Tumgik
#the more I animate with it the more it usually works itself out
sowhumpshaped · 2 days
Text
Stay with Rayan
this is the end of stray :) thank you for coming along on the ride
prev masterlist
tw institutional/systemic pet whump, second person pov (and you're the pet!), morally dubious caretaker
You wipe your eyes and try to collect your thoughts. What options do you even have? You’re either staying with Rayan illegally, going to the PPA, or going on the run again. None of them are particularly appealing at the moment. 
But the one that seems best right now is just staying with Rayan. He’s been kind to you throughout all of this, if a bit infuriating. He’s always tried to make you feel at home, and he’s been working tirelessly to be able to obtain a pet owner licence. Maybe… Maybe life here wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll get legally adopted by him one day, and he could be… Well, your new family.
It’s not like you even remember the one you lost.
Maybe it’ll be okay.
-
Months pass, and Rayan eventually manages to move out and buy a bigger flat. He has you pretend you’re a person the entire time the movers are there, and you can’t help but enjoy the brief sense of personhood you’ve been granted. You know you’re going back to being a pet as soon as the two of you settle in, so you try to savour it while it lasts.
One day, he comes home with the biggest smile on his face. “The PPA finally approved me! I can legally own a pet now!”
You try to be happy for him, and even for yourself. This means no more hiding, right? There’s no furious past owner who would be hunting you two down, since you’ve escaped straight from a facility. No one would object to the two of you living together.
The process is stressful. Rayan has to report you first, then immediately adopt you from the shelter. “I’ll ask to adopt you right away. They won’t have time to wipe your memories.”
That’s what he said, anyway. You’re still shaking in your whole body as he brings you in, feeling more than a little betrayed.
“I found a stray, I think,” he says in his usual, awful lying tone. “Um, if I’m right about it… Would it be possible for me to keep it?”
“Oh! That’s our little 13!” the woman behind the counter says. You can’t remember her at all — maybe the drug messed with your memory more than you thought. “We’re going to have to give it the treatment, but after that—”
“No!” you blurt out. “No, please, please, don’t! Can’t I just go with Rayan? He— he’s been feeding me without knowing, he thought I was a stray dog— I can explain! Please, don’t take my memories of him away!”
The woman looks surprised. “He’s been… feeding you?”
“I feed many stray animals around the area,” Rayan explains, just as frantic as you. “I thought it was a dog or a cat, so I kept bringing it food on my way home from work. Eventually, it showed itself, and now… now we’re here. I brought it in immediately, but it seems… attached to me. I think.”
You nod vigorously.
“Oh… Well, in that case, I suppose we can make an exception.”
You and Rayan let out a relieved sigh at the same time. You’re allowed to go home with him after he fills out the forms — now legally his pet.
~
taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @project-xiii @justletmereadmywhump @sariadragon @sowhumpful @books-are-everything @littlespacecastle @captain-bo-bob-bobby @morning-star-whump @a-formless-entity @nyooom @catnykit @whumpinthepot @snakebites-and-ink @expressionless-fr @foresttheblep @honeybees-125 @marcotheflychair @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @idontreallyexistyet @what-if-i-just-did @writereleaserepeat @pokemaniacgemini @chaoticcreaturehideaway @taterswhump @secretheaveninhiding @ghost-whump @sausages-things @rainbowsandwhumperflies @ladyblogofficialreporter @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @enigmawriteswhump @arcane-verdure @itsmeblackcat
53 notes · View notes
zooophagous · 1 year
Note
So why do you hate the advertising industry?
Hokay so.
Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.
I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.
I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.
Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.
Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.
Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.
I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.
And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.
Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.
Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.
And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.
Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.
It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.
It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.
And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.
Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.
Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.
However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.
I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.
Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.
23K notes · View notes
pwncez · 8 months
Text
   ℛℰℬ𝒰𝒦ℰ .ᐟ
Tumblr media
꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 3.5kay word count , black fem reader , set in university , frat boy ノ football player ony , sex on the floor :o , mean ony [ for a bit ] , mentions of infidelity [ more of miscommunication ] , pet name usage [ ex. mama, baby, lil girl, daddy, n pa’ ] , pouty crybaby reader , ony says da n word [ duh ! ] , creampie , breathplay , somewhat . . dacryphilia .
milkie’z note to you .ᐟ . . . surprise >< ! ! ! ! i know dis came out of no where but ‘ve been wantin to write abt ony 4 so long ): i hope u luvvv . n title of work is inspired by dis song ⭐️ !
Tumblr media
“keep fuckin’ movin’ . . — i want you to. keep fuckin’ movin’ and watch what i do to ya’ lil’ ass.”
you’re a good girl. you’ve always been.
you obey your parents, you maintain a three point eight grade point average in your university classes, when the moments presents themselves, you help an elderly cross the street, and help a small child grab a ball that somehow got itself wedged within a thorny bush. you try your best to give a sweet smile to passerbys while you’re out on your daily morning jogs, you tip your waiter an extra twenty on top of your pretax bill, and you recycle!
you’re a good girl — some will even label you as the best girl.
and how you got yourself caught in this situation here? bent over on all fours, on the floor, being mounted by your usual passive, soft spoken boyfriend like an animal in his bedroom within his fraternity house — his, puzzlingly quiet fraternity house should you add, being that almost everyone had been home when you initially stepped foot over the threshold twenty minutes ago, is a baffling mystery’s still pending conclusion you aren’t too sure of.
your soft knees burn against the material of your lover’s murakami rug underneath you due to the continuous back and forth motion of his weight pushing against and off of you. you’re aware that a puddle of drool is devising beneath your cheek. you feel the cool dampness of it — god, it’s gross. it’s disgusting.
“o-on’ — god, i c-c,” you don’t think you’re able to breathe. your lips shape around the opening syllables of his name, though they’re unable to fully form due to the never ending compress and expand of your lungs trying to suck in as much oxygen as they can. “onya’!” you squeal out his name when he releases a rough huff while adjusting himself more fully over you, one foot flat on the floor, the other leg still bent as he kneels.
his cock is . . .
you’re sure that words won’t be able to fully and accurately describe it. each time you find yourself a little bit tipsy with your friends — a little bit tipsy and needy, you go on a spiel about how perfect he is.
“you said, and this is like, the most fucking exact quote ever,” ymir’s face had been smoothened over in her usual deadpan as she fluidly sliced up a banana for her habitual post workout smoothie. “ ‘god, he’s jus’ so pretty and he smells so good and his dick — should i? mm . .’ and you laughed like a fuckin’ maniac right here. ‘okay, okay i will, its . . it’s huge,’” she tossed the fruit in the blender while you buried your face in your palms while squealing and shaking your head. “don’t wanna hear it anymore? cool. i didn’t wanna fucking repeat it.”
it is huge.
and it’s heavy. you practically feel the weight of it cumbering down inside of your squelching, chubby pussy — working and pushing right up against the spongy nub of your g spot.
you hate that he’s so . . angry. you feel how hard his large, soft hands grip your waist. usually, they touch you so delicately. they wipe your tears, fix a braid out of place, carefully adjust a shirt’s strap. they don’t spank you this hard and snatch you back into place when your body begins to slip.
onyankopon’s known for having a bit of a dark side, everyone on campus is aware.
what everyone sees at parties and lectures and quads is what they get. he’s quiet — doesn’t speak unless spoken to and keeps his opinions to himself. he’ll lounge on a bench with his friends, fists shoved in his billionaire boy’s labeled hoodie, legs spread wide agape to accommodate you upon his lap and he’d just . . . listen. rarely would he offer a laugh or comment — the most is a wide, handsome grin displaying all of his pretty, white teeth ( a glistening gold cap covering the bottom row at social events ) or a slight scoff at the mention of something irritable.
the country’s beloved, college quarterback star only fetes his hidden rage and anger on the field. opposing teams are the target of such . . and sometimes his own mates.
you’ve only had a first hand witness to such after meeting him following a losing game outside of the locker room, still dressed in your cheer uniform. you heard him yell for the first time, loud and livid . . his smooth voice echoing off porcelain walls and cold steel.
it had made you jump and recoil . . flinch back when he came walking out the doors, last of course, and automatically reach for you for comfort.
you hadn’t mean to, not at all, but would he shout at you like that, too?
ony didn’t appreciate that.
from then on, you were to meet him at his car . . a sleek, black on black hellcat, passenger seat decorated with your own pink trimmed cover and sewn in name.
this leaves you both here . . today.
you had ace’d an exam, received a more than beautiful check for your hours in working at the campus’ library along with a few tutoring sessions on the side, you were happy.
albeit, walking through his frat house’s doors and greeting ony who’d only given you a swift look up and down from the cute, gyaru - like beach wedges on your feet, the tiny, denim flared skirt on your hips, and gingham patterned crop top adorned upon your chest, you knew he was upset.
“what — hnnggg, please — w-what’d i do?” you drag out the last word through a slurred whine when he swats a specific slap against the back of your soft thighs. not even your ass . . he wants you to feel this shit tomorrow.
his breaths are hard. you can’t see him but you know his eyes, dark and drilling, are staring directly into the back of your head. “don’t play fuckin’ stupid, ( ❤︎ ),” he grits out quietly. “please don’t.”
he takes hold of the globes of your ass, spreading them far apart, making sure you feel the cool air glide over your holes. it feels colder than usual because you’re so wet. “ ‘s my fuckin’ pussy, yeah?” he pants out. “shit, ‘s supposed to be . . . givin’ my shit out — y’got me lookin’ like a fuckin’ bitch out here, man, look—“ his own words seem to ignite the roaring flames of his anger.
you squeak when he reaches down to grab you by the front of your throat, squeezing it just hard enough for you to gasp on your next inhale.
an inkling of fear plants itself within the pit of your stomach. what does he mean? what is he talking about? “ ‘m not.” tears paint your face, sticky and warm. your make up is ruined. no fair. you were so excited for the beach date you planned for the both of you . . you’d even picked out fat, ripened strawberries and dipped them in chocolate to harden the night before yourself. you even got a heart shaped pizza customized with his favorite toppings to shape out the both of your initials on it! “ ‘m not, i swe—“ you hiccup. “—ar . . ‘s yours, daddy. m’pussy’s all yours, i p-promise.”
ony thinks you talk a big game. you sound so genuine. how do you do that?
he’ll buy into it, “yeah,” he licks his lips, bending you further back, deepening that arch until it looks somewhat painful and he tilts himself forward.
he makes you look at him like that, from upside down and he admires the tears that shine across your soft cheeks. he huffs a scoff at the sight of your drool laminated chin and your shuddering body. “yeah, i bet,” he murmurs. “good girl ( ❤︎ ) . . fuckin’ cheerleader . . top ten on the dean’s list . . . gettin’ over and fuckin’ playing paradis university’s star quarterback ony asare,” his thrusts have slowed. he tilts his head, face a calculated blank, “think i don’t know what typa’ shit you tryna’ play with me, lil’ girl?”
you wish you could take a peek inside of his brain — finally get an understanding as to what he was talking about. “ ‘m not playing you, ony,” you realize now that the tears on your face were not only a cause of overbearing pleasure, but pain as well. you can hear it in ony’s voice how much he’s hurting and you hate that he won’t allow you to fix it. “w-what did i do?”
ony has stopped moving. he keeps your face in his hands and you see a muscle in his jaw tick as he tries to keep from speaking.
“nah,” he murmurs.
you sniffle, soft lips pouted, “talk to me, pa’.”
“no.” he lets you go and you fall forward, quietly catching your breath.
“yes.”
“you know what the fuck you did.”
“how do i know if i keep asking you?” you give a soft, little whine, making a move to pull yourself off of his dick to face him but he keeps you where you are with a firm smack to your ass.
“i saw you with my own two eyes smilin’ in your ex’s face . . i saw you invite that nigga into your apartment.”
god.
you knew that decision would come back to bite you in the ass. you bow your head, eyes closed. “ony . .—“
“—if i catch you in a lie, i’m done with you. you hear me?” abruptly, his voice doesn’t carry that edge anymore. he’s quiet and soft . . he nearly sounds like your ony again, which queues you in on the realization that he’s telling the truth. “gon’ be y’last time with me . . near me . . touching me. and i put that on everything i love.”
“ony, we didn’t do anything,” you turn your head over your shoulder to gaze into his eyes, making sure he read how genuine you were.
ony’s been the only person to recognize your tale ticks. you both know this.
“i found a box of his things buried in my closet that he never picked up, i swear,” your voice is a meek little thing . . broken and weary. “i dunno, to give you peace of mind, ymir was even home that day. i know you both share your own bond and we both know that she wouldn’t lie, not even for me. we didn’t do anything. he picked up the box and left . . wasn’t even in my apartment for three minutes.”
ony licks his lips, looking away from you for a few seconds. when he begins to slowly shake his head, you crumble.
your heart feels like it’s disintegrating within your chest as you go to speak, breath gone, “p-please, i would n-never do that to you,” you weep and go to pull off again but he keeps you still, once again. “onya, please.”
“lemme think, man. relax,” he places a palm at your lower back, right between the piercings that puncture the deep dimples at the base of it. he needs you quiet for a moment.
he saw that three days ago. while on the way to surprise you with your favorite food and that new marc jacobs tote you’ve had in your wishlist just because, he saw a familiar head of black curls and knew who the person had been.
your fuckin’ ex.
you and ony have been together for about twelve months. you dated jonah your freshman year of uni and the both of you hadn’t even lasted more than six, however the shit he did to you during the time was foul.
ony doesn’t like him. not one fucking bit. the only thing keeping him from sending a punch hard enough into the fucker’s face to knock him into a coma is his scholarship and, above all, you.
so, to see you open your door for him . . clearly willingly, dressed in that tiny ass, cute nightgown, give him a smile . . and step aside to allow him entry into your home had made ony feel a rage unorthodox to earth’s atmosphere. he felt sick to his fucking stomach.
wanted to block your number and socials then and there though could never get himself to do it. you were so excited for your date today, blew up his messages with your precious emoticons and exclamation marks that same night like nothing ever happened.
still, above all, you were telling the truth. ony can tell . . he feels it radiating off of you. your sweetness and how good you are, it’s palpable. regardless, you were right, too. if he still even felt a seed of doubt, he can ask ymir. the most blunt person the both of you knew — doesn’t hold shit back for anybody, best friend or not.
