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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 4

You wake up in the murderer's den. Things can only go downhill from here - especially when one of the killers expresses an unusual interest in you. WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con, threats of intimacy, general slasher-y, a bit of knife play

All things considered, Horangi has won at life.

He has a boyfriend – an amazing boyfriend, a bit older, a soon-to-be-husband, and his best friend in one tight package. They share hobbies, they share views on the world – practically everything that they can talk about, they share with each other. It’s a perfect relationship, especially considering where they met and how they were at first.

He has an amazing job in doing private contracts with his boyfriend – some people may call them killers for hire, war criminals, and monsters draped in a uniform, but Horangi likes to call himself a promising immigrant entrepreneur who works for no one but himself and enjoys having most days off.

He has an amazing, big house in the middle of picture-perfect Austrian wilderness, with every room dedicated to his or his partner’s tastes and hobbies, and that is literally four times as big as any of the apartments he rented previously.

He has an amazing hobby that allows him to combine hiking, shooting, and socializing – and König shares this hobby with him, actively supporting and engaging with it.

So, when he drains the blood from his knife – too bad the perfect lil’ victim isn’t here to clean it with her tongue – and starts to look for the remaining group of dumb tourists, deciding to head home just for a minute or two, to see if some of the prey would accidentally found it, he…

Fuck.

*** You woke up with a throbbing headache. Not surprising, considering you were hit in the back of your head with a force that would be enough to turn your brain into a scramble. You slowly opened your eyes, surprised that you weren’t blindfolded, and gently, slowly tried to move your head around to see the room better. Bright light coming from the doorway immediately made you ill, nauseous. You close your eyes and groan, feeling the pain only intensifying.

You’re very surprised to feel a cold cloth being slowly put on your burning forehead – you’d expect to be hanging from a meathook and have your buttocks eaten by a pack of wild creatures beyond your comprehension.

— Tssh, Scatzi, don’t move. Hit you in the head too hard, ja? Good thing you won’t need it anyway.

You hear the voice – not masked, not changed from multiple layers of different material – clean, unfiltered voice. That familiar boyish tone and deep gruff of a man from the corner shop – the tall one, the most mysterious one, the one that made you paranoid for the whole journey with his remarks.

God, you feel stupid.

It’s just like in slashers – the killers are always the weird guys who you meet at the start of the movie or some force from the legends you hear about this place. You feel dumb, you feel weak, you feel like you’re going to throw up because the big man – the one that shot Marty with a fucking crossbow – is gently caressing your forehead with his hands, smearing blood and grime all over your skin. You want to puke.

— Wh…whatever you’re doing, m…make it quick.

You can on ly master this, your lips are too dry for something else. You wanted to ask him different questions – where are you, who the fuck are he, what are his goals and mommy issues that made him prey on innocent young adults just having a shitty getaway in the forest, but you remember the other guy’s reaction to dumb questions – you want to die quickly, not slowly and painfully.

— Ach, Hase. Eager, are you?

This…isn’t the answer you were hoping for. His hands slowly creep down your face, pinching your cheeks – he touches the softer parts of your mouth, and your nose, tugs on your ears, and does whatever he can to just feel your features in his fingers, which makes everything only creepier. He pushes a finger past your lips – you want to bite it, but he only laughs at your pathetic attempts.

He tells you something through a laugh that makes your head hurt more. Something about how Horangi was right about you being a kitten – that you bite just like one. You feel embarrassment spreading across the heat of your cheeks, knowing that your best attacks are only an amusement for your captor.

His hands then move down, slowly. He pushes it under your shirt – and here is where you really start to panic. You’re mostly fine with getting killed, even in a weird and somehow funny, theatrical way, but you don’t…you don’t want to handle this before he eventually strangles you to death. You sob, your face twitches in pain-stricken expressions – tears only make your head hurt more, but you just can’t stop yourself.

The guy – he still wears a hood, just not the weird thing that makes his voice change – only laughs and plays with your chest, squeezing and touching it with his huge, bear-like hands. He is relentless in not caring about your well-being, and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you, but tears just won’t stop flowing, and the heat in your belly, provoked by that unwanted affection, grows more with every second.

His touches aren’t painful – but you wish they were. He is observing your body, studies it with his hands and you don’t like it one bit. Too rough, too strong for you, he has manners of a forest troll and, to be honest, in that stupid hood of his, he looks just like one. You’d jump from the bed and run to the nearest exit, but your head is still throbbing, and you still tied up to the bedpost. God, this is embarrassing.

— You’re trembling like a virgin, Schatz. Are you sure that your friend was a whore and not you?

König laughs, looking at the perfect display under him. Yes, yes, he knows that Horangi will be pissed with how he sped up the story and decided to keep you in their house, but he is sure he can't convince his pretty boyfriend that it’s all for the best. They need a toy – precious darling, something weak and helpless, something innocent to bite into. You are a good runner, to his surprise, but your fight is as miserable as your expression – you can’t put up a good fight and he fucking lives for each second of that.

— Stop touching me! — Are you going to stop me? — I…

— I love trembling prey. You look so perfect under me, Hase, I don’t think you’d stand a chance.

Of course, he is a hunk of a man – a wall of muscles, brutal strength, and nothing but raw power, so even if you were an Olympic champion in fistfights, you probably wouldn’t stand a chance against him anyway. He is trained to kill, he is training everyone else to kill – and he needs some snacks for how good the hunt was. Two dumb tourists, killed on the first night in the woods – and with others still having no fucking idea. God, it makes his dick hard.

König pushes his hand under your shirt and finds where your tits are concealed with a bra – sports one, really nice, he thinks, but you’d look much better in blood-stained lace. He yanks that stupid thing off your chest – your nipples are hardening almost immediately, even under your shirt. Ah, looks like he forgot to turn on the heater.

Well, you have to get the heat from his body then.

— S…stop, please.

— You like it. Why should I stop?

— I don’t like it!

His other hand goes to run a finger across your soaked, heated panties. The rough texture of the glove fabric is grazing your labia, and touching your gentle, wet folds makes you squirm and cry even more under him – he knows you hate it, embarrassed to be this aroused for the hands of a killer, but he just can’t fucking resist. He knows your hands are tied firmly to the bedpost, he knows you won’t be able to escape even if he’d leave the room right now – so he slowly removes his hand from your panties, showing you the glistening, wet material of his gloves.

He licks your wetness from his fingers – and you let go of a half-moan, half-cry, disgust mixed with fear and pouring into delicious feelings of complete devastation. Poor thing, so scared under him – so embarrassed of your arousal, he just fucking knows you aren’t like your friends. You’re still dumb, of course, with how you agreed to go to this forest even after all of his attempts to say that this is dangerous, but you’re also pretty, adorable, and don’t try to either attack or seduce him or Horangi – and he had a fair share of people who were trying to do both, until they’d found out he is a masked killer for real, and not just for the slasher season atmosphere.

You’re a little rabbit on his slicing board – and the knife appears in his hand too quickly for you to even start panicking. The blade lingers on your skin, slowly removing such silly, useless things like shirts and modesty, closing your skin just enough to burn a little, but not enough to do real damage. He killed more than 100 men with his knife, and skinned alive more than at least a dozen – König knows how to operate, especially when you’re bound and scared into submission.

— Ko, what the fuck are you doing?

Ach, Horangi is here. Finally, he just started to worry that those dumb tourists have learned how to fight back and now are trying to fuck with his partner. It would be funny to look at, of course, but he still doesn’t want anything to happen to him – so he sighs with relief when he sees a familiar masked figure in the doorframe. Then he remembers that he wasn’t supposed to take in pets so soon.

Fuck.

— I thought we agreed to not take her so quickly.

Horangi takes a step further, watching as your eyes are pleading with him for help. You’re adorable – praying for help from your tormentor, so sweetly broken already that he can barely contain himself. You’re adorable, but he isn’t in the mood of playing with victims nicely, and he is still a bit pissed off at König for ruining the promise he gave him. Not the best attitude in an honest relationship, especially when you are trying to introduce a new member of those relationships. Honestly, sometimes Hong-jin was thinking about hiring a couple of therapists. And then killing him after extracting every answer. Totally normal behavior.

— I know, but…she fell into my hands. Couldn’t say no to an opportunity.

He knows that König is grinning under his hood – his eyes are gleaming with happiness as he just got his new favorite toy on a silver platter. Horangi melts a little bit at seeing him this happy – the latest couple of missions weren’t the best, so this hunt got to be good. And so far, it is.

— You killed the stoner?

— Ja, was easy. Surprised he died from a bolt in the head, he didn’t seem like a guy who has much up there.

God, his sense of humor is fucked up – Horangi laughs for a good few seconds, not even trying to contain his emotions. You are still on the bed, your hands are tied to the post, rough ropes sit too tightly on your wrists, already angry red from all of your struggling. God, you’re looking delicious, covered in the blood of your friends, crying and looking like their own little death goddess. He knows he shouldn’t give up on temptation – and he also knows that he wants to fuck you.

Laying here, without a top, with a wet stain on your jeans from your own arousal, you don’t even know how delicious you look. How hard it is for both of them, to stop looking at you like a horny dog and just do their thing. Killing thing, that is. Yes, they suppose to kill their victims, not tie them up to the bed and think about burying their cocks deep in your welcoming, wet pussy.

Fuck, he has to be stronger than this. Killing is okay, torturing is okay, maybe kissing his boyfriend on top of the rotting, dead bodies is okay, but he just knows that he can’t start touching you because he would lose control and they might spend the whole night taking you from one dick to another, instead of doing what they have to.

Maybe, just a little touch would be okay. Like a gamble, russian roulette in trying to see if he would be able to contain himself. Like Horangi had such great luck at anything that is connected to gambling.

— We can’t keep her here.

— Why? I would feed her and walk her once in a while.

You whine, and König immediately goes to cover your mouth with his hand. You cry even more, feeling the filthy taste of your juices, blood, and dirt enveloping your tongue and making you want to gag. This is digesting, he is disgusting, you hate nature, wilderness, and this fucking country. If you were to get out of this place, you’d beg every oil company in the world to make the biggest fucking gasoline refining factory out of this forest.

— What about the police? She can call them.

— No signal.

— She could scream for help.

— We can cut off her tongue.

— She wouldn’t be able to suck our dicks then.

— Oh. Scheisse.

— Exactly. We can’t keep her here.

— But you said that we can…

— Not now, I mean. Having a kitten like ‘er at home makes me want to stay inside and fuck her whole day, not running around after her stupid friends.

König finally gets it – and Horangi is right, much to his dismay. You are a distracting little thing, getting into the killer’s layer too early. Adorable and weak, keeping you inside would be the best option – but they still need a bit of space to guy your friends in the basement, so keeping you inside would make you…nervous. Scared. Not a pleasurable type of scared, you can go crazy from horror and then turn into a useless, empty sex doll. König would still brush your hair and love you nonetheless, but it would be a waste to keep you like this.

Then, again, it would make it easier for you three to have sex…

— That’s also true. But I already cut her clothes.

— We can let her run for a bit. Make her friends panic, fuckin’ civvies aren’t even aware that two of their friends kicked the bucket.

— Doubt they care about each other that much.

— Good thing we got involved, right?

Horangi’s hand gently pats on your head – you wince from pain and he slightly moves the cold cloth on your forehead. The movement is similar to how people are petting cats – you hate it, you feel your legs preparing to kick him in the direction of his dick – but König presses on your ankles before you could do anything. Asshole.

— Need to do something with her shirt tho.

— She’d look adorable in mine.

— Yeah. Would cover her too much tho…I miss looking at boobs like this.

— You have them, no?

— It’s pecs. if anything, yours are bigger than mine.

They both laugh – you are munching on König’s hand more actively, trying to get this out of your mouth. They talk like you aren’t even here and your eyes are filled with tears again – from humiliation, from fear, from desire to run away because they don’t even consider you an enemy and you just want to get out, as soon as possible. They look almost normal together – like two loving partners discussing the latest news and hobbies, not a pair of psycho killers who almost made you hot and bothered for their stupid, definitely not attractive, masks.

You’re topless, barely wearing your jeans and panties – not exactly the best outfit for running through the forest. Would attract attention, of course, but you could also catch a cold, and they can’t exactly fuck a sniffing, coughing darling who is too sick to understand which hole are they using and what type of knife is plunging in her tender, open skin.

König throws a shirt on you – it’s musky, covered in mysterious stains, smells exactly like him, and a bit of pine tree. It’s such a typical red flannel that it makes you gag from the stereotype – but it covers your boobs and he is even polite enough to slowly untie one of your hands, firmly keeping it in place to get you into the sleeves and…

Once he had two of your hands in his grasp, you bit on his glove especially hard, kicking him in the groin again – this time, not even bothering to hear his moans. You jump to the floor, barely seeing anything as your view is darkening with a throbbing headache. You have to master everything you have to not throw up on their boots – and you ignore their disappointed yelps as you duck under the shorter guy’s hands and run to…you don’t even know where to run, you just know that you are not staying with the people who are treating you like a fucking lure to get the rest of your friends.

You can’t go to your friends – you already saw just how much they don’t want to listen to you. You can’t call the police and you can’t return to the camp because then the killers would know where all of your stuff and your friends are. The only chance you have is to fight them off – which is already proved itself as a Bad Fucking Idea(™. All right reserves to Amazon, you got your critical thinking skills during an online sale), so you need to find a distraction – or a weapon.

You’re literally in the house of murderers. If horror movies taught you anything, it’s that those kinds of houses are usually filled with the weapons of crime – or extensively sharp deer antlers.

You run to the second floor, dropping something behind your back – trying to get as much distance between you and them as possible, you crawl on the stairs, holding your head in poor attempts of soothing the pain. Their house is…normal.

Posters, paintings, some weird fucking shit like anime girls with cat ears staring at you with their bigass eyes and even bigger boobs – one of them had a knife plunging right into her chest, kinda making you feel it was more like target practice than fap material. You drop a big Lego set behind you, and the guy – bigger one, you still don’t have their names and you don’t want to know them – is yelling something about 12 hours put into that thing. Good. You can at least do psychological damage.

The house is as normal as a killer’s den can be – no weapons lying around, no knives just kinda lying there, much to your disappointment. Inflation is real, even serial killers can’t afford to just have their guns lying around like they used to. Fuck, this used to be a proper country. Fuck, you used to spend your days at home, not running away from masked killers who are keeping their houses cozy and tidy and honestly kinda clean even if this has sort of man cave vibe, which is totally understandable and adorable if…

Shit, you got distracted. Dead people, dead people, dead people, you can’t allow your natural drive to strong partners and masks to make you forget about the…death of very annoying and honestly plain mean people who were making your life worse actively every day and who had it coming anyway, but they still didn’t deserve such horrible death without even letting their parents know where their remains lie and…

Before your brain could master more annoying thoughts, you pushed to an open door. There has to be something you can use – pills, knives, guns, remains of the previous victims that can be sharpened and used against them so you can let them how it is to be violently penetrated for once! Come to think of it, judging by how cozy they were with each other, they probably already get penetrated a lot…ah, diversity wins, your murderers are bisexual and fine with polyamory.

You open the door, pushing it with all of your body weight – and you fall, only barely able to protect your face with your trembling, shaky hands. God, you’re miserable.

