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angry-geese · 2 years

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Sukuna x reader

Warnings: slight OSHA incompliance. A bit suggestive, overall sfw. Mentions of blood and injury. Just some monster boyfriend Sukuna licking your wounds. Reader is gender neutral

Synopsis: "he's a ten but he licks your wounds" but with Sukuna ksgdkdhk

Word count: just over 700 :)

A/n: this was a drabble I started a few days ago that I never really intended to post but all this talk about Sukuna today gave me the motivation to finish it kshdkfhk

Also this was not really proofread so apologies for any errors <3

"Let me see your wound."

The fire has died down, leaving only embers. Despite this, the room is quite warm. In a bit, you should get up, and throw some more logs on the fire, but lethargy prevents you from doing such. Instead, you stay seated on your spot on the floor, picking at the loose threads of the mat. At one point in time, you were polishing your blade; but the weapon has fallen abandoned by your side.

"I'm fine," you say, "really."

"I could smell your blood from down the hall," he says. “Let me see your wound.”

It's an order, not a question. Sukuna motions for you to sit beside him on the bed. And although you’re not a small person in either stature, or build, you’re nearly dwarfed by the King of Curses.

“Yes, well, it turns out the locals don't take too kindly to visitors,” you say, clutching your injured arm.

You feel his breath across the bare skin of your neck. Blood has seeped through your thin, white shirt. When his hands move to the knot at the front of your shirt, undoing it, you do little to resist. The fabric falls off your shoulders, before getting caught on your elbows. On instinct, your arms cross in front of your chest. Across your shoulder, no longer than the length of your hand, is a cut. It's not deep enough to require stitches, but it’ll leave a scar. The bleeding has mostly stopped, but some blood still seeps from it. The awkward position of the cut has left it difficult for you to treat yourself, but asking for help from someone else is out of the question. So you had simply returned to your room, to wallow in your own pity.

“I should have sent Uruame.” He says. “There was no need for you to get injured."

What's gotten into him lately? First, the night down by the river, now this?

Either Ryoumen Sukuna is getting sentimental, or you're looking too hard into this.

The latter seems more likely. But the King of Curses has had a more human streak as of late. Not out in the nearby villages, where he kills and plunders to his heart's content, but within the stone walls of his shrine. Nights by the fire were shared. Plenty of alcohol flowed.

Sukuna was human. At one point in time. Perhaps a shred of humanity still exists within him. It may be shriveled, and dying, but it’s there.

"I'll live." You say.

And really, you will. It's only a flesh wound. The scar it'll cause will barely be worth telling a story about. You've received worse injuries for less, and come out on top every time.

Some day your luck is going to run out. Until then, you’re content to live as you please, free from any human society that exists. You, much like the King of Curses, are content to live to your own devices.

The feeling of a hot tongue against your skin is nearly enough to make you scream. Your eyes go wide. Goosebumps rise along your arms. Instead of swatting him away, which you very much want to do, you allow Sukuna to lap at the blood that drips steadily from your wound. Whether his saliva actually holds some strange healing property, or it’s simply a trick of your mind, you’ll never know, but the ache in your shoulder subsides slightly.

“That was reckless.” He scolds.

Something burns at your face. Perhaps it’s shame. Maybe embarrassment. You never get the chance to answer him. When he kisses you, a faint metallic taste lingers on his lips. In that moment you feel something strange within his touch. Something human. It's almost as if he’s afraid.

Impossible, you remind yourself. He doesn't feel fear.

“Lay with me,” he says softly, “just for a bit.”

He's asking this time, not commanding. Sukuna doesn't need to sleep—not in the way humans do. This bed was merely here for decoration, and a soft surface to fuck on—until you came along, and claimed it for yourself. Yet you allow yourself to give in, laying back on the soft mattress as he curls around you.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #true form sukuna supremacy #sukuna ryoumen #jujutsu kaisen #slight osha incompliance #cw blood and injury #does this count as a blood kink?#idk

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yandere-wishes · 11 months

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I'm considering the idea of a yandere cheater in spiderverse. All after reading your Miles G, I confess. Miguel was the first wave, but Hobie and Miles G, hit like a tsunami behind.

I don't ask you to write it. Just babbling about my favs... although there's also Aaron, Peter B, Noir,... I love everyone.

But, but in your yandere expert opinion, who would have the toughest nerve to become a cheater and on top of that, being a yandere about reader? From all the charas into and across the spiderverse.

ALSO, WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE, KINDA FUCK, MARRY, KILL???, Tell me, tell me *googly eyes*

In my "expert" Yandere knowledge (jk 🤣jk🤣) I'd say that 90% of the Spiderverse cast could be "cheater" if they couldn't physically be with the reader. Or if they thought that they don't deserve the reader.

1610-Miles: would never cheat, he'd just sit around mopping and dreaming about the reader. He'd also never really think about not "deserving" the reader. He's a really lonely boy and would latch onto his crush no matter what. He'd also fully believe that he was a better match for them than anyone else. He's also confident enough that he's sure he could protect them against anything.

Pavitr Prabhakar: Would also never cheat. When he's in love he becomes devoted to said person and would do anything for them. Cares for them too much to ever be with anyone else. Also if that person is in love with someone else then he would respect their choice and bottle up his emotions. Laching onto the hope that one day the reader would realize they love him more than their current partner. He's practically the walking embodiment of "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift.

Gwen Stacy: Gwen might cheat on the reader if she's trying to distance herself from them. Make them hate her so they leave. But really it's just to protect them, she's fully convinced that she's cursed. Anyone who get's too close to her ends up hurt. So she'll make them leave. Also if her lover is in another dimension then she might go for a relationship in her own dimension just to distract herself from them.