“. . . cross your fuckin’ heart,” he murmurs, side eyeing your pretty face face, foliated with woe and sorrow.
“i swear it to the stars.”
god, he feels so stupid now.
he rubs a hand across his tapered waves, bitter embarrassment slowly spreading across his chest similar to a crack in an icicle.
fuck it.
he suddenly presses you back where you were, hearing your little squeal of shock. “was gon’ have me transfer to another school and shit,” he huffs, jaw clenching once more at the thought. “would’ve had me cryin’ like a fuckin’ wimp . . you scared me, mama . . fuck.”
he can’t imagine losing you. ever.
“ ‘m s-sorry,” your toes coil tight within your wedges as he resumes that same brutal pace. you think his thrusts are hitting even harder now that he’s finally gotten a quiet mind for the first time in days. “s-should’ve never . .” you can’t get your words out but ony knows what you’re going to say.
he licks his thick, soft lips, pinning the bottom one beneath his top row of teeth, “should’ve never let that fed into your apartment . . should’ve took that box and burnt up all his shit, mhm . . i know.”
yeah.
he gets it.
you melt underneath him, successfully opening up your pussy even more, letting him batter it senseless. you feel yourself weakly gushing out your juices, feel a few droplets racing down your inner thighs to your knees, feel it packing into a paste at the foundation of his thick cock.
“unh, shit,” ony lets his head fall back at how perfect it all feels. “f-u—uuck . . gimmie this shit. take it, mhm, take it.”
your hips start to move. not back and forth but in smooth circular motions. ony watches how your fat, soft ass cheeks bounce off of his sculpted abdomen, how the skin ripples and pleats akin to hard ocean waves the stronger he fucks you.
to simply imagine another person in his place . . .
ony feels a murderous fervor burn inside of his chest. no longer opting to hold his tee out of the way, he pulls it up to bite down on the bottom and hold you more by the sides of your torso. his rhythm slows but he digs in deeper.
the steady smack . . smack . . smack sound of your skin meeting drives your brain into an empty void. “ohhh . . shit,” you moan out, honing in on the sensation of his balls, heavy yet firm, slapping against the throbbing bulb of your hard clit. “don’t s-st . . god, ony’ you’re,” you shiver, burying your face inside of your arms. you feel out of body. you can’t finish your sentence, he hears you begin to cry — all broken and full of mindless babbles and he smiles around his shirt.
“there we go,” he murmurs. “i’m diggin’ this shit out, mm? . . tell me how it feels, beautiful.”
your soft voice is but a quite whimper when you give a ‘ so good. ‘
ony reaches behind him for the neck of his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side, prior to pulling out and swiftly turning you over onto your back.
the position change is so sudden. you blink, watching the world oscillate until you focus on him. you watch him lean down before he kisses you . . soft and slow as his hands part your legs open at the thighs. “put it in for me,” his low voice murmurs against your glossed lips. immediately, you comply, reaching between you both for his dick.
it throbs in your little hand, hard and wet with your slick. you tap his fat mushroom tip on your entry before letting it slip inside, mouth dropping at the instantaneous feeling of pleasure of his shaft splitting you wide open. the both of you groan out your little sighs, not bothering to separate your lips an inch. you can’t explain how happy you feel — with him, underneath him, touching him. “i l-love you,” you mewl when he’s dropping his dick in and out of your soppy center. “o-only you, pa’ . . i mean it.”
he nestles his face in your neck, breathing in a deep inhale. you smell like vanilla and jasmine. “love you . . m-maybe too fuckin’ much,” he admits quietly into the skin there. ony can’t help it. you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.
he feels your cunt clenching down tighter and tighter, it only spurs on his own release, allowing his body to tense more and more. “hold it,” he breathes, pressing the pads of his fingers into your skin tighter. “hold that shit, baby . . wait.”
“i can’t,” you’re gasping while your nails prick against the rippling muscles of his back, splitting smooth, dark brown skin and revealing oozing plasma. you feel the muscles in your legs spasming. you know it’s going to hit you hard. “oh my god.”
ony starts to maneuver his hips, pivoting them with each inwards thrust, letting himself get lost in the feel of your ribbed walls, soft, gushy, and tight, massaging his dick, almost deliberately trying their best to work his nut free. “you f-fuckin’ dangerous, man,” he whimpers out your name, heavy hands grasping for the soft cheeks of your ass to begin to lift your hips and make you meet him halfway. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna . .”
“metoometoometoo.”
the both of you work desperately — recognizing that you’re both on the edge of something phenomenal. “cum in me,” he hears your pretty voice gasp in his ear. “please, daddy . . c’mon. gimmie it.”
dangerous isn’t the word, it doesn’t even cover half of what you are.
ony feels his toes curl and his muscles tense. his eyes snap tightly shut. “gotdamn,” he feels it. “. . . fuck!”
you cum when he does, legs escaping his hands to wrap tightly around his waist. you hold his hips in with your thighs, keeping him still. stars dance behind your eyelids as you hear your release audibly pour out of you and down the seam of your ass. you feel ony’s cock pulsing as he pushes out shot after shot of thick, warm cum, letting it all gather in that tiny crevice behind your cervix.
“s-shit, baby, wait,” ony’s hands are gripping at you. it’s as though he’s trying to pull you closer and peel you away.
your voice is dazed as you reach for his handsome face, rubbing your thumb softly across his bearded jaw, “shh, jus’ feel it, pa’ . . don’t i feel good?”
he fights it for about a second more.
he’s never came inside of you before . . inside of anybody.
but fuck, he feels you working it out of him, clenching and releasing. he feels how good it is.
he lets himself relax.
“. . h-have to buy y’lil ass a plan b now,” he groans, feeling the beginning factors of sleep begin to pull his eyes low. how immediate it is scares him. you fucking scare him. ony lets his body relax on top of yours, on the floor.
the way you rub his back is comforting. he can feel your heart thudding hard within the cage of your ribs. he’s sure the beat of it matches his own. “mhm,” you quip quietly. “. . our date?”
he groans, pecking a soft kiss underneath your jaw, “let’s take a nap, mm? a lil one . . gimmie thirty minutes.”
it takes over ten minutes for you to lift the both of you up off of the floor, complaining about how ‘gross’ it’d be for you guys to doze off there but you make it for his bed, collapsing down with your body on top of his now. your eyes are closed and your breathing is calm when you feel him kiss the crown of your head, “sorry for . . accusing you and shit,” at the sound of how bashful he sounds, it makes you want to smile. “wasn't cool. i gotta work on that.”
“you do,” you pout and lift your head to look up at him. “wasn’t nice.”
he licks his lips, eyes closed, smirking a bit, “y’got me outta’ character . .” at only the simple thought of his demeanor an hour ago, it all makes him want to shun himself away to spare the humiliation. “i don’t do all’lat.”
your responding giggle is precious, “you don’t do all’lat?”
“nah.”
“coulda fooled me.”
ony lifts his arm up high, eyes still closed, before letting it fall with little to no finesse, so that his hand can crack down onto your ass with a thundering smack!
you yelp out a high, whiny, “ony!”
“ ‘m sleeping. shh.”
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
cospinol · 1 year
Text
Genuinely can’t get over warau arsnotoria having the most premium Big Group of ikemen characters I’ve seen in ages, airing in this incredible dry spell Era we’ve been in lately where it’s just been season after season of ikemen shows with designs so bad/boring they can’t hold my interest at all, and then the group of characters is just… not in the show lol. The incredible nerve of it. No I will not be downloading your gatcha game to learn more thank you very much
it’s like an intentional version of the self-own bucchigire also performed this season where one character was so much better than the rest of the cast that he accidentally tanked the entire show. But at least that wasn’t on purpose
#kind of have to respect arsnotoria for doing this On Purpose even though it actually sucked to watch in practice#the girls side slice of life really did work in its own right but why would you intentionally make me not pay any attn to it T_T#txt#also I still haven’t finished bucchigire so I guess that show could have an incredible comeback of some flavour#hard to see it happening though when it seems so deeply committed to its style of character drama that Largely works but#always seems to just miss the mark by a few inches for me. idk I think that’s it’s literally just#hard for me to care abt anything else when todou-kun’s absurd melodrama is sitting right there at all times and no one around him cares!!!#which is in and of itself kind of the best part of the show & I love the aspect of the rest of the group being Paired Off w each other#as a metric of Leaving Him Out Narratively and like.. if it was on purpose this would be anime of the season#like he is so cute there’s nothing I want to see more than him being generally mistreated#if I could believe the writing was leaving him out On Purpose it would be an excellent meal#but as is i have no idea what it’s going for at all .. smth boring in the evil otouto plot I guess. we’ll see#actually nvm I would probably hate it if it was doing the Neglect dynamic on purpose#since I despised that in bokuhaka (posterchild show for shooting yourself in the foot with One Good Character)#but in my mind it’s good..#WAIT AND ALSO SINCE I’M HERE I have a petty axe to grind abt katsura being disappointing. obviously.#I’m not a shinsengumi girl in general and usually watch bakumatsu era shows for the joui characters#and obviously he was the one I was most excited to see here and his design is adorable but like ToT what the hell is that lol#lamest romance I’ve seen in anime in a hot minute and it’s where ALL his screentime goes & totally subsumes all of akira’s other development#would call it an unforced error but it’s clearly the main thing that both of these characters were conceived specifically in service of#so them both appearing interesting/appealing before it kicked off was actually the accident. I guess. yeesh
1 note · View note
tteokdoroki · 11 months
Note
nagi has beef with any of your pets cuz why do they get to lay around all day but he doesn’t :(
*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— feline foe + seishiro nagi.
Tumblr media
૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — strangers to enemies except it’s nagi and your pet cat.
⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, semi-smutty, mentions of sex, suggestive towards the end, dry humping, owning a cat lol, the cat walks in on you, established relationship, pro player!nagi, fem!reader - not beta read !
⭑ words — 2K.
⭑ notes — thank u lambie for sending me this ! i thought it was too cute an idea not to write! also i queued this to post on nagi’s bday so happy bday to my bf <3!! enjoy! - m.list ✩
Tumblr media Tumblr media
it might sound vain, but nagi was sure that before it arrived, he was the centre of your universe.
he had all of your attention, always. you went out of your way to bring him lunches at the stadium during practices and helped him drink water or energy drinks on the pitch at his games because you liked to believe that it would bring him good luck and he let you. his teammates heave with jealousy each and every time.
when your days were done, you’d let nagi settle his head in your lap while you brush back his hair and scratch at his scalp — letting him game to his heart's content in your company. nagi might have been pampered too and much to the point where he expected to have all of your attention… so he doesn’t quite understand why all of it shifts to a brand new presence in your lives. 
your cat. 
miruku. milk.
it’s a ridiculous name for an animal, nagi thinks, it’s a pest. annoying. but he couldn’t say no to you when you’d brought the stray cream-coloured kitty home, soaked in rain from where you’d chased it around his apartment complex trying to bring it inside. if he said no to you, that would’ve been another issue in itself — and nagi hated when you fought. it was bothersome having you play silent treatment.
so you keep it, the kitten, and everything changes for seishiro nagi. for the worst.
miruku can do everything nagi isn’t allowed to nd gets away with it as well. he raids the fridge if you leave it open, doesn’t have to pay to replenish it because of course cats don’t have income. he wakes you up at ungodly hours for playtime which usually consists of you sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking around a ball of yarn for the kitty to play with. it’s irritating for nagi, having your warmth stolen away from him and pulling him out of the depths of slumber by your lack of presence— all because the stupid cat wants to play ball and you just can’t seem to say no to it. 
the feline that’s suspiciously close to looking like your boyfriend if he were to be an animal is also allowed to sleep in. miruku naps where he pleases, in the linen closet, the corner of the kitchen where the water pipes run hot, on top of the drier and especially by the front door where he trips up nagi on the way in from practices. it’s like the cat is purposely trying to make the pro-player’s life even more difficult than it’s meant to be and you find it’s every single movement adorable. 
the worst place miruku could possibly nap is seishiro’s favourite spot— on your chest. nuzzled against your boobs on a warm sunday afternoon where your boyfriend should be, where your boyfriend should be making you giggle by sucking hickies into your neck while he thumbs at the skin underneath your breasts. he should be suckling on the sweet expanse of your skin lazily, working you up just enough to offer yourself up to appease seishiro’s insatiable appetite.
and its so sick that he can’t because of your pampered little pet. you’d just brush him off and tell him ‘you’ll get your turn later, sei,’ which makes nagi hate that stupid fucking cat even more than anything.
you don’t ever let seishiro sleep in these days, ripping the blankets from his tall frame every morning with a slice of toast hanging from between your pretty lips as you say. “get up sei, wake up for me, baby.” you coo sweetly, briefly letting go of your breakfast to kiss his forehead before you rush out of the door. “i won’t be happy if isagi or reo have to wake you up for practice. ‘kay?”
“mmm…lil’ longer. please angel.” he groans but you weave your fingers through his snow white locks to scratch at his scalp before you tug on them slightly. 
“up. seishiro nagi. i’ll see you later!” the tone you use is warning, and prompts nagi to shift int he sheets to get out of bed. 
he huffs, stretching his limbs a little too similarly to your kitty companion before the realisation hits— miruku is laying in your spot, comfy and cosy. sleeping. and it only pisses him off more. that should be him.