— Shatzen found a way into our bedroom. You sure we can’t keep her, Tigeren?

— It would be boring, no?

— We can use her for a bit and then let go. Make her show us where her friends are.

König sits right next to you, patting your head.

— Braves Mädchen, so smart. Didn’t know such smart girls were going on such dumb field trips.

— Can she be the smart one in the group then?

— Well, she did go to the woods alone. So smart.

They both laugh again – you grit your teeth, saving every bit of strength you still have in your body, to just push from the ground and get on your legs again. You can do this, you can still run away, you just need to try and push further, a little bit, just a few steps more, just…

König slaps your ass, hard enough to send you on the floor again. You groan, both from pain and humiliation.

— Dumb girl. Do you really think you can be this adorable and expect us to just contain ourselves?

— I…I…

— What is that, kitten? You want to apologize for running away? Want to beg us to save your friends?

— I…f-fuck you. Both of you.

Another harsh slap – the other guy gets his hand in your hair, tugging it just enough to make you groan from the headache again.

— Oh, this is exactly what you are going to do.

A noise from outside of the house startled you both. You hear Max’s voice – annoying as always, that know-it-all tone that usually makes your blood boil, but what sends happy shivers down your spine. You were found! Finally, at least one of the group is smart enough to find you and distract the killers so you can both run away and…

Oh god, Max is outside and yelling, he is definitely alone and they both are muscular, big gues with a bunch of weapons and you as a hostage and…shit.

— Go on, Katzen. Scream for him, ja? Lure the mouse in.

You grit your teeth, yelling out the best “Get the fuck out of here, it’s not safe” as you can.

They laugh.

The world finally turns to black with another season of silly girl falling conscious in the best plot moments.

#konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #horangi x you #horangi #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #konig

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urgonnaneedabiggership · 10 months

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Perfume Regret

ExBoyfriend!Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: A fic inspired by Attention by Charlie Puth. Your ex-boyfriend Miguel O'Hara left you heartbroken and no matter how intense the effect he has on you still is, you're determined to use this party to get even.

Warnings: +18 meaning SMUT AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI OR SO HELP ME GOD. Also there's angst and good old anger-fueled sex. The ending isn't heartbreaking don't worry.

Word count: 4K

I know that dress is karma

Perfume regret

Got me thinking 'bout when you were mine

Nightclubs had never been your scene.

While you weren't strictly averse to them, you didn't thrive in that element as much as some of your friends did. Yet, whenever you decided to make an appearance, it wasn't the stroboscopic lights, the promise of a few drinks with friends, or the energizing music that made the night worth it.

It was the hunt.

And the preparations began long before you even set foot out of your apartment, from the moment you stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a fluffy bathrobe, your face a blank canvas. Getting ready with your favorite, emboldening playlist was usually a luxury but not tonight. Judging by the way you struggled to apply eyeliner over your lids with such shaky hands, tonight, you were in dire need of a crushing amount of confidence.

So much so that a glass with one remaining sip of red wine stood next to your makeup bag, waiting for you to take that last bit of liquid courage.

Yes, the mere thought of the chase always made your chest swell with excitement. The stolen glances from across the dancefloor until someone gave in and tried to make contact. Loud music left people no choice but to hold conversations in loud whispers that tickled your ear. The desperate attempts to make themselves worthy of your time and the small concessions you made to make them feel like the most special person in that tiny, packed, overpriced club. Flirting was a tango meant for two, and not knowing what kind of partner you'd be dancing with was exhilarating.

Not this time, however, you thought as you picked up the glass and poured the remaining wine down your throat. Tonight you were after a much too familiar prey that you'd once been dumb enough to let get away.

As soon as you got the digital invitation to the Alchemax Innovation Department New Year's Eve party, you knew it was time to settle the score.

A short buzz coming from your phone interrupted your train of thought as the screen lit up with a text from whom you considered to be your work best friend, Liz.

Heyy :) u coming?

Yep. Be there in 20, is everybody there already?

O'Hara is missing. Idk if he's coming, though.

Oh.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of all of this being for nothing. Whatever,. Who cared? You weren't doing this for him. You were doing it for yourself because you wanted to go out and have fun.

A weak smile tugged at your lips when you couldn't even convince yourself with that blatant lie. God, you felt like a terrible feminist at the moment. Screw you, Miguel O'Hara.

Those had been the last words you said to him before marching out of his apartment and slamming the door after you. Ever since that week during which he’d vanished from work with no explanation, your boyfriend had started to cancel your dates at the last minute or still be out at odd hours, and when he started to simply disappear and not answer your calls or texts several times throughout the day you began to worry.

When he asked if you could talk about something important, you figured you'd be getting an explanation, not dumped.

The reason, according to him? He was dealing with some personal issues that he could not tell you about, but he'd single-handedly decided it was in your best interest to just move on with your life, so he'd decided to break things off. His face when he said all of that remained engraved in your brain since that day. Cold. Logical. As devoid of any visceral emotion as a doctor would be when recommending you to give up carbs or red meat.

Two years of your life you'd given to him. You were planning to move in together. You were happy. For what felt like the very first time in your life, you were in love.

You took a deep breath to keep tears from running down your cheeks and ruining your mascara.

Even almost six months later, your heart painfully fluttered at the mention of his name.

Carefully, you dried your eyes with a piece of paper and took another deep, slow breath. Your eyes, beautifully framed by a smoky eyeshadow, slowly traced the reflection of your body in the mirror. A sleek, simple dress with a small slit on the side hugged your figure. You loved the color: a nearly black navy blue that matched your chosen makeup palette.

At the sound of your phone, your eyes drifted down to the lit-up screen.

Oh, nvm, he just got here.

The game was afoot.

As much as it hurt your pride to admit it, you were decidedly nervous as you made your way into the dimly lit nightclub, your eyes discreetly scanning the crowd in search of a particular set of brown eyes.

Suddenly, a voice made your face in the opposite direction.

"(Y/N)! Over here!" Liz called from the bar, waving at you with a huge smile that you returned as you walked towards her after wistfully looking at the busy crowd one last time. It wasn't until you reached the bar that you noticed she was sitting next to a man you didn't recognize.

"So, this is she," she nearly yelled right next to the man's ear when you got close enough to be heard above the deafening electronic beats.

"Hi, (Y/N), right?" He said, reaching out one hand, "I'm David. Liz has told me a lot about you,"

"Dave here just joined the team," Liz explained, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "I thought it would be nice to make him feel welcomed. I'll leave you to it. I have to go say hi to a few people," She continued as she left the bar, not before giving you a certain look that made you realize you'd walked straight into a trap. While David was decidedly handsome, and you could've considered him to be your type under different circumstances, right then, your mind was somewhere else.

"Sure," You replied distractedly, "So why did you choose to work here?"

That should be enough to keep him talking for a while about his college education and how all he'd ever wanted to do was work for this company and so on while you focused on the matter at hand.

Where the hell was he?

Could it be that he'd just popped in to greet a few people and had left before you arrived? Before the countdown?

Maybe he was celebrating New Year's with somebody else?

"Sorry, one shot of tequila, please," You loudly called as the bartender walked past you.

"Make that two, thanks man," David added with a flirtatious smile that you returned out of politeness, mentally praying for Liz to come back soon, knowing damn well that if she'd done this on purpose, there'd be no way out of this conversation.

You downed the shot as soon as it was placed in front of you.

David asked you something, but his voice reached your ears as if he was underwater. For a minute, you wondered if such a small amount of alcohol could make you feel so dizzy until you realized it was something else. Your eyes had landed on the back of a familiar head. Brown, scruffy hair and a hearty laugh that had your hands shaking again as you placed the glass back on the wooden bar.

"God, I'm so sorry. My head's all over the place right now. You were saying?" You said, leaning closer to David.

"I asked if Alchemax tends to go easy on the new guys or kick them to the curb at the first mistake."

You laughed as if he'd just told an amazing joke, your eyes covertly going from his face to your target right behind him. At the sound of your laugh, his back stiffened, and you could see he was about to turn around. Right before he did, you quickly tore your eyes off him and glued them to David's face.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be just fine. I'll tell you what, I'll look out for you. How's that sound?” You replied, a more relaxed smile plastered on your face. David's eyes lit up. Poor guy. He probably thought that out of nowhere, his luck had shifted.

Slowly and without losing the amused grin, you peeked over David's shoulder and found Miguel O'Hara's searing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike you, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he let those same calculating eyes unashamedly scrutinize every inch of your body that your gorgeous dress didn't cover and secretly fantasize about what it did.

Another loud laughter leaving your lips made him snap out of a trance-like state and look into your eyes. Hunting on grounds you were no stranger to had its advantages, such as knowing what to do and when. And so you didn't look away. You held his gaze, undaunted, as you took David's unfinished tequila and brought it up to your lips to take a sip, barely sticking out your tongue to slowly lick the last droplets off your lower lip. You mouthed an apology to the man before you as you walked away from the bar, both for the stolen tequila and for what was about to happen.

Trying your hardest not to smile or look at him, you made your way through the crowd straight toward Miguel, whose eyes you knew had remained with you since that intense visual exchange back at the bar. You felt them so intensely that you wondered if he could make you burst out in flames just by looking at you. You clenched your jaw as you got close enough for the scent of his enticing cedarwood cologne to fill your nostrils and travel all the way down to your chest, where your heart beat so strongly that it physically hurted.

You only had one shot. This was it.

It wasn't until you walked right past him that you finally acknowledged him, gifting him a faint smile as you stepped around him and walked toward the restrooms.

As soon as the door closed after you, you found the two stalls were empty. After confirming you were alone, a nervous grin took over your features. Biting your lip, you approached the mirror and distractedly began to comb your hair back in place and even retouched your nude lipstick, your eyes set on the reflection of the bathroom door.

Almost as if you'd timed it, the second you finished applying your makeup and threw it back into your purse, Miguel stealthily slid inside and shut the door after him.

A minute that felt like an eternity to him transcurred while you kept patiently tucking strands of hair behind your ears, concealing a smug grin. Something had to give. More often, sooner than later.

"Mind telling me what the fuck was that?"

His voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears like a once-favorite song you hadn't heard in months.

"What do you mean?" You calmly asked, never interrupting your task.

"(Y/N), stop that and look at me." He commanded, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

"I am looking at you," You nonchalantly replied, your eyes transfixed on his tense shape in the corner of the mirror as you slowly wiped some smudged lipstick off the edge of your bottom lip.

Outside, the one-minute countdown began. Neither of you could care less. Inside that dimly lit, empty nightclub bathroom, time was irrelevant.

In less than five steps, Miguel reached your side and, placing his hands on your shoulders, firmly spun you around to face him.

"Carajo, ¿Tú no entiendes, verdad?" He hissed, his next leaving his mouth after an ominous pause, "Now look at me."

Not happy with the way you were being handled, you shoved him away and shot him a glare with your arms folded before you.

"There, I'm looking. What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me who's that asshole and why you seem to think he's so damn funny,"

"I'm sorry, O'Hara, that's none of your business anymore, is it?" You spat out.

"It was none of my business,' He agreed, wincing at the dry use of his last name, "Until you showed up in here looking like that, laughing like a dumb teen at some guy's dumb jokes, making sure I'm watching after you did some pretty extensive research to make sure I was coming."

Wanting to rebuke that argument, you immediately opened your mouth just for him to interrupt you.

"What? You thought I wouldn't find out, bonita?"

Miguel started to move towards you without giving you a chance to explain yourself. Still, you weren't sure of what you would've said had you been given the time. Three seconds later, he was standing right before you, trapping you against the cold stone of the sinks.

"Why are you doing this?" He absentmindedly asked, as if he was actually questioning himself or already knew the answer. Before you could react, he suddenly leaned in, burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath, taking in the scent of your perfume along with something else that you couldn’t perceive but seemed to pull him forward so violently that he had to use both his strong arms on either side of you to hold himself back. Still, he kept babbling against the soft skin of your neck, “I didn’t want to do it…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…mi amor, I just wanted to protect you,”

“Protect me from what?” You asked in a breathy whisper, your self-control flaking when you felt him move even closer until your backside was pressed against the sink and your front...

You pressed your lips together to keep a noise that would be much too revealing from leaving your lips.

Still, you realized your trials and tribulations weren’t over when his hands slowly moved closer to your thighs until his thumbs were tracing faint circles on them.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a hoarse voice before burying his nose behind your ear once more. You had to want him to stop. Before you could gather up the courage to tell him off as you should, you leaned forward and feverishly pressed your lips against his in a kiss that was all but sweet. Without breaking the kiss, in a display of both strength and coordination that was new to you, Miguel slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, placing you on top of the sink with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the way he nudged your legs out of the way so he could grind his lower half into yours. This time there was no way in hell you could contain your moans.

Pleased with the beautiful sounds he was eliciting from you, Miguel’s hands found their way back up to the thin straps of your dress, which he gently slid off from your shoulders before gripping your chin in his hand and tilting your head to the side so he could devour every inch of skin available, occasionally trapping it between his teeth to make sure it’d leave a mark. Even in your haze, you could notice there was something new to the way he was ravishing you. It was as if he was desperately trying to be gentle, to take things slow, just for something primal to take over and coerce him into taking you for himself.

Once again, you stopped thinking when he pressed the hard bulge in his pants against you, the friction over your barely clothed clit throwing all logical thoughts out the window.

“We don’t have much time,” You urged him, not even sure if he’d locked the door after himself. However, deep inside, you knew your motives had less to do with the little privacy and more with the way he unhurriedly worshipped your body and peppered kisses all over it, how his hands gently roamed it as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. It reminded you of what you two had in a way that was still too painful to remember. You wouldn’t lose yourself to the memories of your past and miss out on how good he was making you feel right now. Tonight you weren’t two people deeply in love with one another trying to fight back the regrets of letting go of what was most precious to you, but two strangers about to fuck in the bathroom of a nightclub.

As if to reinforce that thought, he swiftly pushed you further back onto the sink and pushed your legs apart even more, your dress ridding up almost all the way to your waist. You shivered as new skin was exposed to both the cold beneath you and the heat from Miguel’s skin as he fumbled with the fly of his pants. Meanwhile, you kept yourself busy trying to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands and silently thanked he wasn’t wearing a jacket in the first place. You needed to get him out of as many clothes as possible in the little time you had, needing to feel more of his skin against yours.

Your desire wasn’t fulfilled until the shirt slid off his tan, broad shoulders, and you were pressed against his bare chest, his hands resting at the curve of your lower back as his head barely slid over your soaked slit, prying a raspy moan out of his throat that sounds almost painful. Still, even when you slid your hands around his shoulders and intertwined your fingers behind the nape of his head, he didn’t move further.

“What are you waiting for?” You breathlessly asked, arching your back towards him with a huff just for him to move his hips away, escaping your touch, trying to regain some control over himself.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” He muttered. Shit. Not right now. Out of the whole night, he had to choose this precise moment? No. He hurt you. He owed you. And now it was his turn to shut up and take it.

Taking advantage of his low guard, you hooked your feet behind his back and roughly pulled him towards you, another needy moan escaping your lips as you felt him right at your entrance, whatever remaining reluctance keeping him from sinking into you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from begging.