Hobie Brown: Wouldn't mean to cheat. But he might get tempted into having an affair. Nothing serious just something casual. But he tries to keep it a secret from his one true love. Also if Hobie did end up kidnapping the reader and locking them up somewhere then he may have another relationship with someone else. But that person is like a substitute for the reader. He pretends that they are her and that He and the reader are a real couple, but it's actually the other person. Until he can trust the reader enough to take them outside. Does this make sense? I feel like it doesn't make sense.

42- Miles: Will have some causal flings here and there to get their mind off the reader. But also watches them through their window each night. Like he's obsessed but too prideful to fully admit it. If he does kidnap the reader and sees that she's being incompliant. He'll try to make her jealous by going out on cute dates with some other girl. Then showing her pictures. Show her how easily replaceable she is. He'll obviously break her mind until she's begging him not to go out, not to leave her alone. Why is it that every time I write anything for this guy it gets real dark, real quick?

Miguel O'Hara: YES!! THIS MAN IS NOT EMOTIONALLY STABLE. Like he might just make an AI of his lover, talk to her, program her to love him, and convince himself that this is his real lover. If his lover is in another dimension then maybe he'll date someone with certain similar characteristics to her but then kinda get distracted by his duties. He'll just go back lovingly looking at them through a screen.

Peter B: He might get drunk and cheat by accident. But I think that's more something he would have done in the first movie. If the reader is MayDay's mother then no way he's cheating.

Spider Noir: He's too old-fashioned to cheat. He'll treat his lover like a princess. I can't really see him doing anything like that.

Aaron: He might cheat on the reader if he loves her enough. Like his life as the Prowler is dangerous, he knows this. So he'll distract himself with other people as apposed to getting mixed up with the reader and risking their life.

As for me: (I'll do kiss, marry, kill)

MARRY: MIGUEL O'HARA. I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN. He means everything to me😍😍. I just want to be his cute little housewife. Someone he can look forward to coming home to. Plus I'd also try to help him out with his whole Spiderman thing.

KISS: MILES G MORALES (prowler miles) I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! He also gives me lowkey season 4 Eren vibes from AOT lol.

Kill:... Honestly no one. I love everyone so much. Like maybe Miguel so no one can have him but me. But like also Miles G, so you know, no one can have him but me. 😂😂 sorry about that went full yandere for a moment.

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ptn-imagines · 3 months

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Hello! I've been looking around the PTN blogs and didn't found that much work about us being a sinner, i would love to see Langley in a relationship with a mad guard dog sinner reader

I see we as a society have progressed from wanting to kiss Rahu to wanting to be Rahu. I completely get that though.

Hope you enjoy, anon! Warnings for violence and some minor coercion (NOT in regards to the relationship) beneath the cut.

Langley in a relationship with a “mad guard dog” Sinner!Reader

Honestly, Langley is not the sort of person who needs a bodyguard, Paradeisian or not, so one couldn’t help but wonder just what she was playing at by hiring you. Perhaps it had something to do with her enmity with the Hush, seeing as Shalom had acquired a bodyguard for herself? Whatever, you weren’t paid to speculate.

The first time you met Langley was shortly after you were detained by the MBCC. You were an S-Rank Endura Sinner, kept under high security as you had caused a massive incident and been incompliant during interrogation. Even the shackles weren’t enough to keep you in line – or rather, the Chief simply refused to deny even you your autonomy if they could help it. What a sentimental fool.

When you first laid eyes on Langley, you felt a plethora of mixed emotions. Disgust and rage, because this woman was the director of the 9th Agency, Paradeisos’s intelligence organization, and you had no reason to believe she was any different to the rest of those scum. Fascination and curiosity, because… this woman was a Sinner.

Eventually the rage won out. Who cares that she was a Sinner? She’s Paradeisian, a gear in the machine that grinds people like you into dust. The only thing that stopped you from trying to attack her were your heavy restraints, applied after the incident in the interrogation room.

Given how you’d treated her, the last thing you expected was to be unchained the very next day. But that’s how things turned out; you couldn’t even fully process the series of events as you were being herded into a 9th Agency car and shipped off to a Paradeisos mansion.

The mansion was large and ornate, and your room was comfortable. You were allowed to even roam in the gardens, though guards were posted to prevent you from leaving the property.

You hated it. Who did that bitch think she was? You weren’t some fucking dog or pet. Mania exacerbated your fury, and you ended up breaking many things inside Langley’s mansion. A sense of vindictive satisfaction washed over you as you observed the mess you had made; surely this would make that bitch realize the mistake she’d made. Chained up in an MBCC cell had to be better than being penned in by this ridiculous attempt at playing house.

Much to your dismay, Langley wasn’t upset by your rampage; if anything, she was amused. She seemed to have expected it even, judging by the smirk on her lips as she shook her head and tutted, “My my, I seem to have picked up quite the troublesome little pet.”

Her words boiled your blood. You! Weren’t! A! Pet! When she expressed her intentions to take you in as her bodyguard, you saw red.

When the haze of Mania cleared from your mind, you were pressed face down on the carpeted floor of the room, the cold steel muzzle of what could only be a gun pressed to the back of your head. “I can’t force you to do it,” Langley murmured, voice low and deadly, “since I’m well aware that it’s foolish to have a bodyguard that wishes for my head. I can keep you here for as long as I like. It’s not a good idea to bite the hand that feeds you.”