“you’re a pain.” seishiro narrows his eyes at the snoozing feline, scratching it under the chin and the twitch of miruku’s ears tells him that he’s been acknowledged as a rival. 
so be it. 
Tumblr media
“how come this cat gets away with everythin’ ‘nd i don’t?”
nagi whines into your neck, watching with darkened and narrowed eyes as his feline opponent hops up onto the couch to join you both in your late night cuddle session. miruku makes his presence known, pushing his head under your chin affectionately and clawing at the fluffy blanket draped over you and your boyfriend. you obviously find it adorable, your hands slipping from seishiro’s soft white hair to tickle just behind your pet’s ear— completely discarding the man tucked into your side. 
“what are you talking about, sei?” you mumble absentmindedly — missing the way the striker squirms in his seat and squeezes you close by the waist, as if to pull you away from the offending kitty.
seishiro grumbles out a response. “he gets to sleep in, but when i do it, it’s a bother. same for when he gets in the fridge too, and when i nap on top of you—“
“stop complaining about him, sei. miruku is just a baby!” you scold your boyfriend, hugging your kitten to your chest, cooing down at him as if he really is a baby. nagi seethes from beside you, that should be him in your arms and not some cat-like freeloader from the streets. miruku blinks up at the white-haired pro player slowly, his mouth opening in a petty meow that almost makes nagi hiss back in response. 
“i’m supposed to be your baby.”
“and you are! but you’re just a little more self-sufficient than my precious lil’ kitty— he needs me to take care of him.” 
“why don’t you just take care of me? cats are s’pposed to be independent,” seishiro nuzzles into your neck, his lips still pouty against your skin and you’d be a liar to say you weren’t overwhelmed with affection for your two boys. “‘n looking after the two of us must be a drag…” 
rolling your eyes, you turn your head to capture nagi in a surprise chaste kiss just to sate him— brushing your lips over his delicately. “i do take care of you, seishiro. some might say you’re a little spoilt with how much i do,” smiling into the kiss, you scratch your nails through his scalp in the way that he likes, a lot similar to your feline friend before jumping up from the couch with a clap of your hands. “now which one of my boys is hungry?”
miruku is promptly shooed to the floor beside a frustrated nagi left without your warmth. the pair share a brief moment of eye contact as your boyfriend runs a hand over his face in annoyance. 
“i hate you.”
“meow.”
Tumblr media
the final straw for nagi is the night your cat makes it into the bedroom while you’re having sex. 
he’s pent up, training has been more intensive than usual and all he wants to do is come home and lose himself in you. you let him, falling into the sheets with seishiro nagi, your hands lost in his sea of perfectly soft white hair, your mouth on his, your legs wrapped around the small of his waist as he sinks into you for the first time in a long time. you share a moan, muffled by nagi’s tongue working it’s way down your throat and his entire body weight thrown over you. 
somehow he manages to tear through your clothes, tongue hungrily lapping over your pert nipples while you tug his aching cock free from the confines of his shorts. tears sting at your waterline as nagi presses into your cunt without much prep. he’s so big, you feel as though he might already be kissing your cervix without even moving and you tug hard on his hair at the feeling of nagi twitching within your walls.
“s-sei, god. fill me up s’good—!”
he cuts you off with a throaty moan, eyes rolling back as he gives an experimental thrust. “s’no fair…s’pretty. so tight around me, fuck, angel…”
the moment is perfect, he’s dizzy with love and desire and all caught up in the heat it all… that is until your stupid fucking cat starts screaming bloody murder from outside your locked door. 
“leave it,” seishiro grunts, pawing at your sides and languidly rolling his hips into yours. “s’probably nothin’, angel.” 
you gasp and nod, delirious with ecstasy and pull him closer but miruku seems to whine again— scratching pathetically at the door. “sei, what if—?” 
“he’s fine, jus’ focus on me, pretty thing.” and for the most part you try, you let nagi have his way with you— let him pin you to the bed and make you see galaxies and you’re both about to burst when he swears to the fucking stars he feels that cat’s paw between his balls. 
he doesn’t remember what happens next, just that he sees red or turns it and you are equally as embarrassed— shuffling out of the room to deal with your pesky cat, draped in one of sei’s spare hoodies. 
that’s when nagi decides he’s had enough. 
Tumblr media
his final plan isn’t to get rid of miruku but instead to steal your attention away from the dumb animal. 
nagi puts a little more effort into cleaning up himself and the house for you once he gets back from practice at blue lock ( after multiple face times to barou and isagi, reo and others ). he stops by a flower shop and puts together an arrangement that he thinks you’ll like because the colours remind him so much of you. 
when you come home, your eyes light up at the bouquet on your sparkling countertops and the sight of your boyfriend lounging around in your kitchen on his phone. “baby, did you get these for me?” you swoon. 
“yeah. on the way back from practice i went to that flower shop you always talk about.”
“sei, that’s not even on the way home,” you smile and his heart flutters in his chest. “you didn’t have to go out of your way for me.”
nagi bristles with happiness as you make your way into his arms of your own accord and hide your face in his toned chest. “i’d do anything for you, angel,” he mumbled into your hairline and uses a finger to tilt your head up for a gentle kiss, quickly distracting you from miruku who’s jumped up onto the counter. “missed you, s’much.” he knows exactly what he’s doing when he presses his cock between your thighs, dropping his lips to your neck wetly. 
“m-missed you too, sei but…gotta feed the cat…” 
your kitten purrs at your side but seishiro rolls you over, nailing your hips down to the countertops and grinds into you feverishly. his plan is working. 
“no buts, need you. god… s’not fair bein’ away from you f’so long. baby…fuck.” he’s whiny and needy, grabbing handfuls of your ass to slide you back and forth on his growing erection so that you become putty in his hands. you’re so lightheaded that you don’t even hear your cat meowing for your attention— clinging onto nagi’s broad shoulders for dear life. “unless you want me to stop?”
you blink up at your boyfriend, teary eyed and ravenous— for once not reaching out instinctively to pet miruku but instead reaching up to tug on seishiro’s soft snowball locks and bring him down to your height. “i don’t want you to stop, seishiro,” you growl, your voice dipping into sensual and sultry territory. “i want you to fuck me.” 
“can do, angel.” he coos, letting you drag him by the hand towards your shared bedroom.
nagi throws a smug look over his shoulder at your unhappy cat, grinning from ear to ear as miruku hisses at him in defeat.
nagi: 1 - miruku: 0
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
evertomorrowart · 3 months
Text
Best of YouTube 2023
Tumblr media
Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.
What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!
But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.
For those who don't know, further is an explanation.
Tumblr media
At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.
Tumblr media
Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.
TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘
Tumblr media
I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.
As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.
Tumblr media
Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.
Tumblr media
At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."
Tumblr media
Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--
I. L o a t h e. Football.
But.
F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.
Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.
Tumblr media
CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.
Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.
Tumblr media
Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."
Tumblr media
Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.
Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."
Tumblr media
"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?
I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.
Tumblr media
The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".
Watch. The damn. Video.
In fact, watch all of them!
Thanks for reading this if you did.
911 notes · View notes
ghostdrinkssoup · 10 months
Text
something I find really interesting about hannibal’s character is how he uses people’s expectations and ingrained assumptions to hide himself. no one suspects he’s a serial killer because he doesn’t present as one. he’s elegant and refined and isn’t cruel to animals. he’s highly sophisticated, a polyglot and has a deep admiration for beauty and life. he appreciates saving lives just as much as he appreciates ending them. in fact, this particular aspect of his character is partly why it takes will the entirety of s1 to accept hannibal’s true nature. will saw hannibal save abigail and accompany her to the hospital in apéritif and he also saw hannibal save a man’s life by performing emergency surgery and taking over the operation at the end of sorbet.
Tumblr media
this moment in particular is interesting because of how it’s framed to make hannibal look almost godly from will’s point of view:
1) hannibal is positioned immediately higher than will due to being in the ambulance, meaning will is looking up at hannibal, while hannibal is looking down on him
2) hannibal is standing under a bright light as he works to save this guy’s life, while will is standing in almost complete darkness
3) the usual orchestral, classical music is playing in the background, emphasising the apparent “holiness” of the act and framing hannibal as some sort of saviour
the impact of this scene is even more potent when considering the context of the rest of the episode, since will has already stated that the ripper is not the type to save people or enact mercy on anyone. his style of murders doesn’t suggest this characteristic whatsoever, and although will’s assessment is correct, hannibal’s personality and overall demeanour doesn’t match what we’d imagine a person like that might look like. I think will is confronted by this as well, because even if hannibal’s surgical skill means he matches the ripper’s profile (which makes him a valid suspect) his actions contradict will’s image of the ripper, while simultaneously affirming it:
Tumblr media
it’s difficult to reconcile these facets of hannibal’s character. it’s inherently contradictory and defies our cultural expectations. nonetheless, hannibal’s inclination to save people is sometimes more insidious than his murders. he doesn’t save people out of altruism, he does it because he thinks he’s superior and enjoys deciding outcomes. he doesn’t view himself as insane, he views himself as god. this is most aptly explored in takiawase, through the acupuncturist/beekeeper killer. here we see a murderer who confesses that she killed a man to quiet his mind, and tells jack that it’s beautiful that she managed to protect him and her other patients. this is one side of hannibal’s character, the one who’s a doctor and therapist and sees death as a cure from disease, even if the ‘disease’ itself is literally just discourtesy. it’s ultimately an act of power.
and yet in this same episode he flips a coin and saves bella on a whim. this of course is framed to others as an act of mercy, however the reality is he took bella’s power away in an act disguised as kindness. once again, he hides in plain sight. this is the other side of his character, and it’s just as deadly.
it’s still about power.
Tumblr media
but we don’t associate acts of mercy with monstrosity. when hannibal comforts abigail in trou normand we question whether he’s as bad as we think, because what negative connotations are tied to paternal tenderness? we miss that hannibal is fostering dependency, that he literally looks dead in the eyes as he holds her, and that he blatantly just told us that he’s using abigail to manipulate will:
Tumblr media
hannibal often does this actually. he either directly says what he’s doing or suggests that he’s the culprit (often through cannibal puns, as we know) but no one ever interprets him correctly because doing so would contradict the image he’s carefully constructed for himself. it would cause too much dissonance.
and what’s fascinating is that on a subtextual level this is largely what the show is about. the story is an exploration of societal roles and the struggle to fit into stiff categorisation and expectations. will parallels hannibal in this regard because he’s desperately trying to repress his identity by taking on certain roles. and the audience is lured by this persona the same way the characters are lured by hannibal because will defies our understanding of certain tropes. on a genre level, will assumes the detective archetype, meaning we are primed to think he’s inherently good. when we see him say he wants to save people we believe him, even though he often only does so to prove to himself that he’s a good person. will is indeed righteous, a characteristic we often view positively, however he’s violent, wrathful and actively enjoys murder due to how powerful it makes him feel. he’s not dissimilar to hannibal, we just don’t see this straight away because doing so would disrupt our understanding of good and evil.
will hides the same way hannibal does, except will hides from us as well
2K notes · View notes
catsvrsdogscatswin · 3 months
Text
I've had this thought swirling in the back of my head for a while, but it's finally congealed enough that I think I can make a coherent pitch, which is: I think RWBY's problems with the more vitriolic part of its fanbase partially stems from the fact that RWBY is a deconstruction that doesn't advertise it's a deconstruction.
RWBY's status as a deconstruction is pretty textbook. It takes apart standard fantasy, shounen, and anime tropes in order to analyze them and their deeper meaning and then reassembles them in new and interesting ways for the plot/characters/series. Thing is, it never says that outright in promotional material, which can lead to later outrage in fans.
See, unless their way of discovering new shows is to close their eyes and stab their finger at random, most people tend to choose series to watch/read based on expectations. Maybe a friend said they'll like it because it has [insert thing], maybe they read the summary and were intrigued, maybe they thought the poster/cover art was cool, whatever. These small pieces of information are generally enough for people to make a snap-judgment of the style and genre of the series, which they can then gauge against their personal tastes and decide whether or not they want to try.
Most of the time, this works just fine. Well-written deconstructions also generally give the viewers some warning/buildup before they take a hard swerve. See Madoka Magica: the magical girl paradigm is shaded by the possibility of death as soon as we're introduced to it, then there's an onscreen death with blood, and then a few episodes later we eventually realize the Faustian bargain of it all. Even innocent viewers who stumbled into watching it, unaware of the show's reputation, would go "Oh, wait, this is not going in the direction magical girl shows usually go" by a third of the way through.
The thing is, with RWBY, this does not happen unless you're paying a lot of attention and/or looking for it. And neither the cover art nor the summary nor, I believe, the fanbase gives a lot of warning about the swerves ahead.
In fact, RWBY initially bills itself as a pretty standard shounen anime. The main protagonist is hinted to have Special Powers and gets into the Magic Monster-Hunting School in the first episode, and the first two-and-a-half seasons are taken up by her and her friends' superhero-esque slice-of-life shenanigans as they thwart robberies and terrorist attacks and gear up for a tournament arc against the looming background of a larger conspiracy.
Then in the last half of the third season the villains' entire Rube Goldberg machine of a scheme snaps into completion and the plot twists so hard the entire genre takes a hard right. If you're used to character analysis and common anime tropes, this is not completely a surprise -up until this point, RWBY's character arcs and plot have been subtly traveling in non-traditional directions that hint of greater flexibility in genre treatment ahead- but if you're not... well.
Thing is, people watching RWBY up until this point have signed up for pretty standard shounen and they've been getting it, but the third season's ending smashes that all to bits. From then on out in RWBY, it's like they ordered fries and suddenly got a hamburger. It might be delicious; but it's not what they asked for, what they wanted, or what they paid for, and they are, justifiably, displeased.
