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mrsshabana · 1 year

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♡ 𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ♡

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

CW: NSFW, 18+ MDNI, female reader, blood, gore, manipulation, smut, creampie, violence

AN: Thank you all so much for 500 followers!! I can't believe that this happened so quickly, it was only a month ago that I made my 300 follower special! I want to thank everyone who took the time to support me this far. And I'd also like to welcome everyone that is new here! There will be lots more Gyutaro content to come ~ ♡

Gyutaro doesn’t understand his romantic feelings towards you. He expresses them in ways that are difficult for you to decipher. So he just acts on impulse. Usually having no filter or boundaries.

Treats you like a toy. Similar to how a vindictive child would treat a small puppy.

He’ll make you cry just so he can be the one to comfort you in the end.

As a demon, he thinks he’s superior to you in every way. The only thing you have going for you is your pretty face and beautiful body.

He’ll coo and hold you close, complimenting your beauty only to claw at you flesh. Leaving wounds and bruises on your most beautiful features. He wants to destroy your beauty out of envy, but yet it’s what attracts him to you.

Before him, your life was meaningless. So now that he’s here, you don’t exist outside of him. Without him you are nothing. Which is why he keeps you stored in his sister’s obi whenever he’s away. Sometimes leaving you for days before he wants to play with you again.

Gyutaro grew a soft spot for you because of your juxtaposition. You don’t show disgust towards things that most people consider revolting, like reptiles or people that look different from you, but yet you are the most beautiful human he’s ever seen.

Every time Gyutaro thinks of your beauty, he claws deep red wounds into his flesh, fantasizing about gutting you alive, slitting your throat while digging his hands through your intestines. But the way that you look at him prevents him from doing so. You look at him with fear in your eyes, but without a hint of disgust. After 100 years of hunting humans, Gyutaro knows the difference.

It infuriates him that he can’t bring himself to hate you for your beauty. This frustration is always taken out on you. In the form of cuts and bruises.

But after being held captive for so long, you’ve learned how to behave around him. And things do get better.

Gyutaro is incredibly intelligent, he just doesn’t understand emotions. Especially ones that he never even got to experience as a human, let alone a demon.

He can read you like a book. Always aware of when you are plotting an escape attempt or when you are lying to him. You learn quickly that there’s no point in trying to fool him.

The thing is, eventually you have grown a soft spot for the demon. The few moments that he is vulnerable with you, have shown you a beauty that you thought impossible for a creature such as himself.

After an argument with his sister, he’ll show you a side of him that you’ve never seen before. The sadness and deep anguish that he holds within himself. No one deserves to have such pains. Even a man-eating demon like Gyutaro.

You want to comfort him and heal his wounds.

As a demon, Gyutaro doesn’t have much sexual desire. He feels no biological urge to reproduce. The only urge within him is to destroy and devour.

But when you’re around, that all changes. Something within him yearns for your touch, your love.

He’s seen humans have sex before, and even though he doesn’t quite understand it, he wants to try. It’s not uncommon for Gyutaro to witness humans having sex in the district. But now, everytime he sees such things, he imagines what it’d be like to do it with you. The tent forming in his pants isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before, but there’s an urgency behind it now. Whereas before he’d be able to ignore it. But now it seems to control his every thought. Blood and carnage replaced by thoughts of your fragile body lying beneath his.

Gyutaro isn’t embarrassed about his desire to have sex with you. He will be completely open and up front with you about it, because he’s been surrounded by sex his entire life. So to him it’s just a normal thing that humans do. He doesn’t understand the social norms/stigmas surrounding sex.

During your first time having sex, it will be the first time that he’s careful with you.

Once he is accustomed to having sex with you, he will start being more rough. Pulling your hair, biting your neck, and thrusting his hips into you so hard that you bruise.

He’s touch starved, so it makes sense that he gets overwhelmed by the pleasure of having sex with you. He loses himself in you. Fucking you like his life depends on it, moaning and groaning with every thrust.

Even after he fills you up with his cum, he won’t stop.

He keeps going until he can see that you are exhausted. He may be selfish but he still cares about you. He doesn’t want to push you too far past your limit and risk breaking you.

Surprisingly he’s big on aftercare. Most of the time he’ll fuck you til your legs stop working, so he takes initiative in cleaning you up and tucking you into bed. He loves cuddling you and feeling you tremble in his arms from having orgasmed so many times.

Your sexual experiences with Gyutaro changes your relationship drastically. His feelings for you start to come through in less toxic ways as he begins to understand his feelings. But when he gets annoyed by them or they become too strong, he thinks that having sex will make it go away. When in reality they just make these potent emotions even stronger.

Showing affection towards him will usually calm him down. Once you are able to love him and he can accept your love, things get much easier for the both of you.

It will take lots of time, and the likelihood of surviving that long is slim. But if you do, it’ll be well worth it.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut #follower milestone

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fxtalitygod · 30 days

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X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

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aspiring-house-husband · 2 months

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…oh. my god. this may be one of the longest things i’ve ever written. you want some sub/top regency kink a/b/o? you want some heat-fucking? you want some knotting? have i got a treat for you.

normally, a king would be proud to have all alpha sons. a sign of a strong bloodline, strong heirs. dominance and assurance in the future.

this king was not proud. he was scared. all three sons were alphas- his daughters, too. every child an alpha. what would normally be a strength was a curse, as it could not help him now.

there was a young king, butting up against their border. what had once thought to be a nuisance or even a weakness, their young king was new, inexperienced, unknown. but when the kingdom opposite this royal alpha’d family attempted to take advantage of the young and inexperienced king, their kingdom fell. the young king’s empire grew. as did his army, and his power. and his bloodlust.

he crushed a revolt, only a year later, from his conquested kingdom’s militia. he carved out pieces from his eastern and western borders. through every battle, every negotiation, every victory, he proved that his blade, tongue, and mind were equally sharp. he was accruing power at a rate that made long-standing reigns weary.

the kingdom he inherited by blood adored him. those kingdoms he conquered respected him. those kingdoms bordering him were terrified.

the alpha king, of an alpha queen, with five alpha children, desperately wanted to avoid war. an ally was preferred to an enemy, and he saw what happened to kingdoms who resisted. peace was preferred, and what better way than offering a spouse to the young king, preferably an omega to be controlled and toyed with, so that the kingdom could remain uncontrolled, untouched?

his youngest son, his sweet prince. an alpha, but the most likely to submit to a young but obviously alpha king. he was dressed in ceremonial cloth and jewels and taken to the young king. the prince was stunned by the beauty of the king… but not the ruggedness the prince expected. he was not a muscular and scarred military man with blood splattered across his chest, but instead a small man with legs crossed and his chin resting, bored, in his palm. soft hair framed a curious expression around bright, curious eyes.

“young alpha prince,” the king says, the corners of his lips only barely tugging into a smile, “welcome to my kingdom. welcome to my home.”

the prince kneels before the king and bows, touching his head to the floor, his robes pooled around him on the tiled floor as a great island of nobility. he stays as the king stands, graceful steps taking him to the prince.

“quite generous of your father, sending me a toy of such noble stature.” the king circles him, his gaze drinking in the prince. “stand.”

the prince does as ordered and raises his chin. he finds the king slightly shorter than him. “an alpha, i smell. tell me, are you afraid of me?”

the prince lets his gaze flick to the king, who still circles like a predator.

“majesty, i will regard you however it is you should require me to,” the prince responds, and the king finally smiles full and across his face, but his eyes are dark. he comes to stand in front of the prince, and lifts a hand to his face, but stops just short of touching.

“may i?” he asks, and the prince hesitates in surprise at the question before nodding. the king’s hand is warm as it slowly cups his face.

“have the prince shown to his quarters and dressed,” the king addresses his men without breaking eye contact with the prince. “return him to me once he is settled in.”

the prince marvels at his living space. it has high ceilings and double paned windows that face the western skies, a plush bed larger than the one he’d had at home, and a bath with working plumbing. the hearth was alive with warm fire when he arrived, and two servants awaited to help him dress and fetch him food. not even as the prince of his kingdom had he ever felt so taken care of, so privileged. only when his handmen showed him to his wardrobe did he feel again like a plaything. his closet was not befitting a prince- it suited a concubine. hardly covering cloth draped from metal chains and jewels, his dignity spared by only a few inches. he chose the outfit that covered the most of his skin, but even that wasn’t much, and what it hardly covered could still be seen through the fabric.

“do you know what the king wants of me?” he asked one of his handmaidens, and she shook her head.

“i’ve long stopped questioning his intention. he hasn’t lead us wrong yet. he did order, though, that robes be made available to you, if your decency was less than to your liking.” she opened yet another wardrobe, and the prince sighed in relief that he could at least drape a large fur cloak over himself before he was sent before the king.

he wasn’t led back to the throne room, as he had expected. instead he was taken to an office study, where the king sat hunched at the end of a long dark wood table over maps and other papers. he took a seat at the king’s left and dared not look at the scribblings, lest he be reprimanded for curiosity above his station.

“your father is a smart man.” the king breaks the silence. “even being so far from the throne, he would’ve prepared you, yes?”

“Yes, highness,” the prince responds.

“Perhaps you will notice something i haven’t. this river isn’t supposed to flood- it never did, during my mother’s reign. but it has thrice in mine, and i can’t work out why. each time it floods, it destroys homes, and i can’t have that any longer.”

the prince sits in stunned silence before he responds.

“you’re asking… my opinion, sire?”

“why wouldn’t i? a pretty face does not a lesser mind make.”

the prince can only be glad his complexion hides blushes before he leans in to study the maps.

the royals emerge hours later with flood plane maps and funding plans for village relocation drawn up. the king takes the hand of the prince and sends him back to his chambers, but not without first again holding his face.

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his smile unexpectedly fond, “sit at my right hand.”

the bed is too plush for the prince; he cannot stop his mind from wandering. the king was not at all what he had expected. not just small and soft, beautiful and graceful instead of rugged and rough, but also kind, generous. though the prince was rarely called anything but ‘toy’, ‘pet’, ‘gift’, he was treated like not only a royal but a confidant, an advisor. the touches that he had expected from his new king had never come, and those that did were only soft enough to make him desire more. and his plush pillows were no help, hugged into the curve of his frame and just the right plushness. it made him buck before falling asleep. made him grind as he woke. made him whimper through his dreams of serving the king as he once thought he would be required to.