Though you despised it, you knew she was correct, so over the next few weeks, you worked on taming the rage inside your veins every time you saw her. If she wanted a bodyguard out of you, all you had to do was bide your time until she realized she wasn’t getting one. Sure, you’d be shipped back to the MBCC, but with escape not an option, this was better than the alternative.

Or at least, that was your plan. As time spun on, it became easier and easier to restrain your anger with each passing day, and something new flooded into the void eagerly. No, not something new, something abandoned; that initial spark of curiosity you had felt towards her.

When you realized this, at first you were suspicious, scrutinizing your interactions with Langley for any sign of deception or manipulation. Unfortunately, there were none, unless you counted your first day at the mansion. Which you definitely were, but other than that… Langley had been nothing but surprisingly kind to you.

Damn it all. When had you stopped seeing her as filthy Paradeisian scum, and instead begun to view her as someone you’d be interested in getting to know? It was an unbelievable hit to your dignity.

You half-couldn’t believe it yourself when you approached her hesitantly, mumbling that “fine, alright, I’ll be your bodyguard.” And from the way Langley smiled, you realized she knew it would turn out like this all along.

The thing is, Langley was incredibly competent and hardly had a need for a bodyguard. Most of the time, she’d dispatched any threats before you even knew they were there, and you suspected that the Corruptors or gangsters or assassins or what-have-you that you did get to take out were her gift to you, a way for you to take out the violence and Mania that thrummed beneath your skin. It had to go somewhere, after all, lest you bring yourself to ruination.

Still, this allowed you to be closer to Langley than you had ever been penned up in her mansion. Always a step behind your mistress, silent most of the time – but sometimes, when nobody else was around, Langley would talk to you, about any and everything, asking for your thoughts and feelings on a wide berth of topics. The last time you’d felt as calm and soothed as in these moments was long before you became a Sinner.

After a year or so spent in Langley’s service, however, a moment arose where you truly had to protect Langley. You don’t know what calculation had been incorrect or what clue had been missed – that wasn’t your job – but something had gone wrong. It felt like a chill down your spine, an uncanny feeling of instinct, and you moved before they did, and your world turned red as the white-hot pain of a knife sunk into your abdomen–

You’re not sure how long you spent unconscious, between the bloody madness and the blissful nothing that followed after, but when you next came to awareness you were laid up in your bed. Wondering how you got here, you tried to sit up – only to hiss in pain as your wound flared up. Looking down, you saw your abdomen wrapped in gauze – that’s right, you remembered now. You’d been stabbed by an assassin trying to protect Langley. Where was she? Was she alright?

Before you could begin to fret too much, the door to your bedroom swung open, and there she was. Her hat covered her expression, but you could nevertheless hear the genuine concern in her voice as she called your name. Langley… cared for you? Really? But you knew the spider well enough to know she wouldn’t fake something like this. Plus, it was in line with what you’d seen of her interactions with her subordinates in the 9th Agency.

You’d been asleep for three days, she told you, and yes, she was fine. Your wound would fully recover but the assassin’s blade had been tinged with Mania, so you’d be on bedrest for longer than normal. The assassin themself was dead. You’d made sure of that. Apparently you’d gone into such a fit of Mania that Langley worried she’d have to shoot you for the sake of everyone present – but there had been no need for that, since apparently after the assassin was dealt with, you’d collapsed then and there.

It was around now that you noticed that you were wearing a clean nightgown, not the clothes you’d worn on the day of the attack. There was also a conspicuous lack of blood on your body. You asked about it, and the answer you got caused you to flush red to your ears – she’d taken care of bathing you herself. “I hope you don’t mind, pet,” she said, with a smirk half-hidden by her hat that indicated to you that she was well aware that you didn’t mind at all, aside from how flustered it made you.

The pain from your injury went ignored as impulse suddenly spurred you to act, as it so often did. You grabbed the spymaster’s face and pulled her closer, crashing your lips together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. You relished the tiny gasp against your lips, the satisfying thrill of taking Langley herself by surprise just this once; then, her hands were on your hips and she was pulling you closer, her tongue slipping into your mouth as she claimed her rightful dominance.

When you finally parted, breathless, your abdomen was on fire. Noticing this, Langley chuckled and pushed you down by the shoulders. You went willingly. “Try not to tear your stitches open, dear,” she chided, though her tone was amused – and you couldn’t help but notice you were dear now, rather than pet. “We’ll have plenty of time for this once you’ve fully healed and are back to work.”

She didn’t linger for much longer after that – work called – but you were, for once, perfectly content to lay in bed, heart thudding. Langley’s words carried an unspoken promise of a future of you and her, and with the memory of your lips on hers and her tongue in your mouth, you couldn’t wait.

#ptn #path to nowhere #ptn langley #path to nowhere langley #langley #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere headcanons #headcanons

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mangk0 · 5 months

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WHERES THE STIRM TAKING US I SAID TO KEEP THE BAG CLOSED BUT YOU WERE INCOMPLIANT IF I HAD TO GUESS YOURE HEADED FOR THE LAND OF THE GIANTS STOOOOOOOOOOOOOORMMMMM STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRMMMMMMMM🎺🎺🎺🎺🎷🎷🎷🎷🎸🎸🎸🎸🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🎻🎻🎻🎻🎻🪈🪈🪈🪈🪈OOOOOOOOODYSSEUS OF ITHACAAAAA.🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

👹do you know who I am.👹

#you understand #epic the musical #epic the ocean saga #jorge rivera herrans #not my gowr fan ass screamimg WERE GOING TO JOTUNHEIM??? when aeolus mentioned the land of the giants kill me #not mil #WALE UP ODYSSEUS THEYRE OPENING THE BAG WAKE UPPPPPPPPPPPP #STOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRMMMMMMMM I’m absolutely deranged

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2smolbeans · 1 year

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Soft Rabbits...Aren't they adorable?