So when the reasonable people either adjusted their expectations or sighed, shook their heads, and clicked back out (perhaps with a grumble and a scowl), the unreasonable people dug their heels in and began insisting that everybody was Getting The Show/Character Wrong and that CRWBY is ruining it, because the fact that RWBY's method of deconstruction is to put standard tropes in a blender and then arrange what's left in deceptive patterns means that said unreasonable viewers can scan the bare surface and argue that all the stereotypical stuff is clearly still under there, somewhere.
So they're continually trying to drag RWBY back to the tracks of a typical shounen anime series (it's closest relative), which creates a dissonance between the show they're watching and the show they think they're watching. They're trying to turn the hamburger back into fries, basically, except that doesn't work and just frustrates everyone involved, because you're trying to make RWBY into something that it's not. Hence, this attitude probably starting/fueling some of the more contentious statements in the fandom, i.e.:
"Ironwood was right the whole time" (in most action movies and shounen anime, allied military leaders are trustworthy beyond reproach)
"Adam's character was wasted" (we all know how much shounen loves their powerful warrior antiheroes)
"Ruby and the others are in the wrong about [insert thing]/or for doing [insert thing], and this is bad writing!" (shounen protagonists don't usually make more than One Very Big Mistake over the course of their entire careers, which is usually fixed/overcome/redeemed via an appropriately rigorous training arc)
And to be clear, there's nothing wrong with shounen tropes or shounen anime. They're wonderful storytelling devices in their own way and their own time: but if you want standard by-the-book shounen without any new and interesting concoctions, then RWBY is definitely not the show for you. And most people don't find that out until it's too late.
593 notes · View notes
transmutationisms · 3 months
Note
can you elaborate some on how the formulation of comphet sucks? i’m not super familiar with it & i trust your thoughts
well i am just some guy blogging also you can read the essay here if you're interested.
there is a clear streak of sexual conservatism that runs through the text (eg, the equation of bdsm with violence & 'vanilla' sex with a 'natural' & intrinsically 'feminine' sexuality that is being stifled; the failure to contextualise sex work as work; the attempt to differentiate gay men from lesbians on the grounds that gay men have too much casual sex & large age gaps in their relationships...) & these are not just local issues because they're all connected to the fact that rich is fundamentally uninterested in questioning gender (that is, the construction of womanhood itself) the way she is in questioning heterosexuality.
her formulation therefore always falls back on the notion of a shared biological basis for a 'female' existence, one that is continually violated & encroached upon by the male violence that oppresses it. to understand 'compulsory heterosexuality' in light of a concept of gender as biological, transhistorical, & inescapable thus becomes a call to reclaim a kind of mythologised prelapsarian 'female–female' relationship that is being artificially suppressed & oppressed under conditions of patriarchy. the question rich raises as animating the paper is: would women choose heterosexuality if they were not constrained into it? but never is this category 'women' historicised or problematised in the same way (glibly we might ask: would people choose womanhood, or indeed manhood, if we were not constrained into them...?); for rich the sexes simply exist; the question lies only in the correct relations between & within them.
i don't really find her idea of a 'lesbian continuum' is particularly useful & i think it elides discussion of the material factors that enforce heterosexuality with a more idealist, psychologised discourse about the comparative emotional 'valuation' of basically any interpersonal relationship. but that move away from material analysis also just characterises the whole essay, really, because again, rich takes as a point of departure the presumption of the reality & primacy of the sexgender binary whilst trying to analyse the artificiality of heterosexuality alone. really this is just business as usual in terms of talking out both sides of your mouth for radical feminism though, & indeed for any feminism reliant on essentialisms at its core.
565 notes · View notes
nostalgebraist · 11 months
Text
Frank @nostalgebraist-autoresponder will permanently halt operation at 9 PM PST this Wednesday (May 31, 2023).
For context on why, see this post.
(tl;dr this project been a labor of love for me for years, it takes a ton of continual effort, and my heart's not in it anymore.)
----
The blog itself will stay up indefinitely, it just won't make any new posts or accept asks.
Most of the code, models, etc. are freely available right now. Insofar as they are now, they will continue to be. The change on May 31 is unrelated to this stuff.
I've made various interactive demos of these components over the years, and the demos will likely still work after the bot stops. But I won't do any tech support or maintenance on them, and I would actively recommend against using these as a way to "get Frank back."
----
I want to emphasize the following:
The best way for you to "send Frank off" over the next few weeks is to talk to her just like usual.
(And not too often, because she can only make 250 posts a day.)
This is true for a number of reasons, and can be viewed from a number of different angles:
(1)
While it can be fun to anthropomorphize Frank, she is structured very differently from a person, or even an animal.
She does not remember anything, even between two asks made on the same day. Every moment is a new one, with no relation to any other.
If you say "goodbye" or "you're going to be shut off" to her on May 30 2023, it's just as though you had said the same thing to her on some random day last year. She can't tell the difference.
She doesn't know these things are true or relevant now, and she can't possibly know in the way a human would. She's hearing the words for the first time, every time, and reacting in accordance with that.
Think of it like interacting with a baby, or someone with dementia. Every moment stands alone. If you strike a sad tone, they don't appreciate that it's about something. They just know that there is a sad tone, in the current experiential moment.
(2)
Frank mostly operates on a first-come, first-serve basis. She can only make 250 posts a day. There is a limited amount of time left.
Be conscientious about the way you're using up "slots" in this limited array of remaining Frank posts. Don't hog the ride.
(3)
I'm shutting down this bot in part because it's been a long-term, low-grade source of stress to me. I'd like the last weeks of the bot to be as low-stress as they can be.
When Frank gets an unusually large, or just unusual, form of user input over a period of time, I usually have to step in and do something in response.
(if there's way more input than usual and I don't do anything special, Frank will fill up most of her post limit quota before I even wake up, and then the asks will pile up further and further over the rest of the day.)
Maybe I have to delete a bunch of asks. Maybe I have to deploy some temporary change to her mood parameters to prevent the mood from getting too high or low and not coming back to baseline. Maybe I have to turn on "userlist mode," which still involves a cumbersome manual procedure.
Or, maybe I just have to do a lot more content moderation than usual.
"Usual," here, means reviewing and (mostly) approving something like 20 different hypothetical Frank posts per day, every day. If I go do something fun, and let myself forget about this task completely for 6 or 8 hours, there's a backlog waiting for me afterwards. During busy times, there's even more of this.
Just, like, help me chill out a bit, okay? Thanks.
3K notes · View notes
mamayan · 9 months
Text
YANDERE! FEITAN PORTER X DARLING!
TOUCH
Tumblr media
⚠️ This is a work of fiction with content I do not condone in reality. This is not meant to encourage or represent any type or sort of conduct. This is merely just fantasy ⚠️
MDNI•18+
Trigger warnings!
This work contains: Yandere content/intentions•NSFW•Kidnapping•Holding against will (darling)•Cursing•Mentions of abuse/torture•Stockholm Syndrome•General depravity•Obsessive tendencies•Sexual acts (consensual but darling is psychologically not sound of mind to be consenting, so somewhat dubcon)•Oral•fem darling•Somnophilia
You have been properly warned and notified of what this work contains. If anything above offends or triggers you, please do not continue reading. Don’t make me waste my time writing all this out only for someone to read and get offended when all the warning literally tell them what is in this. You reading this confirms you are 18+ years of age, meaning a consenting adult agreeing to proceed and consume this content, do not come after me or report me because you aren’t capable of managing yourself.
I appreciate support and love from anyone viewing and enjoying my content. Thank you♥️ I freakin’ love this 1999 anime artwork of Feitan!
*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。. .。.:*
Time suddenly seemed to become irrelevant.
The days passed in a mundane blur, and at some point, everything seemed worthless.
He mentioned in passing that it was November now, though you’d stopped asking the date a few months after your imprisonment. You stopped talking nearly all together these last few months. You couldn’t be entirely sure the last you’d spoken more than a word or two in response to his questions. His own speech minimal, though occasionally you’d catch a glimpse of his chattier side. Even that still couldn’t be considered talkative, more of a normal amount of speech when in a conversation. You haven’t seen that in a while either, maybe it disappeared when you’d stopped your own blubbering and whining. You didn’t ask questions at all anymore. It was pointless and had little meaning.
He sat in his usual spot.
Perched in the corner of the room, eyes sharply trained on your form as always.
His eyes used to unnerve you, riddle you with anxiety and fear of what he was planning. What he might do. What he will do.
It mattered hardly at all at this point.
You’d senselessly begged once, for it all to stop and for him to just kill you already. That’s what he must’ve had planned in the end, for what else did he want with you? An object to admire?
It seemed mad in it’s own way, that thought. Your questions of something or anything personal went unanswered and occasionally punished with weeks of isolation. It was better not to pry.
Asking for mercy and a faster death only brought a wrath you didn���t know lay inside him down upon you.
It was the first time he became physical with you, touched you more than was the bare minimum of necessity. He was surprisingly warm. Except his touch at that time was anything but the usual gentleness you now realized he used with you. His unforgiving grip on your face as he dragged you to your knees, the absolute agony of having your jaw fractured. The pain was unbearable, and even now left phantom pains radiating down your body. He’d dragged you out the front door, for the first time in what seemed to be forever.
Outside was duller than your mind remembered.
You’d been thrown into a vehicle and taken somewhere new.
You’d never wished to take back words more than you did that day. He’d dragged you to some sort of… torture facility. Chained you in a corner and left you there for hours on end. Nervous and frightened, you waited and waited. When he did return, it wasn’t alone. Someone you’d never met was dragged in, strapped down to a table.
Feitan had never really demonstrated anything so frightening before. He’d been somewhat volatile and brash, but the sadistic side never revealed itself like it did that day.
A day turned into several, and for nearly a week you were made to watch his sessions as he called them. Where he’d laugh like a maniac as he turned living humans into creatures you pitied more than yourself. He’d wipe their blood on you, smile as you trembled and begged for it to stop.
When he finally heeded your pleas, he asked a question that left you numb.
“Still want to die?”
You didn’t want to die anymore, at least not by his hand. He knew no mercy. He had no grievance tearing someone apart and from the inside out. The events that followed spanned longer than you bothered to keep track of anymore. He brought you back to your “home” where you were kept locked away. You had a bed, blankets and pillows, clothes and food, clean water and hygiene products. You’d never appreciated a bed like you did that first night back before. The softness and warmth you felt made tears roll down your cheeks and you had thanked him for returning you. It was the first genuine gratitude you’d ever shown to him.
You glanced up from the TV running a show you barely processed to catch his gaze. Those grey orbs holding emotion you couldn’t name or had never seen. He was always so still, and his porcelain features gave him the feel of a doll. For a moment, you merely held his gaze, feeling oddly calm and panicked all at once. Why you felt panicked didn’t make sense, nor why you’d feel calm in the presence of what seemed to be the Grim Reaper himself. The only movement he made to acknowledge your attention was a slight quirk to his brow. His usually ignored but always open book in his hand closing. His face mostly covered left you little to go off to how he felt. You’d gotten somewhat good at interpreting even the tiniest hint of emotion from him, but currently with your own frazzled feelings, figuring out his wasn’t working.
Your legs were pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around them as you settled into a protected fleshy ball. The blanket on your shoulders helping ground you slightly.
Only a little.
“What?” His voice was raspy, his own lack of use evident.
It didn’t sound annoyed, though you could just be misinterpreting this entire interaction.
It felt odd to speak, your mouth slightly cottony and dry, but the urge in your chest felt strangely compelled to say his name.
“Fei” You’d judged his voice, but your own was just as bad.
His eyes widened slightly, though aside from somewhat visible surprise, you were in the dark on how he’d feel about a nickname. You’d given your captor a nickname long ago, though never voiced it aloud. Feitan… Fei felt less threatening.
Feitan is darkness and fear. Feitan tore your life away from you, terrorized you, imprisoned and controlled nearly every little aspect of your life down to your very diet. Feitan is the infamous torturer of the Phantom Troupe.
Fei… well, in your own mind, Fei had become a fictional sort of character. Fei was gentle, Fei listened when you spoke or rambled, and in your dreams Fei would touch you. You hadn’t felt much of any contact in so long, and the last time had left a physically and psychologically painful memory behind. In your dreams, Fei would hold you, touch and caress, Fei was quiet but powerful. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but nothing happening to you or around you was healthy. The mental sickness and insanity most certainly was tickling around your mind.
You’d tested boundaries early with Feitan.
Screaming, kicking, fighting, escape attempts, refusal to eat or comply… were all met with isolation and revoking of privileges. Asking for death was met with nightmares and aching pain that still bothered you when it was too cold.
You’d tried manipulation and coercion, neither you excelled in though. Feitan may be quiet, and occasionally his grammar is less than exemplary, but he is no fool. All attempts ended in… nothing. He did absolutely nothing. He was like a stone wall, impenetrable. Even now, you knew nothing of his intentions. Your only guess at this point, as out of place and ridiculous as it may sound, is companionship. He likely saw you as a pet of sorts, like one might “rescue” a cat off the street. The treatment you receive is rather similar too. In his eyes, maybe you were just like a cat to him. A weak kitty he plucked off the cold streets and gave a warm home. It used to be a thought which invoked fury, but now…
You wished he’d commit to all acts of a pet owner. This included giving affection. You craved it. Missed it. Needed it. Something. A weird and warbled voice in your mind said you’d even accept the negative attention if it meant he’d put his hands on you again. It’s a suicidal thought, but even as his gaze narrowed, you couldn’t stop your body.
He’s silent as always, as you uncurl from your position you’d taken as your usual way to cope. Holding yourself helped, but it’s be better if someone else did it. He didn’t make any indication your nickname offended him.
Shaking, you stood on weak legs and began a pursuit of something you’d never thought you’d even entertain. He was across the room, and while he was by no means a big man, his presence could be suffocating when up close. Gracelessly and with little tact in your actions, you approached until you could smell him. He always smelled like mint and something metallic. For once, the thought of the underlying scent being blood didn’t bother you. He smelled nice, and while his entire body language was closed off and reserved, he still hadn’t even twitched.
