#parasite hiccup
Text
also just thinking about Hordak and Adora, and the parallels. just two aliens stranded on a planet stuck outside of space and time
and yeah, I know Hordak didn't really do anything directly with regards to how Adora was raised in the horde, but he opened the portal that Adora came through. this defect clone of Horde Prime accidentally, unintentionally, unknowingly, saved the reincarnation of his oldest enemy
#spop tag#I say outside of time because I firmly believe that time passes differently in despondos compared to the greater universe#although this is mostly to explain some of the timeline hiccups#I also have some thoughts about the nature of Horde Prime compared to the clones#and why Krytis in particular was his lone defeat compared to many other magical planets#(it's because Horde Prime was a sentient parasite whereas Melog's race were magical symbiotes)
1 note
·
View note
Note
when do we get to see megumi in your new series ^3^
𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ! [toji fushiguro]
synopsis: “you really are your mother’s son,” toji grumbles to megumi as the little brat yet again refuses another kiss from him.
pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | art: @/amulin67 on twt/ig | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist
warnings: n/a | a/n: finally welcoming megumi to this series, yay! 💓💞
“I’m just gonna go nap for a bit. Promise me you’ll wake me up if something happens. But either way, his bottle is over there, just heat it up when he gets hungry and you know where his diapers are—“
You are interrupted by a sweet kiss that still manages to catch you off guard ‘till this day.
“I wasn’t done, you know.” You place your hands on your hips, shooting him a warning glance. “And don’t you go tossing him too high. Need I remind you, our apartment has a literal ceiling fan—“
“—You worry too much,” Toji cuts you off again with another kiss. “Not gonna lie though, seeing you all worked up like that is kinda turning me on.”
“You’re horrible,” you conclude. Honestly, at this point, almost anything and everything you do can be classified as a thirst trap for Toji. You blush when Toji inches closer, his hips pressed against yours, a smirk plastered on his face when he sneakily squeezes your ass causing you to yelp. “Ah! Toji!” you swat his hand away, burying your blushing face in his chest.
Chuckling at you, he plants a soft kiss on your temple as he pulls away. “Alright, mama, go get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Thank you.”
No one ever told you that motherhood would be so stressful. Which is why you’re so blessed to have a supportive husband who may have started out a little awkward with caring for your newborn son but gradually became a natural with this whole fatherhood business as time went by. And that’s mostly because when Megumi arrived in this world at half past two in the afternoon of December 22 with nothing more but a small hiccup as he slipped into his papa’s waiting arms, Toji fell in love. And you don’t pretend to not know why. Because whenever you look at Megumi, your heart always just seems to melt at his pudgy rose-colored cheeks and his deep expressive green eyes that fill up with tears regardless if he’s crying or being overcome by a laughing fit whenever you pepper his tiny face with kisses.
Speaking of kisses, today’s latest fiasco is centered exactly on that: kisses.
You see, you have this habit that goes way back to when you and Toji first started dating. Toji remembers it well, you have certain moods when it comes to kisses. Sometimes, you’re the one initiating it which mostly results in Toji becoming an incoherent blushing mess, or most times, Toji gets the party started by slowly kissing up your neck, his breath hot on your earlobe as he presses his hips against yours while you slept fitfully, your hushed dulcet whines ringing in his ear as your lips instinctively find each other. Fun fact: that’s exactly how Megumi came to be.
But there are times too, when you were just not having it and you’d gently nudge Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you.
It was a typical afternoon. Toji didn’t have work that day which was a huge relief for him because you’ve been suffering from dizziness and lower back pain all day. And being the helicopter partner and soon-to-be papa that he is, Toji keeps a close eye on you as you nap the afternoon away on the couch. He smiles softly as he sees you instinctively put a protective hand over your belly whenever you’d feel the slightest movements from the baby.
“Shhh, you’re alright,” he’d whisper to you as you slept, combing his fingers through your hair, a permanent worried frown on his face when a whimper falling from your pursed lips as the baby kicks you again. “It’s just the overgrown parasite fidgeting around.”
“Don’t call him that.” You brush his hand away, your eyebrows knitting in discomfort.
Toji chuckles, going to press a kiss to your soft lips only for you to place your entire palm on his face, applying gentle force to pry him away. “I mean, what is he then? Other than this thing that competes for your nutrients? He’s—“
“—Our baby boy.”
“—An overgrown parasite.”
Fuming at his words, you decide to hit back with a quick retort of your own. “Yeah? It really does take one to know one, huh?”
“What a cute comeback but maybe not as cute as you,” Toji smirks, his hand gently removing your smaller one from his face, his lips puckered up as he leans in. Teasingly, you place a hand over your lips, still refusing to indulge him with his much-craved kisses. “Come on, I just want one sloppy one~”
“No!” Your laughter-filled voice comes out muffled against your palm.
“Mm, yes,” Toji teases. “Yes. Come on, baby, just one.”
“You and I both know it’s never just one.”
Of course. Why else would you be in this situation if Toji knew how to spell the words: self and control? Still, it’s not like the two of you were complaining. After all, the bond you and Toji share is an unbreakable one that’s only been strengthened by time and the many trials you’ve survived together. And now, the arrival of the very product of your love is only a hair’s breath away. Toji rests his chin on top of your head, plopping down next to you and spooning you from behind. “Guilty as charged.”
And unfortunately, it seemed your son had inherited that troublesome quirk of yours and it’s beginning to break Toji’s infuriated heart because whenever he tries to give Megumi a kiss…
“Mmph—“
There it was.
Toji’s eyes shot open, grimacing as Megumi turns his head away, his eyes trained stubbornly on his dog plushie, and his chubby hands pushing his poor papa’s chin away with all the might a six-month-old like him could muster. And to top things off, he must be imagining things because newborns surely couldn’t scowl right? Their tiny little brains couldn’t possibly have enough electrical energy to charge a snow globe much less, learn how to hate certain people’s kisses.
“You little shit—“
Sure enough, the tiny little baby seems gravely unamused, his eyebrows are knitted, the corner of his lips curled into a disappointed frown as if to say: Go kiss someone else, you even bigger shit.
Toji mirrors the unfriendly scowl on his son’s face, noting how Megumi seems to be glaring at him. Oh, okay. The brat ain’t messing around, his eyes twitches but somehow, Toji is also a picture of a proud father. At least the little shit’s got spunk. And he wonders momentarily who he should blame for that.
Definitely not him, that’s for sure.
Toji doesn’t recall the last time he’s ever had the comforts of a peace like this one. Actually, this might just be the first time that Toji knew what that word meant: “peace”. A freedom from disturbance; tranquility, as per the Merriam Webster Dictionary. But Toji has a better definition for peace: you and Megumi.
But…
“I meant what I said to your mother though,” Toji engages in a one-way conversation with his son. He won’t recall any of this, but it didn’t hurt for Toji to be candid about his feelings every now and then especially when it came to this little one that came accidentally into your lives but brightened it up nonetheless. “The two of you would be better off — maybe even happier — with someone else.” He presses his thumb against Megumi’s cheek. “It’s what you two deserve.”
He’s been gone close to a whole day now and you were probably beginning to worry. Out of all the shitty things Toji has done, this, by far, has to be the shittiest. Standing outside a pachinko den, his back pressed against the wall, and his hand absentmindedly playing with the tokens he just bought. When he left the apartment that day, you knew that could very well be the last time you ever see him. Types like him aren’t keen on the whole picket fence idea of settling down.
“I’m heading out today.”
Your blood runs cold when Toji steps into the kitchen to inform you of his plans. You don’t even bother to look at him, your gaze simply settled on the positive pregnancy test on the table. The right thing to do was to stay, he should have held you in his arms and tell you that everything’s going to be okay not plant seeds of doubt in your mind by taking off and running away like a coward.
But for once, Toji was scared.
He had no business becoming a father when he’s lived in a dysfunctional household for majority of his life. What good would he even impart to his child? His pathetic existence has been a picture of disorder that was only recently resolved when you came into the picture. Well, if he were being completely honest, he still hasn’t figured things out quite as well yet. And as a father, that could be catastrophic for a child that required stability if nothing else.
Frowning, Toji leaves the pachinko den, chucking the tokens in the trash. It was far too early in the day to be hanging around shady places like these anyway. He wanders the streets for a good while, his hands buried in his jacket’s pockets as his mind swirls with thoughts about the all too terrifying future.
A pang of guilt strikes his heart and he wonders what you’re doing now. You must still be in the kitchen, your face buried in your hands as you try to think of something. You were probably assuming he wasn’t coming back. After all, you did say: “I don’t wanna pressure you into staying, Toji. You deserve to live your life the way you want it.”
A life without you? Sounds pretty miserable.
Toji must have been walking on autopilot because for some reason, he unknowingly finds himself in front of a bank. Mizuho Bank, Toji reads the sign, his eyes flicking over to one of the posters plastered on the window about opening a savings account.
He looks at the promotional material, transfixed at the picture of a family of four donning on those typical wide stupid grins in ads, the father is holding a hundred yen bill and is seen dropping it into a piggy bank that was filled with both cash and words like: health insurance, family vacation, utility bills, rent, tax, school, and…happiness.
…
…
…
Toji returns to the apartment at around eight in the evening after making a quick stop at the supermarket and the pharmacy. He finds you asleep on the couch, your cheeks stained with dry tears. He crouches on the edge of the couch, worriedly taking in your appearance. You’ve been crying. “Hey…hey, wake up,” he gently shakes you awake and your tired eyes flutter open. “Got you something.”
He holds out a shopping bag, chock full of fresh produce, and from the pharmacy, some camphor oil to relieve your symptoms and those folate supplements the attending pharmacist kept yapping about.
“You didn’t leave,” you said, bewildered. “I thought you—“
“—You thought wrong,” Toji says firmly. He pulls out something from his back pocket and you stare at him, perplexed.
“A bank passbook?” You open it to see that Toji had just made his first deposit amounting to fifty thousand yen earlier today. “You opened a savings account?”
Toji nods, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah,” he tries to play it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Every week, we’ll be depositing fifteen thousand yen in that thing. Ten thousand for your maternity needs, and five for the little brat’s schooling one day.”
Tears spring to your eyes upon realizing that Toji was here to stay. “You mean you’re—?” You are cut off by a warm kiss on your lips, and you place a hand over Toji’s chest, your fingertips gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips move against yours. He pulls away after a while.
“Gonna spite the hell out of the Zenin clan and send my brat to the most expensive preschool in Tokyo? Yes, I am.”