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Tw.⚠️: High depictions of animal abuse, sadism, abuse, belittling, cruelty, and torture.

Note:

The yandere in question is female, the reader's gender is up to your interpretation.

Prompt: She wants something from you, something that could change your life for the better as she sees it. But you're being incompliant... However, she's willing to break you into compliance.

___________________________

She liked to watch the rabbits faint. The way they shivered when she got close to their confined cages never failed to give her addicting adrenaline.

So what makes you think that she'll feel any different from a small little thing like you?

You're so brainless, delicate, so easy to break, and freakishly paranoid over any little thing-- just like the small animals she had once cared for. It was ironic that you took her as a sweet bumble bee who was nurturing toward those around her. How could you have known better? She was so warm, friendly, and bubbly around you, that you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach whenever she was around.

But look at where you are now, tied up and begging for her to stop. The sight of your ugly crying face got her hot and bothered as she picked up another frail bunny by the ears, holding a blood-coated knife with her free hand. It was young, so tiny, you felt the bile in your stomach begin to rise as you knew what was coming next.

You continued to sob as the dead carcasses of the previous innocent lives surrounded your chair. Many of them touched your feet as their fear-filled lifeless eyes stared into your own. The puddles of once-warm blood, now pooling endlessly. She spoke casually and almost enthusiastically annoyed as she played with the kitchen knife in her hand.

"All of this is your fault. They could've lived if you weren't stupidly incompetent."

" What number are we at? 5, 10, 20? They all go by so quickly - I just kind of forget!"

"But it doesn't matter, I could always get more. So don't you ever worry about me running out"

"So answer me. PROPERLY. And maybe this fluffy baby can live - unlike the others that you killed."

"Do you understand? Or do you need me to explain that again to you like a child?"

You couldn't even respond as you only nodded vigorously, shaking as you heard the small scared chippers from the bunny. She scowled as she got closer to you, the bunny squirming vigorously as her grip tightened painfully. She then asked that same question again. That very same question that you couldn't and didn't want to answer because of the lingering consequences that would ruin the rest of your life if you ever did. You begged her- please- PLEASE- Anything else, you'd do anything, just not that - but she took it as a faulty answer to her question.

Unpleased and annoyed, she placed the bunny merely inches away from your face. The squeaking got louder, the knife got closer, and it started screaming as she slowly pressed and dragged the knife against its neck. She made sure that it would last long. You screamed as you begged, not again - NOT AGAIN - But it fell dead on ears as you felt the blood dripping on your thighs. She licked her lips at your displeasure, at your desperateness, your empathy for the bunny being tortured.

For what seemed like forever, finally, she slit its throat, ending its unjustified torture. The blood splattered against your face as the wet noise of the knife slicing through its skin echoed across the room. The bunny went limp, and you only watched in horror as she was about to drop it on the ground to join the rest of the others. But no, she changed her mind as she looked at your fearful eyes and decided that it would be best to stop. Putting the knife down while still holding the lifeless body, she placed the once-alive bunny on your lap.

Watching your eyes waver as you only stared, hysterically crying as you threw up in your mouth at the feeling of the dead weight and its bloody warmth lying on your lap. She didn't understand why you were so reactive and sensitive. It's only an animal after all. Sighing, she kicked a few dead rabbits that were in her way before kneeling in front of you. Her bloodied hand caressed your face as the wet blood stained your face.

"You know I love you, right? I'm only doing this because you're abundantly stupid and unfortunately, you can't think beyond simplicity. "

"Hey, look at me. Don't look at the vermin. Hey. Don't make me repeat myself.."

You couldn't focus, you were gonna pass out, and it was overwhelming. Your thoughts were blank as your chest only ached painfully.

"I SAID LOOK AT ME GODDAMNIT."

Startled, your eyes violently shifted towards her eyes as your lip quivered out of fear. She let out a small huff in annoyance as she continued to talk softly.

"There! Much better..."

"You're such a dog. You only listen to commands."

" I guess today was a failure. But you know what? That's okay. There's always going to be failures before anything gets done right."

Standing up, she grabbed a cloth near the sink and she began to wash her hands. Cleaning up what she could, she began to walk towards the door as she looked back at you. Smiling warmly, she opened the door as the moonlight slightly peeked its way into the dimly lit room.

"Well, it's getting late, I'll clean up tomorrow. I'm sure the chair is comfy, I'll see you when I wake up."

"Goodnight, honey~"

Shutting the door she left you there alone, in the cold, with the rabbits that lay dead around you along with the young bunny that rested peacefully deceased on your lap. All alone and broken in the shed.

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#yandere x reader #female yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere imagines #angst #gender neutral reader #I didn't edit anything asdanfjs--#sadistic yandere #female yandere

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yuckie-obsessive · 1 year

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Always Finds You

Back to Anti for a moment.

That whole IRIS thing, right? Crazy 👀

wow gonna have to make a cut, this got long.

Tw: implied violence, blood, slight torture, possessive behavior, hints of past trauma, swearing

Antisepticeye x Reader (female)

Word count: 969

Set up: “Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?” Welp now you’re locked up in an IRIS holding room, dreading what might happen because of your situation regarding a certain alter.