“Alright,” He finally says, his hands sliding under your thighs to hold you firmly in place, “If this is what it takes for you to listen to me, bonita, así le vamos a hacer entonces.”

He accentuated his words by slamming into you and immediately picking up a maddeningly fast pace, the loud music outside hopefully drowning out your endless string of broken moans.

“I just…wanted you to be happy,” He spoke in a strained voice in between thrusts.

“Shut up,” You snapped at him. You were happy. And it did nothing but further enrage you to see he was unaware of how miserable you were now without him. Or maybe he was aware because he reached that spot that always made your legs uncontrollably quiver and focused all his energy on it as if he was trying to make up for everything.

“I love you,” He blurted out as he felt you clenching around his length, his hips stuttering for a second before the sigh that left your lips made him lift your leg further up his torso and slam into you with renewed fire, “God, (Y/N) I love you so much, I can’t do this anymore,”

“Shut up,” You sobbed, this time as a plead and not an order. Your heart fluttered as you heard the words you’d waited months to hear, and feeling him roughly stroke your walls at this new angle became too much for you to bear. A string of ‘shut ups’ and sounds that resembled his name left your lips as your hands fell to his stomach, trying to push him away while paradoxically needing him to be closer, needing to feel more of him just in case this was the last time you felt him stretch you out in a way you were hauntingly certain nobody else would ever come close to.

And he wasn’t doing any better. He wanted to pull your head against his chest and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to get on his knees and spend the rest of the night apologizing using his words or his tongue, whatever you wanted as long as you went home with him that night. He wanted you to live a happy, normal life. He couldn’t give you that anymore. Not after that night. Not after the accident.

But those bad thoughts melted away in his brain when he saw your eyes pressed shut, your beautiful, furrowed eyebrows arching over them perfectly as you chased that high that Miguel knew only he could give you. Something that sounded like an actual sentence left your lips so quietly that he had to lean closer to get it.

“What was that, bonita?”

You pressed your lips together, unwilling to repeat yourself until another perfectly calculated thrust pried the half-coherent words out of your mouth.

“Need you…inside. Please, Miguel, please,”

Hearing his name being called out like that for the first time in months was all he needed to come undone, his pace faltering as he pressed himself against you, strong arms gripping your waist as he spilled his load inside you with one last labored moan.

Nothing but extenuated pants could be heard inside the bathroom for a whole, tense minute before you finally moved, taking a few sheets of paper from the dispenser next to the sinks to clean yourself up.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you straightened your dress and tried to somehow fix your disheveled hair.

“You wanted to apologize, you did, and I forgive you,” You categorically answered, “But don’t expect me to come running back into your arms as if what you did was nothing,”

Still, you needed him to know there was hope left for the both of you. So you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then his cheek, granting yourself one moment of vulnerability as you looked into his eyes with a gentle smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered, giving in to the urge to kiss him again. You basked in his shocked look before turning your back to him and going back to the party, where you bumped into Liz less than five minutes later.

“There you are! Where the hell were you? You missed the countdown!”

It wasn’t until you looked around at the confetti-filled floor and the large numbers on a screen that you remembered.

“I went to the bathroom,” You replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and reaching out to take a glass of champagne from one of the several trays atop the tables, “Where did your friend run off to?”

“David?” Liz asked, a deep red blush spreading over her cheeks, “He had to go home. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re getting dinner next Friday,”

“Don’t mind at all,” You replied with a bright smile, eyes already scanning the half-empty club, once again looking for that same face. The one you knew you’d always look for in a crowd for the rest of your life. This time, thanks to the small number of people left, it wasn’t hard to come across his eyes. Amused, you raised your glass at him with a soft, genuine laugh. He did his best to look annoyed, but the minute you tilted your head and gave him your best apologetic look, Miguel rolled his eyes and shook his head with a reluctant smile that made you laugh again before taking a sip of that cheap champagne.

This was going to be a great year.

#miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfic

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jhuzen · 1 year

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could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin — in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

#i just realized the line up is reversed alphabetical #hm #ok maybe my sanity will be alright #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x yandere reader #yandere male reader #kaveh x male reader #kaeya x male reader #diluc x male reader #jhuzen’s stupid scenarios #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #LMAO idk if yall noticed but i took some inspo from the usual tropes of love interest that u see in otome games #the rich rich classy guy for kaveh #the himbo but not rlly secretly for kaeya #the caring and gentle servant for diluc #hope i pleased u with this anon #and tysm i feel honored to be a favorite of yours <3 #even tho my ass is a slow poster hoowee

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bioodorange · 5 months

Text

ticci toby headcanons !!

I haven’t posted in a while!! But I was hit with a small urge to write some headcanons…maybe it’ll get back into posting more! As usual I hope you enjoy and my ask box is always open!! Please send any requests my way as i try and get back into writing!

Starting off visually, I am a pretty big fan of the idea that Toby and X-Virus are brothers

I just think it’s an interesting idea, and a fun explanation as to why Toby appears at the end of his story

However, I don’t see it being likely that they are fully related

Instead, half siblings who share a father

Going along with this I also consider Cody to be hispanic, making Toby half hispanic in turn

It’s probably a bit harder too see with his pale complexion, but you can see it in the dark curls of his hair

Or how his brown eyes are almost black in color

His eyes are probably the most expressive part of him, consider he ate away at most of the muscles in one of his cheeks

I like the idea that Toby’s eyes are very telling of how he feels, especially since they aren’t covered by a mask

It’s especially eerie to his victims who can see the perverse joy he gets from robbing them of their last breathe

Toby is incredibly sadistic, he struggles to see the value in other peoples lives and treats them more akin to animals

If you are alive it is purely for his entertainment in watching you squirm at the sight of him

He is used to people looking at him in disgust and avoiding him like the plague

Reducing a someone to their primal mind, making them more prey than person is a natural high

Although its familiar it wasn’t always so empowering

As a child he was bullied in school, but I imagine more so for his health conditions than his tourettes

Sure he was picked on for both but being a kid with a medical aid in class feels more humiliating

Everyone knows you need help with something

Something that allows you special privileges to get out of class and skip out on gym but they don’t know what

Them trying to figure it out is what makes it so sickening

Every single detail of you being scrutinized

This lead to deep, intense insecurities issues in Toby

Wearing thick layers of clothing to hide his frame

Gloves to cover how he mindlessly chewed away the skin of his crooked fingers

Its not his fault they look that way

It’s easy to snap bones and dislocate joints when you can’t feel what you’re doing is wrong

Things are prone to healing incorrectly when you can’t tell their hurt

Toby’s physical health declined greatly as soon as he fell into Slender’s care

There are no ways to tell when he’s overheating, no proper medical care to fix things he didn’t know were broken

Toby’s body resembles a mangled mess, scars from broken bones and fingers that aren’t quite straight

His skin doesn't feel quite right on his body

It all makes him aversive to touch

Why would someone want to touch him when his body looks the way it shouldn’t

It does all offer some comfort though

Chewing away at the skin around his nails until he reaches flesh is somehow comforting

Popping his fingers out of place and then back in helps make breathing a bit easier

Even though it’s unhealthy he doesn’t know any better

There are so many holes in his memory he can barely string the past together, let alone menial details such as the limits of his body

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons

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konigs-whore · 29 days

Text

Familiar contact- A John price fic.

Random inspo I had, but hopefully people enjoy it. I stayed up till 7am writing it lol. Might make something out of this but I idk yet.

I have attention span issues so if it veer off, please don’t come at me for it. I’ve skimmed over it, but there’s probably some things I missed and grammatical mistakes. Thank you❤️

Word count: 3k+

MDNI- mature themes, language, choking, supernatural beings, dark themes.

I told myself to be home by midnight, before the hunting hour started. To lock myself safely in my home, surrounded by wards.

Sigils adorned the doors and windows, passed down from generation to generation by witches determined to protect their dwellings.

The eerie stillness of the night was broken by distant howls and screams, while sinister whispers lured unsuspecting victims into their grasp. These cunning creatures preyed upon human greed, offering promises of fulfilling desires before revealing their true, malevolent nature through blood-red eyes hidden within the shadows.

"I'll give you everything you desire"

" You will desire nothing else, if you come closer"

I pay no heed to their twisted tongues, for I know the moment I look their way, or so much as utter a word, I'll be trapped in their soulless hell. Become a mindless creature like them, existing only to feed on souls until the earth turns to dust.

And I refuse to become one.

I pull my coat tighter around me, trying to shield myself from the biting chill. But it seems to seep through every layer, penetrating deep into my bones. Come to us.

The gusts seem to have a life of their own, swirling and dancing around me, almost taunting me with their strength. As I trudge through the forest, trees now look twisted and tortured under the relentless assault of the wind. Nothing on this earth is truly safe from their wicked powers.

Their branches whip back and forth, creaking as if in pain. Some of them have already succumbed, their broken limbs littering the ground like casualties of war. Despite the fierce resistance of the trees, the wind shows no signs of letting up. It blows with such force that I struggle to keep my balance, stumbling over rocks and roots that are hidden beneath a carpet of leaves. My hair is wild and tangled, whipped into a frenzy by the wind's powerful grasp.

As I stand in the midst of this chaotic scene, I can feel the energy of the whispers pulsating through the air. They seem to be growing more desperate by the second, their voices becoming more urgent and insistent. These phantom entities, longing for control over my soul, reach out towards me with ethereal hands that pass right through my body.

But I refuse to acknowledge them, refusing to give them the power they so desperately crave. Meanwhile, the trees around me struggle against the relentless force of the wind. Some bend and sway gracefully, while others are unable to withstand the intense pressure and break, crashing to the ground with a loud thunderous sound. My heart aches at the sight of these ancient trees, some of them hundreds of years old. Despite surviving in such a harsh environment, they stood tall and thrived, only to be struck down by the dark forces of hell. Life is truly, cruel.

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

My small home, tucked away in the dense forest, comes into view. Smoke curls out of the chimney and warm light spills through the windows, creating a comforting glow. Thick moss clings to the weathered stone walls, leading up to the old black roof. A protective barrier of sturdy stone surrounds my home, making it feel like a fortress. My pace quickens as I approach, eager to escape the eerie whispers and relentless winds that seem to follow me. But as I near my house, all sounds of nature cease and an ominous silence settles over the land. My steps falter as my eyes narrow, scanning for any signs of danger.

Suddenly, a swirling mist materializes to my right, coalescing into the form of a tall, muscular man. Curled horns protrude from his head and his bright red eyes lock onto mine with malicious intent. My heart races as I realize he is a demon - not just any demon, but one of great power and influence. I recognize him from my extensive research on the seven gates of hell - standing before me is none other than John Price himself, ruler and master of all seven gates.

In a deep, smooth voice with a British accent, he sneers at me with a wicked grin. "Well hello there, little witch," he says mockingly as he takes slow steps towards me. Fear courses through my body like ice water. Why does his voice sound so familiar? That nickname….

“ John” I say, somehow holding my voice steady despite the tremble in my body. my hands twitch at my sides, ready to defend myself. “ what do you want?” I hiss. but he just smiles even wider, tilting his head at me.

“ Can’t I visit a lonely little witch? whom lives by herself in the forest”. He steps closer.

“ no, you cannot. I have no business with you, demon”

A sharp gasp escapes my lips as he materializes in front of me. He leans down, bringing us eye-to-eye, his intense gaze locking with mine. The scent of smoke and fresh pine fills my nostrils, mingling together in an intoxicating combination. His long fingers, slender yet strong, grasp my chin firmly yet gently, his thumb lightly caressing my cheek. His touch, it feels familiar too. But why?

“ Been watching you, darling. A nasty little witch you are” His breath fans my face, our close proximity jolting my senses back into place.

I grit my teeth, taking another cautious step back as his hands fall from my face. His amusement is evident in the glittering mischief in his eyes and the sly curve of his lips. I feel a surge of electricity tingling at my fingertips, slowly spreading up my arm until bolts of raw energy flicker and dance beneath my skin. With a few whispered chants, I channel the power and unleash a dazzling bolt of lightning towards him. The air crackles with anticipation as the bright beam strikes the earth where he stands, sending up a cloud of dust in its wake. The ground trembles beneath me, humming with residual energy.

my eyes narrow as the dust fades away, and there he stands. a cloud of mist surrounding him in a protective barrier. This grimy little bitch.

“ Now darling, that wasn’t very nice”

“ Oh really? thought i’d give you a proper welcome” I sneer, my fingers twitching again. my mind reeling for a plan. My grandmother never said anything about defending myself against the king of hell. What the hell am I supposed to do.

The mist around him disappears into the earth. He crosses his arms.

" Well you could do me" he retorts and I frown. Get out of my head!

I send another bolt his way, and he deflects it with a flick of his wrist. John's laughter echoes through the forest, sending shivers down my spine.

" What do you want John. I haven't broken any laws, nor did I summon you".

His eyes gleam with amusement as he takes a leisurely stroll around me, his steps echoing in the unnatural silence that surrounds us.

"I do love a feisty one," he muses, his voice smooth like silk yet carrying an underlying edge of danger. "But I'm not here for your misdeeds, dear witch. No, I am here for something far more intriguing."

My heart pounds in my chest as I try to maintain a façade of calmness, even as his presence threatens to overwhelm me. "Then what is it that you seek from me, demon?" I demand, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind.

John Price's smile widens, revealing a row of perfectly straight and gleaming white teeth that seem to glint in the dim light. As he approaches me, his footsteps fall with an air of confidence and authority. He stops in front of me, tilting his head to reveal the sharp angles of his jawline beneath his beard, and the way the moonlight catches in his dark hair.

"I have come to claim you, little witch," he purrs, his voice low and smooth like velvet. I can feel his warm breath on my skin as he speaks.

"Claim me? What the fuck are you talking about?" I snap back, my anger boiling over at his bold words.

"Your coven, centuries ago, promised me a bride if I granted them power," he explains, his eyes never leaving mine. "Twenty generations from then, a woman will be born with powers stronger than any witches before her. And only she will be worthy of becoming my bride." A knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he finishes his declaration.

And if I could've sent every last bit of my powers away, I would have on spot. Simply bag them and ship them off to the next person.

The earth trembles beneath my feet, my anger coursing through me like molten lava. My eyes blaze with a fiery red intensity as I bring my hand up to meet his chest. The wind responds to my rage and strengthens, pushing him back with a forceful gust. He stumbles several feet before landing gracefully on his feet, a smug smirk plastered across his face. I grit my teeth, wishing desperately to wipe that lecherous expression off of his creepy features. "My, my," he purrs, "those eyes are like untamed flames."

He watches me with a mixture of amusement and fascination as I confront him with a strength that surprises even myself. The air crackles with tension as we stand facing each other, a silent battle of wills raging between us. I can feel the power coursing through my veins, a primal energy that demands release.

With a fierce determination, I raise my hands towards the sky, calling upon the elements to aid me in this dire moment. The wind howls in response, whipping my hair around my face like a dark shroud. The trees sway in a wild dance, their leaves rustling in a chorus of support.

John Price's eyes widen with recognition as he senses the ancient magic surging around me. In a swift motion, he raises his own hands, summoning shadows that twist and coil at his command. Darkness engulfs him as he prepares to strike back with his formidable powers. No, he’d never hurt me. But how do I know that?