Toji sighs, his thumb rubbing across Megumi’s chubby cheek. “But maybe — just maybe — hear me out and don’t you give me another glare.” Megumi’s not gonna remember any of this. After all, memories begin when the brain can fully register speech. But Toji felt the need to say this so, subconsciously, his son will understand just how much he’s done and he’s willing to do for the both of you.
“…Maybe I deserve the two of you too, you know.”
Megumi looks up at his father, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Toji sticks his tongue out at the little one causing the latter to…hiccup? Nah, Toji was sure that was a giggle.
Smirking, Toji leans down to give his son a kiss, thinking he’s patched things up between them now only for Megumi to curl up again, his feet and hands resisting against Toji, his lip downturned in effort as he pushes him away yet again. Conceding, Toji grumbles, rubbing the spot where Megumi roughly pushed him away.
“You really are your mother’s son.”
#—𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙨 🍓#toji fushiguro x reader#toji headcanons#toji imagine#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji x y/n#dilf toji#toji x you#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#jujustu kaisen#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#toji fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you#toji zenin x you#toji zenin x reader#dilf toji zenin#dad!toji#megumi fushiguro#jjk drabbles#toji zenin x y/n fluff
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
i cry, i pray, mon dieu!
“lord, give me one more chance!”
pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon
warnings: smut, blasphemy, mentions of virginity loss, dubcon, slapping, religious reader, oral (male receiving), facefucking, corruption, rough sex, semi-public sex, degrading, manipulation, mind break, fucking in a church, crying during sex, creampie, biting, porn with plot (again), mean leon, ooc leon (again x2)
note: part 2 of adieu, mon dieu! he says the thing in this!!! :P
the tears streaming down your painted cheeks form a hot puddle below your feet, a glimpse into eternal hell. “do not be afraid to confess, my child. the lord shall forgive you.” the priest on the other side reassures but it only has you heaving for air as this confined space grows smaller around you. you cannot bear the pain that is confessing the betrayal you committed to your heavenly father just four days ago. nor can you bear to confess that you enjoyed it.
the moment you stepped into this temple for mass, flames sparked throughout the veins of your heart like a wildfire. the blood and body of your god tastes bitter and foul, threatening to come back up and escape your unclean body. each verse, each preaching, each word is a twisted stab into your soul. if hell is anything like being punished right now, you would rather suffer the most torturous death over and over.
“forgive me, i can’t.” you manage to choke out before stumbling out the confessional booth, almost falling over your feet in front of sister olivia. your mind drowns out what she’s saying, for the better or worse. the burning in your chest leads you outside to be embraced in the arms of your damned lover. the warmth of leon engulfs you, your brain scrambles for the familiarity. you clutch onto him tightly as he’s the only thing keeping you from falling. “you’re alright, sweetheart.” he reassures, his words bathe you in serenity.
his comfort is medicine for the painful wound in your heart. a hazy halo casts around his head from your teary-eyed vision, you hiccup gibberish as his lips gently kiss your head. “you can try again in a few.” leon grins at you, eyes suffocating yours. his scent of coffee and honey is a warm blanket covering your trembling form. gently wiping at the tears flowing down your cheeks, leon looks at you as if you’re as delicate as the rosary he ripped away from you. “i’ll go with you, yeah?” you nod wearily at the proposition as you get into leon’s jeep.
for the past 96 hours, you are attached to leon’s hip like a parasite latched onto its host. the paranoia that is being alone without him constantly has you in a frantic state. too petrified that the lord will send you to hell without him. your father is probably damning your soul to hell for disobeying every rule he’s enforced. leon is safer to be with, to confide in, to speak to. with the ghost of a smirk that prominently rests on his lips, you can tell leon doesn’t mind.
the parking lot is covered in a lilac veil, the sun fading into a crescent moon. your eyes divert to the cross atop the church’s roof, to the few cars dispersing in the lot, and to your priest finally walking out the building. saturday night mass is over, all that’s left is leon and you. eyes flicker to meet his as the church bell loudly chimes. “i’m scared.” “you have me, angel.” leon faintly smiles, caressing the side of your face. your tooth could ache from how sweet leon is.
hastily making your way pass the large doors of the church, the fragrance of the incense burns your nose so much that you might just vomit. the once comforting scent now revolting. you grab a hold of leon’s hand when you approach the dark oak booth, body filling with dread. “you okay?” you can hear leon whisper, his hand soothing the lower half of your back. the faint shadows of blues and reds from the stained windows cover his face. the aesthetics of this cathedral cannot compare to him.
“can you come in with me?” a soft plead escapes your mouth. thinking it’s such a silly request as your priest is not around to hear your sins but it’s for the best that he doesn’t. you look back to the booth, beams of light along with a large cross carved carefully into its wood. the pit of your stomach is burning with anxiety, lightning striking down on you would be more comforting. the temperature of your body rises a little too high when you look towards leon whose lips are pulled into a smirk. you feel weaker, smaller under his gaze. a sheep tethered in sharp teeth. “of course, sweetheart.”
leon enters the booth before you, taking up the seat in the cramped space. his stare is locked on you when his legs spread open, practically inviting you to sit on him. you don’t break the stare while dragging your feet into the confined space, shutting the heavy door behind you. there’s an indescribable look swirling in leon’s eyes, that look muffles out all thoughts you have. it’s almost hypnotic like leon is purposefully trying to trap you. you can’t seem to pull yourself out of it.
leon hums lowly as you shyly shuffle your way towards him, fiddling with the purity ring that still rests on your finger. “is it okay if i sit on your lap?” the heat of your cheeks are so hot and red asking the question that leon only chuckles at you. “you’ve done worse.” your throat burns at the remark, there’s a lingering tinge in your chest from earlier that grows stronger as you are reminded that this is far from the worse thing you’ve done. leon grasps your wrist to pull you onto his lap, his hands find solace on your waist.
“go on, angel. confess to your god.” leon mutters against your exposed skin that peaks from your dress. butterflies faintly flutter around in your lower abdomen, a feeling you know all too well. its difficult to get your words out when leon begins to knead at your waist, for your comfort or his own purpose. you blur out the feeling as you close your eyes and put your hands in prayer. “forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!” you cry out, heart beating hard against your ribs.
“i have betrayed you, my lord. i gave into temptation and gave into lust. it was gluttonous of me. i’m sorry for betraying you, i know what i have done is terrible.” a cold touch on your bare thigh has you choke on your words, your teary eyes open to see leon bunching up your dress to caress your thighs. “leon?” you whimper, tears cascading down your dampen cheeks. “finish it.” leon demands, his voice raspy. you look over at him, there’s a faint glint in his eyes. the butterflies in your stomach multiply in twos and threes.
“i said, finish it.” leon warns as his hands spread you open, something he knows how to do very well. you close your eyes once again as a sudden rush to your body has the blood in your heart pump harder. “please forgive me, i beg so desperately for your forgiveness.” “pathetic.” there’s a soft rub of a finger on your clothed cunt. you swallow the moan that’s trying to force its way out of your parted lips. “please, leon.” you want him to stop but you can’t bring yourself to rip away from him. “tell em’ what you did.” leon scoffs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.
lips quiver from the little ecstasy leon grants you. oh how infinitely doomed you must be for committing such lewd acts in this very temple. the sight could cause hysteria if anyone were to open the door right now. “i had premarital sex with my lover. i’m so sorry, my lord. i’m sorry for indulging and enjoying sin.” leon rubs your covered clit harshly, your body is burning. “i’m sorry for losing my virginity to a man that’s not my husband. i’m sorry for-” “getting your brains fucked out.” leon interrupts, there’s a quick smack to the skin of your thigh.
you don’t fully process leon pushing you off his lap just as you don’t realize how quick you are to get on your knees before him. leon roughly grabs at your face, squishing your cheeks as if you’re a child getting scolded. “no god will forgive you for being a dirty slut.” leon grits through his teeth, delivering pathetic slaps to your face. a buzzing in your head soon reaches your cunt with each hit. “apologizing for getting your pussy ripped open when i told you it was okay.” “i’m sorry, leon.” you muffle out a sob, knees burning against the aging wood.
“you’re so fucking pathetic.” leon roughly pushes you away, tears blur your vision as you cannot fathom the anger he’s bearing onto you. you had betrayed him, sobbing out your regret right in front of him. your heart is imprinting itself on your chest from the pounding, you cowardly crawl back towards him. “i’m sorry, leon! please forgive me.” your hands tremble to grab his, crying harder than before. “so damn whiny, i need to shut that fucking mouth.” leon unbuckles his belt in a haste, just like he did a few days prior.
leon’s hard cock hits his lower abdomen, you’re dazed at the sight. he says something muffled before grabbing your face and shoving his cock into your mouth, eliciting a muffled gasp from you. your jaw slacks so naturally that it’s hard to believe this is your first time doing this. the now restricted air burns the branches in your lungs like cigarette smoke. your tears cascade down to his exposed thigh, he fucks your throat as if you’re nothing yet everything.
“look at you, slobbering on that cock.” leon grunts, roughly snapping his hips into your face. you unknowingly moan around him, watching a smile creep onto his lips in response. his fingers are tangled in your hair, a sweet sting from the pulling has whimpers escaping your stuffed throat. “making me feel so good, should’ve done this earlier.” leon chuckles, eyes burning through you. your body fights to stay conscious as your oxygen is running terribly low yet you do not seem to mind it. passing out from giving your lover pleasure, what a heavenly way to go.
there’s a craving leon fills as he fucks your mouth, that craving you first had a few nights ago. always wanting more of him, yearning for that feeling he gives you when you reach pure euphoria. no matter how hard you’ve searched to find it in something else, you can not. no amount of bible studies or mass will ever fill your craving. it seems it only resides in leon, and how selfless will you be if you keep depriving yourself from it.
“nasty fucking girl.” leon sighs while freeing his cock from your warm mouth, slapping the tip against your puffy lips. your body is on fire, knees gushing out blood from the rough wood, but the way leon makes you feel is divine. you temporarily taste your salty tears before he shoves his fat cock back into your salivating mouth, throat burning as it gets stretched out. the sight of you would have you crucified in front of the church, so selfish and greedy that you have betrayed your heavenly father again in his own temple.