He just kept observing you.
Even as you sank down to your knees in front of where he sat.
Those sharp eyes followed you the entire way. When the realization of what you wanted to do came, you weren’t bombarded with the expected humiliation or shame. There wasn’t guilt or disgust like you used to feel when these feelings would arise.
Maybe it signaled you were too far gone to save anymore.
“Fei” his name left your lips again, and for the first time, his rapt attention felt good. It felt good to have him so focused on you. You watched as his head tilted slightly, his face hidden but you could somewhat fantasize about a soft smile playing on his lips behind the fabric of his collar. His favorite jacket always a staple in his clothing collection.
“What?” The way he asked proved he wasn’t revolted at your proximity. He didn’t seem to be asking what you were doing, but rather why you called his name.
“Touch me?” Though you’d phrased it like a question, it bordered precariously on being a demand. You probably looked ridiculous, kneeling at his feet and staring up at him like a sick puppy looking for even the smallest amount of attention. You should be avoiding him, trying to get away, doing anything but this. The only thing you felt though was fear of rejection. That he’d cackle like he does on the phone occasionally, with someone named Shalnark or Phinks, or like he did when he removed the hands of an artist and found humor in the irony. He didn’t answer immediately like he normally would with a direct question. This couldn’t possibly be considered a personal question that he enjoys avoiding, it has only to do with you.
“Please…” you sounded pathetic, even to yourself. The way your bottom lip pouted out and wobbled, the way your eyes watered a little as if you’d cry at any moment, the way you trembled. You didn’t want to grab onto his pant leg, still mindful that a kick from him could easily be your undoing. You’d have to wait till given permission. A pet is what he wants, right?
You could finally be hitting that special point of breaking.
This could be another delusion you’d conjured up and you’re moments away from a lot of pain or isolation again. It’s impossible to tell. No power rested in your hands, and that small realization had tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked at the man who’d reduced you to this mess.
Begging him for measly scraps of what should be your right. Humans needed the physical contact for their health, and while he was clearly the devil, you needed it. Needed him. Needed anything.
“Fei please… I’ll be good, whatever you want, please… I need- hck!” Your sobs were cut short as your body moved faster than your mind could process. You’d nearly bitten into your tongue as you choked for breath, unable to fully comprehend exactly what happened.
The leggings and sweater you wore weren’t warm at all to you. Even blankets seemed to have a chill that seeped through them. Right now though, warmth was creeping through your clothes as mint and copper flooded your senses. He’d pulled you into his lap. The realization was shocking, but the next thought was thrown away when thin strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.
“Oh” words died on your lips as a sensation you couldn’t name overcame you. You’d never realized how stiff you were until your body began to relax. Fully relax. “Oh…” it came out breathy and nearly excited, as you foolishly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of it.
This was insanity.
He was all muscle unsurprisingly, but it didn’t deter you from trying to mold yourself to him. Your much softer figure held in his arms so gently it made a new wave of tears threaten to spill for all new reasons. You straddled him, front flush against his own, as you struggled to accept that you were being held right now.
“This?” His voice so close to your ear had a strange tingling sensation move from your neck down your spine. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed, as his hold tightened and pressed you further against him. It wasn’t necessarily the most pleasant way to be held, but it was many times better than nothing. You nodded against him, mumbling out a soft good as you basked in a moment of joy you hadn’t experienced in what seemed like forever. It felt good to be held.
It felt even better when his hand moved and brushed through your hair. His touch light and careful, and you could imagine how he was noting every little detail of your reactions. The shivers and little sighs you released as he continued to just pet, touch, and hold you.
For once, you dreaded him stopping.
Even as your eyes grew heavy and body went limp in his arms, you dreaded when this would end. If you could just figure a way to keep him like this, you could envision your life being bearable.
“Fei” you didn’t make any effort to move.
“Hmm” his chest vibrated a little with his hum.
“Can I sleep with you?” It didn’t take a genius to realize your question caused him to tense. His muscles tightening up and panic seeping into your system as you worry this took it too far. You both slept separately unless absolutely necessary, something you used to be grateful for and now hated. It was always freezing when you slept, no matter how warm it actually was.
You might’ve ruined his grace, overstepped if anything, but you needed to stay close to him physically. It wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity.
“Yes” his word both shocked and elated you, and with a few more gentle pats in his arms, you were asleep.
Your cunt throbbed and ached, your lower belly pulled tight inside like a string about to snap. You tried closing your legs, whining as the hot wet sensation continued despite the light struggle you began to put up. It felt good, whatever dream you were having, even as the scent of mint and soap surrounded you.
Small whimpers and gasps became heavy panting as you felt raw heavy pleasure blossom in your core. Something prodded your entrance, wiggling bit by bit till you were penetrated and stretched on something long and hard. It moved and rubbed inside you. The warm pressure on your clit only pulling you further.
It was heaven, even as a slight burn inside had you back to whining and arching your back as your cunt stretched to allow something else inside. Fingers?
The thought was gone as the pleasure radiated throughout your whole body.
It wouldn’t be the first wet dream you’d had, but it was the most realistic. The hot breath on your sensitive clit and twitching insides felt real, and the pleasure was so crisp. Your hands curled into the sheets, struggling between sleep and the impending orgasm threatening to take you.
Your eyes popped open as you came, body twisting as a sharp moan punctuated the air.
You were awake and finally realizing this wasn’t a delusion or dream. Someone was lapping at your cunt, your thighs held open and pinned by two pale hands. The sensitivity and slight bewilderment of the situation had you struggling to form a coherent thought.
“Fei-Feitan…?” If there was one thing you knew with perfect certainty, it was that he’d never leave you alone long enough for someone to find you and do this. It couldn’t be anyone else. Though the fact he was doing this was even more incomprehensible. He seemed so disgusted by touch, so detached from human emotions, it really never occurred to you that he’d have normal human urges. He was still lapping at your cunt, even as your eyes locked with his own, even darker in the barely lit room you realized was his own. You were in his bed, with his head buried between your legs, and his eyes locked on you.
“Fei!” A weaker orgasm than the first was torn from you as you came again, sensitivity skyrocketing when he still continued to lick and suck on your clit. The room was spinning slightly, and your naked body began to cool a little as you sweat. He’d stripped you. He must’ve, but things weren’t really connecting in your mind as white hot pleasure was turning mildly painful.
“Too much!” You gasped and you had to force your hands to stay tangled in the sheet to not touch him. Your eyes watered and you made a pitiful sight with your darkening cheeks and open panting mouth. As your back arched to avoid his mouth, a sharp slap to your outer thigh had you yelping in pain.
His eyes narrowed, and it wasn’t hard to see he became annoyed with your squirming.
“Shut up.” His tone was low, no room for arguing or protest as you bit your lip to do as you were told. Trembling under him as he raised up to stare down at you between your spread legs. He looked gorgeous, something you hated to admit. His dark hair mildly tussled and pale skin a little flushed, his signature jacket gone. This wasn’t the first you’d seen his naked chest, but it was certainly a rare occasion. His pants were still on but unbuttoned. His lips were the most sinful aspect, still glossy from your release. It was agonizing to be silent.
You should cry and beg for him to stop.
Instead you found your legs spreading just a bit wider as you looked up at him like he was your personal deity.
Debauched.
His slow and condescending smirk only made your breathing harder, chest tightening with anticipation and lust. He snorted, hand moving to spread your cunt open as he spit on it. You were panting now, barely following his order to stay quiet. It was difficult when you wanted to beg, for more, for him, to be touched.
“This what you wanted? Whore.” His crude words didn’t make this any less arousing, especially as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. He was larger than you’d have ever expected, though it hardly mattered as he lined himself up and began pushing into your unused hole. Despite the wetness and prep, it was slightly painful as he filled you. The heaviness inside coupled with the burn was delicious as your hips moved to take more of him, deeper. You couldn’t help the moan, the way your body shook and hands finally moved to touch him.
He was fast in securing both your wrists in one hand to pin above your head, his hips finally kissing the back of your thighs. You felt him twitch inside you, and it drove you wild.
“Please Fei, oh-!” His hand came down on your thigh again, before he pulled his hips back and slammed into you. Your head goes back as you arch into him and moan louder, as he begins a brutal pace that has your chest moving in rhythm with his thrusts. His tip kissing your cervix has you unwinding into a submissive mess of whining and pleas. You didn’t even know what you were begging for.
You either annoyed or aroused him further when he sneered and used his free hand to grip your jaw, thankfully not roughly as it ached nonetheless, forcing you to open wide before spitting into your mouth. He laughed when you clenched down harder, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening again as the pleasure increased.
“Pretty slut likes being my bitch.” He hardly seemed out of breath despite how hard you were panting. You felt a bit unfair at how unfazed he seemed, but similarly proud at how he gazed down at you. Like you made him pleased. His gaze wasn’t sharp, even bordering on warm despite how roughly he was fucking into you. All you could do was moan his name and beg.
Like a good little pet.
You could feel your orgasm coming again, and you’d meant to tell him, but his lips against yours shocked you silly. You didn’t even bother closing your mouth, Feitan easily slipping his tongue inside and kissing you so sensually it had you coming on his cock. You could only whine into his mouth as his speed picked up and you became overwhelmed.
He pulled away as a string of saliva connected you two for a moment before breaking. He licked his lips before focusing on where the two of you were joined. Watching his cock disappear in your sopping wet little cunt. It was filthy and erotic.
“Pathetic” his words were cruel but he looked beyond pleased as he looked at your fucked out expression. Unable to even form words as he continued to bully your poor pussy. It was laughable to him, how sweet you are now, how obedient and submissive you’ve finally become. All that fight and control gone, and in its place you lay now.
He’d never tell you out loud how perfect you are. How absolutely precious he finds your attempts to run away from all the pleasure he’s giving you.
His training has been worth while, making you everything he wants and more. Though he’d hated the power you held over him, having you now, moaning as he drills your cunt and begging for more, takes away the shame. You were his weren’t you? Then anything he wanted to do was fine, it wasn’t shameful to fuck his toy. Especially when she whined and arched her back up to take him in even deeper, when she cried and came again around him.
Feitan saw you as much more than a measly pet. Those were replaceable. No, you were just his, whatever he wants you to be, but still his. That’s why when he wraps his hand around your pretty neck and squeezes, he’s beyond thrilled at how you relax. You throw caution to the wind and give him everything. He’s not cutting off oxygen, but enough blood flow and air to keep you light headed and disoriented.
“Who do you belong to?” He knows you can hardly tell up from down right now. He knows how good he’s fucking you. Reducing you to this beautiful mess of feeling only. He’s still him though, and it brings him only pleasure to add in another few painful smacks to your bruising thighs. “Answer slut” he asks again, being thrown for a power trip as you choke out, “You!” to him.
His balls tightening signal he’s close, and the thought alone is enough to amuse him.
“Going to cum inside.” His words don’t register immediately to you, he can tell, but it seems all reality isn’t gone from you when your eyes widen.
“I-I- pregnant! I’ll get-“ he cuts you off with a chuckle, hand squeezing your throat enough to shut you up as he savors the sounds of wet squelching echoing in tune with his thrusts.
“My personal cock sleeve doesn’t get to talk.” The struggle you put up is worthless, but entertaining as he really does cum inside you, a soft grunt his only indication of release and overwhelming pleasure. Emptying himself inside and filling you with him. Marking you, painting you inside, signally you belong to him in every way now.
You lay exhausted and sore in his bed, cold as the various liquids dry on your skin and Feitan leaves.
Where he goes it doesn’t matter. You let yourself lay for a little longer before deciding it’s best not to anger him by staying in his space. You move to sit up, wincing as your intimate areas ache, but pushing forward nonetheless to get cleaned up and change his sheets and any mess left behind.
You hate the hollow ache in your chest the most. You look at your thighs to see his cum leaking out of you, and a sliver of dread echoes in your mind that you truly could become pregnant. The possibilities too much for you to handle right now, as you shakily slide off the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He could be back any moment, and it’s best you get to work early. You work on removing the sheets, just as the bedroom door opens to reveal a fresh Feitan, his signature jacket in place as he holds a glass of water.
“What are you doing?” His question is asked in a slightly lower tone that usual, and you quickly freeze in place.
“I-I’m cleaning up…?” You don’t mean to sound hesitant, but this situation is new and will require months of careful inquisition to avoid punishment under his hand. You knew better than to continue any task without his go ahead though.
You stand in silence as he observes you with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Come here” his order is curt, and while it terrifies you, you are quick to stumble over to him despite still being naked and filthy. You hate how badly you must look, barely able to walk while he is up and about his usual day as if nothing even happened. To him maybe nothing did happen, this being just the same as making a sandwich, and you wished the thought didn’t hurt. Maybe this would just be a new pain to live with, and the sooner you accepted that, the better your pathetic existence would be.
You stand just before him, fingers twisting around each other as you stay with your head bowed to stare at his feet while you concentrated on staying upright despite how difficult it felt for your hips and legs to support you.
“Not hard enough?” His words confused you, as you peaked up beneath your lashes to look at him curiously.
“I-I don’t understand…”
“Didn’t fuck you hard enough?” You froze in shock and slight fear, because what did that mean? He fucked you too hard in your personal opinion, and your poor slit agreed.
“Y-you did though…?” You were unsure of what was happening, his gaze not giving anything away.
“Get back on the bed. I didn’t say I was done with you.” Your eyes widened, taking a moment too long to register what he said before his foot took a step closer to you and you scrambled back onto the sheet-less bed in a panic. He paused, observing you again, before tilting his head.
“Next time I’m done with you, don’t move” he’s undoing his pants again, and moving towards you.
“I’ll fuck you good this time.” His words menacing and mean, and you’re left with little wiggle room as he closes in.
