as the android who was hovering above your form as you laid on your back, his arms poised on either side of your head as he looked down at you with an almost fearful look on his face.

"What the- Nines?"

You croaked out in confusion, glancing over at the previously locked bedroom door as you attempted to make sense about what was going on.

“I broke the lock. You were screaming”

Nines all but panted out, eyes still a bit wild as he slowly began to pull away from the bed, standing at the edge as if afraid you would start screaming all over again the moment he moved.

You squinted your eyes in confusion and in an effort to mitigate the impact the lights were having on your head,

As if he could read your mind, Nines reached over the turned the lamp off without a word.

You sighed softly, noting the way that the air barely managed to leave your mouth due to how shaky you were feeling.

That nightmare had to have been one of the worst you'd ever had.

And the worst part yet? It wasn't going away.

You could still hear the sound of a single strong bullet hitting thick hard plastic, and you could feel the splash of warm thirium against your skin as a result.

It was horrible.

Tears filled your vision as you sat up slightly, bringing your knees to your chest as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? Why were you torturing yourself like this?

You were just about to ask Nines what was wrong with you when he spoke up first,

"May I see your hand, Detective?"

He asked not unkindly, and hesitantly, as if afraid this could somehow go awry, you gave it to him.

You then watched in the dim lighting of the bedroom as your partner raised your hand up to where his thirium pump worked tirelessly within his chest, pumping in a manner that you could feel as it did so.

"I am alive."

He murmured softly, and you briefly wondered how he had known what was bothering you without you saying a word before you simply let it go and pressed your hand harder against the area below his sternum, feeling the evidence of his existence thump strongly against your palm and the pads of your fingers.

You looked up at him then, tears pooling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks, and asked him for something you had never once expected to throughout the entire duration of your partnership,

"Nines, can you lay here with me?"

You murmured, watching as the android briefly contemplated your request before nodding once in compliance.

The bed dipped slightly as Nines dropped his knee on to the mattress before climbing the rest of the way over to the empty spot beside you, where he sat a bit awkwardly as he awaited your next request.

None of this was familiar to him in the slightest, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not figure out what you might want from him.

You sighed in slight relief as you laid yourself back down, noting the way that Nines watched as you did so before slowly doing the same, his head propped up by the pillows as he laid his palms face down on the mattress at either side of him.

He was very clearly not used to laying down, but you almost found it endearing that he remained so stiff even when in a position that was meant to be relaxing.

How very Nines of him.

Giving a gentle sigh, you turned your body on its side in order to better face your partner, who immediately shifted his gaze towards your own as you spoke, your hand raised ever so slightly towards him as you did so,

"Would you... Do you mind if I feel it again?"

Your cheeks burned as you considered your own request, but before you could back out, Nines shook his head before expressing his response verbally to reassure you,

"Not at all, Detective. I have no issues with you touching me if that is what you require."

You couldn't help but clear your throat upon hearing his words, but slowly lowered your hand onto his chest anyway, feeling yourself relax a bit as you once again felt his thirium pump beat strongly against your palm.

"Does it help you to know that I am well?"

Nines murmured, giving a low hum of interest as you nodded in response.

The room was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again, his voice quiet despite the silence of the room around you.

"I did not realize you had been so deeply impacted by my injuries. I apologize for my ignorance."

You were quick to shake your head upon hearing his words, and raised yourself up onto your forearms to better address him as you spoke,

"Don't apologize. I didn't realize either... I think I was just hoping to ignore it until it went away on its own."

Nines didn't reply, but instead gave a gentle hum of acknowledgment as he further considered your words.

You, on the other hand, took the silence as your queue to try and get back to sleep, something you were more than a little bit eager for after your night of terror and exhaustion.

Even still, you found yourself struggling to drift off, despite the added comfort of Nines' thirium pump as it beat steadily beneath your palm.

And after waiting and waiting for sleep to overtake you for what felt like far too long, you sat up on your knees and faced your partner in the darkness, your cheeks tinted pink as you made your second humiliating request of the night.

"I uh I can't sleep. Can I try something?"

Nines gave a small nod of approval, curiosity evident in his tone as he replied,

"I don't see why not, Little Mouse."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the familiar nickname, and swallowed thickly as you pulled yourself closer to your partner, letting out a nervous sigh as you lowered your torso back down onto the mattress, straightening out your legs beneath you as you let your head fall to Nines' chest, where the sound of his thirium pump working tirelessly within immediately filled your ears.

And with that, even more so than before, you found that your body grew relaxed, your eyes becoming heavy as you allowed your newfound comfort to will you to sleep once more.

Nines remained silent all the while, but watched you as you slowly drifted off to sleep with your head lying atop his chest, soothed by the sound of his artificial heart as he relished in the knowledge of your safety and comfort, even within a presence as dangerous and cold as his own.

AO3 Link

#s: ruiner ruination #s: ruiner ruination - indictus #c: nines #rk900 x reader #dbh x reader #request #prompt requests

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diagonal-queen · 5 months

Note

Maybe Kouyou teaching gn!reader manners in her unique way? 😌

Sakura Kisses

♡ pairing: Kouyou Ozaki x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Your girlfriend Kouyou teaches you Port Mafia etiquette after you become a new member under her supervision.

♡ wc: 1.1k

♡ cw: Mentions of mafia business including murder, basically just one long conversation between you and Kouyou, reader is a bit of a silly (self-insert much?? I am so silly)

note: I took a couple creative liberties with this one, so...hopefully it's alright lol. This is one of my OLDEST reqs and I'm only now finishing it, I'm so sorry nonnie I love you so much babe and I fucking love Kouyou too man, she's not my favourite girl (LUCY DEFENDER TILL I DIE) but she's amazing nonetheless. When she appeared in Stormbringer I think I screamed. Anyways, apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

"Are you gonna teach me how to differentiate between all those salad forks that princesses use?" You sighed. "I don't wanna do all that. I wanna use ONE fork when I eat."