“doing such a good job, should fuck that pussy of yours.” you moan at the praise, looking up at him in admiration. leon’s face contorts in pure bliss as you hum around his cock, not noticing the crucifix above him shaking to a tilt. your cunt squeezes around nothing as you obediently take him. the feeling of your throat convulsing around leon has him moan out a symphony. “come here.” he pulls you off to sit you atop of his lap, back against his chest. your lips glisten in the candlelit cubicle of your own saliva, shining in the same way as when you drink the blood of christ.
you watch leon fully rip off your dove white panties to expose your drenched cunt. there’s a fuzziness in your brain, like a broken tv displaying static. “i’ll bring you salvation.” leon mutters while slapping the tip of his cock against your cunt. your fingers grip at the hand that’s around your throat when he teases your sopping hole, temporarily depriving you of your craving. “i’ll give you a holy body.” he whispers softly in your ear as he roughly shoves his fat cock into your cunt. hot tears blur your vision once more as leon answers your prayers.
the moans escaping your chest ricochets off the oak walls and straight back into your mouth. leon is fucking you so harshly that you can’t breathe without moaning. his cock abuses your poor cervix that you think you’ll faint if he keeps going. “there’s my pretty girl.” leon’s fingers messily rub your clit, your heartbeat becomes erratic. your eyes pry open to wearily watch as his cock disappears into your cunt, the sight making you dizzy. “got yourself so wet for me.” “god.” you blabber out with drool coating your mouth, too fucked out already, too gone.
there’s a pitiful slap to your rose tinted cheeks, it only makes the coil in your stomach tighten. “bet you missed this. all those tears and prayers will never save you from being a dirty little girl.” leon taunts while biting your neck, drawing the smallest trickle of blood. his tongue laps at your neck while your lungs are filled with fire as leon’s grip on your throat loosens just for a moment. his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot, your body is going numb from the euphoria. “i can save you, i’m all you need.”
the coil in your stomach seemingly snaps already, whether at leon’s words or his cock ruthlessly pounding your insides, you don’t know for sure. you’re gasping for air, body stupidly shaking at the strong rush of dopamine coming out of your cunt. “leon.” you whine loudly, clawing at his wrist as he doesn’t stop fucking your brains out. this feeling is so much stronger than the first time that the circuit of your brain seems to rewire itself, you’re completely and utterly broken.
“there you go, pretty. all over my cock just like that.” leon hooks his arms around your thighs, finally letting your throat breathe in the hot air. your brain is melted, the only thought you have is leon and his cock. tears stain your eyes as leon pounds deeper into you, not letting your body rest just yet. ears filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your own moans. the candles mounted on the oak walls are extinguished, the image of your heavenly father above the doorframe views you with disgust.
“no god will ever make you feel this good.” leon grunts, voice raspy and heavy. “only you, leon.” you manage to say, breaking eye contact with the painting pitifully judging you as you lose yourself in leon. his cock hitting every single spot in repeated thrusts, stars are in your eyes at the indescribable feeling your body is currently drowning in. “only you, only you, only you.” you chant in a lust filled mantra, gripping at the oak walls as leon pounds your cunt harder.
“only me, huh? you’re so fucked.” leon muffles his chuckle into your shoulder, sliding a hand down to your cunt once again. you pathetically make an attempt to stop him from rubbing harsh circles into your clit, already overstimulated enough. “leon, don’t.” you sob as you feel the coil about to snap again. the plead falls on deaf ears, leon bites into your skin while rubbing messy circles on your clit. your cries are broken into scattered moans when leon roughly hits that sweet spot in your cunt, making the coil snap for the second time.
the wave of bliss has you speechless, throat releasing nothing but breathless moans. your body thrashes as the ecstasy you’re receiving is unreal. “such a good girl.” rings in your ears as you feel the hot essence of leon’s cum filling you to the point of fullness. he desperately rids himself of every drop, groaning into the nape of your neck. your throat burns as you moan faintly, like liquid to a sore throat. leon grabs your face to immediately kiss your bruised lips, grasping your limp body into a tight hold. the taste of blood falls onto your tongue, your blood.
“i’m all you need.” leon repeats onto your lips, staring into your eyes and straight through your soul. that familiar glint in his eyes has your heart beating haphazardly. you believe he is the only thing you ever need, your heavenly father will never give you such pleasure as leon does. your heavenly father will never be leon. you mindlessly nod, giddily smiling at leon before kissing his lips, relishing in your newfound faith.
you found god and he’s leon.
#leon kennedy x fem reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#resident evil 4 smut#leon kennedy imagine#omfg how do i tag this!!!!
352 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sugar || 5
Masterlist || Part Four || Part Six
Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader
Word count: 3.2k
Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.
Notes: I'll admit, this chapter isn't my favorite but it works lol. it's mainly here to establish certain things to make it easier for me in the future, so sorry if it's not as good as the others!
You call Steven immediately, but he doesn’t answer. Hanging up without leaving a message, you text him.
Is everything okay? You quickly type. You don’t want to immediately ask why he left. Maybe he was uncomfortable staying the night but didn’t want to say anything.
But then, why did he ask to kiss you again before you left him for the night?
As frustrating as it is for Steven to pull such a vanishing act, it hurts worse. You’re so attached to him already, and the thought that you might have done something to upset him or that he might not want to be around you is crushing.
There’s no immediate response to your text, and you try not to let this minor hiccup affect you. Surely something must have happened for Steven—sweet Steven, who apologizes for not responding to a message within a few minutes—not to have gotten back to you yet.
You’re left standing in the middle of your apartment, lost.
With a shake of your head, you try to put the worst from your mind. For all you know, he could have gotten called into work early and forgot to let you know on his rush out the door. You open your banking app and pay Steven for the night, making sure to deduct whatever you were planning to pay for the pleasure of waking up to him in your home. You also make a mental note to give Steven a firm talking to when you next see each other.
You didn’t hear from Steven for the rest of the weekend.
You’re reminded of one of your babies from a few years ago—the one who ghosted you after one date—and like a parasite, the idea that Steven might have done the same thing latches onto you and refuses to let go.
Monday morning, you’re determined not to let a mere sugar baby distract you—even though you don’t think of Steven as a “mere” anything—and steel yourself for what could be the inevitable end to a short-lived relationship. Steven taking two weeks to talk to you before agreeing to be your baby was one thing. It was another to agree to follow your rules, only to disregard them entirely. If Steven can’t commit to you the way you want him to, or if he decides that this isn’t for him, then you aren’t going to keep him.
It could even be a good thing, you try to convince yourself.
Maybe this could all be a lesson you need to learn about picking babies off the street.
You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You’re catastrophizing again. You’re making this personal, a reflection of yourself and your abilities. At the end of the day, Steven is an employee you hired because you thought he could do the job. After seeing some trouble from him, you’re merely reconsidering his position with you.
You ignore how much your stomach roils at the thought of letting him go.
At lunch, your phone vibrates in your purse—where you had tossed it earlier when you couldn’t stop staring at it from its usual place on your desk.
The sound makes you pause, questioning if someone is really calling you.
It might not be Steven, you tell yourself as you slowly, calmly reach into your bag and pull out your phone.
But it is him, and the weight in your stomach eases a little.
You stare at the phone, at Steven’s name on the screen, until it goes dark and stops vibrating. Then, a moment later, a notification pops up, announcing a voicemail.
Still, you wait. It’s only fair, after all.
Immediately, your phone starts buzzing again, Steven’s name displaying again. This time, you answer.
“Steven,” you say, your voice low. Although you’re glad he called and persisted with the voicemail and a second call, you’re still upset with him. He better have a good reason for disappearing.
“I am so sorry,” Steven says after a moment, perhaps registering your tone and knowing how upset you are. “I think…I think something’s wrong with me.”
“Why do you say that?” Despite your confusion, you keep your tone even, neither believing nor disbelieving him until you have more information.
Steven hesitates. “You’ll think I’m mad,” he mumbles, seemingly more to himself than to you.
That’s what hits you: your baby is going through something he’s afraid you’ll reject him for, that you won’t be there for him. And right now, regardless of how you feel, he needs you.
“Steven,” you say, softening your voice and letting a hint of worry peak through. “What’s wrong? Explain it to me.”
“I don’t remember this weekend,” Steven quietly admits, deepening your worry. “I mean, I remember staying at yours, but then suddenly I’m home, standing in the bathroom, and it’s Monday. And I know you’re mad at me, I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what’s going on.” Steven finishes, sounding on the verge of tears if a few haven’t slipped out already.
“Baby, hush,” you soothe. “I’m not mad at you.” Not anymore, though you are…concerned.
“You’re not?” Steven asks, hopeful.
“No, I’m not. But what happened? Are you not feeling well? Did you hit your head?”
You want to ask if he took anything, but hold off. It doesn’t feel like the right time, and it could potentially make him defensive and resistant to help if you do.
“Nothing like that. Mainly tired, like I haven’t slept in days, but nothing else.”
Strange, to say the least.
“Have you gone to the doctor?”
“N-no, I haven’t. I wasn’t sure…Since nothing’s wrong—”
“Steven, you blacked out for an entire day. That’s not normal,” you insist. Steven goes quiet. “Go. For me. I need to know you’re okay.”
“Okay,” he agrees softly.
“You’ll go today,” you order.
“Yes. Today.”
You think for a moment, biting your lip. “You’ll come to my place later. Meet me there when I get off work.”
You don’t know if inviting him back to your place is a good idea. There could genuinely be something wrong with Steven, something happening to him. But there’s also a chance he’s keeping something, some bad habit or another, from you.
You briefly rethink your decision to forgo a background check on him, but even still, you don’t make plans to follow through with it.
Despite the warning signs, you still want to see him, need to see him. You need to know he’s okay and be there for him. It takes everything in you not to go and be with him now, your anger forgotten and your worry about what he may have gotten himself into ignored.
He’s yours, and you want to take care of him. It’s almost as if, in the short time you’ve known him, he’s done something to you.
“I’ll be there,” Steven says, sounding more sure than anything else he’s said so far. “I…I need to see you.”
You try to ignore the warmth that floods through you.
Steven looks lost as he stands outside your door. He hesitates when he sees you, unsure whether to go to you or wait for you to reach him and unlock the door.
He looks tired, like he indeed hasn’t slept since he was here on Saturday, and his clothes are disheveled, more so than usual. You’ve yet to hear what happened to him over the weekend, what caused his blackout, but you already have a half-formed plan to keep him here tonight and put him to bed as soon as possible.
When you get close, you say his name softly and hold out your arms.
Steven looks relieved as he steps into you, his arms tucking under yours as he buries his face in your neck. He melts into you, and the two of you stand outside your door, each drawing some comfort from the other.
One of your hands goes to his head, threading your fingers through his curl and holding him tight. You kiss the side of his head and wait, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs.
He clings to you so desperately it makes you wonder if he has anyone else.