Emotions wage a war inside me.

But I am ready for him. With a primal scream that echoes through the forest.

With a fierce cry, I unleash a bolt of lightning so powerful that it reverberates through the earth, leaving my body trembling with its force. The smell of ozone fills the air as electricity crackles around us, sending shockwaves into the ground and trees. And then suddenly, I am flying backwards, my back slamming against a rough bark of a tree. The impact knocks all the air from my lungs and I land on all fours, gasping for breath.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, I see John lying on the ground, his body smoking from the electric blast. Despite my own discomfort, anger surges within me. I grit my teeth as I struggle to stand, my muscles protesting from the jarring impact. God that hurts like a bitch.

But even as I rise, determined to keep fighting, I hear him chuckling. It is a sinister sound that sends shivers down my spine. My eyes narrow as I face him, ready to take him down. As if I could, I know I’m not strong enough.

"That's what I need," he groans as he stands, brushing off his clothes with an air of nonchalance. His red eyes have returned to their normal state, but they seem even darker now - like staring into a void.

"You want more?" I growl, raising my hands to strike again. But he raises his own in a mocking surrender. "I don't wish to fight you, little witch," he says with a sly smile. "A man should never harm a woman."

His words are like a slap in the face to me. This man is supposed to be the king of Hell, yet he claims to be against hitting women? I scoff in disbelief.

"Oh please," I retort. "Don't expect me to believe that for a second."

He shrugs as if it doesn't matter to him one way or another. And then suddenly, mist begins to form around my feet and up over my body. It spreads like a thick fog, rendering me immobile. Panic sets in as I struggle to break free.

"Let me go!" I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to force myself out of the misty grip. But it seems to have a will of its own, keeping me firmly in place.

" I can't do that, love". He appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I hiss at the contact, his touch sending jolts through my skin.

“Now sleep, my love” He whispers. and I curse myself, as my eyes start to grow heavy. “w-what”.

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

I am jolted into consciousness, my body drenched in a cold sweat. My mind pulsates with a throbbing ache, as if being relentlessly pounded by a massive block of stone. With wide eyes, I frantically scan my unfamiliar surroundings.

It is then that I notice John seated in the corner of the room, engrossed in a book. His calm demeanor reveals no trace of concern or surprise, almost as if abducting people is just another routine task for him.

The audacity of this man! I want to strangle him.

"Where the hell have you taken me?" I shout at him, but he simply ignores me. Fine, if we're playing games now.

I curl my index finger and softly whisper a few words. Suddenly, his chair bursts into flames, scorching his backside. He springs up from his seat, dropping his book and grabbing his now charred rear end. As he curses and flails about, I smirk at him.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me?" I mock with a smug tone.

The fiery gaze of John meets my own as he casually pats his still-smoking ass. My questioning eyes shift to the discarded book on the ground, my raised eyebrow expressing confusion. "A cook book? Is that truly your book of choice?" I prod. He responds with an eye roll, snatching the book from the floor in annoyance.

Maybe I'm unhinged for being so casual at the moment, but my head hurts too much to really care. I'll unpack this after ibuprofen.

“You insufferable woman, you ruined my favorite armchair,” John seethes, pointing to the charred remains. I roll my eyes, unimpressed by his dramatics. You just kidnapped a witch and you're over here fretting over a chair.

“Take me back home,” I demand, standing my ground.

“No,” he replies firmly, a hint of anger in his voice. What is wrong with this man?

“Yes, I refuse to be your unwilling wife,” I argue, climbing out of bed and trailing after him as he storms into his closet. He pulls out a pair of unburned pants.

“You don’t have a say in this matter,” he declares. I cross my arms in defiance, scoffing at his arrogance.

“Because forcefully taking a wife against her will always make for a happy marriage,” I retort sarcastically.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment when he casually removes his burnt pants, standing only in his undergarments. "Jesus!" I exclaim, quickly turning around to face the wall. He chuckles behind me, clearly amused by my discomfort. " Jesus is not here, darling"

oh fuck right off.

I hear the sound of a zipper, followed by his footsteps approaching. I turn around, bumping my nose into his chest. not expecting him to stand so close. “ the hell” I mumble, rubbing my nose.

“ let me see this contract my coven signed. there’s got to be a loophole. I mean, why me? there’s other witches out there”.

I follow him out of the closet. He spins around, pushing me against the wall. I narrow my eyes, lifting a finger to zap his ass when he slowly pushes my finger down. as if I just showed him an ugly photo.

he then places both his hands on either side of my head. “ be a good girl and hush, yeah?”.

his low husky voice sends a shiver down my spine. fuck me, what’s wrong with me.

“ You be a good boy and release me, yeah?” I mock, smiling.

his hand slithers up to my throat, grabbing it tightly. he growls, I feel the rumble in his chest against mine.

"You wouldn't dare," I gasp, struggling to breathe as his grip tightens around my neck. The fear in my eyes is unmistakable, a raw and primal emotion that courses through my veins like poisoned venom.

"Try me," he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. I can see the darkness within him, the deep-seated hatred and anger that has been simmering inside him for centuries. So much for not harming women, huh? bipolar asshole.

And then, without warning, he lets go of my throat. There's a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that washes over me as he steps back. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes firmly fixed on me.

" All I want is for you to accept your fate and become my wife. I want no one else but you" His voice is calm, almost soothing, but there's an underlying edge to it.

His words prick at something in my brain, erupting pain through my skull.

I glare fiercely at him, mustering all my hate into my eyes. As if that alone could poof him into dust. " Fuck you, you crazy bipolar demon"

He shakes his head, walking away from me. leaving me standing against the wall, mind reeling and grasping for any ration response.

I mean, not even ten hours ago I was freely walking through the forest on my own, collecting herbs. And now, I'm stuck god knows where with a demon who claims I'm his bride.

But why does it feel like I know him?

My head pounds, sharp pain piercing my temples. I cry out, grabbing the sides of my head as I crouch down. Whispers ringing in my ears, the voices of my mother and grandmother.

As fragmented images race through my thoughts, I am transported back in time. Current reality intertwines with hazy flashbacks, creating a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions. In one vivid recollection, I am young and standing in my mother's bedroom. Her screams echo off the walls as she fiercely argues with my grandmother.

Tears stream down her cheeks, "I will take her away, far from his reach." With a forceful shove, she pushes my grandmother out of the way and storms into the closet. Mom, why are you crying.

Overwhelmed by the intense scene before me, I tremble and cry silently. Despite my limited understanding at the time, I know that something is gravely amiss, and it involves me. "There's not a place in heaven or hell where he won't find her, Eylean. Our ancestors made the deal, and there's nothing we can do to stop it" My grandmother argues, chasing after my mother.

Come outside, sweetheart. A voice whispers in my head, gentle and comforting. Come to me.

I do as the voice says, running out of my mothers room. My little legs struggling to keep up with the fast pace, threatening to misstep. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I ran, adrenaline driving me forward. The sound of the back door slamming echoed in my ears, a reminder of the argument that had just taken place, the booming voices inside. Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled towards the stone fence, desperate to get away from the chaos inside.

Why, why me?

With trembling hands, I gripped onto the rough edges of the stones and pulled myself up and over the fence. My clothes snagged against the sharp edges, leaving small tears and scrapes on my skin. But I don't care. All I want is to reach my safe haven. As I reached the other side, my feet hit the soft grass and I took off running again. The cool air brushed against my tear-stained cheeks as I made my way towards the massive red oak tree. It stood tall and proud, its branches reaching towards the sky as if welcoming me with open arms. With shaky breaths, I collapsed against the trunk of the tree. The vines that twisted around it provided a sense of comfort, almost like they were hugging me. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face in my legs, letting out loud sobs as I tried to calm my racing thoughts and emotions.

The wind started to howl, the force of it whipping through my hair and stinging my cheeks. I could feel tears sliding down my face as I tried to make sense of what was happening. The wind calmed, replaced by the sudden cold chill in my bones. Raising my head slowly, I glanced around through my blurry vision. Through the mist that had settled in front of me, I saw a figure emerge. It was a man, his large build crouching down in front of me. As he placed a comforting hand on my knee, I caught a glimpse of his bright blue eyes. They were like pools of clear water, sparkling and drawing me in.

Despite my fear and confusion, I couldn't help but gaze into them, feeling strangely captivated. A small smile tugged at the corners of the man's mouth, as if he were trying his best to offer comfort. His voice, deep and soothing, was one that I recognized from earlier. The sound of his accent brought a slight sense of familiarity. He spoke softly, reassuring me, "It's okay sweetheart. You're safe here." But I couldn't stop the sobs that wracked my body, my mind still reeling from the events that had just unfolded. "But they're fighting," I hiccupped, shaking my head. "Mommy says a bad man is going to get me." My words came out barely audible through my tears, but the man seemed to understand.

He moves to sit down beside me, our body’s brushing against each other.

“ I’m already here, little witch”

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #captain john price #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price #john price x you #captain johnathan price #captain price #captain price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x you #price call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty monster #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare ii

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callsign-rogueone · 1 month

Text

mercy - m.s.

Mira Sorrengail x reader Back in your days at Basgiath, you and your friends made up Mercy, a game of spontaneous “assassination attempts”, to prove your strength and skill in single combat. Mira starts a new game, years after the last one ended, and it has unforeseen consequences. 🎧: “I will show no mercy for you, you have no mercy for me, the only thing that I ask: love me mercilessly” - Hatef—k, The Bravery words: 4.5k 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers. NSFW, afab reader but no pronouns used, violent homoeroticism, sparring and a teeny bit of blood, childhood friends to college rivals to lovers, mysterious unresolved tension between you, reader is coded as being on the curvy side bc I am, one very brief mention of past abuse from your father, you could be Dain’s sister but I didn’t say that part out loud for inclusivity’s sake, use of the nicknames bunny (derogatory, but also affectionate), sweetheart, and baby. softdom!Mira, mild predator/prey vibes, fingering, overstimulation, biting (once), aftercare, love confession, soft ending, I proofed this with a migraine so pls ignore any grammar/syntax errors lmao

A cold hand closes around your throat. You know it can only belong to one person.

“Hi, bunny,” Mira purrs, confirming your theory. “Did you miss me?”

Your pulse jumps under her fingers as she moves forward, pressing her body up against your back. You don’t know if you’re more relieved or scared -- she’s alive, but she hasn’t changed a bit, still hellbent on making you play her little game of cat and mouse.

“When did you decide the game was back on?” you ask, finally able to form complete sentences.

“Just now,” she answers, tightening her grip on your neck ever so slightly. “Why? Have you lost your bite? Did those two years in the middle of nowhere make you even softer?”

You burn at the insinuation, bringing a hand up to dig your nails into her wrist -- she hisses in pain, releasing you, and you take the opportunity to slip out from her reach, unsheathing one of the two blades you have left after last night’s events.

You stalk in circles around each other, waiting for someone to strike first.

“Try not to kill each other before I can say hello,” a familiar voice sighs, and your head snaps up.

Brennan is standing twenty feet away from you, alive.

“Truce,” you and Mira declare in unison, suspending your fight.

You rush forward to embrace her brother, hugging him tightly.

He smiles, resting a hand on your back. “It’s good to see you again, kid.”

“Someone knows how to greet people like a normal person,” you say with a glare over your shoulder at Mira, your voice wavering with emotion. You can’t believe Brennan is standing here in front of you, that he’s still alive.

“And someone didn’t punch me straight in the face when they saw me,” he adds dryly.

Your jaw drops. “What the hell, Mir?”

“I don’t regret it,” she says firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Brennan’s gaze lands on the reddened bandage around your arm. “Do you want me to…?”

“Oh, no,” you say, looking down at it fondly. “This was a parting gift from the Colonel. I’d like it to scar.”

Both siblings know who you’re referring to, know that the man who sired you and your brother isn’t Dad to you, just his title — he’s never acted like anything other than your commanding officer.

Brennan doesn’t ask if you’re sure, doesn’t push the issue further. He knows your relationship with your father has always been strained, that the Colonel would’ve had more than just some choice words for you when he found out you were going to desert.

He remembers the last time he saw you, a week before you and Mira were to enter the rider’s quadrant — he was in his third year at Basgiath, “home” for an evening. He’d been the one to answer the door when you’d shown up, not knowing where else to go.

You didn’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps, but you weren’t given a choice; your family are dragon riders, through and through, even if the line of work cost your mother her life.

The mention of her earned you a bloody nose that Brennan had been able to fix near-instantly. You’d spent the night on the Sorrengails’ couch, the two of you silently agreeing to never speak of it again.

Mira burns with anger, but she stays quiet. “I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“It’s okay,” you say with a sad smile. “At least he’s finally out of my life for good. Are the kids here, too?”

Brennan nods. “Vi and Dain are around here somewhere. But things have gotten… weird between them.”

“That’s an understatement,” someone says quite coldly.

You turn, tensing when you see Xaden Riorson standing ten yards in front of you.

“I didn’t expect any members of your family to be joining us, Captain,” he drawls, inspecting you. “Why the change of heart?”

Brennan is about to speak, to vouch for you, but Mira beats him to it. “You of all people should know that it isn’t fair to judge someone for the actions of their parents.”

You put up a hand to stop her, speaking for yourself. “I came here because it was the right thing to do. The name on my uniform means nothing to me, but if you cannot see past it, I will take my leave and fight on my own.”

He must realize that you’re serious. He softens ever so slightly, but does not apologize. “Very well. Welcome to the revolution.”

Mira leaves you alone — and therefore, on edge — for two days, a silent statement that it’s your turn to sneak up on her, that she’s waiting to see if you’ll bite.

Nothing has changed about her, including her workout routine — she’s holed up in the gym before breakfast, when half the fortress is still asleep.

She has her back to the door, settled into a high plank on one of the small stretching mats. A perfect opportunity; she’s already on the floor, unarmed. Easy.

You take a moment to admire the toned muscle of her back and the green rider’s relic spanning her shoulders before you press your boot into her spine.

She yelps, her concentration broken — her sweaty palms slip against the foam, sending her straight to the floor with a soft thud. You lean down to pin an arm behind her back. “Consider yourself dead, Sorrengail.”

Too perfect. Too easy. It’s your turn to squeak as she yanks you down to the floor with her, your back hitting the hard wood with a wet slap. It feels like your skin is on fire. You gasp for air, but you don’t have time to recover before she’s looming over you, that devilish grin on her face that you’ve missed so much.

Your friend rolls her eyes, stopping Garrick from leaping in to pry you and Mira apart. “It’s a game we made up as cadets. The two of them took it farther than anybody else, as you can imagine.”

You manage to gain your bearings, twisting a leg up and over her shoulder, behind her neck and using the other as leverage to squeeze tighter, locking her in place.

She digs into your hips, clawing at you with blunt nails, but you hardly feel it through the thick thermal fabric of your leggings.

“I should make you a little white flag to wave,” you say with a sweet smile, convinced you’ve won.

She hisses at you, some snide remark already prepared, but someone else speaks first.

“I don’t want to know,” Professor Devera says, looking down at the two of you still tangled up on the floor, “but we have work to do.”

You release Mira, letting her pull back and breathe. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she pants in agreement, and you seal the deal with a firm handshake, rising to your feet.