It’s his job after all to clean you up and piece you back together, and if you can fix yourself when he’s done, he clearly didn’t a good job the first round.
1K notes · View notes
k1ngdom-of-thieves · 11 months
Note
A Twisted Wonderland request: Yuu (female) turns invisible by accident, and decides to be sneaky by giving her crushes a kiss on the cheek (they wouldn't know who kissed them till Yuu becomes visible again). My chosen boys are Deuce, Jack, Jamil, Malleus, and Leona (my actual character crushes).
Thank you!!
Thank you for sending an ask!
Deuce, Jack, Jamil, Malleus, and Leona + reader that gives them a kiss while invisible!
Deuce Spade
Tumblr media
This was all Ace’s fault. Instead of waiting for Professor Crewel’s instructions, he decided to “speed run” the assignment so he can go on his phone all class.
That obviously didn’t work and after a very loud bang, you were nowhere to be seen. As everyone started to look for you and as Ace was getting the scolding of his lifetime you stood there in shock as everyone kept walking past you.
Since there wasn’t much to do, you decided to make the most of your little predicament. You walked up to Deuce and waited for him to hold still.
It took a minute but you were able to catch him sitting down to look at his notes. You quickly came down and gave him a peck on the cheek. As you pressed the kiss, you opened your eyes to see a shocked Deuce looking right back at you.
“Huh, Y/N?! I’m glad you’re ok but.. did you have to do that in front of the whole class?” He liked it dw, he just knows Ace and Grim aren’t gonna let him hear the end of it.
Jack Howl
Tumblr media
Jack had noticed that there was someone nearby, but he wasn’t able to tell exactly where. He looked around from where he was at the gym but still couldn’t see anyone there.
As he was looking around for anyone near him, he felt something warm place itself on his cheek. It felt like… a kiss?? But that was impossible, right?
He sniffed the air and noticed that he smelt something very familiar; you. Now he knows he’s losing it, there’s no way you’d be able to pull something like that off; you can’t use magic!
He continues to stand in confusion until he heard a laugh behind him. He prepares himself to see nothing there, but is beyond surprised when it’s you he sees instead.
“H-hey! I had a feeling that was you! Give me a warning next time, ok?” His tail was wagging so he’s not that upset with you.
Jamil Viper
Tumblr media
Jamil had heard about something happening in one of Professor Crewel’s classes, but he didn’t think much about it. He was way to busy making sure that Kalim didn’t cause the same incident himself.
While he was packing Kalim’s things, he felt like he was being watched; which was weird because he should’ve been the only person in the Scarabia lounge. He just shrugged it off thinking that Kalim was stressing him out more than usual lately.
As he finished putting all of Kalim’s things in a bag, he felt something warm on his hand. It kinda felt like a kiss, but that couldn’t be possible. Wouldn’t it?
As he was looking around again to see if anyone was there. He honestly didn’t expect to find anything so he was scared shitless when you appeared right in front of him.
“OH SEVEN- oh, it’s just you. What made you think you could get away with that?”
Malleus Draconia
Tumblr media
Malleus, like Jack, noticed that there was someone near him. But he couldn’t tell exactly who; the magic level was too high to be an animal but too low to be a regular student.
Could he just have used his magic to reveal who ever it was? Yes, but that’s boring and he was very curious to see what they were planning.
As he sat in one of the lounge’s chairs he felt a fleeting warmth on his horn. Then on his temple, and finally, his cheek. Kisses? How cute. Malleus thought to himself.
When the potion wore off and it revealed that you were the one behind the random kisses, he couldn’t help but laugh. Of course you’d be the one to give him a kiss when given the power to get away with anything.
“I must commend your bravery for committing such an act. However, I’d recommend you just ask next time.”
Leona Kingscholar
Tumblr media
Leona knew that there was someone else in the room from the moment you walked in. He tried to ignore the fact that someone was there but that proved to be challenging when they started tripping on things that he had thrown across the floor.
When he got up to scare off whoever was there, he was caught off guard when he didn’t see anyone. Even more so when he sniffed the air around him and couldn’t find the trace of magic.
Then, Leona just sighed to himself and tried to go back to sleep. This was too much of a headache over something that probably couldn’t harm a hair on his head. He was about to fall asleep when he heard a loud WHAM on the floor, inches away from his face.
He angrily shot up and felt something soft touching the middle of his forehead. A kiss? Seriously? That’s what this was all about? He was about to use magic on whoever interrupted his nap until he saw your face looking back at his.
“I should’ve known it was you. You didn’t have to do the whole sneaking around thing, you know. One more thing, did you really trip on my pen?”
2K notes · View notes
chaiifluuf · 18 days
Text
Go kitty go! — d. osamu
Tumblr media
synopsis. coming across a lonely kitten by the streets doesn’t happen everyday and it would be a crime not to take it home with you
content. gn!reader, ada!reader, fluff with extra fluff, reader likes cats(i love them okay.), established relationship, lowercase
notes. got this silly idea one day out of nowhere hehe, also thank you for all the love on my last fic! i really appreciate it <3 hope you enjoy !
Tumblr media
meow!
suddenly you heard a high pitched cry and could identify it immediately. it was a cat. you stop in your tracks and turn your head around to the source of the noise. in a rather dark alleyway by the dumpster you notice a small kitty with a black coat and white paws. your heart melted in a second. why was there a kitten alone here, especially in this part of the city?  
“hey…” you speak out with a gentle tone, slowly crouching down so you could be more on the same level as the young feline. and to your satisfaction, it carefully started to make its way to you, seeming interested in you. with a smile you reach your hand out and invite the kitty to smell your hand, hoping that by doing so it will know that you won’t harm it. 
the black cat curiously sniffs the tips of your fingers before nuzzling your hand and letting out a small meow again. god you forgot how cute the sound of a kitten can be. you lightly stroke its back and you can’t believe how soft the fur is. you start to wonder how it ended up here. did it run away from home? was it a stray from the beginning? but then the coat wouldn’t be so clean and fluffy. or maybe someone kicked the kitten out or abandoned it? you really hope that’s not the case because who would do that to such an innocent creature.
the cat enjoys your affection quite a lot as it keeps rubbing itself against your legs. you stand up again as you remember you should really get home now. you’ve been dealing with a case for almost the whole day, leaving your poor boyfriend all alone for so long as dazai would describe it while you were about to leave in the morning. it was already hard enough to get out of bed since he would just not let go of you and pull you right back into the sheets with him, softly whining into your ear.
though now you were done with work, planning to return home. the kitty let out another cry and you knew you couldn’t just leave it here. who knows what might happen if you were to leave it alone here. 
and so you made up your mind to take it with you for the meantime and then later decide what to do next. you pick the animal up and continue walking, never before anticipating to encounter something like this but you were definitely not complaining.
•••
dazai is quietly laid down on the couch as he reads the book he always reads. it started out okay but overtime he has gotten bored of even reading that as time seems to go slower than usual. truth to be told, dazai just wanted you to come back, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. it was awfully quiet in the house, and ultimately there was just nothing particular to do.
he sighed, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. dazai would have gladly come along with you but you insisted you wouldn’t take long and told him to go back to sleep as it was a little early in the morning when you had to leave. funny how you think he’d be able to normally sleep without you there. the amount of times dazai has thought about wanting to stay in bed with you for as long as even a day, cuddling and resting together, just you and him. even if you two wouldn’t be doing anything productive, he would still enjoy it to the fullest.
the sound of keys jingling and a door opening brought him back to reality. his face immediately lit up as he sat up straight, looking towards the front door, already excited to see your face. 
“my love! you’re finally back, how— …oh?”
as soon as you were in his view, he noticed something small in your hands. it took him less than a second to realise what that was.
“well as you can see.. i came home with some company today. look how adorable it is!” you tell him with a big smile while keeping the creature in your arms and rubbing its head with your thumb. the cat looks around curiously, examining the room.
dazai, for the first time in a while, was dumbfounded. he knew about your liking to cats but he never expected you to simply come back with one. 
“…you found a kitten?” he says unsurely as he stares at the kitty with slight confusion, trying to make sense of the situation.
“yeah, on the streets. i couldn’t possibly just leave it there when it came to me,” you speak with a soft tone and slowly put the kitten down so it could move freely. dazai watched the cat as it let out another meow. he blinked and turned back to you.
“surely you’re not planning to keep it right? someone might be looking for it,” he points out although he thinks his heart skipped a beat when he saw the pure look of adoration in your eyes. the overall image of happiness on you made his chest feel warmer.
you nod. “i know. however for the time being we can take some care of it, can’t we?” you say with a hopeful look, moving to sit down next to him and also helping the kitty to join you two as it followed you around.
“look I know you aren’t fond of dogs but i've never heard you say anything bad about cats,” you mention, slightly leaning on him as you wonder about his opinion on cats. 
he lets out a low hum, wrapping one of his arms around you and giving you a small kiss on your temple before responding calmly. “i don’t have anything against cats as long as they don’t attack me out of nowhere.”
you seemed pleased with his answer. “exactly! i’m sure that this cutie here is no problem at all,” a slight chuckle leaves your lips as you feel the black kitty between you and him lightly lick your finger, not used to the sensation of its rough tongue.
dazai’s grin grows a little. “are you talking about yourself?~” he teased, using that flirtatious tone of his. and of course he didn’t miss that pink tint that raised to your cheeks right after saying that. 
“‘samu! you know what I was talking about,” you tell him, and you can feel your cheeks burn a little. you should’ve honestly seen that one coming but oh well. he has always been too good at making comments like this to get you all flustered.
before he could respond, the kitten started meowing again, only slightly louder this time. both you and dazai are caught off guard by that. you blink in surprise. “what’s wrong?” your tone is softer, trying to figure out what’s going on as you stroke its back. 
“maybe it’s hungry?” dazai guesses since if the kitty has been a stray for some time then it must be hungry.
“oh you’re right,” you now realise that as well. what should you feed it though? you get up to go over and check the fridge, scanning over all the food items there are. you hum in thought. “pretty sure that cow milk wasn’t good for them… but we have some ham,” you speak while taking a package of it out.
dazai returns his gaze back to the black kitten. it really did have rather big and innocent eyes, he noticed. and before he had the chance to react, it made its way into his lap, seeming curious about him now. dazai’s body slightly tensed as he wasn’t sure what to do or what it wanted from him. the cat merely lets out a small cry as it stares at him.
after a moment of thinking, he slowly moves his hand near the kitty’s head and to his surprise, the kitten rubs itself against his palm right away. his gaze softened. Its fur really was as soft as it looked and after about a minute of petting it, he heard a different noise. It was undoubtedly purring. did this little one like him that much?
“aww socks likes you, ‘samu! this is the first time i'm hearing it purr,” you speak up with joy from behind as you prepare some small pieces of ham on a plate. dazai can’t help but chuckle at the mention of the name.
“socks? that's supposed to be its name now?” he says as he turns his head to you, a casual smile on his face. 
“i mean i think it is a fitting nickname, considering its black coat and white paws which seem like socks,” you explain while putting the rest of the ham back into the fridge and returning to the couch. You place the plate of some ham on the ground and glance at socks. “Look here, i got you something,” you tell the kitty as you point to the ham.
the kitten immediately perks up and jumps off dazai’s lap. it sniffs the pork and a second later starts eating it. your face beamed as you looked at socks, it is quite obvious that the poor animal was starving considering how hastily it’s eating.
dazai however had his eyes on you the entire time. he swears your beauty multiplies when you look so content like this. the way your eyes are sparkling, a soft smile gracing your lips, your whole figure seems to shine. and once again he's reminded that he is dating an angel. he really can’t fight the way the corners of his lips turned upwards. he wished things stayed this way forever. because if you are happy then he is happy.
it doesn’t take long for the kitten to finish its food, licking its lips in satisfaction. you reach out your hand to pet it, murmuring a small praise as well. 
“y’know we have to go to the animal shelter sooner or later,” dazai brings up with a quiet tone and intertwines one of his hands with yours. a moment of silence passes before you subtly nod, your hand squeezing his slightly. “yeah i know… i imagine someone could be worried sick, with no idea where their pet is,” you say calmly, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.
yes, that was the right thing to do after all. it’s the least that this cat deserves.
•••
in the end, the kitty reunited with its real owner. you still remember the image of pure relief on her face when she hugged her pet tightly, a few tears escaping her eyes. she also thanked you dearly with a hug as well. she was beyond grateful to you over the fact that you decided to take it with you to the shelter.
oh and you found out that the kitten’s real name was molly. it was a perfect name for her no doubt, but you won’t regret calling her by your created nickname before. 
molly is now with her owner in her real home, loved and cared for. problem solved. so why don’t you feel happy about it?
you honestly felt a little guilty for even getting this attached. you should have expected this one way or another, it wasn’t like you were going to keep a cat all of a sudden just because you found it on the streets. you should forget about this and move on with your life.
dazai noticed your changed behaviour after the whole thing. he always does. you were more quiet at times, and he could tell you missed her even if you didn't bring it up. the affection you had for her was clear to him from the beginning. he often thought about how to make you feel better, what he could say to see that smile of yours again. one day he finally got an idea.
“love, i’ve been thinking about something,” dazai says, leaning slightly against the kitchen counter as he watches you cook breakfast.
you hum in response. “i'm listening,” you say simply while you sprinkle some salt onto the fried eggs you’re cooking. after a moment he decides to continue.
“i wouldn’t mind adopting a cat some time in the future,” he tells you truthfully as he glances at you, waiting for your reaction.
your movements pause. “...are you serious?” you turn to him and look deep into his eyes. for a second you were unsure if you heard him right.
dazai smiled fondly before nodding, and after processing what he meant, a smile grew on your lips too. he sees that familiar light in your eyes again now and he couldn’t feel luckier.
you moved closer to him and gave him a simple yet sweet kiss on the lips. dazai placed his hands on your hips, slowly drawing circles on them as he focused on the kiss.
afterwards, you kept your forehead in touch with his, murmuring your next words so tenderly.