Why is it that you, his sugar mommy, are the first person he came to? Regardless of your feelings toward him, surely he has family or friends he could turn to in a moment like this.
You don’t recall him mentioning anyone, except his mother, off-handedly. From how he made it sound, you don’t think she’s even in London.
Maybe you’re all he has.
The thought makes you cling to him as much as he is to you. With Steven in your arms, it’s easy to decide that no matter what’s wrong, you’ll help him. Maybe it’s something where it wouldn’t be right for him to keep being your sugar baby, but you won’t abandon him.
When Steven shows no sign of letting you go, you whisper, “Let’s go inside.”
He reluctantly pulls away and nods, though his hand quickly finds yours.
Once you’re through the door, you kick off your shoes and lead Steven to the couch. You’re a little surprised he doesn’t immediately curl up to your side, but he seems to realize the two of you still need to talk. And whatever he has to say must be serious.
“Did you go to the doctor like I said?” you ask when Steven doesn’t speak.
Instead, he deflates, falling back against the couch, tossing his head back, and staring up at the vaulted ceiling.
“She’s as stumped as I am, I think. Couldn’t find anything without running tests and…” he trails off, sounding defeated.
“And?” you prompt, squeezing his hand. He still hasn’t let go.
“She said it could just be sleepwalking or something like that. But for a whole day?” Steven lifts his head up, staring at you in confusion. “How can I have been asleep for a whole day? Not to mention getting from your flat to mine. Ugh, and then Donna.” Steven falls back and rubs his free hand down his face.
You had forgotten he was scheduled to work today. “You went in?”
“I was supposed to. Supposed to be there at nine, but came to staring at myself in the bathroom mirror with my phone ringing in the other room.”
“I take it Donna didn’t handle your absence well.”
“Oh, perfectly well, actually, if you don’t count the, you know, yelling and threatening to fire me. Had to tell her it was an emergency and promise that it won’t happen again to get her to stop. I don’t think she even believed me.”
You can practically see the weight of it all resting on Steven’s shoulders. Waking up after a blackout, knowing something is wrong, and then having your manager chewing you out immediately after? It would be horrible.
“Oh, Steven,” you soothe, pulling him to you so you can hug him again. “What about those tests the doctor mentioned? Are you going to take them? I could pull some strings and get you in to see a specialist sooner.”
“You don’t have to,” Steven insists as he wraps his arms around your waist. “There’s a chance it’s nothing… Just wait and see and hope it doesn’t happen again.”
You have to bite your tongue to keep from arguing. You’ve never had to worry about a baby’s health before, and you’re not sure if insisting that he seek treatment goes beyond the bounds you set for the relationship or if Steven would even appreciate you inserting yourself into that part of his life. You don’t want to tell him what to do regarding certain aspects of his personal life, but you still worry.
“Did you tell your family about what happened?” you ask instead. If you can’t tell him what to do about his health, maybe they can.
“It’s just my mum,” Steven says quietly, as if unsure what he wants to tell you. “I left her a message. She’s always traveling, so it’s hard to catch her. She’ll listen to it when she can, though. She always does.”
Something about his tone is slightly off, making you wonder who he’s trying to convince.
“Can we just…go back to normal?” Steven asks, sounding exhausted. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“Normal, huh?” you concede, running your fingers through his hair. You’ll play everything by ear for now, and Steven seems well enough that you’re willing to drop the topic for tonight.
“Please?” he mumbles into your neck.
“Well, it just so happens that I got something in the mail for you today.”
Steven lifts his head, brow furrowed. “What’s that?”
You start pulling away, preparing to stand. “I’m going to need you to sound more enthusiastic than that, baby,” you say, kissing Steven’s cheek.
“Right, sorry,” he says, his face flushing like he’s already forgotten your roles. “I love it already. Thank you.”
You can’t help but laugh as you walk over to the front door where you left your bag. Grabbing the card you had safely tucked away earlier when it arrived at the office, you walk back to the living room and stand directly in front of Steven.
You flash the card at him, showing off his name and making Steven’s eyes widen in surprise.
“There’s no limit; you can use it to buy anything and everything. It’s already activated, and I have notifications set up on my phone, so I’ll know when you use it.” Your eyes narrow as you watch Steven visibly swallow, nervous. “And when you don’t.”
“I-I…” Steven stammers but doesn’t quite finish whatever he’s trying to get out.
You watch him closely, looking for any sign that he isn’t interested in this kind of play, the slightest hint that he’s uncomfortable.
Something dark shifts across his features then, twisting his expression toward a scowl. But then it’s gone in an instant, Steven’s expression returning to what it was, his soft brown eyes so trusting. You have no idea what to make of it.
Though it leaves you confused, you decide to continue but are mindful of any other signs that you’ll need to stop what you’re doing. What you have in mind isn’t intense, but some of your babies found it degrading and didn’t like doing it.
“Tell me why I should give you this card,” you say.
Steven shakes his head automatically. “I don’t deserve it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “No? But aren’t you doing this for the money? And all the other things I can give you?”
He looks away briefly before meeting your eyes again. Even though he’s hesitating, nothing about him says he doesn’t want to be doing this.
“Yes? But you already—”
“Steven.” His mouth snaps shut at your tone. “Repeat after me: I deserve an unlimited credit card.”
He flushes again and mumbles, “I deserve an unlimited credit card.”
“Louder.”
Steven repeats himself, only slightly louder than the first time.
“Again,” you order, still not satisfied.
When Steven repeats the words this time, he does so at a normal speaking volume—not too loud, but perfect for you.
“Good boy,” you praise, reaching out to hold his face with your free hand. You can tell this was hard for Steven, and you hope, one day, asking for the things he wants will be easier for him.
Steven closes his eyes with a contented sigh and nuzzles your palm. You can’t help but smile adoringly at him.
“Do you know why you deserve it?” you ask, keeping your voice low, soft.
He opens his eyes and shakes his head slightly, careful not to knock your hand away. “Because you’re my baby, and you’re special. Say it.”
Steven lets out a shaky breath against your palm. “Because I’m yours, and I’m special.” He doesn’t mumble or stumble over the words. His voice is clear and even, making you let out a pleased hum. You’re a little proud of him.
“Since you want it so much, beg for the card,” you say, watching him carefully.
Steven seems a little taken aback, and you drop your hand from his face.
“You can always say no,” you remind him. “This doesn’t have to be something we do. No hard feelings.”
When he doesn’t immediately respond, you take a step back and go to hand him the card. He’s done so well already, and you won’t push him into something he doesn’t want to do. Just because he’s your sugar baby doesn’t mean he’s a toy to toss around as you please.
But then Steven’s hands are on your hips, holding you in place.
“Please,” he whispers, staring up at you beseechingly from his place on the couch. Your heart starts to pound, elated.
“Please, what? What do you want?” You need him to say the words; you need to know that he wants to do this, too.
“Please give me the card,” he says, his voice still so quiet.
“You don’t sound like you want it bad enough.”
Steven shifts on the couch, moving close to the edge. His hands on your hips tighten ever so slightly. He licks his lips and says, “Please, can I have it? I promise I’ll use it. I’ll-I’ll buy so much stuff. Please?” He sounds happy to play along but isn’t sure quite what to say. You’re pleased, though, that he’s trying.
“Please what?” you prompt, hoping he’ll get the message, that he’ll like that part of the relationship too.
Steven stares at you for a moment. Then, “Please, mummy,” said in a breathless whisper.
Smiling brightly at him, you lean down and kiss him. Steven eagerly returns it, gripping your hips tighter and trying to pull you closer even though his head is already tilted back at a slightly awkward angle.
“You did so well, baby,” you say when you pull away. During the kiss, your hand somehow found its way into Steven’s hair, gripping it just enough to move his head how you wanted. You slide your hand back down to his cheek, brushing your thumb against the flush you find there. His pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is slightly open as he lets out shallow pants.
Standing up straight, you hold the credit card out for Steven. “Buy whatever you want, and you’re not getting off this couch until you do.”
“Right now?” Steven asks, sounding a little dazed. He reluctantly releases your hips to take the card, allowing you to sit beside him.
“Yes, right now. Pull out your phone.” You settle in against his side, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, around his shoulders when he settles back, so you can hover over him. “Do you want one of those giant TVs? A gaming system or a computer? What about getting the fixings for a saltwater tank and getting Gus an exotic friend?”
“I… don’t know,” Steven says, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He still seems overwhelmed by the whole idea of having such an outrageous amount of money to spend. You affectionately brush one of his curls away from his face.
“Don’t worry, we have all night to figure it out.”
Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy @kezibear @local-mr-frog @peachyrue-777 @kpopslur @tejasvkris @thewinterv
if you can’t be tagged, check your privacy settings
#moon knight x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight fanfic#x reader#sugar series
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
Black Roses.
Sorry if this is, like... Overly edgy..... I wanted to get some angst out of my system. >_<;;;;;;
Kairos + GN! reader
CW: obsessive behaviors, mild self-harm, suicidal ideation, angst
Kairos is familiar with the entity known as Death.
Death's cold, skeletal hands hold both his left and his right. Death interlocks its fingers with his, gripping him tightly, bruising his sensitive skin. The darkness of night is the only thing that Kairos knows. The light of the sun is far too much– it terrifies him. He fears that if he is to be touched by its golden rays, he would surely disintegrate.
All Kairos has ever wanted is one simple thing: unconditional love.
Is the feeling of being loved doomed to forever be far-removed from his life?
The faces of couples walking down the streets haunts him. Kairos sees them kissing, hugging, holding hands, smiling and laughing in the comfort of one another’s embrace– he wants it so badly. He needs it. He's so terribly envious.
Kairos yearns so desperately to experience what it means to be "normal."
He wants to be normal, even if only for a single day. But he doesn’t actually believe he’s capable of it.
“Is… Is love even real?”
He used to wonder about that all the time.
With each passing night, the seeds of doubt would grow in his chest, their parasitic roots taking place inside his body and slowly draining him of life. Seeds of self-hatred, seeds of sorrow, seeds of gut-wrenching loneliness. Oh, how he wished to take a blade to his heart and cut them all out. He would look beautiful when covered in blood.
Days, months, years… The flowers were blooming; they refused to stop growing. Black roses decorated by thorns.
If they kept on growing, he knew he would surely die. He knew that the garden would fully flourish once he was buried six feet underground. It was tempting.
So tempting.
His existence will be worth more once he's gone, he thinks.
People will only love him when they no longer have to actually deal with him.
… However, once he meets you, his entire life will change forever.
When you treat him with kindness, when you acknowledge his existence, the horrible garden within his chest begins to wither.