~★~

Initially you didn’t know why you were being kept in this facility. Only after they mentioned something called “ALTR 114209”, did the reality dawn on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak after that. You couldn’t talk about him. Anti had to know where you were at this point and talking about him with anyone was against his rules.

However, they had ways to encourage you.

The day after your complete shutdown, they brought in a small device with wires. Three large men accompanied the IRIS worker. They grabbed you, placed you in handcuffs and forced you into the chair on the opposite end of the scientist. You, of course terrified, couldn’t even protest. You knew why this was happening. You had no idea what would happen if you complied, but you knew it wouldn’t be good.

The same man was in front of you once again, adjusting an earpiece and pulling out notes to began questioning, “Do you feel like speaking with us today?”

Your eyes began to water. You shook your head, “I can’t…”

He sighed and seemed to speak into the earpiece, “Subject remains incompliant, beginning incentive procedure.” He waved the men forward.

They once again grabbed you and roughly began attaching the small electrode stickers to different parts of your head, neck and torso.

“Applying 70 volts.” Before you could respond, he flipped the switch that sent a jolt through your body. The air grew heavy with a familiar static. You were sure he let it last longer than it should’ve.

He switched the device off and your entire body slumped. You ached. Your hadn’t felt this way since your first few weeks with Anti.

“What do you know about ALTR 114209?”

“Please… I can’t tell you…”

“Subject remains incompliant. Applying 85 volts.”

“Wait-“ another jolt wracked your body.

This continued for about an hour until you were up to receiving 120 volts. Panting and shaking, you were left with a growing migraine. Unable to speak even if you could.

Suddenly the lights shut off and it sounded as if a generator booted everything back online. The IRIS worker spoke into the device in his ear, “Requesting status update…” a few moments past with his eyes growing wide. “Wrap this up, Central needs us.” He quickly left the room and the men removed the equipment. Uncuffing your hands just before they left and locked the door.

It took you a minute to move, but you gathered your strength to threw yourself onto the cot you had been provided.

A loud scream echoed from the halls and the lights went dark, a loud alarm blaring. He’s manifesting. The door automatically unlocked as an evacuation order played over the intercom. Instead of attempting a futile escape, you curled into a ball, and pressed your knees to your chest.

Screaming mixed with shouting. Sounds of gunfire soon followed, you could almost laugh knowing that it wouldn’t do a damn thing.

The chaos neared you before ceasing completely. You felt sick. The door opened.

“(Y/n)~ “ you shivered at his sing-song call. “There you are… waiting for me ever so patiently. Such a good girl.” You turned to look up at him, not to surprised he had moved directly next to you without making a sound, a dangerous red aura followed him.

Though his appearance seemed overall collected, the mirror like glitching that surrounded him told another story. Vicious images of him tearing at himself and screaming in rage.

“I really hate it when someone touches my things…” he growled to himself and bent down to your level. The playful tone was back, “Sweetheart~ I think I’ve had my fun for now. Let’s go back home.” He quickly grabbed you up into his arms, you only latched onto him as a reflex.

His chest rumbled with a small laugh and he turned to leave, but stopped.

“(Y/n), I’m not angry with you. In fact, I’m actually very happy with your behavior… I know how easily you get frightened, so let me help you relax until we return home, okay?” A wave of numbing exhaustion hit you. This was a familiar sensation. Anti would use this as a “reward” to help you sleep on days you were good for him.

You were about to drift off when the overwhelming smell hit you. The raw tang of iron that heavily laced the air. You didn’t realize how hard you were gripping at him until you felt his grip tighten too. Another hard wave of exhaustion hit, “Shhh sh… sleep now, everything’s alright.” With that, you finally passed out, grip going slack.

He would never admit his feelings. He was enraged when he found out you had gone missing. Anger at the thought you had foolishly made another escape attempt. Worse yet when he realized you’d been taken. When he saw what they started doing to you… there was no word to describe his state of mind.

He hated that someone else had touched you. Hated that they had taken you from him. Hated that they had harmed you.

He was going to burn the place to the ground.

A different perspective dawned on him though… He would soothe your wounds. Build you back up in order to trust him.

He would admit that in the beginning he had been rough with you, but humans could be so much worse. Letting you see that would make him appear as the lesser of two evils. It made him giddy at how well he could control the situation. Oh, and you behaved so perfectly too.

Now you would come around to like him. He would see to it that all you ever thought about was him. He would revel in your blind obedience.

Not that… he, himself could come to care for such a fragile thing. The precious little bundle in his arms… with that adorable spark of your soul.

Fuck

He internally groaned. He just couldn’t help himself… he had grown attached to this cherished little project of his.

“Don’t worry, (y/n). I won’t let them harm you again.”

#ego #anti #jacksepticeye egos #antisepticeye x reader #antisepticeye #reader insert #x reader #kie writes #drabble #kie’s post #fanfic

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digisurvive · 1 year

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The nail that sticks out gets hammered down

[Image Id: Screenshot of Plutomon’s sprite with its arm open and looking to the front over a forest backdrop. Her dialogue reads: Becoming one helps us understand each other better. No more selfish behavior]

Or Extreme Collectivism as horror.

It’s plain to see that Plutomon’s posture is one that threatens to crush any and all dissent, no matter how small, as well as to erase individuality— with that of its ultimate goal being to merge the enterity of the two worlds together with her, so they can all share her (correct) feelings and values. This is all with the aims to eradicate any selfish behavior, which in short can be any attitude or ideology that disrupts a group. This conduct being horrific is quite obvious, but it's also quite thematically rich coming after everything in the vanilla pre-timeline split.