“Does it bother you at all that she could kill you in your sleep?” Garrick asks as you exit the gym and ascend the stairs.

“That’s against the rules,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Since somebody can’t bear to admit defeat,” she adds, glaring at you.

The two Lieutenants can tell that there’s a story here, and there is. The rule was made during your second game of mercy. After a week of back and forth with no winner and no surrender, she’d taken desperate — or cunning, measures, however you view it — and befriended your bunkmate, Sascha, as a guise to get into your room, where she’d struck unexpectedly.

You’d nearly had a heart attack when you’d woken up to see her looming over you. Needless to say, Sascha did not take Mira on another date, and at your insistence, the two of you added a new rule to the game.

“Your target has to be awake, and not doing anything directly related to base safety or following orders,” you explain. “The barracks are fair game, but not the flight field.”

“Truce can be called at any time, but it expires in an hour, or whenever you’re off duty for the day,” Mira adds, and you both make a mental note of the time.

“Anyone can start a game by striking first. Surrenders can last from two days to two years, apparently,” you say dryly.

Mira finishes the set of rules with a narrow glance at you. “And you can’t seriously hurt them. You can act in self-defense, but try not to draw blood.”

“That was one time,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “And you shouldn’t have snuck up on me while I had a knife in my hand! It’s a miracle I didn’t kill you.” There’s a note of hurt in your voice as you remember how close of a call it had been.

As soon as you saw the blood dripping down the pale skin of her neck, you had dropped everything to take her to the healers, terrified that you’d hit a vein — you hadn’t, but you still didn’t resume the game for two weeks afterward, until the cut had fully healed.

Mira smiles. “I’m touched, bun, but I don’t think you could kill me if you tried.”

You only bare your teeth at her in response.

Mira is waiting for you outside the bathroom door, leaning up against the wall looking bored — she must have been here for a while.

She pushes off the wall lazily, smirking at you. “So, bunny, do you want to give up yet? Call it all off?”

You suppress a shiver. “That wouldn’t be any fun,” you say calmly, hatching a plan; you can lose her easily enough, and get back to your room and be safe until breakfast, when you’ll be properly dressed and armed.

You dry your hands on your towel, dropping it at your feet and putting one leg behind you, bent at the knee as if you’re going to have a proper fight -- then run like hell in the other direction.

You hear her chase after you, the pounding of her footsteps matching up with your racing heart as you make turn after turn.

There are two problems with your plan.

The first; this place is a damn maze. All these doors look the same, and you’re moving too fast to look at the numbers posted on them. And like any good maze, there are plenty of dead ends. You skid to a stop as you realize there’s no way out of this hallway — or just one way; past Mira.

You quickly find the second problem; you’re running in wet sandals. You trip over an edge of the thick rug that lines the stone floor, headed straight for the ground, but Mira grabs you by the wrist, breaking your fall.

You steady yourself, yanking your arm away.

She lets you go easily, content to stand a few feet back and taunt you. “Just a defenseless little bunny, walking down the hallway in these cute little pajamas, all this skin exposed… I know you don’t have any daggers hidden under that excuse of a shirt,” she says, looking at you with the shine of something predatory in her eyes. “I can see everything.”

You move to cover yourself, crossing your arms — the fortress is cold, and you hadn’t bothered to wrap your chest just to walk back from the showers… you squirm under her gaze, embarrassed. “I am clearly at a disadvantage in these clothes,” you huff, “not fair.”

“That’s on you. You knew this could happen when you got dressed,” she dismisses. “But you’ve also been at a disadvantage this whole time playing against me. We both know I’m a better fighter than you. Maybe I’ve just been faking to let you believe that you’re all big and strong.”

That’s the last straw. You kick off your shoes and lunge at her, not caring that you’re still in your pajamas, cornered and unarmed — you’re going to end this round now, prove to Mira once and for all that you can go toe to toe with her and come out on top, disadvantaged or not.

She grins. “I was wondering when you’d start really trying.”

You knock her to the ground, though she lands more gracefully than you had the other day -- your back is still tender.

“You really need to switch it up, Bun. This whole wrestling-on-the-floor thing is getting old,” she taunts, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back.

“Shut - the fuck - up,” you pant. “You think this game isn’t getting old? You’re the one who’s stuck in the past.”

You struggle, and she loosens her grip enough for you to hook one arm over her head, squeezing your elbow around her neck in an attempt to get her to give up.

You hear her wheeze, running out of air, and you’re about to triumphantly proclaim your victory when you feel a sharp pinch in your bicep.

She fucking bit you.

You gasp, releasing her and standing upright to cradle your elbow in one hand and inspect the damage. There’s a perfect imprint of her teeth in the muscle, two tiny punctures from her canines. “What the fuck, Mir? That really hurt.”

“Oops.” She rises to her knees and licks up the small beads of blood forming on your skin, making you squirm.

Gross. Well, actually…

You don’t have much time to think about it before she’s pinning you to the wall. You struggle, but she has you trapped firmly against the cold stone.

“All you have to do is admit that I’m stronger than you. Say the word, and I’ll let you go.”

“No,” you spit, “you cheated and you fucking know it. You were the one who made the no-blood rule.”

“Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?” she asks, looking down at you with that signature smug expression. You want to slap it right off her face, but she’s currently holding both of your wrists in one hand.

Your stomach flips at the realization of just how strong Mira is, how easily she can pin you down, how she could do anything to you right now if she wanted.

Okay, now is not the time to be horny. You have a point to prove.

You start to struggle, but she only bears down harder, presses in closer.

“If you wanted this, you could have just asked,” she says quietly, her nose brushing against the side of your neck.

Your resolve is crumbling. The way she’s talking down to you in that condescending tone and the way her muscles flex as she presses you into the wall have you more turned on than you should be.

You want only one thing more than for her to hold you down and fuck you absolutely stupid, and that one thing is to win, to have Mira Sorrengail beg you for mercy.

You only see one way to get out of this — to cheat, like she did.

You blink up at her, doe-eyed. “Mir, please,” you whimper, pretending to struggle, but all you’re really doing is grinding against the muscled thigh she has wedged between yours.

She takes the bait, loosening her grip and leaning down to nudge her nose against yours, connecting your lips, remarkably gentle.

It feels too good to carry out your plan. You melt right into her, your whole body relaxing, and she drops your wrists to rest her hands on your waist, dipping under the hem of your shirt as she steadies you.

She kisses soft and sweet — a stark contrast to the ache in your arm from where she’d sunk her teeth into your skin.

She pulls away after a moment, smiling at the dazed look on your face. “You wanna be a good little bunny and let me have my way with you? Let me play with that pretty body?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe. It’s not an act; you really do want her hands on you, you have for years. You’ve never felt this needy in your life, never craved anyone’s touch this badly.

You should be more careful what you wish for.

You gasp into her mouth as she tugs aside your pajama shorts and brushes her fingertips against the embarrassingly damp fabric of your underwear, right over your clit.

“Not here,” you manage, clinging to your one last shred of rationality — at any moment, someone could walk out of their room and see you here, in the middle of the hallway, half-dressed, with Mira’s hands all over you.

She appears to agree. She pulls you down the hall by your wrist, wasting no time unlocking her door and leading you through it, pushing you right onto her bed.

Your back hits the mattress and she’s leaning over you in seconds, though the predatory look in her eyes is gone, replaced with something softer.

Your heart pounds. You have no idea what she’s going to do.

“Such a cute little thing,” she coos, her hands moving to knead at the plush of your hips. “Spread your legs for me.”

You comply instantly, starting to take off your shorts, but she stops you.

“Nuh-uh, bun. Keep them on.”

You whine softly, but she doesn’t budge. Her hand slides over your thigh, settling over the soft fabric. “So warm and wet… did you like me on top of you? Like me holding you down?”

“Yes,” you answer readily, panting even though she’s hardly touched you. “N’ liked… liked kissing you.”

It’s a thinly-veiled plea for her to do it again, but it works.

You whine into her mouth as she starts to circle her fingers over your clit through the two layers of clothing, smearing your wetness into them. Her other hand slides up to your chest, squeezing gently through the thin cotton of your shirt.

You should have known that this would be good -- it’s Mira. She knows exactly what she’s doing; she’s had plenty of bedmates over the years, and she isn’t shy about it at all.

You burn with jealousy at the thought of anyone else being in your position, laid underneath her, her hands all over them and her lips on their neck.

Well, that’s new, you think. And not at all concerning.

Your inner monologue is interrupted as she pulls back, guiding you to look at her with a gentle hand on your chin, assuaging your worries. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s just you and me here right now.”

You push away the thoughts, closing your eyes and focusing on the three soft sensations -- her lips on your neck, her hands on your chest and between your legs, teasing you…

She hooks her fingers into the thin straps of your tank top, slipping them over your shoulders one at a time and tugging the neckline down until your breasts spill out over it.

She swears softly. “You’ve always had such a pretty body, bun. Shame you keep it covered up all the time.”

You burn at the praise, feeling exposed, but the embarrassment quickly fades as she kisses her way down your neck and across your collarbones, down…

You can’t hold back the gasp as she laves her tongue over your nipple, her free hand thumbing at the other.

“Oh, you liked that,” she muses, smug, but quickly returns her mouth to the other, sucking gently.

You did. You really liked that. No partner has ever paid this much attention to your chest before, only some casual groping before they moved things downstairs. Nobody’s paid this much attention to you, period, taken this much time preparing you for the main event.

You can feel the pressure building between your hips, your muscles tightening. You might actually cum just from the way she’s still circling her fingers over your clit through your underwear, and her mouth…

“Want me to keep going?” She asks, and you can hear the grin in her voice as she continues. “You know what to say. Just one little word.”

You don’t care if this is all an elaborate scheme to get you to admit defeat -- you’d do anything if it meant she’d keep touching you. You’re already addicted to her after one dose; you need her like you need air.

“Mercy,” you beg, “I’ll admit it, you’re— you’re stronger, you’re the better fighter, just please don’t stop, need it so bad,”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she coos, smoothing a hand over your hip.

You let out a soft whimper as she sucks hard on the side of your throat, undoubtedly going to leave a mark.

There’s that rough edge you were expecting.

She pulls down your shorts and underwear in one quick movement, spreading your thighs apart easily. “Gods, bun, you’re soaked.”

Enough for her to slip two fingers right in. She finds that special spot near instantly, laughing when you squeak in shock.

“Oh, right there? Does that feel good?” She asks, even though it’s clear as day that you fucking love it.

You give her a soft sound of affirmation, biting your cheek to hold back the slew of whimpers.

“You’re probably used to keeping quiet, hm? Laying in your bunk with a hand over your mouth, wishing someone was there to make you feel good? Do you think of me when you touch yourself, sweetheart?”

“Yes, ah, I do,” you admit, too far gone to care. It’s true; you’ve spent many a night pretending your hand belonged to her, imagining a moment just like this.

She continues to batter her fingertips against that little soft spot, not letting up for a second. “And does it feel this good when it’s just you alone?”

“No,” you cry, “this is, ah, this is better, oh, fuck, Mira,”

Your fingers flex helplessly, reaching for something, anything to ground you, and she takes pity on you, giving you her hand to hold while you sob into her pillow.

“Shh, bun, it’s okay. Just let yourself feel good. Know you needed this so bad, needed someone to fuck all the thoughts out of that pretty head.”

She strokes her thumb over your clit in time with the movement of her fingers, and that’s all you need; that and her soft voice cooing all those condescending things to you.

You clear your head enough to speak properly, or try to. “Mira, please, gods, fuck, gonna, ah, gonna cum,”

“Go ahead, bun. Cum for me.”

You’ve always been good at following orders.

On her command, every muscle in your body tightens then releases. You grip her hand for dear life as warmth flows through your body, eyes rolling back and cute little whimpers pouring from your lips.

“Fuck, bun, you get so tight when you cum,” she swears, but she doesn’t stop or slow down at all, continuing to press and rub and kiss, overwhelming your senses.

“Too much,” you whimper, squirming away from her touch, but she doesn’t stop.

She shushes you softly. “Just relax for me, sweetheart. It’ll feel better in a minute.”

You sob, dropping your head back onto the pillow in defeat -- you aren’t in a headspace to fight it, and you aren’t sure if you even want to; it hurts, but it’s still so fucking good.

She slows for a moment. “You know what to say if it’s truly too much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you manage, “I know.”

“Good bunny.”

You whine softly at the praise, gasping as the sharp sensitivity turns back into pure pleasure.

She knows those panicked little whimpers mean you’re close. “It’s okay, bun. Let go for me.”

You unclench your free hand from the sheets, yanking her down by the collar to kiss you as you fall apart beneath her, your soft cries muffled by her lips.

She slows to a stop, letting you ride it out, giving you a few more soft kisses. You whine softly as she withdraws her fingers, feeling empty without them.

She rests her hand on your shaking thigh, petting the soft skin gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart, we’re done,” she soothes. “You did so, so good for me.”

She easily moves you to sit up in her lap, wrapping her arms around you and letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

She hasn't been this tender with you in years. You savor the moment, hiding your face in the curve of her neck as you try to catch your breath.

“Can you look at me?” She asks after a minute.

You lift your head up enough to see her beautiful brown eyes gazing at you with a softness you’ve never seen in them before.

“There’s my pretty baby. Was I too rough with you?” She asks, genuine concern in her voice.

You shake your head. “No,” you promise, nuzzling your face into her neck. “Felt really good.”

You feel great. Your whole body feels fuzzy, your muscles relaxed and your brain completely liquified, all thoughts of the week’s events wiped away save for this moment; Mira holding you so gently, stroking your back — a minute of soft quiet.

You take your chance.

“Do you remember the night we came back from Squad Battle, our second year?” You ask, closing your eyes.

“Of course I remember, bun, that was fucking terrifying. Why…”

You continue. “I couldn’t even make it upstairs to my room, I was that exhausted. I was planning to sleep in the courtyard, until you found me.”

She looks confused. She knows this story; why are you telling it again? And why now?

“You didn’t leave my side for a full day. You helped me shower, found me clean clothes, let me sleep in your bed until you were convinced I wouldn’t die… You put aside the game, and the fact that we’d spent the last two days on opposite sides of a war, because you were that worried about me. I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since that night, and I have spent every waking moment since graduation regretting how we left things. I missed you so godsdamned much, Mir. I don’t want to be apart from you ever again.”

You can feel her sigh of relief, her whole body relaxing against yours.

“I love you too,” she says quietly, still stroking your back. “I was so relieved when I saw you again, bun. I wanted to tell you how much I missed you, how sorry I am for ending things that way, but I was too scared. It was easier to just go back to the way things were before,” she admits. “You know I’m no good at that stuff. You’ve always been the one who was good with words, not me.”

You smile, leaning forward to brush your nose against hers. “Then let me tell you every morning and night for the rest of our days how much I love you, Mira Sorrengail.”

#mira sorrengail #mira sorrengail x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing smut #18+#fourth wing x reader #Mira and Bunny #mine

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thenixkat · 2 months

Text

[This post contains spoilers]

My guy Laios is a digimon kid not a pokemon kid.