To Kairos, you’re a miracle. To him, you’ve saved his life by simply existing. So perfect– so beautiful– you’re everything he could ever want and more. Perhaps you’re an angel sent from up above, an angel brought down to show him what it means to be alive. Perhaps you’re his soulmate, and after twenty-four years, he’s finally found you.
Kairos can’t return to the life he had before he met you. He can’t go back to the pitch-black darkness that he used to reside in.
Please, be his light– please, be his everything. The sun is too much, but you're perfect. He’ll do anything to keep you around.
He’ll change himself for you, he’ll grovel on the floor and beg you to stay. He'll kiss the ground that you walk on. He’ll cut down anyone who gets in his way. Just, please– please, please, don’t leave him. Your presence makes the poisonous flowers within him wither. You're his perfect cure.
Take death’s hands away from his and replace them with yours. Take his first kiss, be the first one to hold him close, show him that love truly does exist in this cruel and unforgiving world.
Kairos will follow you to the ends of the earth, always facing you the way a flower faces the sun. He’ll chase you until the end of time, if he has to.
Yell at him, scream at him, degrade and berate him. He’ll love you regardless. After all… Couples argue, right? There’s hiccups along the way. That’s normal! You love him, and you just don’t realize it yet. That’s what it is. That’s all that it is. That’s all.
Open your arms and accept him, reciprocate his love and hold him close… He’ll treasure you more than he treasures life itself.
Will you show him that love is real?
Or will you reveal to him that what he’s feeling isn’t love at all?
#kairos posting#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere#yandere oc#sorry if this fic doesnt make sense#o(>< )o#angsty kairos
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
FIRST MEETINGS ♡ ♡ arlecchino x gn!reader
part of my harbinger fantasy au series ( more info here )
synopsis : there's never a quiet day for someone like arlecchino. especially not when she receives word of an assassin from a neighbouring kingdom coming to wreak havoc in her homeland... well, there's plenty she can do about that, isn't there?
notes : 2nd person , small text . warnings for mentions of blood + death ( reader is ' attacked ' by an assassin )
a/n : psssht it isnt super long or anything, but there's a little less to say in regards to how the reader meets all of the harbingers compared to future endeavours ( with the exception of perhaps scaramouche ? ) this wasnt crazy proofread or anything n my brain is a little jumbled so im sorry if it doesnt feel very substanced eheh ...
Arlecchino spun the handle of her dagger around in her fingers, leaning against the wall. The city was near silent as the moon hung high in the sky, and the light of the streetlamps had long since been put out. The only thing left to illuminate her figure was the starlight above her.
"Lyney. Your report," She said, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the darker parts of the alley. She didn't need to in order to know he was already there.
"Father," Lyney stepped forth out of the shadows, raising his eyes to behold the face of the masked woman standing before him. "We've gathered some information you may be interested in."
There was nothing sweeter than the thrill of the kill for a person like Arlecchino. Not because she particularly enjoyed it, but because she knew that everything she did was to protect the sanctity of her home. The safety and peace enjoyed by the kingdom's citizens could only remain if a certain price was paid.
When she opened the door and saw the figure standing over your bed with a dagger, poised and ready to strike, she wasted no time. Striking like a phantom, wrenching the blade out of their hands and pressing it to their throat — she leered over their shoulder, with a glare quite unmatched by any other.
"Begone, foul parasite."
A splatter of blood hit the floor as Arlecchino pulled the blade across the assassin's throat. The threat was eliminated, but she'd have to be quick in disposing of the evidence, before—
"...Hm." It seemed a little late for that, as when she looked up from the corpse she'd dropped to the floor, she saw you. Wide awake, with an expression of abject horror like you'd been watching the entire time.
Arlecchino furrowed her brow, deciding it would be better to leave before the situation escalated and turning to leave the room. You, however, seemed unwilling to let that happen. Arms wrapped shakily around her midsection, you pulled her back without any warning.
Arlecchino had half a mind to shove you away and get out as soon as possible. But when she felt a sudden trembling against her chest and a wetness soaking into her shirt, she suddenly couldn't quite bring herself to do that.
Her hand came to rest in the small of your back, careful to keep her sharp nails away from your delicate skin. Carefully, she set the dagger grasped in her other hand off to the side, not caring to notice if the blood staining its blade would dirty the furniture this time. There were far more pressing matters at hand.
"I'm sorry. Did I frighten you?" She murmured, voice low but far from threatening.
"No, no, you... You saved my life, I'm just..." You trailed off into quiet hiccups, clutching onto the fabric of Arlecchino's cloak. The truth was, you'd been awake long before Arlecchino stepped in to save you, but far too afraid to even move.
Knowing you were seemingly safe now... A sense of both relief and terror washed over you in a heavy wave, and you barely knew how to handle it.
There wasn't much left to be said for Arlecchino; she just rubbed gentle circles into your back with one hand, trying to soothe your shock. Although she was more than willing to do harm to those she had to, she was far from a cruel individual. Seeing such a delicate thing in such distress filled her with a sense of discomfort.
"Don't worry," She said eventually, eyes falling upon the corpse of the would-be assassin strewn across the floor by the window. "I'll clean everything up for you. And I'll make sure this never happens again."
Your head tilted up to look at her, tear-stained cheeks glittering in the moonlight.
"W-Who... Who are you?"
"...Just your guardian angel."
The room fell back into silence after that. You sniffled quietly as Arlecchino set you back to bed, gently tucking the covers around your shoulders and smoothing out the creases of the blanket. After a moment of hesitation, she also leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, smoothing down any stray hairs with a gentle stroke of her hand.
"Sleep now — and don't be afraid. I promise to keep a close eye on you from now on," She whispered softly into your ear, before standing up straight again.
Everything that happened in that room was never spoken of again. Although you could vividly recall your saviour's voice, the appearance of the woman eluded you — and you weren't eager to go speaking of such events to anyone else. Not when you knew what Pierro would have to say about it.
Ah... But who was that mysterious lady?
#🗝 // writing#🗝 // fantasy au#arlecchino#genshin impact#fatui harbingers#arlecchino x reader#genshin impact x reader#fatui harbingers x reader#genshin#genshin x reader#genshin impact au
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s been a while so time to reintroduce my fanfic, I Only Have Eyes For U137
Ch. 21/21 50k words completeish- Series Part 1 (two continuation fics)
NSFW 18+ ONLY
second person self insert female reader
TW addiction, emotional abuse/distress, smut, other tags on ao3
Summary: You stared longingly at the last call you had with Rick. It felt like forever. He was shitfaced when he called you. You could barely understand his words between hiccups and mumbling, it almost sounded like he was crying. All the while he called you incompetent. Worthless. A useless anomaly in the perfection of his adventurous lifestyle. A parasite. And that he wanted you more than anything. He missed you.
#rick and morty#rick sanchez#rick sanchez x reader#rickfucker#female reader#psychological drama#some smut#i only have eyes for u137#u137verse#ao3 fanfic#rick sanchez fanfiction#fanfic
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
2:27 AM | HAITANI RAN
Ran’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his breath is mist in the cold expanse of his car. He inhales once, squeezes the steering wheel so hard he’s almost convinced he could break it. He switches on the heating,flicks open the packet of cigarettes and puts one between his lips, watching the smoke curl and puff. He’d have thought that spending the better part of an hour beating a man till his brains could be seen would have done something to ease the tight coil of tension and stiffness in his stomach but apparently not.
His fingers still feel fatigued, still feel as if there are sparks just below the skin of his scarred hands.
He hadn’t left under the best of circumstances, hadn’t even looked back as he slammed the door on you. You had watched, tears in your eyes as he drove off, his brow pinched, mouth turned down, lip caught between his teeth as he held back all the things he could have said.
He’s still thinking about it now. Still thinking about the look on your face when he shrugged on his jacket and walked out, the keys on the hook shaking as he slammed the front door. You had watched the white paint, watched the door handle stay unmoving, and waited with bated breath, for him to return, say sorry, to take it back. And minutes had passed, the drone of the engine had disappeared and still you waited, would have continued to wait had it not been for the ring of your mobile.
Ran sighs, picks up his phone, half expecting to see a barrage of missed calls from you, and then deflates when he sees nothing but the lockscreen clear of any notifications.He doesn’t know that on your side, you’re doing the same thing, sniffling and checking your phone periodically for any sign that he might have reached out to you.
Ran’s finger hovers over your name. He dials, listens for the ring, his heart hammering in his chest. More nerve wracking than killing a man, he thinks.
You see his name flash on the screen, and you let it ring twice before picking it up, perhaps out of spite, perhaps because you don’t want to make it seem like you were waiting for him, watching the clock tick away. A punishment in itself for the both of you of sorts.
You wipe your nose on a sodden tissue left on your nightstand, rolling over on your shared bed that smells so horribly like him. Your heartbeat quickens when you press the phone to your ear.
‘Princess?’ he says, and the air whooshes out of you. There is no playful lilt, no teasing, no sarcasm in it. It is worried and hushed and hoarse, and you can tell by the roughness of it that he’s smoked a few cigarettes before making the call.
Your lip wobbles, and you don’t entirely trust your voice not to betray you right now, so you clear your throat. But even still, that lump right there persists and when you exhale, it comes out shaky.
‘Ran…’ You don’t mean for it to sound so desperate, for your breathy whisper to feed down the line. And perhaps it’s because your heart has been aching since he slammed that door, and you saw the vein in his forehead pulse with anger, but a half-hearted sob pulls its way out of you and drips down the line.
A spike of anxiety shoots its way through him, and he can tell you’ve been crying to yourself over the last few hours. The guilt worms its way into his stomach like a parasite.
‘Princess …’ he says again, his tongue heavy, sticking to the roof of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’
The tears are free-flowing and fast and you hiccup into the receiver. It’s been hours, you know that. You know that the jagged edges of your pain have softened into smoother tendrils of heartbreak. You also know that you forgave him the minute you saw his name pop up on your screen. Still, you want to make him work for that forgiveness, you want him to know, to at least feel a fraction of the sharp pain he caused you.
‘Ran I-’ You’re not sure what to say to him to get this feeling across, this strange sensation of both yearning and anger. And you are angry with him, for walking out on you, for not explaining, for the way he reacted to such a simple request.
Can you take some time off so we can spend a weekend together?
Yet you know that even still, you’ve forgiven him so quickly, and perhaps that’s a testament to what you feel for him. You are irrevocably in love and you know that life is so short and fleeting and that that love is the most sacred gift you could ever share with each other.