“highness,” the prince begins one morning, over breakfast. “is there anything more i could be doing for you?”

“for me?” the king asks, setting down his utensils and locking his fingers together, resting his chin to his knuckles and his elbows to the table. “how so?”

“i am but to serve you,” says the prince, “it is my purpose, my life. if there would ever be anything more you need from me, you need only ask.”

he couldn’t be sure, but the prince swore he smelled an arousal spike, and for the first time it made him wonder at the king’s designation. all had assumed him an alpha, but not once had the prince smelled an alpha scent from him. until this moment, in fact, not a scent at all… his eyes drifted to the metal chains that wrapped his neck with links and leather. the prince has assumed these pieces armor, but maybe they were more. maybe they hid the king’s scent.

“you are servant to me,” echos the king, fondness in his voice and tugging at the end of his lips. “you believe so?”

“i am lost to it,” says the prince, wishing he could take back how his voice cracked. too many times recently had he been erect in the presence of the king, his only disguise being his fur cloaks. too many time had he woken up dripping with the idea of the king ordering him around, owning him the way he truly was owned.

“very well,” says the king, and he stands from his breakfast. “walk with me.” the prince gladly does so, half a pace behind the king.

“with honesty, i have been waiting,” he says, hands clasped at his back. “when i took you as my own, i wanted it to be of your choice. i couldn’t help but be impatient.”

the king’s chamber door opened into a small room first, empty but for light furniture. this is where the king turned to the prince, hopping up onto a table top to sit nearly the same height as the prince.

“touch me,” he says, his voice not even close to hard enough for it to be an order. the prince obeys nonetheless, his fingers rising up the king’s sides to tease his tunic over his head. still, the leather and link around the king’s neck remains. the prince moans with the skin revealed to him, and breathes out raggedly.

“you mustnt tell anyone,” the king says, and the prince blindly nods without knowing what he was meant to keep secret, far too focused on exploring the king with his hands and the way the king’s legs have latched into him and knocked the fur cloak from his body. he manages, though, to follow the king’s hands to the armor around his neck, and a few seconds later the armor falls to his lap.

the prince’s head spins. not only was the king’s scent entirely new to him, new and perfect, but it was omega scent. it was omega, and aroused, and strong, and so incredibly sweet smelling that it must’ve been crafted just for him. if he hadn’t been hard, he would’ve swelled to full size from the smell alone.

“don’t be dumbfounded,” the king says, “i know i’m an omega, but that’s why i’m so strong in battle, so people-“

“i don’t care,” says the prince, diving his face to the king’s neck and scooping the king by the legs into his arms, “i don’t care what people assume about you. you smell so good, highness, that i wouldn’t care if they all were watching us, right now.”

the king moaned and held onto the prince as he opened the door to the king’s bedroom. he had never seen it before, and now he could guess why- the scent of omega, aroused and needy, hung heavy in the air. the prince placed the king down in his bed, which now that he could see, he could tell was filled with pillows and blankets, woven into a perfect nest. still he did not leave the king’s neck, salivating over the scent that made his head spin. he lathered open-mouthed kisses along his neck, scraping his teeth over the omega’s scent gland and prompting a wanton moan straight from the prince’s dreams. the prince cursed under his breath and unthinkingly thrusted his hips, his thin clothing doing nothing to hide either his arousal or the sensation of grinding against the warmth of the king’s body.

“pet,” says the king, breathing ragged but hands still strong as he holds the prince away from him, just enough. “undress me, pet.” the prince didn’t nod, didn’t hesitate, just pushed the king onto his back and grabbed his waistband, lifting his hips as he yanked downward. he did it with ferocity, desperation, and hardly had the mind to hear the king’s chuckle over the sight he was greeted with. the king’s hole was nothing short of everything he’d dreamed of in every rut-fevered sleep, soft and wet and warm, so wet he was dripping. the scent was strong and still so sweet, tuned to his nose alone, like it was made for him. he kneeled before his king and held onto his thighs, sliding forward, but the king closed his legs and trapped the prince just beyond his knees.

“my king?” he asked, desperate eyes looking up at the king as his chest heaved. was this what catching an omega’s heat felt like? he had rut before, but this was different, like he was driven by something external and so ravenous that he could devour the king. but he didn’t smell heat, as he had before from his oldest brother’s wife. the sticky sweet smell wasn’t among the king’s scent, his beautiful dripping warm and wet and soft scent. this feeling was all his own, without heat, without rut. he was this pathetically desperate, all his own.

the king had sat up, and finally his hands pet through the prince’s hair, held his jaw.

“put your mouth to me, pet,” says the king, “your lips, your tongue. and don’t emerge until you’ve tasted my high and swallowed it. don’t come out of it until you’ve smeared yourself in my slick and no one will be able to even smell your breath without knowing i’ve been on your tongue.”

with an unprompted moan the king falls back down into his bed and opened his legs for the prince, who presses the king’s thighs further open and eats like a starving animal. he nearly cums through his clothes at the taste, his cock strained and weeping and impossibly, painfully hard. he does not spare a hand for himself, too focused on the king’s bucking hips, his loud moan whenever he sucked against the king’s cock, the way his moans cracked and whimpered when he dove his tongue deep. to his surprise, it doesn’t take long; the king clamps down around his tongue and bathes his face in the smells of satisfaction and warmth and arousal and most of all, need.

the prince feels like a wild animal rising from his kill, his face dripping and his breathing rough. the king looks upon him with pleasure, his breath hard, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“toy, love,” says the king, barely untangling his fingers from where they had gripped into his bedsheets, “i had planned to do a lot of walking tomorrow. force me to change my plans.”

the prince shivers and undresses himself quickly. the clothing he wore couldve easily been torn, or even pulled to the side, but he took the time to yank them from his body, catching sight of his own cock for the first time that morning. he was surprised to notice an angry, throbbing knot- he had rut?

his hesitation catches the attention of the king, who sits up enough to see the knot, and his moan is nothing but heavenly as he falls to the bed again.

“i’ll milk that best if you’ve had me twice more,” promises the king. “get me there, toy.”

thrusting into the king nearly had him over the edge, but he couldn’t swell his knot without being deep inside the king, without satisfying his orders. he had to control himself, had to fuck into the king’s sloppy, throbbing, hot and wet hole without losing himself to it, but it felt like a pointless battle. he was too far gone, the scent of omega burning in his nose and making his eyes half lid, his hips snapping into the king and pulling back only halfway before impacting with the king’s tightly wrapped legs before thrusting deep again.

he growled in dissatisfaction—not the right angle, not deep enough, not lewd enough moans from the king—and pulled out to flip the king onto his stomach, pulling his hips back, and thrusting in. the noise he pulled from his omega was high-pitched and filthy, and the prince’s gaze moves between the hungry and soaking wet hole that suckles against his knot with every thrust, and the blissful expression and soft, drooling lips of the king, pressed into his bedsheets.

he barely notices as the king gets tighter, and tighter, before he clamps down again and screams, his voice broken but loud, catching and announcing every shudder, pulse, tremble, twitch, broken with soft words the prince could barely hear, words as “toy,” and “love,” and “yes,” and “pet,” and, the worst of them all, the one that had him throbbing, “alpha.”

the prince pulls out to flip the king over again. he is pliant and panting, flushed down the front of his body and looking up at the prince with undisguised adoration, obsession, lust. the prince has to look away to focus; he wants nothing more than to be inside the king and satisfy him again, but he needs to make it better. the nest he had crawled into is well constructed, and he wouldn’t dare rip at the pillows built into walls, but there is one that doesn’t seem to be for either structure or for laying heads on, one that seems thick enough. he lifts the king and lays the pillow under his back, propping up his hips to the prince, splaying his thighs open to show the soaked and reddened, throbbing, abused hole. the prince has to break his own hypnosis to move his eyes away and back to the king.

he crawls up, cock hard beneath him, and for the first time kisses the king, their mouths dancing together, tongues tangling and teeth clacking. he sinks into the king’s hole like he belongs there, lined up perfectly and finding no resistance. the king moans into his mouth and his arms come up around the prince, nails latching to his back.

“knot me,” begs the king, his ankles locking behind the prince. “knot me full, take me, mark me deep.”

the words were pleas, not orders, but the prince obeys without question. he thrusts into the king with what feels like every ounce of power in his body, deep and fast and strong. his body is alight- every sensation his to memorize. the sting of his omega’s nails on his shoulder blades. the lustful moans just next to his ear. the near-stickiness as their bodies part before coming together again. the warmth of his omega’s body. the heavenly softness of his hole. every sensation, his, and too easy to burn into his mind forever. his omega begins to tighten, to whimper, his moans sliding higher pitched, and the prince keeps his same pace, desperate to please and to do as the king ordered. the king does not cum, yet, holds himself with tension in every muscle and teeth bared.

“knot me, alpha,” he whispers, eyes bright and hungry. “so deep your seed will never find its way back out.”

the prince drops his gaze to where they meet, his knot nestled against the king’s entrance, and he lifts himself so that he can hold onto the king’s hips. he stares at the fluttering muscle of the king’s body, trying to suck him deeper, trying to be one with him, and his mind swims. still, he pulls, strong and slowly pulling the king toward him as he pushes his hips closer. the king breathes shallow, unable to see where they meet and so watching the prince, pliant and soft and beautiful as the prince guides them together. he pulls with more strength, grits his teeth, pushes forward until they snap together, knocking the prince onto his elbows again, face inches away from the king’s, who looks lustful but bewildered, as though he has looked upon heaven for the first time.

“alpha,” he breathes, unfocused eyes finally moving to the prince. “my alpha.”

“my omega,” answers the prince, and he kisses him deeply.

he rocks his hips gently, unable to move the knot but just enough to pull the climax they had both been seconds from. it crashes over the king, who thrashes and screams, and washes over the prince, who collapses and spills. he can feel them throbbing in time, his omega’s hole milking him, pulling everything from him. they bask in it for an eternity, unable to move, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe. finally, the king touches his face again.