Due to his childhood he'd likely relate to the whole aspect of the protags getting spirited away into a fantastical otherworld or choosing to go there more appealing than folks just existing in one

the types of designs that Laios likes lean more the way of digimon than pokemon. He likes overdesigned critters with clashing mishmashed parts and oozing cool factor over anything else. You saw how disappointed Laios was with Marcille's cute simple familiar designs.

Laios wants to have friends who like him for who he is and Digimon's whole thing with the chosen children and their deity-assigned best monster buddies who love them no matter what would be more appealing than Pokemon's monster pets thing.

Laios seeing the kids in Digimon Frontier getting to be digimon and the kids in Digimon Tamers biomerging with their digis and goes "Fuck yeah!"

Part of the reason Laios is infatuated with monsters is because they're dangerous, aggressive, and eat people and when he was young he used them as a vehicle for his violent fantasies towards the people who bullied him and his sisters and the villagers who were bigoted to his sister. Digimon most certainly hits those same boxes so much more than Pokemon. Digimon fights can get down right grizzly and the digimon themselves pose a much greater potential threat to humans. Hell, in some series in the Digimon franchise digimon are making organized attempts to wipe out humans or simply preying on them.

Given the kinds of subject matter that Digimon gets into with its human cast, it would likely have a much better catharsis factor for a young Laios. Especially the series in Digimon that involves issues with older and younger siblings.

I can picture a young Laios relating to Matt, Izzy, Davis, Ken, Takato, Jeri, etc (there are so many) waaaaaaaaay more than the main folks in Pokemon.

Being able to relate to Ken and Takato but also be made very uncomfortable in being able to relate to them and probably prompting some internal reflection

He'd make so many fan digimon. He'd love the og digimon artstyle

Would enjoy the sheer veriesty that Digimon games offer and would have fun with the bullshit hard ones where you have to raise digimon in specific ways to get certain evolutions

In conclusion, Laios is team Digimon. But you know who would love Pokemon? Marcille. Marcille would love Pokemon and Viva Pinata.

#nix meows #dungeon meshi #digimon #spoilers #laios touden

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melonteee · 3 months

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When I watched most of your one piece videos and before I ever saw your real face I thought you'd be someone around your 30s or 40s. 😁

One reason was your voice and accent. I'm not that familiar with Australian accents except for OzzyMan (I'm ESL).

Another reason was your One Piece Women video. The way you talked about fanservice and women's body types was, not gonna lie, not sth young people in these times say that often because they've been infested by radfems and their rhetoric and espouse them constantly.

I saw the beginning of a video essay recently where the YouTuber straight up said that female characters who have been "sexualized" whatever definition he used there, don't count as good female characters at all and in any sense.

In other words, a female character who in some way shape or form appeals to men in a sexual way doesn't have any worth as a female character. Popular radical feminism on the internet.

When you started talking about the OP women without going into that direction I breathed a sigh of relief. You said that sexy character design for the women wasn't a big deal but that the lack of variety wasn't good.

And that was, at least where I was, the mainstream talking point in the early 10's about anime/cartoon characters. So, yeah, I thought you'd be older. 💕

Haha no I'm afraid I'm in my youthful mid 20s! That radfem rabbit hole was one I remember being in when I was 13-18 on Tumblr, but I avoid that kinda stuff like the plague now because radfem beliefs tend to be a dog whistle for terfs. And I'm saying this because if anyone reading this falls prey to the whole "women are biologically superior to men" rhetoric, I really need you to be careful, as that can and will nosedive into terf territory.

As for the sexualisation stuff, the whole "characters who have been "'sexualized" don't count as good female characters at all and in any sense" is ridiculous, because no matter what kind of female character you make, they will be sexualised in some way shape or form by men who find them attractive.

BUT honestly the biggest thing for me is like, this demonisation of sexuality and sexyness? Because, as a gay woman, I am also sexualising characters like Nami. Just because I'm not a man doesn't mean it's automatically redundant that I also find Nami extremely sexy and stare at her tits waiting for them to bounce. There's literally nothing wrong with Oda enjoying women, or enjoying tits or ass, he is allowed to make a female character that embodies his desires. But, as you said here, and as I said in my video, the problem is he's doing that with EVERY woman. I personally don't have any grudges for how Oda draws Nami and Robin, I just truly wish it wasn't every damn woman in One Piece lmao.

Honestly I'm in such a weird place with it because, again, I like women. I like looking at tits and I like looking at women. My unpopular opinion is I also find Nami's design very sexy and very pleasing because...I like tits too LMAO and I always feel like us gay women are forgotten about in the conversation of One Piece girls and their bodies. I'm not going to pretend I HATE the girl designs in One Piece because I really don't, but of course there is a difference when a man does it compared to when a woman does it.

My view on it will always be...the issue isn't men looking at fictional women in any kind of sexual way, it's that WOMEN are demonised when they do the same thing back for fictional men. If women draw fictional men being sexy, being objectified (although you can't objectify a fictional character really but you get what I mean), they seem to be swarmed by men who find that gross and detestable. But when men do the same thing back to fictional women... it's fine and natural?? So pointing at the one piece girls, saying it's too sexual and demonising it, is counter productive in my opinion.

As an individual, you are allowed to be uncomfortable with it, you are allowed to wish they looked different, but I don't think anyone has any right to say they SHOULDN'T look like that. Because that creates this air of "Well we can't put our own desires in fictional characters full stop!" and then this weird guilt is felt amongst all parties.

Equality to me is not taking away the bikini armour from a female character, it's allowing both the male AND female characters to be able to wear that bikini armour. Everyone is allowed to have their sexual desires and sexual preferences in fictional characters.

I love Nami, I love her big boobies, I JUST wish Zoro's tits bounced as much as hers did. That is all!

#ask #melonask

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thewitchfarhan · 9 months

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Why are you reblogging from evilios? Do you know that they’re a zeus apologist, right? 💀💀💀

I'm going to preface this by saying this is going to be a *MONSTER* of a post, so be warned - it's gonna be long.

TLDR: “But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.”

Hi anon - thank you for your inquiry. This is actually something I have been pondering for a bit and I feel ready to express my feelings around this issue.

To start - I am *very* new to the Hellenic Pagan community. While I have been a practicing Witch and Pagan for about 10 years - Hellenic Paganism is not a practice I have worked with/within prior to 2023.

Additionally - I make a point to not pass judgment on a spiritual belief or path before researching it from a third-party point of view, and examining the historical documentation available (as opposed to just taking into account UPG).

With that being said - my feelings toward Zeus as a deity/spiritual entity are negative (as you can see below from a previous post I made).

A good portion of the myths about Zeus that I am familiar with have heavy themes that center around male entitlement, assault, r*pe, and misogyny. All of which are not only morally reprehensible - but also somewhat triggering for me as someone who grew up Catholic.

I have seen individuals say that you have to take into account the “historical context” in which myth and religious texts are written. I have seen individuals say things along the line of “These myths were written by misogynistic men so they projected their own values and beliefs onto Zeus, that’s now who Zeus really is!”

[I'm going to use the anon above as an example because their thoughts and sentiments are ones I see often from Zeus Devotees / Zeus Worshipers]

I’m not in the business of trying to tell others what to believe - not because I think all beliefs are valid - but because I know it’s pointless.

However, if you are going to use Greek Myths as the source material for your religious practice - then it would be more logical to compare these myths - not to Paradise Lost - but to the Bible.

So, if Greek Myths (the basis of Hellenic Paganism) are symbolic and not to be taken literally - then prey tell where are you getting your canonical information from? Which religious texts *are* to be taken literally?

The bottom line, and answer to this quandary, is this:

All religion is invented. All religion is made up. All religion was created by humanity.

Cows and Crows don’t have religion. They do not build altars or shrines. They do follow religious codes. They do not worship or name divinity.

We can trace a before and after period for every religion's existence. There is not one religion that has existed from the dawn of time (and if anyone claims such they’re lying because humanity evolved from other species who definitely did not have any concept of ‘religion’).

So, with that being said, if you aren’t part of an organized religion/coven/cult - then you have two options.

1. Interpret all holy and traditional texts as literal and abide by their ever moral, rule, and decision within your personal practice.

2. Acknowledge that you are picking and choosing what you believe to fit your own moral and personal narrative. Admit that you are making up your own personal gnosis and acknowledge that any judgment of your personal practice is also a judgment of your person. Admit that if you aren’t taking source material literally (which is a totally fine thing to do) you are inventing your own religious gnosis.

Want to worship Zeus and ignore all myths that portray him as a r*pist? Go ahead! I have no issue with you. Just don't try to somehow make those myths "valid" or "just symbolic" - just admit what you're doing and move on.

Because if you’re going to go around saying “Oh this historical information is valid but the other one isn’t and shouldn’t be judged from a modern lens!” then congratulations! I’m going to view your practice through the same lens as those who praise the Christian God as an all-loving entity and ignore the fact that (according to the story of Noah’s Ark in the Bible) he murdered every single adult and child on planet Earth, aside from a chosen few.

At the end of the day - do what you want. I don’t have any authority to stop you and I’m not gonna fight with you. But if you want my personal opinion on Zeus worship it is this:

Zeus, for me, is categorically defined by his actions. While there are many stories of SA and Abuse in Greek Mythology, Zeus as King of the Gods takes the cake. Not only because of the sheer number of stories that center around him committing acts of SA - but also because as the King of the Gods, he should be held to a higher standard.

Since I am not part of an organized religion/coven/cult - I get to choose how I interact with spirituality, and for me, that includes judging it through a modern lens.

I chose to not ignore the myths that portray Zeus in a negative light because I think the sheer number of those myths defines Zeus' character and what he represented in ancient times.

But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

Feel free to send any follow-up questions, I could talk about this shit for days.

#paganblr #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan #paganism #hellenic #hellenic paganism #helpol #zeus #zeus worship #hellenic polytheism #TW SA #TW Assault

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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Prey: Cold Waters

In which Jungkook dreams- of warmth, love, and the soft comfort of safety. The only issue? Louri never dream without reason.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, vomiting (briefly mentioned), blood (teeny tiny injury), protective!koo, dead dove do not eat, major angst, fluff

Story length: mid

All content can be found under the Tag #Prey

..........................................................................................

He's surrounded by white.

There's a certain smell around him, soft and gentle, covering him in a comfort he doesn't remember ever feeling. He's a Louri after all- raised to be bold and brave, not soft and vulnerable. His kind survived and thrived because they've embraced their instincts while moving forward with the course of time. But for all of the change and growth, there's been sacrifices;

Nurturing traditions like family and children have long become uninteresting and undesirable for Louri people. Seen as a hassle and burden, it's become a problem, a hindrance in career and sucess- resulting in biology changing to the point of conceiving a child being impossible without medical assistance, and less Louri passing the compatibility tests nowadays.

Even worse: more and more have been diagnosed as infertile.

Therefore, a lot of traditions have been lost to time- unseen for years and generations. Other things have become so rare they've just been completely forgotten- so when Jungkook walks around in the lands of dreams, he's unsure what exactly is going on.

All he knows is that he doesn't ever want to leave where he is.

Or does he? Isn't something missing?

There's a trace of your scent around him, but he doesn't know where you are. He can't see you, or anything really- all he knows is there's a weight in his arms, too small to be you.

"...kook? Hey, Jungkookie?"

He hears you call out to him, distant, but it's there. Looking around, he can't see past the fog surrounding him, thick clouds making it impossible to spot anything further away than an arms length. He wants to call your name- but he stays silent, lips sealed shut.

"hey, Jungkook?"

You're a little louder, but still not quite there. He feels like his body starts to weigh more again, as if he's growing aware of his limbs again, when the scene darkens and his consciousness returns.

His eyes flutter open, suddenly looking into your face, smiling softly at him, faint sound of traffic being heard from outside the opened window. The fog is gone, everything saturated in the colors of reality, familiar surroundings back again. "wow, you slept for ages." you giggle, before pecking his lips and leaving the bedroom. "I made you your favourite- I hope your stomachache has gotten better!" you call out, while he sits up in bed.

Did he.. Dream?

He's heard about dreams before, from a friend of Yoongi's, and he knows from you that humans dream fairly frequently, but he himself has never experienced it. It must've been what it was, but why did he dream? He should call Jin about it.

Because this has been the second time now.

"Huh? Where are you going?" You wonder, as Jungkook simply kisses the side of your neck, before he puts on his shoes to walk towards the door.

"Nothing, I just forgot about something. I'll be back as quick as I can though!" He calls out before hurrying out the door-

Leaving you confused.

◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇

Blood is taken. Tested. Results are read.

Seokjin checks them twice. Then once more. But there's nothing wrong with any of it. The results are clear, they're honestly textbook-worthy. They're exactly what one would expect them to look like in a situation like this.

Jin doesn't need to test you. There's no reason for it. Jungkook is a faithful mate, never even glancing into someone else's direction. And his blood, everything about him, shows the first signs of fatherhood.

He's changing, dreaming, because he's created a new life. His body is waiting, expecting, preparing.

And as soon as Jungkook is told the news, he's running out the room, barging into the bathroom close by, clinging onto the toilet as he heaves whatever leftovers he's still got in his stomach, before he somehow collects himself enough to splash some cold water in his face, trying to get himself together.

He's still in shock.

Jungkook hasn't ever seen himself like this.

The mirror shows a reflection of someone that looks like him- but strangely doesn't feel like it's him. Pupils blown wide, roots of his hair longer and unfamiliar in their deep black color, his face just as disbelieving as he himself. The splash of cold water did nothing to wake him up it seems.

A knock on the door makes him turn around- fearfully and more or less making him jump at the sudden sound, but Jin seems understanding as he sighs. "I know it's hard." he tells the younger Louri.

"Why is this happening to me?" Jungkook asks, voice trembling. "Why.. Us?" he almost whispers.

"I don't know." Seokjin sighs empathetically, a hand on the younger one's neck as a sign of comfort. "But I'll be with you until the end." he says, while Jungkook himself averts his gaze.

Unsure what's going to happen to the both of you now.

"She's going to die." Jungkook stampers quietly, sounding somewhat controlled, but he's not. "I'm going to loose her."

"We don't know that yet." Seokjin tries to comfort his friend. "There's not enough cases to make a generalization yet. Sure, there's never been a successful pregnancy with both chikd and mother surviving, but that doesn't mean it's impossible." He tries, and Jungkook just laughs, without any humor.

"You know her." He says lowly. "You know her body. She won't be able to handle it." He tells his friend. "I know that. You know it. She probably knows it, too." He scoffs, closing his eyes as he runs his hands over his face. "What do I do now?" He asks no one in particular.

There's not much.

He can either go through with it, or terminate it right now. There's no third option, no safer way, no better idea that could let him keep both you and his unborn child.

"You'll need to inform her." Jin says. "Or I can do it, if you'd like." He mumbles, but Jungkook shakes his head.

"I'll do it." He almost whispers. "Its my fault. I don't.. I didn't know it would happen, how did it even happen?!" He's now becoming more and more frantic. "I'm not on any hormones, no medication, how in the name of the gods did this even happen in the first place?!" He barks out. "Are you absolutely sure?" He presses, and Seokjin nods.

"It has to be." He says. "I can give you a testing kit for her to do at home, but I'm certain that she's pregnant." He says, and it seems like Jungkook falters a little at the word.