‘I know baby,’ he says, and though you can’t see it, he’s hoping that him pressing his forehead into the steering wheel and mentally cursing himself is going to somehow assuage the guilt. ‘I’m stupid, I’m an idiot-’
‘Very stupid-’ you interject, just to drive home the point.
‘Very stupid, correct.’ He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself for saying whatever he needs to, if it means he’s going to win you back. ‘I am the most insufferable person on the whole Earth-’
‘That’s an understatement-’
He tuts at your minor interruption and you snort, sniffling, your skin cracking from the tears dried on your face.
‘I’m a stupid boyfriend, an idiotic man who doesn’t deserve to have such a beautiful and smart girl in my life-’
He’s on a roll now, gripping the phone tight and fiddling with a cigarette lighter you bought for him, his initials carved into the gold casing.
‘Ran-’ You sit up in your bed, brows furrowed.
‘-But I know that I love you,’ he says, an almost imperceptible whisper that you swear no one else would have heard over the drone of the car’s heating, or the shuffle of sheets as you moved. But you know him, know his words, know his voice anywhere. Your heart knows his instinctively, and you’re so in rhythm with each other that in a sea of voices, you could pick him out. You would know him beyond death, beyond anything.
You’ve heard him say it before, many times before in fact. But it’s still true as ever. That he has your heart in a vice grip and that he, through the simple act of existing, of saying the three words, can make you come undone where you sit. You feel yourself soften, the edges of your pain withering away like leaves in autumn. You try to fight the watery smile that’s threatening your lips and even though your chin wobbles still, you think it’s okay.He’s okay, you’re okay.
‘Princess?’ He hasn’t heard you reply and it worries him just a bit.
You take a shaky breath and all that tension dissipates through your skin. Your fight seems so trivial compared to this, compared to the vast expanse of love between you, the years and years of building what you both cherish so much. ‘I love you too Ran.’
And with that, he sighs, lifting his head from the steering wheel, gripping the phone a little looser and his shoulder sag as he leans against the plush leather seat. It is so simply said, so simply done, that the argument from the afternoon almost seems non-existent compared to this.
‘I’m on my way home,’ he says and he means it. ‘I’ll see you soon Pretty baby.’
‘Can’t wait,’ you reply and he can almost feel your smile through the phone. There is no tension, no echo of worry or hurt feeding through the line this time. Only love, persisting as it always does.
a/n: this has been sitting in my docs since like forever, figured it was time to post it. Believe it or not Ran was one of the first characters I ever started writing for, it's been a while since I wrote for him, thank you to everyone who has supported my work thus far and continues to do so, it really means a lot to me y'know, I know I'm really inconsistent with posting, but you guys continue to stay with me, thank you all. and thanks to my ran for being a whole lot of fun and a huge inspo for me <3
taglist: @clovcly @oikawascutie @alias-sano @mxnjiros @islascafe @prettyiolanthe @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @kimduckja @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @invisible-cardigan-33 @crown5 @the-travelling-witch @bladesandguns @reiners-milkbiddies @michiphoria @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @anxious-cherry-pie @oikawascutie (let me know if you'd like to be added!)
#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev#tokyorev x reader#haitani ran#ran haitani#toman#haitani brothers#tokrev#haitani ran x reader#tr#hals tr ff
507 notes
·
View notes
Text
IF ONLY MAYBE — GETO SUGURU
synopsis: even after all these years, you two just had the worst of luck.
cw: 1.3k words. angst w no happy ending, major character death (reader), depictions of blood and death, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, takes place 10 years after geto's defection, amateur writing.
notes: not a writer at alllll. first post on this acc. i am an avid fanfic reader but i had a simple idea i wanted to flesh out and write in hopes of helping me be more creative in my school work :p enjoy!
Being a jujutsu soccer was never something you could imagine not doing. You loved every part of it; learning, helping others, going on missions that fill you veins with adrenaline that almost feels euphoric, and teaching students who were so eager to learn from you. Danger was just part of the contract you signed, despair and tragedy were all to familiar with the job, and you learned to cope with it in several different ways. Whether it was alcohol, those cancerous sticks Shoko offers you, or getting lost in someone else’s cotton sheets. Losses were faced everyday and just maybe, a small part of you died with every loss you’ve ever faced, eating away at your soul and the very essence of who you are at your core. Sometimes, days were so hard that the adrenaline of completing a mission wasn’t enough to fill the empty void within you, and the only option was to bury yourself with so much work until you couldn’t have a second to just take a moment and think. Maybe that was your demise, that you had no moment of clarity and it’s the reason for your impaired judgment because something else was always occupying your thoughts like a parasite to its host.
That’s it, maybe, that you’ve let too many parts of you die that there’s nothing left. You think to yourself that perhaps this is all you’ve got to offer and you’ve given too much until you’re a shell of the person you used to be. If you did things differently, then the day could be ending so differently.
You groan weakly as you lay on the cold hard concrete, pain surging through every muscle for any minuscule movement you make, coughing and wheezing for air to fill your lungs. You reach one hand slowly to your abdomen, and the thick dampness of your navy shirt confirms your thoughts. It was just supposed to be a simple special grade curse, something you exorcise in your sleep, but God is it agonizing to not only be shown how weak you’ve become, but that your work and effort has amounted to nothing if these are going to be the last breaths you take.
“Geto-sama! There!”
A shrill voice interrupts your train of thoughts, letting out a shaky breath at the name. Swift and light footsteps charge in your direction and before you know it, his figure is standing right above you. You faintly hear him tell someone to go ahead before you hear light footsteps walking away, further and further until you can’t hear it.
He’s changed, you note. His hair is longer and down, no longer neatly tied up. Is that how he feels too, that he’s free and no longer constricted? He’s notably taller, frame larger than you remember as he looms over you and casts a shadow from the bright street light that’s illuminating from above. A worried look is cast onto his features, hesitating to get too close you as you take in his face, and God was it painful seeing his pretty face be contorted in such a pained expression. His breaths are uneven, a slight hiccup when he inhales can be heard if you listen closely. His honey coloured eyes, oh how you could get lost in them even after all these years, seem like there’s a war waging in them- torn between an expression of hurt and one that wants to mask it. Suguru is so much older now, small frown lines and a slight wrinkle forming at the outer corners of his eyes if you look closely enough, but you can’t help but think that he’s still your Suguru.
“You w-weren’t supposed to be here. What a-“
“I- I was around,” you say quietly with a soft chuckle. “I was using my day off to visit here, l-like before,” you explain, flashes of three years of your adolescence with Suguru popping up in the forefront of your mind. You curse yourself for being sentimental, for being soft, maybe that’s why you’re going to die.
“I would have nev- you weren’t supposed to be here” Suguru says shakily, as if he’s trying to reassure you that he would never even think to hurt you, or lay a finger on you. He softly kneels down next to you, his bottom lip quivering slightly at the sight of seeing you like this. He starts to think he’s cursed, that he never had a chance for happiness even after defecting, that his mission oriented persona was only a facade to search for happiness that wasn’t meant to be for him. That’s the reason, he thinks to himself, otherwise the world would simply be cruel if this is the first time seeing you in 10 years, dying because of a special grade curse carrying out his orders.
“I s-still exorcised him though, so we’re just even,” You say weakly as you mention the curse under his orders, offering a pained smile as you begin to shudder at the sudden feeling of coldness engulfing your body. You don’t have reverse cursed technique like Satoru, and the damage is irreparable that even Shoko’s presence wouldn’t help if she was here. You close your eyes for a second longer than usual, the warm tears spilling from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. It’s uncomfortable and foreign, being consumed with the emotions that swirl around your head and spill out in the form of shaky breaths and salty tears. Your bottom lip quivers as it dawns on you that this is it, your last day on earth, and both you and Suguru know it.
“I’m s-“ Suguru stutters before he’s cut off by the stern sound of your voice. It’s firm, yet filled with a tenderness that he’s been missing all these years, one he’s been searching for anytime he calls you on a payphone to hear your greeting before you hang up in confusion due to the unresponsiveness.
“I know, Suguru,” you answer quietly, and that look in your eye makes him want to let out a choked sob right then and there. Those eyes that always looked up at him with so much patience and care, despite you being in this position because of him. Truthfully, you don’t exactly know what it is he’s apologizing for. Maybe it’s for all the lives he’s ended, maybe it’s for his defection, or maybe it’s for being the reason you’re slowly loosing consciousness. Maybe it’s for all of it. Whatever it is, you know, and you couldn’t bring him to say the words out loud because you know more than anyone it’d only hurt more.
Suguru gently brings your head up, laying it in his lap carefully. Hesitantly, he caresses your hair in an attempt to comfort you and soothe the winces of pain escaping your pretty mouth. It seems so natural to him, being comforting you, like it’s the sole reason he was put on this earth. He doesn’t say anything more, afraid that a suppressed sob would escape him instead of the words he’s trying to piece together in his head.
“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” you whisper gently, barely audible as the exhaustion becomes so much more evident in your voice. You begin to settle into his warmth, needing it more and more and you feel your blood run colder and the breeze of the night get harsher. ‘I’ve done enough,’ you think for a moment as it feels like the world around you begins to stop and your breaths become more shallow. You close your eyes one last time.
“It does, doesn’t it? It’s always so beautiful,” Suguru whispers into the dead of the night, eyes fixated on your limp body resting on his lap so peacefully. Your eyes don’t open again, and he finally lets out a loud cry that echoes in the empty streets.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fic#geto suguru#geto suguru angst#geto suguru x reader#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#geto suguru fanfic
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
Óen (Part 6)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Still writing this behemoth bit by bit. This time both Scott and Hiccup fought me tooth and nail.
Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight and @idontknowreallywhy for all the encouragement and support.
I hope you enjoy this bit.
-o-o-o-
“My father was Flaith O’Treasaigh, back in our homeland. He was an adventurer, and explorer. He travelled young, crossing seas and Briton to visit the continent and came back with stories and tradings. He created routes for wares rarely seen and extolled our craftsmen to those afar. Our land grew rich with his connections and the Flaithri, our Seanathair was proud.” Scott drew in a breath. “However, having travelled the east, my father was forever staring off to the west. He wished to find what lay beyond the horizon.”
He saw understanding in the young man’s eyes.
“I see you share something with my father. Was exploration the reason why we had to rescue you from the Great Ice Sea?”
Hiccup froze just a moment before nodding.
So, a half truth, then.
Scott let it pass.
“The Flaithri gave my father permission to take a small fleet of ships out as far as they dared into the West Ocean to see what they could find.”