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his eyes unfocused and body still trembling, “sleep in my bed. never leave my side. never let me be without you.”

“i am servant to you,” the prince echoes the king’s words of hours ago. “i am whatever you require.”

“whatever i require?” the king repeats, his eyes lazing closed, blissful enough in his knotting and his alpha’s rut to fall asleep, still clamped around a knot and milking it gently. “you are mine.”

the prince no longer felt the need to wear his fur cloaks. whatever skin that the kingdom could see was marked with the king’s adoration, scratches and bites and hickeys decorating every bit of his body. he fetched the king breakfast and helped him dress, but equally undressed him around hallway corners and beneath banquet tables. he let the stuck-up old nobles turn up their noses at his hard cock trapped beneath only shear fabric, all thoughts of embarrassment wiped away by the soft touch of his king, squeezing him and reminding him of the privilege only he wields.

an alpha prince, servant to an omega king. a pet for pleasure and a lover. a toy.

#a/b/o #og #story #non monster #prince #public #heat

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 6 months

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Dating sim but it takes place in 50 BCE and your real goal is to prevent Caesar and Pompey's civil war, using such tools as:

The mos maiorum

Thinly disguised homoeroticism

Fulvia's hitman agency ("You hire, the jerk expires!")

Hortensius' funeral (great for matchmaking)

Three consuls named Marcellus who all look alike

A chariot drawn by panthers

Hiding the fasces so neither consul can do anything

Mark Antony (nude)

Inserting an extra month into the year at the most inconvenient moment possible

Mithridates VI (dead)

Clodia Metelli's definitely-not-poisoned dinner parties

Cato's harem of Greek philosophers

Undisguised homoeroticism

Replacing Cicero with an identical double so you can smuggle him back to Rome early

Mithridates VI (alive)

Springing Vercingetorix, leader of the Gallic revolt, from jail

A secret fourth Marcellus

A rotating amphitheater/highly flammable death trap

Vampire Sulla (undead)

Appius Claudius Pulcher (necromancer)

Julius Caesar's fucked-up horse (missing)

Great Caesar's ghost (currently in Great Caesar's body...unless?)

A man-eating eel named Lucius Tiddlypuss

Cato's tits (out)

Unrepentant homosexuality

A team of priests streaking and hitting people with whips

Strategically-placed sacred chickens

Moving the "Rubicon" sign in the middle of the night so Caesar hasn't actually crossed it yet

#jlrrt speaks #just roman memes #caesar's civil war #dating sim

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immediatebreakfast · 18 days

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One of the things that it's always interesting to see in a gothic noble is what the villain, or the antagonist represents in the narrative as a whole.

The Gothic is a romantic literary response to the historical, sociological, and political contexts of the the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. It's a look through the ruin, the passionate, the bigoted, the decaying, and the irrational rationality.

It's an explanation as to why it's crucial to the narrative of why Dracula is a count, why Jonathan is an inexperienced worker, and why there is so much emphasis on the locals.

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?"

How much contempt, and underlining hatred can one fit in a single paragraph that bordelines on a monologue? Dracula truly holds true resentment towards the locals of Transylvania for daring to try, and defend themselves against him.

He doesn't call them locals, citizens, not even commoners, but peasants. A word that not only signals the kind of social hierarchy that Dracula benefits the most (notice how he also included Jonathan in the social class at the end), but also why he is shown so angry despite Jonathan asking a simple question.

The locals of Transylvania had commited the worst crime in the eyes of the Count, the peasants dared to revolt against their "master" in order to keep themselves alive instead of baring their necks for the slaughter. Even with all of the fear that Dracula has sowed in the heart of the locals, to the point that they obey all of his orders, it's still not enough for him. That fear it's not enough for Dracula because it lacks the concrete submission of his old days as an actual noble class.

The locals of Transylvania fear him for his power and his wealth, but they lack the class mentality that would truly put them under Dracula, and that is eating the Count alive. He calls them fools while they fill their streets with protection wards and put rosaries around their necks, he calls them cowards while we have read how everyone around Jonathan risked the Count's wrath to protect him.

We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead.

The Count hates the old innkeepers, the coachman, and the passengers for daring to rebel against him, even if he is still the unliving cause of their suffering.

Hell, it's heavily implied that all of that is still not enough to fully stop Dracula, and yet he is still so angry. There is nothing that the aristocratic nobility hates more than the mere vision of how the people they deem beneath them act together to stop their abuse.

#The Count is a complex gothic character in regards all of the stuff he represents both in the good watsonian and the bigoted doylist sense #What do vampires represent? The dying aristocracy trying to hold their fleeting power as the social system shifts in a new century #While still bleeding the working class under them dry #And Dracula as a conqueror a noble and an older experienced man represents that perfectly #dracula daily #dracula #count dracula #jonathan harker

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kwillow · 21 days

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I have this strong feeling that theo would be very happy to live in one of my oc's nations. (Hes a minotaur prince of a country that religiously collects any and ALL forms of knowledge cause they believe knowledge no matter what about or how you got it, is not evil also they do necromancy) Unless theo likes to lie in which case just dont do it infront of the crown prince and he'll be golden. The prince tends to skin people alive for lying to him u.u

Theo's a man of ethics, you know. He's taken a Hypocritic Oath.

Alas, I worry Theo might not be as at home in such a nation as one might think, despite his, erm, hobbies.

His studies into necromancy/blood magic are done out of a sense of filial duty, and as a rather fussy man with a prudish personality, he finds the hands-on application of it quite revolting and something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Additionally, Theo may be a nerd who loves books and dark magic and books about dark magic, but he is also a proud scion and adherent of an archaic aristocratic line. As such, he comes packaged with some rather staid, traditionalist values and the belief that most people are inherently his lesser. His few social experiences haven't dissuaded him from the opinion that the vast majority of people are some combination of brutish, stupid, and dissolute.

All that to say - he believes that he himself has the proper motivations, intellect and capacity for self-control (ha) to practice responsible crimes against nature, but would he say the same of wide swathes of society? Certainly not! A kingdom wherein necromancy is widespread and celebrated would naturally have too many lowly people who should never practice such a gruesome, potent art doing so, and that means the kingdom itself must be corrupt.

He would view the collection of dubiously-attained knowledge similarly. He would certainly like to partake in such knowledge, because he is a noble man of good breeding and fine manners who can understand and apply such knowledge with a gentleman's delicate touch. As a curiosity, and out of an appreciation for historical artifacts, he would like ancient tomes of evil work preserved, but not accessible to the unwashed masses who would sully them or use them for ill. Better to remain in a private library, read only by those who engage in appropriate self-flagellation after. Who decides what to preserve and which people should get access to it? Well, himself, of course! He wouldn't trust any other curator's judgment. Another strike, in his view, against a kingdom with a laissez-faire approach to science.

Also, while he values (often brutal) honesty and is certainly not a consummate confabulator of the caliber of Hyden or Ambroys, Theo will use deception to achieve his own ends. Just... not often very well. He's not exactly rocking a Charisma build. He also tends to chafe against male authority figures, especially if they threaten any consequences of his actions. It might end badly for him on the "skinning alive" front.

Anyway - I wouldn't stamp Theo's visa to the minotaur prince's kingdom, for everyone's sake. Best case scenario, he rudely complains about everyone there being debased reprobates the whole time and everyone is extremely uncomfortable. Worst case scenario, I've got one dead rat-sans-pelt and the city's libraries have been ransacked by a man who feels like common people are too dumb and immoral to read medical textbooks and the Kama Sutra alike.

#asks #theo #amaranthine #my draws #sorry he is VERY difficult to get along with #he's got the personality of a tube of mentos balanced above a bottle of coke on the head of a pin #any slight breeze will cause a catastrophic meltdown - or at least a big mess #also “hypocritical” is my favorite trait to give a character so that doesn't help

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villainofmyownstory · 7 days

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Light years

masterlist

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x android/hologram!Reader

summary: Many decades of longing. A lot of years of waiting. Hundreds of light years away from an Earth that no longer seemed like a memory, but a fictional story. A fairy tale written by poets. Earth no longer existed, and life on Zeus 2 went on as if the years of intergalactic war had never happened. As if the destruction of most of humanity had never taken place. There were still a few people on the new planet who remembered their lives on Earth. A past that was a memory stinging under the ribs. A small personal utopia for the last living people. Paradise lost.

tags: sci-fi!au, android, angst, ambiguous/open ending

1.4k words

author's note: Unfortunately, most of the 5th chapter of Day Zero, I don't know why, but it disappeared from my files, probably my mistake that I wrote it on my phone…. and I don't know when I will finish the 5th chapter. So I decided to write something else. I have never read sci-fi books, I have only watched a few movies of this genre in my life. Everything I've written here are my own thoughts about this alternate universe I've invented. Let me know what you think.

This story I wrote for @glitterypirateduck #GhostChallenge. I used prompt #’s 9 and 17. Challenge Masterlist

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Wet streets and neon lights are two certainties of any Saturday evening. The man started his motorcycle from the parking lot with a squeal of tires. The vehicle flashed through the streets of the crowded city at high speed despite the heavy rain. Passing through one intersection after another, the man paid no attention to his surroundings. He had one goal in mind. Like every second Saturday of the month. One damn hour. Just one. Sixty minutes.

He cursed Captain Price in his mind, even though he knew the man had a visit this Saturday, sending him and Gaz to a neighboring planet to see if the unrest caused by the robot revolt has been adequately handled by the new authorities. Although they had their cybernetic teammates on the new planet, the captain trusted his human soldiers the most. Only Price and his three subordinates remembered well their service in the former Task Force 141 many decades ago on Earth. Sometimes, on their free evenings, they reminisced about their past lives, like a long-read book or a movie they watched. Memories that seemed so distant. It was hard to tell that they were their own. And yet they were. Earth had once existed. Their lives were different. A better place.

As the man approached his destination, he wondered if the next visit would look the same. Every month he deluded himself that this time it would not be like the previous one. That the clinic's staff would inform him of progress. About a breakthrough.