You really didn't know what to expect when Kouyou had suggested sitting down and giving you an informal lecture on 'mafia etiquette'. As far as you were concerned, those sorts of words were reserved for high-class individuals, and people from before the 20th century. You'd expected your induction into the mafia to involve a lot more active bloodshed; full of action, and littered with corpses of faceless enemies- something like what Chuuya Nakahara had experienced when he first joined, or so you'd heard.

Apparently not. Not when your girlfriend is an executive, anyway.

"No, nothing like that," Kouyou chuckled. "Mafia and monarchy aren't synonyms."

"Well, they're pretty damn fancy though, right? I can only guess by you, at least..."

"You'd be surprised," she replied. "I'm perhaps one of the most...'fancy' individuals in the organisation."

"Is that right?" You raised your eyebrows, curiously. "I dunno...I just assumed organised crime would be organised, like how it is in those old gangster movies."

"Of course, those films aren't based in reality. The Mafia is much more brutal than any screen could display, though I understand you're already aware of it." Kouyou locked eyes with you, her gaze firm. "Yes?"

"...I mean, sure..." you answered, before adjusting in your seat. "Right then. What's the first thing I should know? Like, gimmie the basics."

Kouyou cleared her throat. "There is a rule of transaction here in the Port Mafia. You don't want to be indebted to anyone else here."

"But I'm indebted to you, Kou!" You said. Kouyou chuckled.

"Not me, dear. Nobody else, though. I'm sure if I talk to him I can grant you some mild immunity with Chuuya." She explained. You inhaled, never having met the executive before but having heard stories. He certainly sounded like someone you would want immunity from.

"You and him are close, right?" You asked her.

"Indeed. I did help oversee him when he first joined the mafia, as I'm doing for you now."

"How long ago was that?"

"Seven years ago," Kouyou answered quietly, seemingly remembering the time fondly. "He was rather plucky at that age. He found his rhythm here rather easily, nonetheless."

"Good for him. Bet he was better at it than I am, eh?" You chuckled. Kouyou tilted her head, before bowing her head.

"Don't fret about it, dear. You'll feel more comfortable here in no time, though...you can't be too comfortable. This is the Mafia, after all." She shifted in her seat to better face you. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions which you'll need to know the answers to in order to...survive here."

"...'survive'?" You slowly repeat the word, as if foreign to your tongue.

"Many lower ranking members, such as assassins and those who run errands for the higher-ups, are rather disposable. Many in my position would have no problem killing you if you were to upset them at all," She explained, her voice calm as if this were completely normal. You hadn't been a part of Kouyou's world for an extremely long time, but you decided to start expecting a lot more death very soon. You knew she was desensitised to it and you were fine with that, but...

"God, that's frightening. I thought you said you could get me some kind of immunity, though."

"I said I'll see what I can do with Chuuya. In all honesty, I believe you two have the capacity to be good friends, so long as you don't anger him."

"Well then, bring on the questions, I guess..." you muttered in reply, before perking up after what you felt to be a brilliant idea popped into your head. "Will you kiss me when I get a question right?"

Kouyou blinked in surprise. "Why, that's..." she partially covered her now-red face with her sleeve. You gave her a smile.

"Please? How else will I motivate myself to do well?" You begged, giving her a slight mock-pout. "Come on, you wanna kiss me, Kouyou. You wanna kiss me sooooo bad, I can tell."

"Fine, fine," she nodded quickly, waving her arm slightly. "I agree to these terms. Are you satisfied?"

"Sure am!" You grinned. "So, go on!"

"Alright..." Kouyou straightened her posture and softly cleared her throat. "If I were to approach you and ask your name, what do you tell me?"

"...my name?" You answered, confused. "You know my name."

"Regardless, you would tell me anyway. When an executive asks a question, they are demanding an answer."

"Right, okay..." You nodded, "Then, my name is Y/F/N."

"If you're asked who you work for, what do you tell them?" She asked. You pursed your lips for a moment.

"...uh, you? Miss Ozaki Kouyou?"

Kouyou shook her head. "You work for the organisation."

"The Port Mafia?"

"Yes. That's your reply. In this line of work you don't answer just to me, you also answer to Ougai."

"Who?"

"The boss of the Port Mafia," she clarified, "the kingpin of the organisation. You must have already seen Mr. Mori with Elise, yes?"

You frowned, confused. "...Elise?"

"The young blonde girl who accompanies him."

"Oh, yeah, her! She's adorable," you said, with a smile. "She's his daughter, right? I mean, I just assumed, but I didn't know if it'd be rude to bring it up at all. They don't look alike, so maybe...adoption? I don't know."

"...no, that's not quite it..." she began, tentatively. "You shouldn't ask about her, though. Don't bring it up in front of them, or anybody for that fact. Perish the thought, now. Simply do not ever think about it."

"...I don't..." you began with a shake of your head, utterly confused. "Okay...sure. Is that another rule?"

"Consider it most crucial," she answered, stone faced. Despite having such a graceful face painted with fine, expensive makeup, her expression was no less unnerving. You could only blink at her.

"...alright. Anything else?"

"'Anything else?'" Kouyou repeated, before releasing an airy giggle. "Certainly- we may be here for some time, my dear."

"Oh, I'll be getting a lot of kisses then," you grinned, and she laughed once more. "Am I right?"

"...you are, yes. In which case..." Kouyou slowly leaned over and brushed her soft red lips against your own. When she drew back, she gave you a small smile. "Well done, my darling."

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

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