“Óen found my father in a storm. Just like we did you, and fished him out of the water. He returned him to land.” Scott paused. “But on the wrong side of the Ocean.”
The young Viking blinked. “Your father crossed the West Ocean?”
“He did. And that is where Óen is from.”
Hiccup’s eyes widened. “Are there other night furies there?”
Scott held up a hand. “The journey across the ocean is long and always deadly. It is too far for a lone dragon.”
“But there has to be a way!”
Toothless warbled a query and outside Óen let off a roar.
Beside Scott, John flinched.
Scott straightened his shoulders. “It cannot be done. There are no night furies over the ocean.” He felt the lie in his bones.
Hiccup’s lips thinned.
“Now, I believe you have a tale to tell. It is obvious challenges have befallen both of you. How do you two come to be together?”
The young Viking was a stubborn one. Scott could see thoughts spinning behind those green eyes and no doubt, the truths he would tell would be as halved as those Scott had shared.
“I, too, am son of a Chief. Our village has been fighting a war with the dragons for generations.”
Scott sat ever so still, the tension in his frame tight.
“I shot Toothless out of the sky. I am the reason he is ‘injured’. But don’t worry, he got me back.” The boy’s false foot clunked on the stone floor beneath as he shifted and began to absently stroke his dragon’s head. “We ended the war by saving the dragons from the Green Death, a giant parasitic dragon capable of controlling their actions. Now we live in peace with the dragons.” He looked Scott square in the eye. “They are our friends.”
“I can see that.”
“Toothless is well cared for. I can vouch for that.” Virgil spoke up. As usual his brother had been sitting there quietly watching, only speaking to intervene when Scott became a little too intense.
He was far too much like their Máthair Chriona.
Too much like their mother, as well.
“John?”
His slim brother was silent a moment. “Cóic agrees. Toothless confirms the situation and vouches for his ‘toothpick’.”
Hiccup’s eyes widened and Toothless laughed at his rider.
-o-o-o-
There was so much to unpack here. For not the first time in his life, Hiccup wished his father was with him. Stoick knew politics and diplomacy. Often he knew it with as big an axe as he could find, but that was because he dealt with Vikings.
These people were definitely not Vikings.
He was baffled by how much he didn’t know about them.
Their chief, their ‘Flaithri’, seemed kind and good, but those eyes spoke of seeing much that was unkind. They spoke of a homeland as if it was far away. And if so, why were they here and why did they leave?
And John, the red-haired brother who wore no beard, yet wore his hair long as if attempting to hide scars that could not be hidden as easily as everything else about him. The mysterious Cóic and how did either of them know what Toothless was thinking?
The tantalising information of where Óen had come from. It explained so much. If night furies were from across the ocean, then that explained why there were no others here.
He glanced at Toothless. Toothpick, huh. Green eyes gleamed at him, dragon humour as cutting as always. There would be much to say about that later. But right now…if night furies were from across the West Ocean, then how had Toothless made it here?
Hiccup almost feared the answer to that question. What had his friend suffered before they had met?
What if he needed to travel back over the ocean?
So many questions not answered. These people seemed good, but Hiccup did not dare expose Berk to an unknown people. He knew that much about politics, at least.
But at the same time, he felt there were answers he needed. So diplomacy it was until he could know them better and decide if he could trust them.
And convince them, he could be trusted with whatever it was they were hiding.
-o-o-o-
TBC
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#how to train your dragon#httyd#thunderbirds fanfiction#httyd fanfiction#scott tracy#hiccup haddock#crossover#nuttyfic#these two are as stubborn as each other
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tagged by: @simplegenius042 @g0dspeeed @inafieldofdaisies and @vampireninjabunnies-blog Thank you all so much!!
tagging: @direwombat @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @clicheantagonist @roofgeese @confidentandgood @poetikat @schoute @corvosattano @kyber-infinitygems @wrathfulrook @florbelles @henbased @detectivelokis @derelictheretic @strafethesesinners @aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @neverthesameneveranother @cassietrn @chazz-anova @jacobsneed @madparadoxum @megraen @nightbloodbix @stacispratt @voidika @v0idbuggy @trench-rot @marivenah (no pressure of course) and anyone else with something to share, please feel free to tag me :)
here’s a bit from the new chapter 40 aka the Kit propaganda chapter:
Wind whispered and moaned through the empty cages. The fallen snow had washed away the smell of the old, stale blood from the ground as it melted and retreated back into the dark places where the sun could not reach it. Two sets of boots crunched through the gravel towards the lone occupant of their prison, stopping at the bars to look down upon their prey.
Trembling on the ground – shivering with fear and from the cold – Mark looked up at them wide-eyed, alarmed and unblinking. Two ginger titans with stone faces stared back at him, silent guards who stole all the air from the enclosure, their freezing stares enough to suffocate a man. A small whining croak emanated from the back of the prisoner’s throat, the terror stealing his ability to think, to process. A thick gulping noise filling the silent void he was trapped in.
Kit watched, her head tipped to the side as she stood utterly still with her hands clasped behind her back, her fingers fidgeting behind her back, nails dragging against her skin kept her from enacting justice on the traitor. This creature that sat in the dirt before her was barely even human, some pathetic thing that clung to the underbelly of the cult like a parasite draining the life from it. An abomination sucking at the mother’s teat, willing to go wherever for survival. But this wasn’t survival like with her and Jacob, no, this was survival out of weakness. Cowardice. Because for someone like him, being left to his own devices meant death. Crawling to the sinners in hopes of protection, turning to the enemy when the hour of God’s cleansing of the world was at hand – it was shameful, disgusting behavior. She could have spat. Turning his back on the Father, turning his back on God, turning his back on his family – that was something she could never do.
Jacob stepped up to the bars of the cage and crouched down. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips, an unsettling stare fixed upon the man. “When she showed up and you were put in her care, did you trust her?” Jacob tipped his head in Kit’s direction as she stood just behind him.
Mark’s eyes rolled in the socket to glance up at Kit, only to be faced with her hate-filled glare. Immediately casting them back down to the ground, he started to hiccup from the amount of crying he had been doing.
The Herald’s smile only grew wider, causing the crow’s feet near his eyes to crinkle and fold. “Did you think you were free?” he teased.
Mark sobbed, wiping the sleeve of his sweater against his nose – a long, snail trail of mucus clinging to the woolen fibers. He tried to speak but his voice cracked, and all he could do was nod.
Leaning in, cruel glee appeared in Jacob’s predatory gaze while he played with his food. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya.”
“Yes,” Mark wailed.
“Kitty here had them all fooled, for a long time. But she knows the importance of loyalty, understands the value of trust and respect. She has embraced her role as part of the family and the Project. She’s my Judge, my executioner – Our Lion.” Jacob looked over his shoulder at Kit. “Isn’t that right, angel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s a goddamn thing of beauty.” Jacob looked at her with warmth, a fondness that he only ever reserved for her, seeing her like an angel. Their stoic exteriors crumbled for a moment as their eyes locked. She cleared her throat and icy eyes steered towards the worm that crawled inside the cage. His smile faded back to the sheer unrelenting rockface of the grizzled soldier. “And I think it’s only right that she be given the chance to pass judgment on a bottom feeder like you.”
A long string of snot hung from Mark’s nostril as he doubled over, crumpling to the ground under the weight of what he was about to face. Spit flying from his lips as he mumbled and moaned out a string of nonsense, too incoherent to speak.
Jacob sneered at the man’s display and stood up, grabbing the keys from his pocket to unlock the cage door. With a turn of the key, the mechanisms of the lock clunked open, and the metal hinges creaked with ear splitting volume in the chilled mountain air as he pulled the door ajar.
Standing to the side, Jacob directed her in with his free arm as if he was holding the door open for her on a date – a true gentleman. She gave him a sideways glance and a nod as she entered the cage, noticing his eyes fall to the collar that still sat around her neck.
Stepping onto the dirt floor, the memories of her time spent in the cages flooded back. Unlike with everyone else, they weren’t a place of suffering for her. Not really. Much like being out in the desert, it was a place where she came to a realization about herself, where she finally woke up and saw the world for what it really was. The cages made her see, the Trials made her feel, and Jacob made her whole.
Kit grabbed Mark by the hair, ripping at the short choppy lengths, pulling him up to his feet with enough force he screamed. Tears fell down his ruddy cheeks and he sucked back on the saliva that dripped from his lower lip as he continued to snivel. She didn’t even bother to grab his hands – she didn’t need to – held behind his back in cuffs, his wrists were red, raw and bleeding. He must have had some fight in him earlier, but just like with every other prisoner she’d come across at Saint Francis, eventually he gave up because he was weak.
Collecting a tighter grip of his hair in her fist, she dragged him from the cell. Forcing his head down to look at his feet, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping and falling as she shoved him past Jacob and the door. He didn’t deserve to look upon the hallowed grounds of Saint Francis. He deserved only the dirt where he belonged and to where he would be returned from whence he came.
As she walked towards the Veterans Center, prisoner in her grasp, the Chosen watched her march. Their stares frozen, following her every step as copper hair blew in the wind, her coat billowing around her, flapping against her legs with every pound of her boots. Kit’s eyes never met with any of them, even when she could feel their eyes upon her. They didn’t matter. Only fulfilling her purpose did. She was every bit as merciless as the Herald, ruthless in how she dealt with an enemy – she always had been.
#wip wednesday#american beasts#oc: kit cross#jacob seed#kit just indulging in the torture and murder like it's chocolate and i say good for her
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
Invasion II
cw: yandere, alien au, death mentions, poly (ingo/reader, emmet/reader)
summary: Everything you both strive to do comes patiently unwound with horrifying realisations.
Part I
this au has more potential, I think.
Everything had become eerily quiet since the base had been invaded.
It only made sense, after all. There were only three living organisms that remained. You could only ponder the question of where your crews' remains went for so long before deciding to leave the topic behind. It was pointless. Most things were here. Attempts to make contact with other ships would only end badly. A single mistake you made while desperately trying to free yourself from the parasitic lifeforms had proven that.
You were stuck here with them.
They had made many attempts to better their relationship with you. Often times, the one who called himself Ingo took to trying to prove himself something like a domestic husband. Meals were made for you, and he attempted normal conversation with you desperately. His behaviour was the better of the twins. The other, Emmet, was much more aggressive. Something about his idea of love was primal and domineering, in opposition to his counterpart. Conversation was rare in comparison to clinging to you as if something would happen to you should he let you go. Nothing would happen.