So much time. It had been so many, many years since they had lived on Earth. So many decades of longing and hope.

White, smooth walls. The floor lined with rectangular snow-white tiles. 134 pieces to be exact. Electronics and many screens on one of the walls. A comfortable chair and an empty space on the other side. He has long known every nook and cranny of these two rooms. The one where he stays during every visit and this small room, behind bulletproof plastic glass.

As on every single Saturday evenly at 7 pm he was greeted by the same artificial, synthetic voice.

"Welcome, you are a visiting guest at medical facility number 3 and your appointment is about to begin. Sit comfortably and enjoy the company of your still living loved ones.Thank you for using our services. To change your monthly subscription package, please head to room 221 on the 2nd floor. Memories from Earth eternally alive. Light years are no longer an obstacle. With us, everything continues uninterrupted. MedZeus 3 at your service. Light years don't matter. Earthly memories at your fingertips."

When silence falls, he counts every breath. Exactly 17, when a light comes on in the room behind the glass. The figure flickers and after a moment is visible in all her divine beauty.

You are as he remembers you. You are the same as you were taken out of his mind. A memory.

"Hi Simon!" The man clenches his tightened fists. Your voice is always the same. Bright, melodious. Joyful. Like every month you stand in the same place. In that fucking white void. So close and so far away. He dreams every day to be able to touch you again. To feel your soft and smooth skin under the pads of his scarred, rough hands. To touch your wavy hair at least once more and smell the fruity sour fragrance of your favourite perfume. He would like to see your rosy cheeks one more time. At least one damn tear in your eyes. Some human emotion.

"How was your service? You look tired. I hope the mission was successful." The same sentences spoken for months. He so longed to hear something different. Sorrow. Longing. Joy. Anger. Anything, some human feeling.

Meanwhile, everything is just as the signed script predicted. The programmed hologram of your character stands dressed in a plain black t-shirt with your favorite band and plain straight jeans. Hair tied in a loose ponytail. Just as he remembered you. Just as he saw you on the last day of his life. Yours.

If you hadn't been so stubborn, if you hadn't said those words. Maybe you would be together now. Light years from Earth. Light years from that life together.

The man slowly gets up from his chair and walks over to the glass. He removes the glove from his hand and stares at the bare palm to the cold transparent wall separating you.

“I miss you.” He finally says while swallowing that damnable, choking tightness in his throat. That bitterness that appears every time he looks at the product of his memories. You're seemingly here. You're so close. But he knows it's not you. You were now the product of his selfish desire. When he was awakened from centuries of hibernation many years ago the first thing he bought in his new reality. In his new life. You.

He damn well regretted that decision. He should have buried you long ago, erased your memories as other living people have done. Forget you and live on Zeus 2 like the others. He could eventually start a family, or adopt a small humanoid robot-child. He could even buy himself an android wife. After all, he was an intergalactic soldier. An Earth hero. One of the last humans from Earth. A myth.

That's probably why he couldn't let you go. You were something that kept him alive. Were you? No. For him all the time - you are. He didn't want to be like the others, he didn't allow his DNA to be changed. Even Captain Price was no longer fully human. He was afraid that with making him half human and half robot he would destroy the last part of you that had been in him all along.

Long minutes of silence after saying that three words. I miss you. They caused the figure behind the glass as if trying to process and quickly in gigabytes of stored data to find the answer to his words.

He smiled gently. But maybe the staff of the facility has managed to improve something, maybe there has been some kind of revolution and you will finally be more human. His again.

The hologram twitched slightly, as if it was about to disappear. The man glanced anxiously at his watch, it had been only 17 minutes since the start of the meeting.

“Simon”

Your voice is like behind a fog. His name whispered with the same tenderness when you first confessed your feelings for each other. That rainy November evening when he held you for the first time in his bare arms. When he gave you his heart. When he first said that he…

The man shakes his head. He didn't give them back those intimate memories. No. That's what he didn't transfer to the data cloud. So how is it possible…

“Don't let go, Simon. Never.” Your lips don't move. Your figure again slightly disappears for a fraction of a second. No it can't be true. Maybe this some bug in the system. A badly written code. Maybe a virus crept in, or a hacking attack. He had heard at the base, about recent cyber attacks on medical facilities. Maybe the attacks have reached his planet as well.

The image of your hologram is back to normal. As you do every month, you tilt your head slightly to the side and extend your hand. The man freezes, holding his breath. You always make this gesture at the end of your meetings.

You put up your thumb, index finger and pinkie finger, while keeping your ring finger and your middle finger down.

“I Love You” in Sign Language.

After a moment of hesitation, he extends his hand and his palm shows the same gesture. He rests his forehead on the cold glass closing his eyes.

You are about to disappear. Again you will remain just a part of a recollection. Data stored on the server.

When the man opens his eyes again he continues to see your figure. In white. A braid of tiny white gypsophila and purple eustoma flowers adorns your head. Your hair is loosely undone. Slightly curly hair reaches below your shoulders. A simple white dress covers your body from neck to ankles. Lace sleeves adorn your arms.

Time seems to have stopped. Again. As if there were no light years from earthly life. Like that tomorrow has simply arrived. Your image presented to him.

It wasn't his memory. He had no right to see you in your wedding dress. He did not have time. Tomorrow never came for the both of you.

This is your memory.

#GhostChallenge #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #ghost simon riley #ghost x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley

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quillandsaber · 3 months

Text

It seems like I am fated to crawl back to Tumblr every time I play a new Final Fantasy game to wax poetic about my OTPs. This time it's Final Fantasy XVI and Warfield.

To me, there's an important unstated implication I haven't seen many people talk about in the fandom discourse: in medieval/Renaissance Europe (which was the cultural basis for Valisthea), the only reason a girl would be sent as a ward to a man she's not related to with no daughters would be if the intention was for her to eventually marry one of his sons, probably one a little older than she. Clive would have known this. Jill would have known this. Everyone would have known this. Anabella may not have liked it, but she would have known this. Clive and Jill's friendship would have formed with the underlying assumption that they were supposed to be husband and wife one day. While we as modern people tend to revolt at the idea of child betrothal as a matter of principle, we have to remember that, in a world where arranged (or at the very least approved/facilitated) marriage is likely the only option for most people, Clive and Jill would have probably thought they were pretty lucky that they knew and liked the person who they were going to spend the rest of their life with.

So now rewatch the cutscenes when they reunite after thirteen years apart; it's not just "my friend, who I thought was dead for thirteen years, is alive." It's "the only person I have ever thought of as a life partner, who I thought was dead for thirteen years, is alive." It makes complete sense why Jill's immediate response is "I'm going with you; we're facing this together" and why Clive doesn't argue. The fact that they're going to do things together is a foregone conclusion. They never have a "what exactly are we" talk because they don't have to.

This is the way it was supposed to be.

#ffxvi #jill warrick #clive rosfield #warfield #cliji #warrose

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bigboysfalldeep · 9 months

Note

My secret would be getting captured during a walk or a cruise by being chloroformed, get blindfolded, get a headset up my ears with vocal reprogamming hynosis, so when we arriving at your place, your newly hunted fag is ready to be taken, Sir

Routines. The silliest routines are the easiest way for you to fall into a hunters trap.

For you, it was your daily walk through the park at the exact same time, walking the exact same way, and those routines, let anyone drop their guard.

It all happened so fast. You didnt even see your attacker at all. The only thing you felt was a wet cloth covering nearly your entire face. That burning, chemical smell invaded your nostrils, your lungs and finally, your brain. As you grew weaker, someone steadied you. Two big arms wrapped around your body, hugging you, lovingly almost.

You didnt feel pain, no stress, no fear. As your eyes grew heavy, and as you lost control of your limbs, you felt your mind drifting away.

But it was far from over.

When you came to your senses, you tried to open your eyes, but the darkness wouldnt subside. Indeed, you were blindfolded, and gagged. Tape was covering your mouth and part of your neck. Someone made sure you wouldnt get it off on your own.

To make things worse, your hands and ankles were tied together as well. So tight, infact, you felt so much pressure anytime you tried to move.

You couldnt see, couldnt talk, couldnt move. But you heard someone move all around you. By the smell of his cologne you assumed it was a man, a beefy man, just by the feeling of his arms around your chest earlier.

"Finally got you little one." A deep voice echoes through you, sending shivers down your spine. Now you were scared. What was he going to do to you?

"This will be fun." His oily voice ran down your back, making you shiver.

He then covered your ears with huge headphones, making it even harder for you to make out anything. Still, you tried to call for help, but the tape wouldnt let you even breathe properly. Muffled screams filled your mind, and then you realized when the engine roared to life, shaking your surroundings. You were sitting in a car, an old car to be precise.

Shaking heavily, you tried to wake up. This must be a bad dream right? Maybe a prank?

That all changed when the speakers turned alive, playing some weird, loud music. Its rhythm rushed through your body, and it reacted right away. Somehow, this music calmed you down. Maybe it was the soft bass, maybe the idyllic background noises. Anyway, your breathing slowed down quickly, and you felt more and more relaxed.

But there was something hidden underneath many layers, deep inside the music. Words, phrases, little commands. But the most important thing was obedience.

Be a good boy. Just relax. Its so easy, isnt it?

Its tiresome to fight, to revolt. Just let go.

You felt conflicted. Leaning in to these messages made you feel better, but something felt wrong. Your body, on the other hand, was willing to follow those commands.

Hard. Get hard. Even harder. Just listen. And get hard.

All of your muscles were bulging, growing bigger and bigger. So did your cock.

You felt it bulge inside your pants, as if trying to break free, break through the fabric barely able to contain it.

To make matters worse, you felt a huge hand on your thighs. The man was still here, watching, with growing desire himself. His giant hand grabbed your vibrating cock, and started to play with it.

It felt so good, even though, you didnt like it at first.

With the music still playing, those commands ringing through your head, your tried your best to fight back. But no mind could withstand that for too long.

You didnt even know for how long you were in this state. The man kept edging you on and on and on. But you were never able to cum. Something prevented you from getting that desired relief.