It's like it's suddenly real.

"What are we going to do?"

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"I.. can you.. seokjin gave me this." Jungkook says, pale as a ghost. "There's.. pictures under the instructions. I'd.. like you to do this." He says, and you take the small box from his shaking hand, a bit nervous now.

"Is everything alright?" You wonder. "You're worrying me a little."

He wants to say that you shouldn't. That you don't have to. But he can't lie.

You wordlessly walk into the bathroom, following the instructions before you pinch the tip of your finger for a drop of blood to be picked up by what looks like a piece of paper at the end of a plastic tester, before you do the more intimate part of it.

You've realized what this is already.

You're not sure what to think of it. In a way, you're not scared, just worried for Jungkook. He seemed terrified, and you're not really sure what to make of it. You know his fears- but maybe he just doesn't want a child with you? Even though you've talked about it, there's still doubts in the back of your head.

Your phone vibrates, the timer has stopped.

You pick up the small plastic tester.

A circle is shown. You're actually creating a tiny little life inside you right now.

Walking out of the small room, you wordlessly place the object on the kitchen counter where Jungkook has placed his head down, waiting. It snaps up at the noise, at the sight, and his eyes stare for a good minute or so, before he dares to pick it up.

"What.. do we do now?" You wonder quietly, scared to cut through the silence. At the sound of your voice, he looks over at you, deep in thought, before his gaze drops down to your stomach.

"I can't loose you." He says, the first words he's said since you've returned from the thest. "I can't."

"But you won't?" You say, unsure. "Jin said he'll help us." You say, but he doesn't seem convinced at all, still staring. "Do you.. not want it?" You ask quietly, and for a moment, there's no reaction from him, no movement at all, before he gently picks up up and sits you on the kitchen counter. He's now face to face with you, before he wraps his arms around your middle, face resting against your abdomen.

"Of course I want it." He quietly says. "But I want you too."

"You have me." You say, carefully running your hand over his shoulder.

"Who knows for how long." He mumbles.

"Well just have to see, I guess." You shrug.

"How can you be this calm about this?" He whines almost into your clothes, arms tightening a bit.

"I don't know." You say. "Seokjin told me that I knownmy body best. And right now, I feel perfectly fine. A bit hungry maybe, but that's besides the point." You giggle, trying to lift the mood a little. "I've got you by my side, and him for whenever I've got questions or I need help. I'll be fine." You say.

"And if you're not?" He quietly worries. "If you're dying?"

"I won't." You say. "I can't."

"You will." He fights back.

"No, Jungkook, you don't understand." You say, pushing him a bit so he looks at you with his already red rimmed, glossy eyes. "Even if I don't make it, there's always gonna be a part of me with you." You explain. "Whenever you'll look at them-" you look down at your stomach, "-I'll be there too."

And at that he cries.

Because he doesn't just want to keep a piece of you. But everything.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"Absolutely amazing." Seokjin says, putting his devices away before looking at you with a smile. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Slightly elevated levels here and there, but that's simply to aid the growing fetus. It's remarkable." He says.

"Well.. I mean, nothing is really going on yet." You giggle. "Its still tiny, I mean. It'll probably take a while until, you know, you'll notice anything." You shrug, but Seokjin shakes his head.

"Not quite." He says, typing some things in. "Your body is already adapting to everything. It's working hard at providing optimal conditions for the child, but you're physically absolutely not showing any signs of lower energy or fatigue. That's really out of the ordinary." He explains. "Humans really are quite different from us."

"So she's doing good?" Jungkook anxiously asks from the back. "Nothings wrong yet?"

"Nothing at all. Or have you noticed anything odd?" Jin asks you, but you shake your head.

"I'm a bit hot and cold sometimes, and a little grumpy in the mornings, but I don't feel sick at all or anything." You offer.

"Slightly elevated temperature is normal." The doctor immediately tells the fidgeting Lourie behind him, waving him off. "And like I said, you know yourself best. Rest when you need it, exercise if you'd like. Just nothing too exhausting."

"She's absolutely not exercising." Jungkook answers strongly, walking towards you to help you down from the elevated examination bed. "I'll bring her back next week for another checkup."

"Do I really need to be monitored this much?" You complain a little.

"To be quite honest, yes." Jin somberly explains. "I'll come over though. There's no need to come here every time. Only for specifics."

You help Jin file some information, before you're ready to walk out the room. "Oh, eh, Jin?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know his attention is on you. "When do.. you know, when can we find out the gender?" You wonder, and Jungkook looks down at you.

"I'll tell you." He says. "As soon as I know, I'll tell you."

"Louri can sense a child's gender at a certain point in its development inside the womb." Jin explains walking closer. "As a father, he's going through changes as well. Depending on how these will present themselves, we will know." He explains a bit more in depth, making you nod, before you walk out.

"You're still so calm about this." Jungkook wonders as he walks home with you. "You don't seem worried at all."

"I already told you, I'm not." You say. "Theres no reason to be. It wouldn't change anything for the better."

He has to agree with you on that. Worrying might only bring more trouble for you. So maybe, he should stop that as well- or at least tone it down a bit, and embrace the changes to come for the time being. He will deal with any problems once they're there.

He straightens his posture a bit suddenly, steps more sure now as his hand holds yours a bit tighter.

He will be the best mate. The best partner. The best friend.

And the best father.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #alien!jungkook #alien jungkook #prey au

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jackdaniel69nice · 3 months

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Tokoyami has amazing vision, far better than a humans. For those of you who know little about bird biology im about to inform you on several important points.

The shape of Tokoyami’s eyes, most birds of prey and humans have something called binocular vision meaning that their eyes face forward allowing for increased depth perception. This indicates that they are predators and use this ability to hunt because they are able to focus on the objects in front of them with accuracy. Almost all other birds though have something called monocular vision where there eyes are on the sides of their heads allowing for a greater range of vision. This allowed them to see predators sneaking up on them with more ease with a near 360 viewing. I think tokoyami has binocular vision overall but the odd shape of his head and angle of his eyes allows him to have a greater field of vision like monocular seeing birds.

There are downsides to his head shape. Due to his beak he will often tilt his head to the side to look with one eye if the object it close up. If the object is farther he won’t have much issue but he may tilt his head down.

Birds also have another feature in their eyes that allows them to “zoom” in on objects farther than humans can see. The reason for this is complicated but a big part is how they can change the shape of their cornea to allow more light and having multiple lenses to condense that light as well as larger eyes compared to head size. The point is most birds have at least double the vision of a human and I’m giving that ability to tokoyami as well as hawks. The reason bird vision is so enhances is because of their flight and being so far from the ground, so our resident bird duo are definitely going to need it when flying around.

Human eyes have three cones in them that allow us to see the visible light spectrum but birds have FOUR cones, one that lets them see ultraviolet light. Being able to see ultraviolet makes thing look very different for tokoyami. Things that are sensitive to ultraviolet like invisible ink are visible to him, and the uv blocking sunscreen makes people look like they have face paint. The lights in his room may also be ultraviolet and give off more light to him than we can actually see.

Most bird owners are familiar with the term “eye pinning”, this is when the bird’s eyes are reacting to stimuli and cause the pupils to dilate. Tokoyami tries to keep his eyes from doing this to much but when he’s distracted, relaxed, or very focused you can see them move. Pinning is a good way to tell a birds mood from fear to excitement and tokoyami is no exception. Of course with his closed off nature he wouldn’t want anyone to see that and he considers it quite embarrassing along with most of his other avian traits, but that’s a whole different can of worms.

This only encapsulates the capabilities of Tokoyami’s eyes, he has several other avian traits that can assist with his heroics but he has yet to capitalize on…maybe I need to turn this into a series

#bnha #boku no hero academia #tokoyami fumikage #bnha headcanons #still contemplating whether or not to give tokoyami a third eye lid so I didn’t mention it

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fluffypichu876 · 5 months

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In retribution to my dear mutual @prototypelq's post, I will also be writing about my 3 favorites games of all time! Making this list was a bit easier than I expected, but because I have too many beloved games to choose from expect a lot of honorable mentions hehehe

And the first game on the list is, of course:

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

It's no surprise that this game would be here. I mean, it's not like I replay it every year!

SOTN is a game of the genre "Metroidvania". You probably know this term if you have heard of games like Hollow Knight or Ori, but if you don't, basically, a Metroidvania game takes place on a huge map consisting of interconnected smaller rooms. When playing, you'll travel and explore around these rooms, defeating enemies and unlocking new abilities that allow you to acess new areas that were unaccessible before.

The OG Metroid on the NES can be considered the very first game of this genre, but Super Metroid and SOTN together were responsible for defining its standards and popularity today. Hence the term, "Metroidvania".

This game is a heck lot of fun to play. Dracula's Castle is huge and full of interesting areas to explore, filled with enemies and secrets of all kinds. SOTN is based on an RPG-like stat and level system, and you gradually grow stronger as you defeat foes, gain EXP, and level up. Weapons, armor, and other equipment are found all through the castle, further increasing your stats and other attributes.

The soundtrack is an absolute masterpiece. I'm not exaggerating when I say that Castlevania as a franchise has some of the best OST's out there. Michiru Yamane is a great composer, and her instrumental works fit CV's themes and tone really well.

SOTN does not use MIDI samples processed by the PSX's sound chip (except for the Librarian's theme). Instead, all of the game's songs are played through audio streams, granting them CD-like quality, which is a little rare in other games on the system. Here's an example of what Yamane could do with this audio quality:

youtube

Sounds great, doesn't it?

Another aspect of SOTN that I love is of course, the visuals. To this day, I consider this game to have some of the best 2D graphics ever. The levels and backgrounds are beautiful, and every tile is filled with plenty of detail. All of Alucard's animations are fluid, graceful, and an absolute delight to watch and control. Often, the game will mix in 3D elements to enhance the beauty of an area, and it looks great.

There are so many little hidden details in the game that make you appreciate the developers's love and care even more. For example, in the Outer Wall area, a small suspended room can be found at the area map's bottom. In this room alone:

A falcon/hawk/eagle/bird of prey can be observed in her nest. As you progress through the game and return to this room, you can see the falcon coming back everytime to lay, incubate, and take care of her offspring. It's really damn cute.

A telescope can be found in the left wall. Using it allows you to see the Ferryman from the Underground Caverns.

Alucard can sit in one of the chairs. Leaving him there for a few minutes will cause him to fall asleep. Aditionally, in the Japanese version, the fairy familiar will sing him a lullaby (she can sing in any chair, in fact.)

Now, what is the purpose of this area, you ask? None. There are no items, weapons, enemies, or anything of use to the player (except for map completion). The devs just created this room to add more life and personality to the game. And this is just one example!

As much as I love this game, though, I do admit that it isn't as perfect as most people make it. It does have its flaws: the game has very bad balancing issues, and the difficulty curve is essentially non-existent.

I never liked the Inverted Castle. Not because it's just the normal castle turned 180º, but because it doesn't feel like it was coherently designed, instead just quickly put together so they could ship the game claiming it to have double the original content (Galamoth was a great addition, though. I might make a post someday on why I love this boss so damn much).

Overall, this game means a lot to me. It pretty much set up my standards and taste with video games, and it made me understand why I enjoy playing them so much. It's a great game that I recommend to pretty much everyone! It's fun and really easy to pick up, taking only about 12-18 hours to beat for the first time, at max.

Also, can we just appreciate Ayami Kojima's wonderful cover art for the game?

And now, for my second most favorite game:

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

My first (and only so far) FromSoft game, and boy did I fall in love with this game.

Well, to begin it, Sekiro has one of the best combat systems I have ever had the honor to experience. It's based primarely on player reaction, testing their ability to counter, parry, and dodge the various attacks thrown at them. Equipped with only one sword (and a few very useful prosthetic appendages), our protagonist Wolf must defeat all sorts of opponents, from respected warriors, shinobis with no honor, animals (yes I did die to a rooster. Twice), the undead, demons, and much more, all so can rescue and avenge his master.

Using your trusted katana, you have the ability to deflect enemy strikes based on your input timing, dropping their guard and allowing for attacks of your own. When fighting enemies in this game, you are not aiming for their health. Instead, you aim for their posture. As you deflect attacks with perfect timing, your enemy will slowy begin to lose posture, and once said posture breaks, you can go for a finisher attack that instantly depletes their whole health bar. It's hella satisfying to pull off. Deflecting attacks poorly can lead to your own posture breaking, though, so paying attention is essential.

There are other aspects to the game's combat, such as Perilous Attacks, which cannot be deflected. To deal with them, you must either dodge, jump, or counter, adding even more danger to a fight and demanding focus from the player. Your prosthetic can also hold a few unique abilities, such as the Firecracker, which helps stunning certain opponents. Wise usage of these Prosthetic Tools will greatly help you on the harder fights.

Oh, and there's a catch: Wolf is no mere shinobi. He was blessed (or rather cursed?) with the power of the Divine Heritage, granting him immortality and the ability to revive from the dead for all of eternity. Gameplay-wise, this means that whenever you die, you'll receive one (or two, sometimes three) chance to revive on the spot at half health, allowing you to properly finish off your opponent. But don't think this makes the game easy! Reviving in the face of a tough boss never means an immediate victory, trust me.

Unlike Dark Souls, which rewards a more defensive playstyle, in Sekiro, the player must be aggressive and constantly take risks to overtake their opponents. Dodging everything and staying away will only drag on the fight and allow the enemy to regain their posture. As a certain character would say, "Hesitation is defeat".

But the amazing combat isn't this game's only strength. Another aspect that I love is how beautiful the game looks. Everything from the lighting, the colors, the gorgeous views, and the very well designed areas come together really nicely, and exploring this rather linear game is an absolute delight.

The battles look graceful, and not just because of the combat system. The special effects look amazing, and add great beauty and danger to every strike. The Divine Dragon's bossfight is the most gorgeous part of the game. It's so cinematic and breath-taking that despite being one of From's easiest bosses, it's easily one of the most memorable ones.

youtube

The instrumental soundtrack is really nice, complementing each moment of the game pretty well. The Divine Dragon battle above has one of my tracks in the game.

And as expected, the game is tough as nails (I died like, 50 times at the first mini-boss. The Ogre has no fucking chill). One of the hardest FromSoft games, according to fans. This game demands a lot of the player's attention, skill, and mostly importantly: their knowledge of the game and how everything works. Your first few hours will be very difficult, as you slowly get an grasp on the game. But once you beat Lady Butterfly or Genichiro (two of the game's most important skill checks), everything just clicks and the rest of the game becomes a lot more doable.

Overall, this game was an blast to play, but it may not be for everyone. I recommend it for anyone who likes FromSoft's other titles, as well as for those who enjoy a good challenge. If you want to get into more difficult games, this game is not too bad of a choice, since it's extremely balanced and very skill-based, completely free of bullshit.

Oh well, time for my last but not least favorite!:

Devil May Cry 5

This shouldn't come off as a huge surprise xD

I might have only gotten into this game earlier this year, but the 160 hours I currently have on it speaks more than enough. I LOVE this game and don't plan on dropping it anytime soon!

It's rare for me to hyperfixate on one specific game and play it for hours and hours without tiring like this, and DMC5 is currently my second worst case of this xD (the first one being Castlevania of course, in which I have 100%'d like 4 games :P).