If Plutomon is someone who values social harmony above all, Ryo existed on the opposite end of the scale: with an unhelpful, uncooperative attitude that went beyond not helping the group—the events leading up to his death are caused by his own imprudent actions, straight up risking everyone when he took off on his own. His bad attitude makes him hard to deal with, and the rest of the group often lets on their exasperation with his doomerism and inaction. Takuma is always tempted with the choice to give up on him and leave him alone.

This attitude is echoed with how the group deals with Shuuji, too; the others often show their (warranted) frustration with his insufferable behavior. Survive’s writing often seems to egg the player to agree with the idea that leaving both Ryo and Shuuji behind would ultimately be for the greater good. It insidiously seems to present the player the idea that isolating troublesome, struggling individuals, the problem children of the group, is for the best. This is an attitude that echoes the status quo of how society deals with individuals suffering with mental health harships: by shunning them out and judging them incorregible. The fact that the option to leave the black sheep behind feels reasonable is no coincidence, and it's the reason the game ends up guilt-tripping the player hardcore over the fact Ryo and Shuuji were never fully integrated into the group.

The fact Aoi ends up going off the deep end of the attitude that prevented Ryo and Shuuji from getting help in the first place, kickstarting the whole tragedy, is one of the nuances that add more value to Plutomon’s absolutism. She views any disruptions to the Harmony of a group as the worst offense anyone can take, and sets out to prevent others from being wrong in the first place. It’s a very Japanese viewpoint: hating to burden others with one’s personal problems and hating the disruption of the communal harmony.

The horror behind Plutomon is an unyielnding, cold perspective over how a group should operate: a social dynamic where you don’t trouble others with your personal failures and problems. Where questioning authority is harshly punished. Where there's no room for anyone's input but the one on top's when it comes to decision making. Where any expression of internal struggle is repressed due being incompliant, uncooperative and selfish. And they can indeed be selfish and disruptive to the workflow of a group, but that’s not necessarily evil or warranting ostratizing. They’re, in fact, symptoms of a deep hurt that needs to be healed in order for a group to operate better.

It's inevitable for individuals to inconvenience a group with their needs, but sharing the burden is the ideal the game presents as an answer to be able to fulfill both the greater good and individual care. Survive proclaims not just that struggling indivuduals deserve care and support but that it’s a communal duty to provide it and a moral failure not to do it.

#Digimon Survive #Digimon Survive spoilers #Aoi Shibuya #Shibuya Aoi #Plutomon #Wrathful route #pretty much just sying how nicely the horror of Plutomons extremism plays off the attitude that isolated the problem children earlier #i got another plutomon adjacent post in the works lol i love aoi sm lol #aoi #meta #mine

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tatarella · 5 months

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Spoiling myself with the Cyrillic translation of chapter 7 of Chains of the Covenant and oh my. (Putting the link over but my thoughts and a screenshot under the cut, hope it helps to avoid unwanted spoilers.)

Edit: Japanese Version on Pixiv is also up.

It has younger Eugene, it has Dwarven lore and the ending makes yet another one of my fan fics majorly canon timeline incompliant. 🥲

#afk arena #chains of the covenant #afk eugene #afk gavus

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strade-fuckers-anonymous · 1 year

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"If I'm the devil, then why are you here?"

Strade had been called many names before. In fact it wasn't even his first time being called Satan or Lucifer or the Devil. But this was different. This whimpering dog, chained in his basement for nearly 4 days now, he said it like a confession.

The boy cried and turned his head away, shrinking back into himself and away from Strade. Frustrated with is incompliance, Strade reached out a firm hand, grabbing Bailey's chin and sharply turning his head back to face him.

"Confess to me. What did you do to be sent to the devil?"

"I-" Bailey's shaking voice stumbled from his chapped lips, "I didn't mean to." His ears pinned back, blending into the tangled, knotted mess of hair on his head.

"Didn't mean to do what?" Strade implored, a growing sense of intrigue and excitement laced in his sweet, sing-song voice.

"I just wanted her to get away from me, I swear!" Large tears rolled down Bailey's cheeks as he choked on sobs that rocked his chest. "She was yelling at me and I just- I just meant to push her! I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to hurt her like that!" Bailey stumbled over his words as he confessed his darkest sin to the devil holding his face.

"Oooh," the demon crooned, "but it still happened! Even if you didn't mean to." His tone held a sickening sweetness, his grip still firm as his hand was wet by tears. "Now say it out loud to me. Say exactly what you did to her."

Bailey whimpered louder than ever, a true canine whimper that touched back to the bestial part of himself. "I-" his voice wavered, unsteady and unsure of itself. "I-" he tried again, and failed to speak those rotten words.

"Be a good boy for me, Bailey." Strade's hands no longer held a harsh grip, but instead a soothing touch on the cheek, gently raising Bailey's face. "I, what? Say it. Confess to me, and you will be absolved."

Strade's fierce orange eyes bore deeply into Bailey's soul, and the boy had to close his eyes to distance himself from their intimidating gaze. Strade's hands, though rough and worked, now gave a gentle touch, softly and sweetly coaxing the confession from him.

"I-" Bailey began again, his hazey mind feeling all too entranced by the combination of fear and pain from his many days chained up. "I killed her." His voice was a whisper, as if saying the words were killing his mother a second time. They burned his tongue, and made him taste bile in the back of his throat. "I killed my mother!" Bailey yipped, his composure shattering as he thrashed and kicked his way out of Strade's grasp.