The tape on your mouth was already drenched by you drooling heavily. A huge wet spot covered your crotch. Precum, more and more precum. That was all that came out of your cock.

Until you couldnt take it anymore. It was easier to give in anyway.

You leaned your head back against the car seat, and as your eyes rolled back into your skull, you felt the tip of your cock finally shoot load after load. The man kept fondling your wet meat, as more and more cum spread all over your trousers.

With every drop, every twitch, every shot, you felt not only your balls draining, but your mind as well.

You didnt care anymore about the music, the tape, the blindfold. Cumming was all on your mind. Cumming and pleasing your master.

You were so far gone, you didnt even notice the man leading you into his house. Where he removed all your restrains. You didnt need them anymore after all.

He took of your jacket and shirt, but left your stained trousers untouched. The man inspected you closely, while you looked at him, with vacant, foggy eyes.

This was the mean who owned you. You need him. You need to obey him.

Be a good toy. Just obey

#male on male #tf story #male hypno #male domination #male hypnosis #male transformation #gay hypno #hypno story

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vampyrsm · 2 years

Text

'made to kill.' (4.4k) vampire!bakugou katsuki x female reader

warnings: hematolgania (blood play), reader is a vampire (reader has red eyes), alcohol & drugs mentioned, violence, human deaths, blood-drinking, no prep vaginal sex, angry/aggressive sex, yandere!bakugou, marking kink/ownership kink, very dubcon (blood frenzy & bkg uses venom on the reader), toxic relationship.

➼ 'kinktober 2022 masterlist'

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a man's voice shouted over the bass over the music, he was drenched in the stench of sweat and whatever drug was currently coursing through his veins—ketamine, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was revolting and tasted sour on your tongue when you pressed it against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from talking back to him.

Instead, you glance at him, feigning the best doe-look you could possibly muster and the effect was almost immediate. The man's features softened as he lapped up your complexion, the beautiful curve of your lips and the flutter of your eyelashes before you spoke. "I'm so sorry!" you yell back loud enough over the bump of the music. You weren't sorry, not in the slightest. You don't think you've ever felt remorse in the 487 years of being 'alive'.

Before he could speak again you slipped back into the crowd, working your way through the overly warm bodies that made the skin on the back of your neck prickle with something deep and dark, a primal urge that had been gifted to you so many years ago by someone who called themselves your saviour. Speaking of your saviour, it was said he was here tonight. It was odd and extremely rare to come face to face with your sire once they had let you spread your wings and leave the nest but there was always this pull in the chest of someone who had been sired—to seek out the one who had made you immortal.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd of people, all of them were human, and they were all very stupid for stepping foot into the building tonight. But could they really be blamed? They didn't see the barrier they stepped through nor did they realise the alcohol they had been taking all night was laced with a multitude of drugs. Though you did have to give it to the man in charge, it was an ingenious plan. Humans were creatures of habit, they yearned for the promise of forgetting what pathetic lives they lived and would wander far to reach said promise.

And that's how they ended up in the abandoned hospital in the middle of nowhere. If you recall correctly, it actually used to be a hospital to treat the insane. It was quite the hotbed for paranormal activity and thus in turn was a great hangout for things of other supernatural heritage. Namely vampires. It was dark and cold, no one came here unless they were foolish enough to try and "hunt" the undead.

They never did return from those investigations, and neither will any of the people in the room right now. They're unaware of the fact by the time it strikes 2 am, they'll all be dead.

"We didn't expect to see you here tonight," you didn't need to turn your head to know who that was. The person speaking to you leaned against the wall beside you, his presence was suffocating. "In fact, most of us thought you had fled the country after the stunt you pulled."

Finally, you look up at the man, his long thick red hair pulled back into a half-and-half updo to reveal those ruby-red eyes that glowed even without the help of the numerous strobe lights in the room. "He's still got you acting as his lapdog?" you avoid his question, catching the glint of the large fangs in his mouth when he cracks a grin. Kirishima was one of the more terrifying vampires you had ever encountered, you had barely escaped with your life the last time he was sent to 'take care' of you.

"Something like that," he shifts his body slightly, now leaning a shoulder against the wall and letting his body naturally tower over your own. "Do I need to be worried about you being here?"

You shoot him a look, "Red, we both know if you saw me as an actual threat I would be dead by now."

Kirishima huffs a laugh, tilting his head in agreement before his eyes darted back out to the crowd. "Do you plan on staying for the killing hour?"

"No, you've pumped these idiots full of drugs that it wouldn't even taste good."

He hums in response, his body shifting once again and you follow his line of sight to above the main dance floor. They seemed to have knocked out the floor above to make it more suitable for their activities, and in turn, gave themselves a perch to sit upon whilst they watch their prey work themselves into quite the frenzy. Your heart threatens to burst at the sight of the person you had in truth come seeking unwillingly, the red of his eyes was harsher than anyone else's—fresh from a recent kill. His blonde hair was still as restless as it had been all those years ago when he saved your life but instead of the soft look he had once given you, it was replaced with a snarling scowl.

It was the reaction you had expected, yet it still made your heart pang in rejection from your sire.

"He wants you to—"

"He can come down from his throne and tell me himself if he wants me to leave." you spit back, pushing off of the wall to wander back into the crowd of humans. The burn of the crimson eyes was hot against your cold skin, ripping apart your body and staring directly into your soul—begging you to turn around and make the fatal mistake of making eye contact with the strongest vampire in all of Japan.

The crowd ebbed and flowed around you, bodies moving in time with whatever god-awful rhythm was no doubt being played by the resident Raijuu. Denki Kaminari was a harmless beast, a rare one, however, he had the tendency to run with the wrong crowds. He had since the beginning of time, and he had always been stuck close to the kingpin of the vampiric world—Katsuki Bakugou. Your Sire.

You can't quite recall the moment the relationship soured between the two of you. As far as you could remember, the blonde had quite a soft spot for you despite the hard-set frown on his face and the grim words that fell from his mouth when he was particularly angry. But that anger was never directed at you, he always treated you with the utmost care and respect—until he didn't. It happened one evening, that bond that held your heart tightly suddenly slacked and loosened as if you'd been set free but you couldn't quite understand why. Not until you had returned to the usual haunt of a bar that Bakugou always resided in to find him with another human.

Rationally, you knew he was feeding, he had told you that he had no more desires for turning people into undead vampiric leeches but the bond only ever loosened until it was no more when he had moved onto sire another—did this mean he had no longer had a use for you? Would he simply 'dispose' of you? You didn't want to find out. So irrationally kicked in, and this birthed the "stunt" Kirishima had continued to hold over your head for so many years. It was a messy ordeal, you had worked your way through the bar that very night to obliterate every single last human in the bar, it was truly frightening how much strength you didn't realise you had and just how fascinating it was to be able to rip a person apart with a single bite. This included the human woman that screamed for Bakugou to save her from the clutches of your hands.

Of course, he didn't. Instead, he just glared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. And that's when you found out Kirishima wasn't kept around for just his good looks or his ability to smooth talk his way around town but rather for the fact he could rip through a steel door with his bare hands.

In truth you had made yourself scarce following the incident, Kirishima was always hot on your tail and you weren't unaware of the fact Bakugou would go to the coven of witches to try and track you down. He however was not the only one with a magic user on his side—you'd have to thank Midoriya later for doing a spectacular job on the charm you wore around your neck to ensure you could get through the barrier of the hospital without bursting into flames.

"Your thoughts are still too loud."

If it were possible, you imagine your blood would've run cold at the sound of the gruff voice that spoke with sheer power that demanded respect. It seeped through your ears, muddying your brain with the urge to turn around and face him. But that only meant one thing, he'd win in a heartbeat and you're certain you'd be dead on the floor within that same heartbeat. Despite vampires being amongst the strongest at the top of the food chain with the ability to not be affected by other supernatural beings, that was overpassed by someone who had created you.

Bakugou Katsuki was known as the King of Tokyo for a reason, he could look someone in the eye and they'd explode on the spot. He was a force of nature, and even you feared what he could do.

You hardly have any time to react before there's a strong, cold, body pressed against the back of your own. The smell of something rich and spicy sticks to the back of your tongue when you try to swallow, his power wraps itself around you and chokes down any thoughts that are telling you to move away from him. Bakugou effortlessly wraps his arms around you, one across your shoulders with a large hand gripping you tight whilst the other arm circles around your waist to ensure you don't move.

It's far too natural how easily you fall back into the memory of how this was once your everyday life, to be held and doted on by a man who could crush anyone with just one hand. His body moulds around yours, just like yours perfectly moulds into the shape you've left in his chest after all these years apart. He lowers his head, tucking his chin against your shoulder and you get a peek of those blonde locks that you could spot a mile away.

"If you listened to Kirishima for one second longer," he starts, voice lowered enough so only you could listen to the honeyed words he whispers into your ear. "You would've known that I didn't intend to ask him to make you leave. I wanted you to come and join me."

His words confuse you, had he not looked at you with utter disgust from up on his manmade perch? Had he not sent Kirishima after you all those years ago? The man in question hums against your ear, body moving when he starts to sway a little to the beat of his own drum in his head. "Still so loud, sweetheart." he rasps against your ear, the coolness of his breath makes your skin burn with gooseflesh.

"I don't understand." You manage to say, you know you don't have to speak over the noise of the music and the chanting of the crowd for him to hear his whispered words. His fingers tighten against your shoulder, muscles in his forearm tensing to press against your throat and pulling your head back further into his shoulder. "I thought you wanted me dead."

"I did," he admits, still curling himself around your body like a snake would with its prey. You know it's too late to try and get him off of you, especially with the way he noses his way down from your ear and to your exposed neck. His breath puffs out against the scarred mark he had left all those years ago on your flesh, it's the one thing you had never been able to fully heal and Bakugou has never been happier with that tiny fact. "But I realised I couldn't live without you."

Your heart for the second time tonight threatens to burst, how it squeezes despite having not moved an inch in over 400 years. Your head feels light and fuzzy, you try to blink away the haze setting over your eyes but it's too late—his plan is finally in motion. You're barely able to register the wet feeling against your exposed flesh, the smell of copper filling the air before the first scream overpowers the bass of the music. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, how the bodies start to fall and how it seems to be raining blood.