DMC's combat system is simply too much fun. You have lots of moves at your disposal, and using them creatively and with as much style as possible adds so much depth to the game that beating the heck out of demons never stops being fun and rewarding.

It's also very skill-based, adding another layer of satisfaction to everything. Building up the skill to perform a new combo, finally managing to use Royal Guard with consistency, defeating that one difficult enemy/boss with an SSS rank, or just beating the higher difficulties is absolutely worth it. And even if you don't have much skill with the game, nothing is ever stopping you from bullying enemies in your favorite ways.

The dynamic soundtrack fits the combat really well and gives you the right ammount of adrenaline and motivation to slash through hordes and hordes of enemies. Also thank you Capcom for adding the Jukebox. I can finally listen to Devils Never Cry during an actual battle (and not just the DMC3 credits one!)

The characters are another great strength for me. The DMC Crew is so unique and fun to watch, and the Spardas in particular have a lot of depth to them, keeping the mind of fans very busy thinking about them xD.

So yeah, this game is way too fun for my own good, aparently. Never saw such a powerful brainrot coming. Absolutely recommend it to anyone and everyone who likes some good video-gamey time!

And now, time to cast the spotlight to a few games that I love, but not enough to consider them my top 3 favorites:

Honorable Mentions

Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow & Dawn of Sorrow

My second favorite CV games. Aria of Sorrow picked everything that was good about SOTN and polished it to perfection, creating one of the best metroidvanias out there. Dawn of Sorrow may not be as good, but it has a very special place in my heart.

Final Fantasy IX

One of my favorite JRPGs ever. This game is so charming, but under it's seemingly light appearance is a great story about the meaning of life, and about coming in terms with your own mortality. The battle system is fun and the music is as good as ever. The characters are wonderful and I cherish them to this day.

Final Fantasy X

One of the best games I have ever played. Of all the (4) Final Fantasy games that I've played so far, this one has the best battle system and some of the best enemy/boss design in the series. Alongside the gameplay, the story is the game's second biggest strength, and it has a very high chance to make you cry. The soundtrack is one of Nobue Uematsu's best works for this franchise, making you feel all sorts of emotions. Can't recommend this game enough.

The Legend of the Zelda: Breath of the Wild

This is the only Zelda game that I've ever played (please don't kill me), but boy is it a good one. The land of Hyrule is vast and very fun to explore. The game has such a relaxing vibe: sometimes I would just ride my horse, let it follow a road automatically, and just chill to the music watching the beautiful landscape. I put 170 hours in this game and didn't even realize it until I beat Ganon xD

Devil May Cry 3

Second favorite DMC game! This game is surprisingly polished for its time, and it barely feels dated at all! I personally prefer DMC3's DMD mode over 5's, as I find it more fleshed out, but it sure is a LOT harder.

Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance

My first Metal Gear game. It may be short and relatively simple in terms of combat depth, but it's a lot of fun, the soundtrack is a BANGER, and the cutscenes are a joy to watch. The memes just never end, do they?

Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty

Quite possibly Kojima's craziest game to date, but also one of the most fun ones! Not as good as MGS3, but there's something about the old-school MGS gameplay that I absolutely adore. Also the dialogue and plot are so batshit insane that you end up enjoying it despite not understanding a single thing xD

Castlevania: Bloodlines

Most underrated CV game ever, and my favorite old-fashioned Castlevania game. It stands up to SCIV, its SNES counterpart, really well. In fact, I personally enjoyed this game's gameplay and level design more than the latter.

(just three more games I promise)

Pokémon: Black and White (and their sequels)

These games are the most fun i've ever had with Pokémon. They're really good. They've got the best plot of any Pokémon game, and the first BW games actually made me question the morality of keeping these creatures and leading them into battles.

The Great Ace Attorney

My favorite Ace Attorney game. Great story with lovely characters. The cases were a lot of fun, and I'm a huge Sherlock Holmes nerd, so it's only natural that this game appealed to me, I guess xD. I still have to play the sequel, tho.

Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain

This game might be technically unfinished, but it has some of the best gameplay in the series. The filler side-missions get repetitive but they're oddly fun to finish. It's my second most played MG game, right behind MGRR.

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pokemoncaretips · 1 year

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The absol

General notes: The absol is something of a tragic pokemon. Burdened by superstition and fear, rumours have clouded over the fact that it is a genuinely lovely pokemon to care for and train. Smart, biddable and eager to please, absol deserve far more than they get.

Despite their serious countenance and grim reputation, absol can be playful and curious, and according to some trainers, downright goofy at times.

General care: A carnivorous pokemon by nature, they do require a diet to match, whether you use the store bought meat eaters kibble or make your own. Though like all pokemon, they enjoy berries as treats. As mountain dwelling pokemon, they need a LOT of exercise to simulate the way wild absol are constantly roaming their territory. Congratulations on your new hiking hobby. Their horn is not, in fact, a horn, but rather is made up out of stiff cartilage, packed densely with nerve clusters. It is sensitive, and should be avoided while bathing. If it ever becomes damaged, take your absol to a pokemon centre immediately. We cannot discuss absol without talking about their capacity to detect disasters. You should quickly familiarize yourself with its normal behaviour and remain alert to changes. Though each absol is slightly different, the severity of the change can depend on what's coming and how bad it will be. If the absol is trying to leave a building and refuses to obey commands, you should leave immediately and advise others to follow suit. If it’s restless and pacing, start checking weather sites and other official channels in case of oncoming storms. If it sits down in place and begins to emit a piercing howl similar to an air raid siren, get under the nearest sturdy desk or table, as this strong, urgent signal often precedes sudden disasters like earthquakes.

Absol are excellent pokemon for people with anxiety disorders, schizophrenia or other severe mental health issues due to their clear, unambiguous signals of actual, real danger.

Care rating: Green.

Training: Absol are very good pokemon in terms of training, both for house rules and battling. As well, thanks to recent campaigning efforts, they have been finally added to the list of official service pokemon, with glowing results. As they are carnivorous, it is recommended to socialize them with smaller prey pokemon to ensure tragedy doesn’t strike. Training rating: Green.

Safety: Sadly, while I’d like to give these pokemon greens across the board, I would be incredibly negligent not to provide proper warning. Due to the constant superstitions around absol, both you and your pokemon may be at risk, particularly if you travel to rural areas. The biggest piece of advice I can give you is this:

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.

It is:

Against the law to deny pokemon access to daycare unless they are on the list of pokemon presenting a physical threat to workers health. (Pokemon Daycare Regulatory Act, 1996) Against the law to deny access to pokemon centres. (Pokemon Healthcare Act, 1968) Against the law to deny a service pokemon access to buildings. (Service Pokemon Regulatory Act, 2023) I recommend keeping these and any other laws you think apply on a card in your wallet to bring out in case you encounter issues. Be aware of possible vigilantes and if possible, bring another pokemon with you as added safety. It’s sad to have to provide these warnings, especially for one of the few pokemon I would unreservedly trust enough to leave alone with children, but until more people understand these beautiful pokemon, such is life. Safety rating: Orange.

Overall ranking. A lovely pokemon with a bad reputation.

#pokemon #pokemon irl #pokemon care #absol

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minkkumaz · 8 months

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SOMEONE OLDER

la poésie romantique. words spoken passionately, yet holding no sincere meaning when spoken by all your past loves. but he held the key to your heart that no man ever could, establishing the belief that you didn't need anyone other than him; not even your own father. because myungho could treat you right, couldn't he?

PAIRING ji myungho x fem!reader WC 1.7k TAGS angst. suggestive themes. toxic college professor myungho. slight manipulation. reader has daddy issues. OMI NOTE this is.. extremely different from anything i've written but i saw an edit of myungho to 'someone older' by isabel larosa and it genuinely changed my life. idk how im gonna get away with this but i do not get paid to gaf END OF STORY!

father never taught you to stray away from boys that wouldn't treat you right, and nobody ever taught boys to hold a heart with care; instead breaking it recklessly. the constant rotation between showing love and begging for forgiveness stripped energy from your body like a piece of clothing. it might as well have been, because that would be easier, right?

maybe it was the way you looked. it was only your left shoulder on full display, as your slightly large tee - shirt clinged onto you. you had only assumed the boy was being nice by placing a calloused hand on your soft skin, pulling up the material slightly before smiling at you. the pull of his lips were sweet, masking something sinister underneath. such a small gesture made you so naive, it was your own fault getting involved with him. those memories became a puddle of mush, left in the past.

but it wasn’t just boys of his stature, it was boys in general. ill thoughts swarmed your head rapidly. a sense of self doubt, regret, vengeance. it left you in a forever state of numbness, zoning out into a false reality you wish you could call your own. a reality with a man that would treat you right.

the sound of gears turning in the clock on the wall was where your focus lay, emerging yourself in the tick tock, tick tock. each of your senses slowly depleted from your body, leaving you with the round device against the off - white wall.

a hand slightly slamming against the desk in front of you cut into your mind like a knife.

“zoning out again, aren’t we, miss y/n?” professor ji spoke out, eyes like daggers, “see me after class.”

you nodded sheepishly, feeling the weight of the moment escape from your mouth in a breathy exhale as he went back to instruct the class.

in an attempt to ignore the stares of your peers burning into your skull, you slid down in your seat. maybe they were looks of pity, or quite possibly hints of jealousy. yet time couldn’t pass any quicker, as you returned to the never - ending tick of the clock.

meeting a teacher after the bell rang was never on your roster, let alone with your stupidly attractive english professor. it wasn’t a secret how desirable he was. you could only hear seductive comments made about the way he left his shirt slightly unbuttoned, leather jacket draped around the back of his chair and not his shoulders.

students filed out in a fast - paced manner, painting the room to seem much bigger without as many people crowding the seats. your professor followed quietly behind the crowd, closing the door as soon as everyone had been gone. this left the two of you alone, as well as the familiar clock ticking in the background.

your heart became heavy in your chest, watching his tall figure approach you like a predator stalking it’s prey.

“y/n.” professor ji says your name sternly, “care to tell me how boring my lessons are that you haven’t been paying attention?”

“professor– it’s not like that, i promise.” you stuttered out in an attempt to defend yourself, “i’ve had a lot on my mind recently and it’s getting the better of me.”

“why don’t you contact the campus counselor? i’m sure mr. yoonsung would love to assist you in whatever problem you have in that head of yours.” he suggests.

“i don’t think i can do that sir. things are a lot more complicated than they might seem. but i swear, i’ll try to keep myself in check.”

“you don’t think you can do that?” he laughs almost mockingly, picking up a pencil on your desk to spin between his bony fingers, “i might need a better reason than that.”

“this is so embarrassing..” you sigh in defeat, “it’s about my love life, professor ji. i don’t mean to be rude, but none of that is quite relevant to you, let alone any teacher on campus. so while i respect your request for me to seek outside advice, that won’t be happening.”

“so i’m just any teacher to you? miss y/n, i’m unsure that you understand who i am to you.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“you chose to major in english when you enrolled here. so i’d assume you would put effort not only into this class, but the person teaching it to you.” he states with an almost threatening tone, making your stomach queasy.

a cat had gotten your tongue, leaving you with nothing to say in a situation where you felt you had to defend yourself. this made his lips perk up into a smile, taking the pencil he was holding to tilt your chin up slightly by the eraser end.

“i’ve only ever wanted to help you, y/n. almost like it’s my job.” he tells you, “you excel in every single assignment i give you, up until recently. dont let a beautiful mind like yours be so easily manipulated by a college frat boy.”

“this isn’t my fault, you make it seem much easier than it sounds.” your bottom lip quivers slightly at the position he has you in, yet also because he’s correct in his assumption.

“when you get an idea in your head, you find it in everything. do you remember who said that quote?”

“victor hugo. we’re learning about works in other languages to broaden our knowledge, so of course i remember.”

“your idea of love is tainted, hence why you let yourself get hurt. am i wrong?” he reads you like a book.

you nod at him, feeling your throat become dry. each of your senses were heightened, the cold rubber eraser under your chin being replaced by the tip of his finger. the state of your mind was vulnerable, crowded only by the idea of him and his frigid gaze.

a shiver ran down your spine as if it was being chased, his face creeping closer to yours until it was inches apart.

“do you know what you want in a relationship?” he spoke, breath barely grazing against your lips because of the remaining distance. when you didn’t speak, his face contorted into an expression just a little bit colder, “you respond to authority when spoken to. don’t jeopardize your status in my class because you can’t answer a simple question. remember that i just want to help you.”

“i want someone to care for me as much as i care for them.” you finally let out with a sob, guilt washing over you for not giving a clearer response.

“that was easy, wasn’t it? my poor y/n, not being treated properly because nobody quite knows how to.” he chuckles lowly, wiping a singular tear that rolled down your cheeks, “now that you know what you want, what do you need?”

“i– i don’t know, professor ji.” you pout.

“you already said it out loud. use your words to tell me.” his hand traveled around to the back of your head, gripping at your hair to move your head more upwards.

“i think i need someone older.” your words sounded distressed, yet they were all he needed to hear.

“there you go.” he lets go of your hair, a switch in demeanor as he smiles at you, “come here.”

walking back to his desk, he leaves you in a pile of muck and confusion at your own. for someone you can hardly read, something about him makes you want to learn.

you scoot your chair back, the sound of it scraping against the hard floors making you wince slightly. with each step approaching him, your heartbeat quickened. professor ji had always been an enigmatic figure on campus. young, passionate in his interests, and everything you were starting to think you needed in someone.

maybe you wanted him to be passionate in you.

“is this wrong?” you ask quietly, now face to face with him.

“there’s a flaw in your question, especially since you already know the answer, miss y/n.” he coos, reaching to move a loose strand of hair away from your face, “father wouldn’t tell you right from wrong. such a terrible man, isn’t he? so let me tell you what you deserve to hear.”

“he’s not terrible, he just loves me differently.” you weren’t sure why you felt the need to defend your dad, but words came out before you could think.

“don’t get it twisted; those who love you warn you about the consequences others actions could have on a person. trust that i could protect you more than any man could.” he said with envy underlying his tone.

“yes, sir.” you shake your head yes, tears starting to burn your eyes with what you couldn’t determine if it was happiness or culpability.

“call me myungho.” he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands, rough against your soft skin, “now let me take care of you, then you could take the weight off my shoulders.”

myungho brought your face closer to his, almost immediately closing the gap that separated the boundaries between professor and student. this barrier was destroyed in the span of seconds, his lips locking perfectly with yours. they were soft, barely chapped, and meant for you.

it was a rhythmic harmony that flowed perfectly like words on a page, pulling you deeper and deeper until you couldn’t pull away; too infatuated to stop and so unaware you couldn’t bother to give a shit at the thought of someone walking in.

he had you right where he wanted you, the objective that nobody other than him could hold your heart careful enough not to split it in half.

the kiss escalated, making your lips puffy and red as they were attacked by his. one of myungho’s hands wrapped around your waist to pull you close. your arms were tucked into your chest, unsure where to put them.

once he finally pulled away from you, a string of saliva kept both of you attached, breaking away quickly. his eyes were dark, yet not in a way that would seem intimidating. a look you’ve never seen before.

you were ready to find out.

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