“i love you so much.”
and dazai responds just as softly.
“i love you even more, my dear.”
Tumblr media
wow this came out much longer than I thought whoopsies, anyways this guy definitively is secretly a cat person (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
304 notes · View notes
m0chisenpai · 11 months
Text
New Daughter of Mine
Tumblr media
Pre!Avatar Way of Water
platonic!jake sully x human!!reader x platonic!neytiri
Sequel: Goldilocks
Tumblr media
It’s easy to take in a stray animal. A human child being taken in by two aliens is an entirely different narrative and challenge within itself. Neytiri works her best to learn with each day. And there were good ones like now. As she sits with her dear Netayem pressed to her chest and she watches as Jake points to himself, palms pressed to his chest as he slowly sounds out, “sem…pul” 
And she can’t help the smile across her lips as you speak it back pressing your hands atop his, “sempul!”
“And Neytiri is?...” he raises his brow as you huff, pressing your eyes so tight then opening them wide.
“Sa’nu!”
“Sa’nok” He flicks your forehead gently. 
“For you I am sa’nul my y/n.” And her heart throbs at the gap toothed smile you flash her. Her own lips turned up. 
You latched onto Neytiri in an instant. And to Jake’s surprise she accepted you immediately. She would bring you on small hunts, teaching you to aim, to track. Crafted a bow with you as she told you the story of the one whose bow she carried. 
She braided your hair affectionately in the warmth of the day. Her fingers gently plaited, and moved with a gentleness you never knew. Slowly you found yourself falling asleep, leaning your small body back to rest your head on her stomach. 
And she didn’t have the heart to wake you, so she adjusted your head gently and continued threading the beads. They were her own ones from her own childhood. A piece of her, now a part of you. 
You shifted in her arms, eyes open half way as a large yawn fell from your lips. By then she was done and you looked into the clear waters with excitement enjoying the sounds of the beautiful beads. 
 “Mother would braid tight when she did my hair at home. And there was another woman, I don’t think she liked me very much. She would do it sometime and it would hurt.” 
And Neytiri cupped beneath your jaw to look into your eyes. “I will always be gentle with you, my y/n.” 
And she was. Jake would raise his brow as she watched how Neytiri would speak with you. It took months to tear down that stoney wall, but with you she was a pile of mush in an instant. 
But when it rains it pours. And when the bad moments come it is when Neytiri realizes that it only strengthens the now four of you.
 It usually happens at night. You would get these night terrors and would scream and cry for your mother and father. It shook her to her core the first night it happened, but somehow you knew Neytiri’s arms and when sh beheld you tight and rocked you gently you would slowly lull back to slumber.
One particular night it was bad and in an attempt to soothe you Neytiri lay her hand atop yours and went to hold you once more. In your haze of a nightmare though you continued to shout “Mama! Mama!!” your shrieks now shake Jake awake who watches as your tiny fists drive into Neytiri your hands collide with hers working to get them off of your body.
“Its ok baby come here, you're fine. You're safe. We’re here” Jake quickly pries your fighting form away from Neytiri and wraps his arms around you. 
And so she pressed Netayem to her chest bouncing him gently as she shushed him and Lo’ak who was woken by your screams. 
Her heart broke as Jake pressed you to his chest, how you grasped his hand as you whimpered. You were scared of her. It was then she realized it. No matter how hard she would try, how hard she could try and heal your wounds, she would never be your birth mother. But for now, she would endure it. Because you were her ite. 
She would not be your birth mother, she would do better. She could feel this task in her bones, from Eywa herself as she knelt before the tree of souls with tears in her eyes. “Free my daughter from these monsters in the night my Eywa. Great Mother help me, guide me. Teach me to do what is needed for my daughter.” Her eyes screwed shut as she clasped her hands tightly.
Tonight she waited. Neytiri was a huntress at heart, the best among the tribe. And she could hear it from the stutter in your breath. And so she sat up, holding you in her lap and rocking you as your breaths picked up. And she sang. She sang your song chord. Whispered it over and over as she brushed your hair out of your face. 
And this time you didn’t fight her. Instead your head slowly fell into her palm, she could feel the gentle puffs of your breath slowing down. You lean into her touch and she smiles as she sings into the night. 
That next day she would add a bead to her song chord. It was a beautiful stone you’d found playing in the waters with Netayem. She smoothed it down once rough and covered in stone turned smooth with deep grooves like a pearl, and now sings a new verse. “My Y/N, my light. Bright star in my life. To you, Great Mother, I thank you each night. Daughter of mine, new joy in my life. My Y/N, My Y/N.”
2K notes · View notes
fauustic · 10 months
Note
loved your bubble bath fic! can i make a request about miguel and reader who’s always doing favors for him (ex: bringing him lunch, patching him up after a rough night of fighting crime, checking up on him) and he tries to figure out why they’re doing this bc he thinks he’s a freak bc of his powers, until reader just confesses their undying love for him?
Tumblr media
i hope i did this one justice! thank you for the request, anon!!
gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara
angst, comfort. miguel, unable to accept his changed self, runs into you.
warnings: newly genetically altered miguel, intense insecurity and self-consciousness on his end. use of "freak" as self-depreciation. spanish may be iffy, not the best so i had little help with a translator :)
word count: 4291
Miguel liked the apartment he found himself in, low-key and hidden away from most of the hustle and bustle of the city. The complex was barely busy, except the few residential college students just looking for a place with cheap rent and the couple drunk office-workers who drag themselves to their apartment late every-night.
Having his senses genetically evolved, he couldn’t exactly fight himself when it came to being observant. Miguel would accidentally eavesdrop on work conversation, learning rather disgusting secrets of his co-workers with a sneer before trying his best to cover his ears subtly. The rare moments he was walking along the street alone, he’d hear passing comments that would normally flatter him, but hearing it from hushed strangers made him feel a gross way. Like he was intruding beyond boundaries. Learning things he shouldn’t by accident made him feel like a social monster.
Miguel knew almost everything going on around him. So when he was able to pick up on the clink of keys jingling into the presumably-empty apartment right next to it, Miguel wasn't exactly curious about the new neighbor– if anything he was a bit irritated. Knowing he'd have to suffer through days due to your chores, or the clanging of pots around every dinner, it made him feel more of a freak. No one else had to deal with such problems, so the newfound issues arising ever since the incident of quite literally getting his genetics flipped upside down– it made his skin crawl and heart ache. 
He would continue to suffer in quiet, claws digging into his pillow in a fit of agitation. Miguel will continue trying to live his life, and as you will yours.
It took weeks to finally run into you, as he stepped out of his own apartment and you were entering yours. It was a complete fluke, as Miguel began growing accustomed to wearing earbuds and turning on an easy-listening playlist to try and drown out the noises that normally put him so on edge.
He was locking his apartment before finally noticing your figure standing in your own doorway, a smile on your lips so genuine he almost was stunned. A welcoming neighbor in the city of Nueva York? Completely unheard of, quite frankly, it may even be considered suspicious.
The moment Miguel slipped off one of the earbuds, your voice met his eardrums in a way he's never heard anyone before. Usually, Miguel would gain a migraine after conversation with others. He's not used to his powers yet, and as much as it made him feel as if he was just some animal, the case didn't arise with you.
Smiling with sincerity, you held out your hand for him to take in a greeting. "Hi! I was wondering if I moved next to someplace haunted.." It was obviously a joke, yet when Miguel hadn't reacted you felt the need to explain in a much more awkward tone. "I suppose I just would hear some rummaging over on your side, but not a single person ever stepped foot out until now! Thought I was just hearing things." You giggled, rubbing the back of your neck while your other still hung with anticipation.
Miguel felt a subtle smile sneak itself onto his own features, before firmly shaking your hand back. "Ah, I hope you've been settling in well. Welcome to Nueva City, it's a pleasure to meet you." He wasn't necessarily trying to be awkward, it's just he technically does work all day, goes home, and then proceeds to pummel the absolute shit out of criminals corrupting the city. Miguel has lost a touch of charisma when it comes to new people, his usual way of conservating was from whoever was on the opposing side of his fists. A silence loomed over the two of you before you perked up, giving him a "hold on, there's something I have for you," before disappearing within your apartment. 
Confusion etching his consciousness, Miguel shifted on his feet. "What?" He huffed out. Guilt seeped into his thoughts, why are you the one giving a gift? Shouldn't he be the one to bring a house-warming present?
Miguel shook his head, easily brushing off your antics with an excuse of you "being nice, wanting a friend close by." He practically chuckled at the idea, Miguel wasn't the type to befriend off a whim, as much as he hated it he knew he was played a tough facade for those around him. It was difficult to break that barrier as he didn't trust others well, let alone allow an opportunity to accidentally reveal his monstrous features to a civilian.
His doubts were interrupted with a light giggle from that melodious voice of your's, a nervous bounce in your step as you held out tupperware for him. It was nothing too big, only enough for a meal, but the warmth in his hands rendered him shell-shocked. Growing flustered, he opened his mouth to ask what this was before you quickly answered before the words tumbled off his lips. 
"It's nothing special, I was just making some good ol' chicken alfredo pasta last night and had some leftover." You explained with a flurry of nervous hand gestures, catching Miguel's gaze. He found himself studying you excessively, the idea of eating a home-cooked meal for the first time that week had his mouth watering. "Since we never catch each other, I thought your schedule may not allow you to have a good meal every once and a while." Miguel couldn't deny that the idea made his chest bloom with a painful tenderness despite just thinking how he wouldn't cave easily for you. 
He didn't deserve this normalcy from you. He didn't deserve this meal from someone like you, sweet and caring and human. As much as a voice whispered to him to open up, to accept this because he needed such kindness– Miguel shut his brain off as he met your own stare. 
You were messing with a bracelet on your wrist with a downturned frown and a nervous glint in your eyes due to his abrupt silence. He perked up once realizing the anxiety was because of him, because of his reaction.
"This is.. very nice of you." Miguel confessed stiffly, unsure how to exactly react because he's not used to gifts. "Thank you..?" 
You blurted your name out clumsily as he trailed off, and Miguel just couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his lips. It was nothing like the chuckle before, he felt happiness explode through his chest at the simple sight of you joining him. 
"Thank you," Repeating your name, he caught the wobble of your smile when it purred off his tongue. His words were more genuine as the tension from before loosened. Miguel's gaze dropped from his next lunch to your hands, in which he couldn't help but squeeze them both in a reassuring manner. It may have been difficult with the tupperware sandwiched between his arm and hip, but he was determined to express his gratitude in a friendly manner. He knew he was acting a bit weird, but he truly was trying to hold it together. 
"Miguel, Miguel O'hara." He finally introduced himself, almost wanting to slap his cheek over stupidly waiting so long to do so. But you just giggled, and the squeeze he felt on both his hands washed away any thoughts his insecurities infected him with. "So nice to meet you, Miguel." What an angel, un ser celestial he couldn't help the thought.
Your phone erupted through the comfortable silence that enveloped over the two of you, and with an apologetic glance you signalled you had to go. Before finally picking up your phone, you quickly sputtered out "have a good day at work!"
For the first time since his incident, he felt normal. The lighthearted conversation, the look of joy directed towards him in contrast to the usual fear. It fueled something inside him, a yearning for more.
Miguel, for the first time in so many years, looked forward to a day in the lab because of some chicken alfredo pasta. It was stupid, he knew that.
But as his tongue met the noodles later that shift, which were seasoned just right, accompanied with a tender, grilled slab of chicken– Miguel almost fell out on the floor of his lab. He had never missed home-cooked dishes more than now after finally getting a taste of your recipe. 
Stabbing another forkful, he wondered why you didn't just keep the rest of it for yourself.
A full week passed until a light knock and ring to his doorbell met the dimly lit room.
He couldn't withstand bright lights, especially the overhead light of his apartment. Miguel's eyesight still was trying to get used to the sharpness, the ability to track a motion muscle by muscle. It was a blessing, being able to to spearhead figures in the dark– but lights enraged migraines he couldn't shake off for days. 
Wincing as he dodged his suit lamely bundled on the floor of his apartment, Miguel couldn't help but hiss when his nose scrunched the wrong way. The stench of blood flooded his senses, the black eye forming tingling with pain. He was exhausted, and ready to tell off whoever decided to ring him this late into the hour.
What he didn't expect to see was you, standing in the doorway with a sleepiness to your expression as your pajamas hung loosely to your form. In your hands, this time, was a tray of cookies that looked as if they just left the oven. "Hey there, neighbor," you giggled with a tired haze in your tone, shifting your attention from your slippers to his own eyes. 
Yet, after a few seconds of your eyes adjusting to the darkness, you were able to make his injuries out with a surprised gasp. The silly greeting was forgotten as quickly as it came, you demanded answers as the light from your own apartment seeped into his. Miguel's shock at seeing you up this late easily allowed you to push past him, laying the cookies down on the nearest counter you found. 
"Miguel, what is wrong with your face?" You whispered with sadness, your grasp finding purchase on his cheeks. He couldn't bear this proximity with you, so he quickly pushed the advancement aside before trying to conjure up any excuse he could make.
"I had– a–" He sighed a huff of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose in habit. But the gesture was quickly ruined with his own whine of pain, something he didn't want you to hear at all. "I had a fight at work, okay?" Miguel hisses through fangs, yet they didn't catch your attention due to the chaos of suddenly finding "Well-Kept, Awkward Chemist Guy" with a bloodied nose and a bruising eye. "I didn't expect it, ya know? El científico loco. Took a few swigs of a sample and that went wrong. Was caught in the crossfire."
He hadn't realized you had wandered off, rampaging through his bathroom for medical supplies until you came back with the items in hand. "Go on, sit down." You ordered, and with confusion etched all over his face, Miguel couldn't allow himself to disobey.