That age-old craving is back, it has your fangs aching in your mouth. How long had it been since you ate someone? Feasted on their blood and felt the power Bakugou had gifted to you? It feels like forever, and when the drop hits your parted lips whilst you try to suck in a breath, you can feel the reins slip from your fingers. Your tongue darts out on instinct, the droplet gone within the same millisecond that it had been against your lips and suddenly you feel your hunger tenfold.

Over the blood frenzy that's rapidly setting into your bones, you can see the flash of red hair and rippling muscles that are tearing through people like they were nothing. Kirishima. You should've known that he'd be the one responsible for turning this into a bloodbath, and your body itches to dart forward to join in but the arms around you tense up a little more almost crushing you.

"Welcome back, my love." he rasps before there's a pinching sensation spreading from your neck and down along your shoulder, followed by a rush of something molten hot. It has your body writhing, your hands curling into fists until your claws are forced to pierce into the flesh of your palms and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your mind is tortured whilst Bakugou remains latched to your neck, drinking in your essence and forcing you to live through every memory he's endured in your absence. You can feel his pain and longing, he had truly missed you and he was going to make sure you knew that.

The next time your eyes blink open and adjust to the blinking lights around you, you realise the music had long stopped but there's absolutely no one here but one person who calls to you like a homing beacon. You turn in time to see Bakugou wiping a bloodied hand over his jaw, dousing his skin even more in the sticky red and you can't help but track his movements. That's when you register the sticky feeling on your body, how your clothing sticks to your body like a second skin and the satisfying feeling in your stomach of finally being full, sated.

"You back with me?" he asks, tongue darting against his bottom lip before he grins. His teeth are bloodied, his tongue a darkened shade of red and his eyes are glowing in the dark. You imagine you look the exact same. His gait is slow yet every step is made with purpose as he steps over the bodies on the floor, eyes solely locked onto your own until suddenly he's in your face. Large, bloodied, hands are cupping either side of your face. You feel the way the blood seeps into your pores, how it gathers in your hair and clumps together, yet you can't pull away from the way he's looking at you.

His thumbs roll over the apple of your cheeks, and you assume to clear away some of the blood before he's moving in. He's fast, always has been, his lips are consuming yours. The way he moves against you is as if he's punishing you, berating you with the violence of his kiss—how dare you leave him? He crowds your space so easily, towering over you with not just his stature but the natural power he possesses, it has you choking on his very essence. You try to grasp at his clothes, your fingers slipping against the slicked material doused in the blood of the innocent.

You can taste their blood on his tongue, in the saliva that he lets drip from his tongue and the venom that's dripping from his fangs. It burns at your throat but the throb in between your thighs makes it easy to ignore. Something in your mind was screaming at you to stop, but how could you listen to that voice when he was manhandling you backwards until you thumped against the cold broken wall of what must've been the recreational room of the hospital. "Let go, Y/N." he growls against your lips, "Come back to me."

Something brushes against your lips, and you blink away the red haze over your eyes to see Bakugou staring at you intently and he presses forward again. That's when you register the coolness of his skin against your lips, it was easy to let your fangs sink into the hardened skin of his forearm that could withstand the force of a speeding train. Bakugou groans, the red of his eyes slowly being consumed by black until he looked something entirely inhuman. His blood had always been sweet, and you still revel in the fact that you're the only other being in the entire world who had been graced with the opportunity to drink from his royal blood.

Bakugou couldn't take his eyes away from you, watching how your throat bobbed with each greedy mouthful. Your eyes were slowly changing from that shimmering amber tone, not quite red yet meaning you had starved yourself, until they matched his, a deep crimson until it faded into black. He had to have you in every sense of the word, he needed to feel his soul reconnect with yours. The regret that wrapped itself around his heart with sharp metal daggers had been eating away at him ever since he saw the pain on your face that night.

If only you had waited a moment to realise that he wasn't planning on turning another, but rather he was going to aid your ascension to something more than just his sired pet.

He moves faster than your brain is able to register, the blood rushing through his body putting him at the top of his game. He has you beneath him in milliseconds, the blood on the floor soaking into the back of your clothes and clotting in your hair but he can see that it doesn't bother you one bit. Your lips were saturated in his blood, he remembers the conversation he had with you when he offered you his blood for the first time after your transition.

"Is it not taboo to drink from another?" you had asked, eyes filled with worry that maybe it would be toxic to you to consume the blood of another dead soul.

Bakugou shook his head, a hand carding through your hair whilst he hovered over you in the bed of silk sheets. "Not at all, it's the most intimate thing we leeches can do."

It has shivers running down his spine, the reveries alighting that old flame in his stomach and he's lurching forward to capture your lips again. His hands move with renewed vigour as do yours, ripping away at his clothes and he, yours. The growl that tears through his throat isn't as threatening as it should be when your sharpened claws drag across his skin, tearing through it like scissors to paper.

He's not gentle with you either, a hand wraps around your throat to slam you to the ground hard enough to make the concrete splinter beneath the two of you and he's snarling in your face. Elongated fangs soaked in a mixture of his own blood and yours, the sight should be frightening but instead, it has your hips rutting up to meet his own with a sickly sweet mewl.

The look he gave you wasn't like anything you had seen before, his eyes were locked onto you much like a beast would with its prey. He looked like he may just eat you whole. There's a slicing sound before the wet coolness of the floor spreads across your ass and down the back of your thighs before he's hauling your legs over his hips. His fingers slip against your thighs so easily, gliding through the inky red that clung to you.

There's a beat of silence, just the huffing breaths between the both of you before the pressure between your legs makes you yelp. Your eyes widen to look down between the two of you, and you're not surprised to see he had in fact shoved his cock into you with no prep. It has your thighs tensing and walls naturally crushing around him in an attempt to stop him from pushing. What a shame that the man is stronger than you ever will be.

"Don't fight me," he huffs, eyes locked between the two of you before a hand joins to rub quick precise circles into your clit that has your hips rocking upwards to aid his endeavour in pushing his way through your walls until he was fully sheathed in your throbbing tight sex. "Doesn't it feel good? To be back where you belong?"

It does. It feels natural to be back under him, to be wrapped around him and intertwining your souls once again. It has your pained whimpers transforming into moans and murmurs of his name. "K-Katsuki, please." You huff, your claws digging into his forearms when he hunches himself over you to look directly into your eyes.

"Please what?" he doesn't move an inch despite your writhing, the muscles in his body steeling themselves like he was made of marble.

Licking the blood from your lips, you meet his mean gaze. "Fuck me already, I can't wait anymore."

He obliges immediately. His hips roll back before he's throwing them forward, the force of it has your body shifting along the floor easily with the aid of the bloodied concrete before he's grabbing at your thighs with big hands and holding you in place. His claws dig into your skin, easily breaking the reinforced skin before he's fucking into you with a snarl on his face. He looks unbelievably angry like he'd been betrayed by someone.

You imagine he believes he had been betrayed by you, you did lash out first, you did leave immediately, and you did cut him out of your mind link. Is that what he wanted? To be reconnected with you once again so he could see through your own eyes as if they were his? Your mind felt so muddy, wading through your thoughts was impossible with the pulsing of the blood rushing through your veins and the venom that pricked beneath your skin.

His fingers wrap themselves back around your throat, holding you in place when he hunches himself down and over you until his forehead is pressed against your own. His pace doesn't take a hit with the new position he's in, in fact, it feels like he's somehow deeper. Your moans are what he imagines it's like to hear an angel sing, it bounces off of the decaying walls and resonates deep in the pits of where his soul should be. "Let. Me. In." He snarls, not breaking eye contact when he speaks the command.

You have no choice but to let him in, reopening that link between the two of you is like trying to draw blood from a stone. It has a vein popping along your temple, and the throbbing in your mind feels like your head might explode the longer you stare into his eyes. There's a blissful second of nothing but silence before you're bombarded by a voice. "There you go." "What a good girl, I knew you could do it for me." His voice is loud in your head, with no escape from the rich timbre whilst he continues to fuck you with a reckless pace.

The pleasure you're feeling is doubling tenfold, you can feel everything. You can feel his pleasure as well as your own, you can feel the way you throb around his cock and in turn the way your walls are fluttering, milking him for all he's worth. You can taste the metallic bitterness of your own blood that's coursing through his own veins, and when you reopen your eyes you're staring directly into his own. But it's much more than that, it's as if you're staring into his soul, every emotion he had felt over the last 200 years without you has your body writhing.

It's too much, far too much information being forced into your brain and your eyes roll into the back of your head once Bakugou latches his lips back onto your throat. "Mine," the voice in your mind snarls, rumbling deep into your brain until it settles into your bones. "You'll only ever be mine."

The sinking of his teeth into your throat feels different now you've connected with him again, you feel the euphoric pleasure that rolls down his spine and forces his hips to continue to rut like a dog into your wet heat. The feeling has your orgasm snapping violently in your gut, your walls squeezing around his cock until he's forced to part from your throat with a low moan, his eyes fluttering at the feeling of his own rapture.

His cum is oddly hot inside of you, it always was an odd contrast to the usual coldness of your body and it often dropped you back into the days when you were just a human. Bakugou continues to roll his hips, forcing his cum to stay deep inside of you before he's settling his hips against your own and holding his weight on his forearms on either side of your head.

Finally, you look up at him with bright red eyes, swallowing the thickness in your throat and you track the way his adam's apple bobs when he copies the movement. "I've missed you," you whisper into his mind, and you see the instant relief settle on his face.

A hand gently comes down along your face, picking off the strands of hair that dried into the blood coating your skin before he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I missed you too, princess," his voice even sounds softer in your mind, you can't help but relax under him when he pushes his own emotions into you. "I'm never letting you go."

➼ 'kinktober 2022 masterlist'

#tw dubcon #tw death #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo katsuki imagine #katsuki smut #bnha x fem!reader #mha smut #bakugo katsuki smut #bnha smut #vampyrsm kinktober 2022

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felidrae · 5 months

Text

Theory on Cesare’s redemption arc

Worthikids is a big fan of references & in Bigtop most notably it’s shown in the character Cesare.