Strade backed up, leaning on the counter behind him as he watched all of Bailey unfold before him.

Years worth of suppression all spilled over all at once. He keened and cried and even howled at certain points, barking and coughing as he writhed on the ground. He was mourning the death of his mother, and the death of his own self as he cried and screamed into the ground.

Strade watched in astonishment. He almost couldnt believe someone as soft and weak as Bailey was, or perhaps made himself out to be, could kill anyone, even when pushed to the brink. But no person, no matter how good an actor they may be, could replicate the true soul baring intensity of the scene which played out at his feet. The poor thing, he needed guidance. He needed to be un-trained from his domestication, and taught how to be a good little hound dog. Strade let the display continue until Bailey was nothing more than a shivering, whimpering mess, broken from his bindings and curled in a ball on the concrete floor.

"There, there." Strade cooed softly as he got back down on his knees and pulled the boy up to a sittibg position. "You'll feel better now that you've confessed. As I promised, you are absolved." Strade gently pushed Bailey's dirty bangs away from his face. "The devil punishes sinners, Bailey. You're not a sinner anymore."

The words were more comforting than Strade knew, and Bailey fell into his chest, rubbing his wet face into Strade's forest green shirt.

"You'll be good for me from now on, won't you?" Strade asked calmly, gently, feeling the tickle of Bailey's ears against his cheek.

"Yes." Bailey responded in a broken voice. "I promise."

#bailey tag #strade #boyfriend to death #bones writes

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angry-geese · 2 years

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if you’re willing ….. to spill your thoughts …… on monster …… monster boyfriend sukuna …….. pretty please 😞 and i hope you’re doing well 🤍🧸 mwah

YESSSS I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS MAN JSGDKDGDJ

This got kinda long so I had to put it under a cut </3 jdgdkdh

I mean for starters he's def got a size kink true form sukuna my beloved with the way he just towers over everyone in the room you cannot convince me he wouldn't enjoy the size difference between him and his partner jjdgdkdhk and I mean he's got four arms too?? I'm gonna pass out dkgddkh

I know it may not be the most canon compliant but I personally love the idea that he's soft for his s/o in like a way of "I will murder someone for you" <3 Like he doesn't really need to sleep but if his partner asks him to come to bed with them he's like "yeah evil deeds are done for the day im gonna go do this for a while"

And on the subject of him not really needing to sleep, if his partner has fallen asleep on/next to him he's like "well that's it I'm stuck here" in the same way like most people are with their cats kdhdkfhk

I can't really remember where I first read this but I remember someone hc-ing that sukuna doesn't really have a redemption arc so much as he becomes like,,, domesticated. Instead of these grand evil acts he simply becomes an inconvenience to those around him skgdkdhdk personally I love the concept of househusband sukuna

Also,,, biting

Like not in a malicious way. He likes leaving little love bites that barely leave a mark. Or if you're just sitting in his lap he'll nip at your shoulder. It's like a trust thing sort of?? Like you both well know that he could cause some fatal wound by simply closing his jaw, but he doesn't. And despite his strength/size he never manages to hurt you

Personally I have a soft spot for the trope of "the reader is almost strong as or as strong as sukuna to the point where they can't destroy each other and reluctantly team up" and I think him confronting the fact that he's not the strongest would make him fall hopelessly in love (or obsessed ig, I think his concept of love falls into more of an obsession category)

I think the chances of him falling for a human are slim, but there. The differences in his lifespan compared to that of a human may cause issues,,, and if he was really infatuated with his partner he'd do something to make them turn into a curse like him so the two could spend eternity (or at least a long time) together.

But oh to have a monstrous man obsess over me kshdkdhdk

Also I am good <3 I am just going feral over this guy skdgdkhdk

#goose answers #goose's moots #roma <3 #sukuna my beloved #i know theres not much about his backstory canonically so im just making one up myself kdvdkdhk #slight osha incompliance #overall its oretty sfw its just the first paragraph thats suggestive #if this is complete nonsense sorry lol my thoughts about this guy are all over the place kdgdkfhfk

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runeskiamorph · 4 months

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After speed running all of Lyste's scenes in Rebels(literally like, 15 minutes), I've decided that, rather than saying Lyste is incompliant, he is either:

slightly Colored Blind; he didn't notice Kallas switched their cylinders and totally missed the phoenix painting in Thawn's office

Has tunnel vision; a legit medical condition where you have little to no peripheral vision and can only see something if you're looking directly at it, probably why he doesn't notice things unless they're literally right in front of him

-or both; double whammy!

The tunnel vision theory is more probable as if Lyste truly is color blind, how would he stay organized as a Supply Master???

#star wars #yogar lyste #lieutenant lyste #star wars rebels #headcanon #star wars headcanons

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mariacallous · 11 months

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A report published by Germany’s Friedrich Naumann Foundation for Freedom on Thursday says Turkish and Russian governments are targeting journalists with an increasing number of court cases, using similar strategies.

“In authoritarian regimes, a common pattern emerges wherein the control over media and the judiciary is established. Both Russia and Turkey are following different stages of this playbook,” Baris Altintas, Co-Director of Media and Law Studies Association, MLSA, and one of the authors of the report, told BIRN.

Altintas recalled that a significant number of journalists in Russia have been forced to flee the country.

“They have been unjustly labelled as either foreign agents, extremists, or undesirable organizations, even including media outlets and individuals. In Turkey, the rise of an anti-LGBTQ+ campaign parallels the alarming trends observed in Russia,” Altintas said.