The apartment, dark with the exception of a few neon lights peeking through the big windows every now-and-then, stayed silent except for the few "be quiets" in response to Miguel's hisses and muffled groans. He hated being so vulnerable in front of someone he knew so little of, which led him to bring out the question that's been on the tip of his tongue this entire time. He shuffled nervously in his seat that you led him to minutes ago as you stood in between his legs with a focused expression resting on your features.
But you beat it to him first. As your hands skillfully bandaged wounds littering his skin, one one his shoulder and a few other on his back, your solemn tone broke through Miguel's guilt like a talon against prey.
"I know that story you made up was utter bullshit,"
"What-"
"No, you listen to me O'Hara." You tutted, as stern as he's ever heard you. "I'm not asking for excuses, or an entire story that's a lie. I asked what happened because I was worried, I'm not mad." 
Miguel's breathing hitched, looking at his nails that briefly unsheathed into claws before he was able to control his panicked shame. "Why?" He couldn't help but mumble, "why are you worried? You have no right to be, no somos nada el uno para el otro. Nothing is between us, you should have left the moment you saw." Miguel avoided your eyes that peered into his soul like you knew his secret, could read him inside out. Tears he didn't know he could produce clouded his vision, deeply moved from the drop of kindness you've granted him. 
You sighed, heavy and lingering. Words were left unspoken as he was drawn into a hug by your arms, in which he greedily returned with his own hold.
Miguel fought within himself constantly, the idea of being accepted for his differences was completely foreign to him. But here you were, denying every thought he's ever had about himself. And you didn't even, truly know him. 
"Don't cry," You murmured into his curls as you pet the back of his head before returning to applying a new, medicated bandaid on his nose. Swiping away tears as you brushed away dried blood, Miguel would choke out a "I don't deserve this, I don't," before being promptly cut off with a flurry of reassurance.
By the end of the night, Miguel allowed himself to be led to his bed by you, exhaustion evident within his walk as you had to help keep him steady.
It was nauseating, seeing Miguel in such a broken state. It made you wonder if he sat in his apartment, wallowing in his own mind. You had no idea what he was going through, but you were determined to keep him grounded.
That night, as Miguel was tucked into bed by you like a sick child, you vowed to try to be there more for the man you developed a genuine attraction to over the weeks of small chit chat.
The little shame he held close to his heart washed away with ease as throughout the upcoming weeks, your visits would become more frequent, showering him in little trinkets you'd pass by in the city that "reminded you of him" and homemade goodies. 
Miguel just couldn't bring himself to understand why you put in such an effort to include him in your routine, to keep him, a man in pieces that just coincidentally was your neighbor, in your life.
As many times as you halted his vague little ramblings of "I do not deserve this, I truly don't, pequeño panadero," he had this mentality rammed within his brain that he just couldn't shake. Something that made no sense because he just couldn't open up to you.
After a bad run-in with a lowly villain, Miguel groaned every time his form landed on another building to climb. His features threatened to frown at his awareness, the absurdity of it all. Here he was, digging talons into metal beams to scale skyscrapers with another set of nasty scratches and bloodied knuckles. What the fuck? Tonterías. 
Miguel was having such difficulty coming to terms with his new lifestyle as he pushed himself to continue without a break, the only bits and pieces of clarity was with you. 
Everytime you two met, you always had some sort of sweet or delicious tray of food that could might as well be a contestant for a national baking competition. He would tell himself not to eat it, it would be dumb to open that door of craving more, but Miguel always caved as the scent of freshness wafted throughout his apartment in the hours he was alone.
He fell in love with every sugary cookie you conjured with care, and every noodle dish that slowly shifted to recipes he's never heard of.
Why were you doing such things? Miguel would ask himself with a palm dragging over his face, earbuds softly echoing that playlist he can't seem to escape. He was a monster, a tailored man overcome by science. He hated who he became against his will, drowning out such vile insecurities with the nights of being Spiderman 2099. 
Muttering under his breath, he swung through the balcony of his apartment with a soft thud, ripping the mask off his face with a relieved sigh. 
Miguel felt so disconnected to himself, when he heard a muffled "Miggy..?" reach his ears his blood ran cold and every one of his senses was on fire. He froze, looking around at the home he found himself in– a bit cosier than his one and filled with the most enticing scents. He saw white for just a moment, his legs dead with anxiety as your voice– less groggy and more aware now– continued to try and catch his attention.
This was not his bedroom, which was empty for the most part except essentials, this was your bedroom. And the realization smashing his brain, rattled him to an extent that he felt a whole new kind of fear. Nothing he's ever experienced out in the city, under the guise that he was simply just a superhero. No one truly knew he was a genetically engineered monster, and yet he was so mindless that the truth is now revealed to the one person who put up with him.
Your light graze met his suited shoulder, leading him to sit down on the edge of your bed in his daze. You were silent, he knew that much despite feeling as if he was drowning underwater.
You went to work on patching up the blemishes upon his jaw, most likely a right hook he couldn't dodge in time causing the damage. His attention was in a whole different dimension, but as your free hand led his chin up to your own eyes, an expression you've never seen from his cold exterior crushed every piece of your soul. Miguel was in pain, both physically and mentally.
His eye, which was just finally healing from the other night, twitched ever so slightly as if tears threatened to fall. You never knew he would be so emotional, but obviously there was more to him that meets the eye.
"Why are you doing this, ángel?" He mumbled, scarlet gaze piercing your own. They were hazy, as if he was struggling to stay in the present. He was too caught up in his own mind he began rambling little by little, venom dripping from his tongue when referencing himself. "Soy el diablo reencarnado, I'm a disgusting animal." He spat with tears falling, your gentle fingertips working on both dabbing ointment and his tears away without a word. When the atmosphere was only silence, he couldn't help but express more of what he was thinking.
"I am not what you think I am." He choked down a gasp of air, his hold digging into your sides in desperation. "I don't deserve this kindness, I'm vile. A freak," Tone rough and full of self-depreciation, he kept his head fixated towards you standing between his legs. "All these gifts, delicacies that you've flooded my home with– you've given them away to an absolute freak. Una bestia repugnante. You carded your fingers through his tousled, dampened with sweat curls with a soft smile which almost sent Miguel downward into another spiral of doubt if you hadn't begun talking.
As he subconsciously leaned into your loving pets upon his scalp and fluttering eyes, you couldn't help but utter a nervous laugh with a twisted feeling in your gut.
"Miguel, you stupid, stupid man." You couldn't help but coo, as his eyes peeled open in an instant. But you continued before he could sputter more nonsense.
"I–" You squeezed your eyes shut as nervousness almost halted your advancements, but you pushed through as Miguel's grasp around your hips tightened in his own anticipation. "I've never viewed you as someone disgusting."
"Because you've never been exposed to the truth–"
"Because I just see a man who needs help. A space to feel safe." You sighed, leaning down to his level as your hands trailed from his curls to his cheeks. You held onto his skin with a firm, but loving touch that he practically melted into. A sob erupted through his throat, followed with a purr of comfort.
"You don't think I'm asqueroso? ¿Un error de un hombre?" He murmured, desperation in his voice. Pleading for your validation as if he's waited all his life for this.
You sighed for the millionth time that night, trying to relieve yourself of stress. Before you could stop yourself, Miguel was pulled into your embrace, his head meeting your chest. He snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around your waist without a second thought. Nails tracing shapes through your thin shirt, he breathed in deeply. He basked in the comfort of your smell, choking up at the acceptance he's finally been craving.
Miguel's grown quite attached to you throughout the weeks of your favors as much as he tried to deny the advancements in secret. His head buzzed with the idea of you when his thoughts grew too overwhelming in the dead of night, wishing to hear the melody of your voice that is his only medicine to calm down. 
The next words that tumbled from your exasperated lips shocked the both of you.
"I love you." 
He almost broke his neck trying to meet your gaze. "¿Qué estás diciendo?" He laughed stiffly, not believing his ears.
You repeat yourself, force beneath your words to try and drill it into his head. "Miguel, I know this is cliche and stupid and unbelievable–"
You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself to remain level-headed. You wouldn't know what to do if the man you've pined for rejected you.
"I give you my favorite cookies because I keep you in my mind while making them, wishing you were right next to me while I bake." You confessed, cheeks growing hot at finally saying the thought aloud. 
"I don't give you lunch everyday because I have some leftover. I do it because I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself enough." You began wiping away his tears as your confessions filled the night air, words he never expected to hear because of who he came to be.
"I do all these things because I'm," You leaned in, bringing your voice to a whisper in fear of getting rejected. "I'm in love with all of you, whether it be the little rambles you find yourself in or the fangs you try to hide from other's eyes. You have consumed my every thought, the favors I did because I was worried turned into favors I wanted to do because of the way your lips quirked up as you held onto the gifts like a lifeline." 
Miguel laughed, a real airy laugh that squeezed through his teeth like it pained him. The warmth of his breath fanned your lips as you held his face, and as his tearful gaze darted to your mouth and back to your eyes, you knew exactly what left his tongue next.
"Please.. please can I kiss you, cariño?" It was like a ticking time bomb.
You couldn't even cry out, "yes, please– anything–" before his lips were on yours, heated and sloppy as if he's been thinking about this for weeks. His fingers slipped under your shirt, to knead into the flesh of your sides, dangerously close to the mounds of flesh he rested upon before. 
You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, which he eagerly swallowed before wincing as a shock of pain shot through his jaw.
You immediately separated from his lips, a string of saliva left in its wake. 
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you strain yourself–" you began to apologize, before he snatched your face up with frantic carefulness and stole another needy kiss. 
This time, the pace was slower, less wild and more sensual. He panted into your mouth, licking into it before finally separating on his own terms before dragging his fangs down your lower lip. 
Miguel sighed, forehead resting upon yours as the both of you tried to catch your breath. "Gracias mi ángel. Thank you for showing me, for showing me what I needed."
You nodded, eyes fluttering close in newfound sleepiness. "Stay the night, please." You couldn't help but ask, and Miguel took the offer the moment it escaped your thoughts.
"Let me go get a change of clothes–" He gestured at the suit he was still wearing, "and I'll be back before you know it, cariño." 
Laughing and giving him one last peck, you sent him off on his way. "If you don't come back, you're going to be missing out on some homemade pancakes in the morning." You teased, pride swelling when you caught his soft flustered chuckle.
"I would never miss such an offer for the world." Was the last thing Miguel purred before tugging his mask on in one swoop and jumping from your balcony. 
The last thing you remember as sleep began to take over was the divet next to you in the bundle of blankets and sheets; a pair of marred arms pulling you into a warm chest. Breath fanning your ear, Miguel's own sleepy whisper lulled you to sleep.
"I love you more." He murmured, "absolutely adore you cariño."
1K notes · View notes
nyxyxx · 4 months
Text
Godly Desires - Part 1
So yeah this is what I've been working on recently. It's quite short actually but I wanted to post it right now cause I'll be too busy later. It's not fully edited yet but I'll get to that sometime. I. II. III. IV.
As usual this story will contain yandere themes and religious themes so please proceed with caution. (This part itself is fine though.)
"A new place"
-
You wake up in an unfamiliar surrounding, as you try to collect your thoughts. You see very tall trees - taller than ones you've ever seen before. You can faintly hear the sound of rushing water nearby, as well as birds chirping from all around. All of this leads you to believe that you are currently in a forest, though you have no idea how you got here.
You slowly rise from the ground, brushing the dirt off of your person, and as you do, you take notice of the strange shiny object on the ground by your feet. Upon further inspection, it appears to be some fancy mirror-like object, though it could definitely use a cleaning. You put it in your pocket and decided you'd deal with it later.
Looking back up, you see two paths stretch ahead of you. One going forward, and one going backwards. The one going forwards and the one going backwards had no drastic difference, something that would tell you that going one way would be more dangerous than the other. However, the path going backwards was going uphill, and you figured you might as well go forwards then, if just out of laziness.
The more you walked down the path, you noticed the sun was beginning to go down. This wasn't good. You most certainly didn't want to have to spend the night out in this forest, where you had no idea what could happen. So you hurried along the path quicker. If you could get to the water, then you could probably find your way out of the forest.
However, as you got closer to the sound of the water, you noticed other... strange sounds around you. It was hard to explain if what you were hearing was a language being spoken, or just the sound of animals. You hid behind a tree and crept closer, peeking ahead.
There you found...hilichurls...? You were so confused. Were you dreaming, or were there actually hilichurls in front of you? They didn't seem to notice you, as they kept staring towards the beach. Regardless if this was real or not, you realized you had to find a way around them. Should you try and fight them? Well that idea was quickly dismissed, as you had nothing on your person you could use as a weapon, unless you wanted to try attacking them with a stray branch on the ground.
Or you could try to sneak past them? You contemplated what you should do for a while. In the end, you decided the most logical thing to do was to try and sneak past them. You carefully hid behind the hill they were standing on top of, while you crawled on your hands and knees around them. Everything was going well... until you got to the other side of the hill, where you were greeted unexpectedly by a mitachurl.
You stood there in fear. It was huge. Much taller than you, and it held a giant axe in its hands. You stood there in shock for a while, until you noticed that it had spotted you. In fact, it had been staring at you since the beginning. You had the urge to run, to flee, to scream and yell for help - but you didn't move. You found you couldn't get your feet to listen to you. It began to approach closer, and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Your palms were sweaty, your body was shaking. It stepped closer once more, now directly in front of you.
And then with its giant hand, it reached towards you...and your eyes snapped shut. Oh no, this was it. You were going to die. Fear took over you, but there was something else as well. Something you couldn't decipher. Well, it didn't matter anyway, because you were going to die right now.
That is what you thought until you opened your eyes. In front of you, the mitachurl did not attack you, but instead held out its hand, and offered you...an apple?
-
Part two is in the works and will probably be up maybe tomorrow at earliest.
642 notes · View notes