If your unfamiliar he is based off the character Cesare, a hypnotized man who the Doctor (Dr. Caligari) claims to see the future, in “The Ballad of Dr. Caligari”. The silent horror film (made in Germany, 1920) is about two male friends Francis and Alen attending a Carnival where they encounter Dr. Caligari & his somnambulist Cesare. Alen asks the hypnosised man when he will die to which Cesare proclaims tomorrow, the next day Alen is found dead making Cesare the prime suspect & chaos ensues; It’s later revealed that Cesare doesn’t see the future but simply follows the orders of Dr.Caligari. The Zomburger Crew also have little Easter eggs regarding the film: Frances is Francis, Doctor is Alen(& his custome is a portray to Dr. Caligari) and Conrad is the name of Cesare’s actor Conrad Veidt.

Now you may ask, what does all this have to do with Cesare’s possible redemption? Interestingly enough if you look into the symbolism of the film it reveals hinted roots of Cesare’s character/story.

Cesare is arguably a solider, a nobody in a long line of nobody’s that’ll watch the World til the end of time & doesn’t question Upper Management as seen in “UP” (“I don’t control who they think is a menace”); When he is finished his position will be quickly replaced by someone else. His character arc, unlike his film counterpart, will be one where instead of mindlessly following orders he will revolt against his superiors.

However that now begs the question how will this happen?

Back to the Zomburger crew, their names having references to the film hints that they will also play a part in Cesare’s redemption arc. As I’ve stated before, Cesare has a hidden soft spot for the Zomburger crew, more so Doctor (Allen), though he denies it to even himself so there will be no strings attached & It’s already been shown that Doctor (Allen) is Cesare’s Morality Pet trope; unlike his film’s counterpart who is immediately killed off by film Cesare by the orders of Dr. Caligarli.

Cesare’s job is one where they watch over the Earth from “menaces” & presumably do not want them nor their mission to be known in the living public eye; now that 6 living humans know the existence of two SEPARATE entities as well as magic it’s not hard to consider that upper management wouldn’t be pleased keeping these loose ends alive. They are now menaces to the secrecy of the underground organization.

Prediction: Cesare will be ordered to cut off these loose ends himself or overhear someone else will do so; this will cause him to spiral into a moral crisis. He will realize he cannot follow/allow the order to go through & will most likely team up w/ Steve since his own crew will be in jeopardy also; freeing him from his cell.

This will correlate with how in the the film Cesare falls in love with Francis’s wife & is unable to follow through with his order to kill her- kidnapping her & running away until he’s too tired to run anymore.

#bigtop burger cesare #bigtop burger spoilers #bigtop burger doctor #bigtop burger conrad #bigtop burger frances #bigtop burger billie #bigtop burger penny #bigtop burger steve #bigtop burger tim #bigtop burger

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germiyahu · 2 months

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One of the funnier things about Jesus is that he's often described as a "radical" and my classics professor literally said "it doesn't make sense for the Romans to execute him if he wasn't covertly calling for an overthrow of the government." I've spent most of my adult life hearing that Jesus was preaching zany dangerous world-upending ideas and he was just too badass and ~actually leftist the whole time~ to be left alive.

However, he was preaching "pray for your enemies, even if they persecute you," "if a Roman strikes you, turn your cheek and offer the other," "if a Roman soldier forces you to carry his equipment, offer to carry it an extra mile," "do not pray in public like those hypocritical Pharisees, pray in private God likes that better," "who are you to judge the Romans' specks in their eyes, you're actually worse if you think about it," "guys Caesar is the legitimate government of the Empire I think you should show the proper respect just pay your taxes," "hey I know I'm being executed but like let's take a moment to consider that the Roman soldiers feel bad about it, forgive them they know not what they do."

This is bootlicking shitlib cuckery if I've ever seen it. Jesus' philosophy for how Judea and its culture was going to survive Hellenization/Romanization was... "Be polite. Don't cause a scene. Keep your head down. Why be a rabble-rouser and make trouble for the rest of us? You're giving us a bad name. Romans are people too!"

He had some cool ideas like "sex workers deserve dignity," but I don't think he's actually the "role model," and "actually really wise Rabbi," that a lot of non Jews try to tell Jews he is (aka, how they should view him even if they don't think he's the son of God). And to be fair, a lot of his ideas were already held by other Pharisees/early Rabbis. Certainly Maimonides et al. would go on to independently come to some similar conclusions re: forgiveness and whatnot.

But Jesus was not a radical. Most scholars agree he was a member of the Hillel school of the Pharisee "political party." He was definitely not a Zealot. The Romans didn't execute him because he was calling for an overthrow of the government. They executed him because he was becoming too popular, and people were calling him Moshiach, which was an implicit threat to Roman supremacy. But Jesus himself was not telling people to firebomb their local valmartus.

I suspect if Jesus had been alive to see the Bar Kochba revolt, he would've "strongly condemned the violent actions of the rebels," even if he "sympathized with their pain." He was actively preaching, if not assimilationism, then meek submission. Martyrdom. If you suffer in silent dignity then your just reward will come. And I'm not claiming he was a race traitor or anything, this was an individual man's response to the ongoing trauma of his homeland being subjugated and exploited. These were his ideas about what to do about it.

But in essence, Jesus was the original Good Jew, and the Romans still murdered him. He spent all of his time as a public figure arguing that they should be accepted and loved and that their oppression of the Jews should be tolerated, and that one day the Romans would simply lose interest in being colonizers and the Jews would be free by being patient and understanding and not rocking the boat too much. And the Romans killed him anyway. Being a Good Jew will never save you.

#odds are the people who insist that he was Palestinian probably won't try to advocate real Palestinians adhere to his philosophy lol #I have many ideas about what Nietzsche thought about Christianity too lol #christian antisemitism

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boygina-philosopher · 2 months

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OSHA violating bullshit

Feat. Spock/McCoy/Kirk

Meta: multiple shots, mlm,

Tags: oviposition, vibrator use, eggpreg, cum swallowing, alien deepthroat, sounding, absolutely egregious medical malpractice, if you don't like eggs coming out of the weiner maybe skip this one, facehugger-type alien, multiple orgasms, belly bulge, borderline body horror, parasitic aliens, pleasure dom McCoy, power sub Spock, Easter fic, parasitoidism, aftercare, still calling the hole a cunt lol, voyeurism/exhibitionism, OOC but nobodys reading this so who cares

The cavernous underbelly of the giant planet should have been the first sign that the day wasn't going to be normal. Thank God for that, if there ever was a god, which there can't be. A benevolent god would have reduced these creatures into a blasphemous memory.

Spock, ever the curious man, stepped forth beyond the stalagmites seeping from the ground to look closer into a duct in the rock. The mineral in the walls of the cave shimmered with chatoyancy, reflecting into the eye of Kirk, willing to walk closer to Spock to investigate whatever grabbed his infinitely focused attention.

In a hushed breathy tone, Spock addressed the captain. "In the crevice... There's something alive in there." He said, not taking a single look away from it. The rumble of his deep voice seemed to stir it awake, and it backed away.

The captain whispered,

"that shouldn't be-"

And as in uffish thought he stood, the creature lunges forth, grappling onto Spock's face as he attempted to wrestle it away, backed into the wall by the large thing, far too large for the small crack it leapt from.

Kirk can only act as fast as he can understand what is happening, with no one present to snap him into gear. Still, in only a millisecond it seems he grips the creature, pulling away from Spock to no avail, until he hears a disgusted, throaty sound.

Spock's sharp canines were bared as the creature's thick fleshy tendril slipped between his lips and deep into his mouth. Spock has nothing to emote, but immediate revolt against the tentacle prying his throat open. His eyes vaguely darted to the captain in a sliver of shock before a liquid gushed forth and his eyes were quickly squeezed shut. The bitter foreign liquid piped down the man's throat and down his gullet, never ending as it seemed, flowing forth at a rapid pace from the creature latched onto him.

Involuntary tears pricked Spock's eyelashes as he gagged around the appendage, whimpering trying to keep his esophagus closed. The cloudy liquid spilled from Spock's mouth and dropped down his strained neck, until Kirk tore the alien from his face. The alien's crab-like leg sliced into kirk's chest. The excess of strange liquid made the grip too slippery to keep up, and the alien was flung into a nearby wall, splattering goop all over the glittering rock. Kirk looked down at his first officer, coughing up a storm, brought to his knees and utterly exhausted. That's what this brief moment was. The eye of the hurricane.

Immediately after being beamed up, Spock collapsed and was caught in a hectic battle to carry the dense man to the sick bay. Dr. Leonard McCoy eventually got to him and, joined by Kirk, he hooked Spock up to his faster x ray machine.

"it shouldn't be normal for a Vulcan to pass out from exhaustion from something as simple as wrassling an alien. I don't suppose you still have said alien, Captain?"

"Ah, I'm afraid not, bones. It didn't seem like a priority when it was pumping toxins into our first officer."

"oh, bite me." McCoy retorted, flicking a steel switch, cracking on the image of Spock's organs. All where they should be, which is to say, where they should most definitely not be. No perforations, only the liquid traveling throughout Spock's body.

"maybe it had some sort of sedative properties..." McCoy muttered, feeling around on the bulging stomach. Before shooting Spock his adrenaline. He awoke to the feeling, In an admittedly unsettling manner, flicking his eyes open and staring at the doctor.

"I do not mean to alarm you, but it feels as if the material is growing."

Okay, well, that's probably not a good sign, now is it? And Spock was not wrong, as the liquid took a more gelatinous form inside his system. It clumped together, forming squishy beads.

"why, doctor, that looks like frogspawn."

"eggs..."

The alien was trying to use an unsuspecting Spock as an unconscious incubator, possibly even larva feed when the eggs hatched. parasitoidism, not uncommon within earth wasps, such as the jewel wasp. They needed to purge the body of steadily hardening, thick beady eggs until the moment they would tear through him. Near exactly what was conveyed to Spock.

He couldn't cut into Spock without risk, the eggs hardened to injured tissue, seen on kirk's chest, when the goop clung to the slice on his skin. An idea struck Leonard, but not without predetermined conflict.