The report, named “Gavels Against Pen: The Judiciary’s assault on journalism in Russia and Turkey”, underlines that Turkish journalists may face the same fate as Russian journalists.

“It is foreseeable that many journalists in Turkey will also face the same difficult choices as their Russian counterparts, and we cannot disregard the potential for a similar outcome leading to conflict, such as Russia’s war on Ukraine,” Altintas added.

The report explains how autocratic governments target journalists with false and fabricated claims, especially about security forces, corruption reporting and reports about politicians.

In Russia, critical journalists have been made enemies of the state.

“Accusations that involve crimes against the state are among the harshest that can be made. In contemporary Russia, they have become an instrument for punishing incompliant journalists. The lengthy detention times, secrecy and gag orders on both the investigation and the court proceedings often involved in such accusations have proven very useful in repressing journalists,” the report said.

“Lawsuits over corruption investigations or financial news have increasingly become among the instruments used to crack down on journalists in Turkey. In dozens of such cases, journalists critical of the government face having to pay large amounts of compensation to lawsuit filers over insult, libel or slander allegations for their reports on monetary dealings of the family or close relatives of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan or members of business circles close to the president,” the report said.

The reported added that statistics released by Turkey’s Justice Ministry show that 31,297 investigations into insults to the President were launched in 2020 alone.

Court cases, fines and sentences make the work of journalism even harder.

According to the report, one of the highest compensation payments to be ordered by a court came in a case launched against İsmail Arı, a correspondent of BirGün newspaper.

It reported that the Scientific and Technological Research Council of Turkey TUBİTAK had spent 7.6 million lira (some 300,000 euros) on a tech festival organized by the T3 Foundation, which is managed by Erdoğan’s son-in-law Selçuk Bayraktar and his brother, Haluk Bayraktar.

“The Bayraktar brothers sued Arı and Cumhuriyet after the news report was published, seeking 250,000 lira (some 10,000 euros) in compensation. The court ruled that they should pay 200,000 lira, one of the highest compensation demands in the history of Turkey’s press trials,” the report noted.

The report was funded by Friedrich Naumann Foundation for Freedom and prepared for publication by the MLSA from Turkey, the Berlin-based Journalists and Lawyers for Free Speech Association, JAM and the Media Protection Group, MMDC from Russia.

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endthewcrld · 1 year

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I think I need to bite the bullet and express that both of these blogs are canon divergent.

Canon incompliant, even.

#rip me lol

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scamperin-shroom · 2 years

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Posting these here because I don't know if I will ever get the chance:

"You don't know what hell I went through" (Lucas speaking to Claus)

Encounter with the Drago

Incompliance leads to punishment (or 3rd degree burns)

#tw blood #blood #mother 3 broken mind au #mother 3 broken mind #mother 3 lucas #mother 3 fanart #mother 3 au #mother 3 #mother 3 commander lucas #lucas mother 3 #traditional art #art #fanart #pk anxietychild #pk anxietychild art #story writing #these look old to me now too fhajsjak #my style is evolving at a fast rate #my art

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your-local-ruebit-hole-detective · 1 year

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Vent post about school, aka the fucking worst thing in my life

I just keep thinking about when this kid, this kid who would follow me around at recess and kick me and yell death threats at me, who got away scot free when I told a teacher, but I got told that he didn’t have any power if I didn’t let him. And me, stupid, naive me, took this as advice to defend myself, and I pushed him away the next time he attacked me, and I got transferred to a different class away from all my friends.

I’m thinking about the group of girls who would call me a bitch and threaten to drag me by my hair (which used to go down to my mid-thighs back then) across the playground, and once again, because I hadn’t learned my lesson, I insulted then right back, and got suspended.

I’m thinking about the math teacher who would call me stupid almost daily and got away with it, because it was her word against mine.

I’m thinking of every time I got in trouble for wandering the halls after getting kicked out of my classes by teachers who took me asking simple questions as an attack to their authority.

I’m thinking of the countless school counselors who told me that I let people get to me too easily, and then when I stopped fighting back, told me I should stand up for myself.

I’m thinking of all the Sunday nights I spent crying to myself because I had to go to school tomorrow, and being told I was overreacting.

I’m thinking about every time I became so angry I literally couldn’t move and got yelled at by the people who were supposed to be looking out for me, because I was delaying the line by five seconds.

I’m thinking about how I was sarcastically told I was the adult in the situation while my parents were told I had the social skills of a toddler.

I’m thinking about how I’ve been put through daily hell for so long that the words “respect” and “incompliant” (because that’s apparently the new word for problem child) automatically make me angry.

I’m thinking about how many times I broke down in tears in the middle of class and was sent to the principals office for distruption.

I’m thinking about how I would literally bite my hand until it would bleed in math class so I could get sent to the nurse, because literally anything was better than being here.

I’m thinking about how I was told that teachers are my friends, to tell them if I’m being bullied, only for them to stab me in the back when I trusted them, when I desperately needed them to help me.

I’m thinking of how my reputation as a difficult kid precedes me, how many remarks I’ve gotten about the stories they’ve heard of me from new teachers, how many times I’ve been told that I’m worse than they heard.

And I’m thinking about how now, now that I don’t feel anything when I get called insults, now that I spend so much time in in-school suspension that I’ve claimed my own desk, now that any last scrap of trust or respect I had for authority figures has been eviscerated, I’m the problem. Not because I’m struggling with my mental health and have been for years. Not because I’m failing every class. But because a kid who doesn’t give a fuck about school anymore is apparently a personal attack on every adults ego.

#vent post #rue rants

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