"now Spock, we need to try something but you need to bear with me."

Spock's stomach bulged now, stiff and glistening with sweat, flushed. Kirk sat behind him, gently patting his shoulder like a proud father of two dozen parasitic alien eggs. If he had not already been dating his superior officer and doctor, he'd surely be ashamed of this horrifyingly wanton display.

"captain, you are surely needed in H.Q., I suggest that you leave my side and-"

"Spock I'd just about die on that chair knowing what's happening to you and knowing I didn't help."

Leonard had Spock sit up and lean back slightly, spreading his legs and presenting to the doctor.

"doctor, might I ask what you're doing?"

"you need to flush them out of your system. I'd understand if you don't want Kirk to be here for this part." McCoy announced, presenting Spock with a steel rod, a small bullet shaped... Machine, and lubricant. Spock's face flushed a stoic green and pursed his lips.

"i would not want to exclude the captain from such a groundbreaking discovery." Spock said, with utmost control.

Spock attempts to keep his legs open as McCoy presses the vibrator to his hardening cock, twitching and emanating heat with every stroke. Of course Kirk wanted to stay, Of course he did. Nothing embarrassing could ever stay between Spock and his doc.

"I think that's enough. This might hurt, so tell me if it's too deep." McCoy said, wiping lube across the sounding rod. He leaned downward between Spock's thighs, sighing gently onto Spock's sensitive cock, causing him to squirm. He pushed the rod into the tip, stretching him gently and stinging Spock with pleasure. He whimpered around the new sensation. Kirk furrowed his brow, bringing a hand to his heating face, red, with pupils blown out.

Spock tipped his head back and bit his lip as the rod pushed deeper.

"hold this, keep it up, okay?" McCoy pushed the vibrator towards Kirk, pushing the button to turn it on and gesturing towards Spock's cock. Kirk barely even registered his task before he pushed the toy onto the cock from behind the other man. Spock's demeanor unraveled and he moaned gently into the air.

Man, he really should stop getting into these situations. This is quite possibly the most illegal thing McCoy ever done on board, jerking off his superior officer and hard under the table. That man didn't even know how perverted he was, god, he's so fucking weird. That did not even begin to describe it. He pulled the sounding rod from the hole-

Spock gasped into a moan as an egg popped out from his tip. And another. Three eggs slipped from his cock, and Spock pulled his legs together. The vibrator buzzed around his cock, sliding up and down and sending waves of pleasure across his body.

"d-doctor, I think I'm going-ah!"

Another egg slid from his cock as an orgasm rocked his body, cumming hard onto McCoy's and Kirk's hand. His thighs trembled gently.

"ah...excuse me-I didn't-"

"that was the plan. That's how we purge them out. McCoy, you've done it again." Kirk announced, a crooked smile hiding the raging heat growing in his pants.

Spock looked up at the captain, eyes droopy and glazed over.

"this will hurt. It's best you try to withstand it, cuz it's working." McCoy assured, before plunging the rod back into Spock's cock. The Vulcan arched his back and whined, before he bit onto his hand to muffle the sounds of ecstasy. Kirk Drew his arm from his face and pulled it up.

"c'mon Spock, let me hear it." Kirk whispered into Spock's hot ear. He nibbles on the tip and Spock gasped.

McCoy should have known better. He really did expect Kirk to be into it, and yet he still let him stay. That's not to say it was shameful, it would be a crime not to get horned up at the masterpiece in front of them.

The pressure was unbearable, any single touch was enough to make Spock whelp, as the constant upkeep of sensation was momentarily unpredictable. He could feel them sliding inside him, replacing one another, eager for the opening the doctor made with the rod. They clacked dull against the inside of his cock. It was too much, too... Zing-y. The slow gape was the worst. For such small, golf ball sized eggs they sure liked to take their time.

Eggs slipped one after another from Spock's throbbing, wet heat. It stretched him to the brink and brought him back just in time for the intense relief to make him cum again. It was too much, too sensitive. He came six times and reactionary tears unashamedly flowed from his face, slick with sweat and a deep green. He was not crying, but this sure was something. He could barely speak anymore, begging and moaning loud as Kirk pried his legs open for Leonard.

"ah, please- enough... Ah-!"

Spock's hips bucked forward and one last egg came loose from his poor, sobbing body. The x-ray was back to normal, as it seemed. He would almost miss that feeling. His body wracked with electric heat, trembling and spasming against his doctor's hands. He panted and gasped through the last egg, shoulders stroked and patted by his captain ever so gently.

McCoy stood up without thinking, immediately regretting his decision and turning to put away his things. Thank God they were in a private area, if not for the loud moaning, then for the cackle that came from Kirk as he notices the doctor's hard-on.

"I should have known that this was your forté. No one else would have suggested such a thing, especially-"

"ah shut yer yap, you're just about as hard as I am, if not worse, you deviant."

As things settled down, drowning in heartbeats and panting gasps, Spock was eased down onto the bed and massaged by rough hands.

"you did so good, Spock. You must be exhausted. We'll clean you up, get some rest."

Kirk wasn't wrong, he was on the verge of falling unconscious once more, and his head became clouded. Clear enough that Spock heard McCoy say he'd have his duties filled out as he "recovered."

Before he could be whisked into blissful sleep, Spock muttered:

"The egregious song you insisted on referencing last week. I understand why it amuses you."

What song?...

"does he mean doctor dick-"

"NO, no, this is not standard for me, that's not why it's funny, what we just did was so, incredibly illegal. I wouldn't-"

Spock drifted off to sleep as McCoy raved and Kirk shut him up with a kiss and a hand under the shirt.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #mlm nsft #ovi kink #ovipositor #3somme #spock/kirk #kirk/mccoy #spock/mccoy #happy easter #eggpreg #egg laying #mcspirk #queer nsft

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megistusdiary · 3 months

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Hiiiiii, it's 🩸anon back again! i love your blog and your anons sm (we need to join hands together and just make this an arle thirst blog like that one anon said) I got brainrot. I wanted to write said brainrot. Why not share said brainrot (should i start posting blurbs on my actual blog instead of in the asks? hm...) (literally gnawing at the bars of my enclosure, please I need arle in my life). anyways, gonna take that demon arle idea I mentioned in my last ask and run with it. this is past me talking before i actually start writing... this might be very long. hopefully not. hey, future me here. This was definitely long lol. I regret nothing though.

Everything hurts. It burns, burns, burns, and you can't feel your limbs and your vision fades in and out. Your broken form twitchs on the ground, and as your assailants approach you, ready to wrench the remaining life out of you slowly and painfully, with your final burst of energy and concentration, you let out a gutteral screech, a summoning spell spewing from your raspy throat and bloodied teeth. At first, you think nothing happens. They stalk you, unfaltering despite what you have just called for. Wearing teeth-baring grins and depraved intentions, they near your crumpled body, with their dirty, despicable hands reaching out towards you. Your half-lidded eyes shut fully, and you heave out a sigh of resignation, giving up the futile struggle of staying alive. You hear it first before you actually see it. A sound distinct only to stilettos clicking against the ground. It jerks your attention immediately, and you twist your head slowly to face the oncoming figure. Black heels with gold adornment catches your eye, and then-- "Well, well, looks like I found the doll that called me," you hear a deep, feminine voice sibilates, voice reveberating throughout the chamber. Your gaze slowly trails up the newcomer's figure, and the white clothing, snow-white hair, and her feminine features causes you to mistake her as an angel. Red-crossed pupils meet with yours. A shiver works its way up your spine but you stare in awe regardless. What kind of human was this? One of your tormenters inquires rather rudely about the woman and storms towards her haughtily, ignorant of the fact he has just sealed his fate. There's an audible, irate click of her tongue, than a snap echoes the room. For a brief moment, your sight is filled with just red, and then your eyes widen as the aggressor bursts into a beautiful explosion of blood and guts. She walks past where once the man stood without pause, now just a poodle of blood, tutting at the blatant disrespect of the formerly-alive human. Her feet stop just before you and her shadow looms over. "A-arle...cchino?" You croak weakly as your hazy gaze sets on her. She looks so handsome, beautiful like a guardian angel, even when she's covered in red. Her lips curl up slightly and she crouches down to hook an arm behind your back and knees, lifting you bridal style. Heat radiates from her cold-blooded being and it is so much more comforting than the icy hardness of the floor. You immediately bury your face into her shoulder while your needy hands grip onto her coat out of desperation and fear. Beneath the intense iron smell of blood, she smells of something floral, you noted with dulled surprise. "That is me, the Knave. And what have you called me for?" She purrs from above, repositioning you in her arms so she could support you with one arm instead of both. You give one single glance behind your shoulder towards the now cowering group of people, their behavior reminding you of feeble sheep rather than the bloodthirsty pack of wolves. You think that you'd like lambchops after all of this. Turning your head back, you suck in a steady breath, your voice unwavering and clear despite being muffled into her clothes. "Kill them." "As you wish." Even as she draws out the sweetest, most revolting of screams from the remaining alive people, you find peace in your arms. You don't watch, instead, opting to rest your head against her and try to fall asleep to your former captors' begs of mercy. A hand combing through your hair wakes you up. You admire her sharpened red nails and her black hands, so contrasting against her unblemished and perfect skin but pretty all the same. It looks nice, sifting through your hair, it feels right, it feels perfect, even if they're dipped in blood. "Well, I suppose we can work out the contract at a later time. For now, rest, my dear," her voice is soft and it lulls you to sleep in her arms. She tucks your head underneath her chin and walks away from the bloodbath, her darling wrapped tightly close to her. -🩸

she could fix my life. my fulfillment needs are arlecchino calling me doll.

except i'd be summoning her to help me with my exam. imagine this giant demon lady sitting in a tiny study room helping you prep for an exam, holding tiny little flashcards between her clawed fingers.

sorry, we derailed a bit there! um!

i just know she's crazy powerful. i hope they do her kit right, not the dehya massacre again.

wanna see her fuck some shit up 😻

#🩸─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯˚୨୧˚⋆#💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚#💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #arlecchino x reader

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