Most of your time was spent locked away in your previous quarters as they wandered the base doing “remodels” that you pretended not to see. Better gardens for long-term living, shifting more and more of the general areas into more homely looking spaces… Additions of a nursery. You chose to pretend they simply needed to bide their time doing something, since you had taken to avoiding them however you could. Escape was unlikely, but you refused to give in.
Sneaking into what used to be the canteen, which had become more of a domestic kitchen due to their intervention, you observed food supplies. Most perishables had since gone, leaving only preserved food to remain. None of it was quick and easy to make, yet you refused to eat anything of which they prepared for you. A dried power dish of something that was supposed to be a beef stew would have to do. As you opened the door of the storage, however, a tentacle suddenly grasped your wrist. It failed to squeeze or harshly move you, telling you exactly which of them had caught you.
“... I put your food in the refrigerator, dearest,” Ingo's voice was always a bit loud, yet terrifyingly gentle, “Did you not like it?” His hand came to rest on your shoulder. He appeared nearly human, if you ignored the tentacles that protruded from his back and the glowing gem embedded in his chest. You remained steadfast in your silence while refusing to give further attention to him. Usually, he would give up after a few minutes. If given the choice, you preferred dealing with Ingo over Emmet. A sigh came from him after a few moments of waiting.
“I hate being aggressive with you, my dear,” you flinched as he turned you around to face him, “You need to eat properly. We are parts of your body, too now. I know that you are growing weaker.” You felt disgusted every time they reminded you of how they existed. On an expedition, you had picked up some of their stray, dying cells, and they have used your body to incubate and create more cells of their own. Apparently, they still remained inside you. Ingo's arms came around you as hiccups suddenly bubbled up from his mouth. “Are we failing to be proper mates? I provide food and comfort… Do I need to act as Emmet does?” he begged you for answers, “You give him more attention than me.”
“I don't want either of you,” you told him, “I want to leave. Let me go.” His grip only tightened. A chill ran down your spine as echoing steps rang out into the air. The other twin appeared in the doorway soon after, standing tall and menacingly. They were connected, you knew. Their communication was something seamless and impossible for you to comprehend.
“Darling, you can not!” he declared while approaching you and his brother, “We are bonded to you! It is thanks to you that we lived at all! Let us adore you.” His grin was ominous and filled with teeth as he gazed at you. “Brother and I love you verrrry much!” You wondered if it was possible to force them from wherever in your body they had taken up residence. It seemed to be something that you needed to put more consideration if you planned on ever truly escaping from here.
As if he read your thoughts, Emmet's face grew even darker. His glowing eyes seemed to zero in on you more than before. “We are inseparable,” his voice was something overly saccharine and cooing, “Your body is as much us as ours is as much yours.” A strange pain began to spread in your head as tears involuntarily began to form in your eyes. The pain was indescribable. It hurt somewhere that you could not even begin to understand. Ingo's hand quickly moved to massage your temple, easing the pain somewhat.
“Emmet,” the older twin's voice turned harsh, “I explicitly asked you not to cause them any harm.” Your pained hiccups reverberated off the empty room as the pain slowly faded away into nothingness. They were in your brain, you came to understand. They truly were impossible to remove if that was the case. Distantly, you were aware that Emmet's words implied they took your cells and made them their own. “My love, I am sorry my brother has treated you so callously,” Ingo's eyes held such gentle, tender emotion, “See, our species lacked your human concept of emotions, and it has only been since our joining that we have began to understand them ourselves.” You felt more tears bubble out from your eyes.
This only led to Ingo clinging to you more desperately. Emmet sighed. “I am sorry, darling,” he backed away slowly, clearly trying to gauge how Ingo was going to react, “I am still learning. I will learn more! I will make you verrrry happy! Ingo and I both will! Yep!” His grin shifted into something deceptively sweet and loving. Soon, he was gone from the canteen, leaving you alone once more with Ingo.
“... If you just learnt of emotions, then why do you think you love me?” you asked, wondering if maybe there was a way to convince them otherwise. Ingo's face twisted into a grin, much like the one his twin just wore.
“It is because of you that we have learnt all these things,” his voice was something like a croon, “Our hearts can only belong to you.” The glow of his gem grew momentarily brighter. It finally dawned on you that this was all your fault. You brought them on board and refused proper treatment from medbay, assuming it had just been a cold. The crew had died because of your foolishness and being stuck with the aliens was your punishment. You rested your head against his shoulder. His tentacles came out from his back to hug you tighter. Ingo was obviously desperate to comfort you in any way he could.
“... I guess that's fine,” you wanted to cry more, “W-what did you make?” One of his hands came to lift your chin up to meet his eyes, they swirled with something obsessive.
“I'll make something for you right now,” he easily replied, “I'll make your favourite.”
Your personal hell was to be a loving one.
#ingo x reader#emmet x reader#yandere x reader#yandere pokemon x reader#yandere ingo x reader#yandere emmet x reader#yandere#yanstuff
85 notes
·
View notes
Note
If the accident had gone differently, would it have been possible for the duplicator to create an entirely separate Ipswich?
I know he really hates the idea of his parasitic twin gaining sentience. But if there was just another him that's not physically attached how would that play out?
The spell was written to duplicate non-living objects and as usual, magic does it's best to make do when faced with an unexpected hiccup like a living thing in the ceramic bowl copier, but this spell's version of making do is treating the living thing as inert.
If it had managed to pull a complete and completely separate copy out of him, he would have been forced to get a good look at his own corpse laying beside him, born with a heart that never once beat and a brain that never once produced electricity.
During the incident it briefly seemed to behave as a living thing, but only because it was being puppeted by the magic building it, which is why the thought of that thing being sentient freaks him out. He thought that was what was happening at first.
104 notes
·
View notes
Note
Some of my SCP AU because I haven’t talked about it in a long ass time:
Ms. Fairchild: Well, Andy, since you’ve met our oldest SCPs, like 009, you should meet our newest ones.
Andy: There’s new SCPs?
Ms. Fairchild: Yep, a couple. *walks into a hallway and points to a room* That’s Alexandra, we call her Lexy and her younger sister Caroline. Lexy has improved metabolism, can get out of any dangerous situation, might be immortal but it hasn’t been proven yet. She’s survived SCPs like The Weeping Angel. And her sister Caroline’s whole thing is dolls — as long as they’ve been sewed by her thread, she can do basically anything she pleases with them. That includes mental manipulation, telekinesis, etc.
Caroline: *humming and playing with a doll that looks like Lexy*
Lexy: *doing her nails*
Andy: *not getting it in the slightest*
Ms. Fairchild: …Lexy’s lucky and her sister is weird, basically. *walks away* And then we have Junior. His power is…complicated. He can sing basically anything into existence and he has a wide range. Of course, it’s extremely dangerous to have him around other kids when he gets the hiccups.
Andy: How come?
Ms. Fairchild: Wait for it.
Junior: *silent as a mouth before he hiccups and something explodes in his room*
Andy: Ah.
Ms. Fairchild: Yeah. It’s proven to explode people too so we all just keep our distances and wait it out. *walks away and points to another room* And here’s Jake. His ability is to manifest shadow like creatures based off his trauma. They can also possess him and others but Jake seems to keep them under control, mostly. They’re protective over him…in a parasitic way.
Jake: *sleeping*
Andy: Is he okay?
Ms. Fairchild: He sleeps a lot now. It’s hard constantly keeping those things from hurting anyone. *points to another room* And lastly, we have Devon. The Grim Reaper.
Andy: He…looks like a normal kid though?
Ms. Fairchild: That’s what you would think. In reality, Devon is rather…poisonous? Anyone who sees his face or touches his skin is either killed on the spot from a heart attack or something of that nature or their lifespan is shortened, and Devon can feel when he takes someone’s life span away. Thus, we have to cover his face partially and he always has to be clothed completely.
Devon: *minding his business before waving*
Ms. Fairchild: *waves back* He’s a pleasant child. A bit antisocial but very sweet and has good manners.
LOVE THIS OMG
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
i read the story you wrote about a dragon in the Hidden World getting lost in the mushroom tunnels and suffocating from the spores, and it inspired my brain to come up with a crack theory:
THW is secretly a horror movie about Toothless being infected with a parasitic brain fungus that compels dragons to go into the Hidden World and die so the fungus can continue to grow. all those big pretty mushrooms in the Hidden World are the fruiting bodies of this fungus in the breeding stage of its life cycle, which it can only reach in the conditions of the Hidden World after absorbing enough nutrients from the corpses of the dragons it has infected, releasing tons of spores to be carried on the wind currents out of the Hidden World to spread across the archipelago and infect dragons far and wide. the real reason Toothless acts like a slobbering idiot in this movie is because there's a fungus eating away at his brain. it's also why he forced Berk's entire flock to follow him into the Hidden World. the fungus compelled him to feed it.
as for the Light Fury, her species have a symbiotic relationship with the Hidden World fungus, and are immune to it. one of the effects the fungus has on the brain of infected dragons is that it makes them find Light Furies irresistably sexy, allowing the Light Furies to seduce and lure infected dragons into the Hidden World that wouldn't be able to find their way there alone. All of Berk's flock, and all the other dragons we see in the movie (aside from the Light Furies), are now dead, consumed by the fungus and the Light Furies in the Hidden World.
The fungus cannot infect humans but it still has harmful effects on their brains. Snotlout and the twins acted the way they did because they got caught in a cloud of spores at some point before the movie. Hiccup let the dragons go and Astrid didn't stop him because they both got heavily exposed to the spores while in the Hidden World. as we can see in Homecoming, New Berk's proximity to the Hidden World has not done its populace any favors. the Night Lights? just dreams and hallucinations in Hiccup's fungus addled brain. in reality Toothless died not long after returning to the Hidden World and did not produce any offspring. the Light Fury scavenged part of his corpse and the fungus took the rest.
this is a really stupid theory, and yet it somehow makes more sense than the actual plot of the movie.
apologies if this is too much, i have a tendency to go overboard with things.
I'm happy that my little fanfic inspired you! I really like your theory/take on the mushroom hell idea - it's funny that soooo many aspects of THW really do make more sense if those mushrooms are actually like....the dragon version of cordyceps/zombie-ant fungus lmao
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Basic Instinct Chapter 21
A/N: Some angst from Reader-Chan's side as she talks with Akashi's grandma, so heads up! You know the associated warnings at this point.
Masterpost
After dinner, Akashi's grandmother had invited you to the drawing room, so the two of you could have a chat about your mother.
A topic that always left you feeling sick with anxiety.
You didn't knew how she was respond, what she would do.
Having been used to an unstable life, you were always extremely hypervigilant about the topic, and you could feel the tension between your shoulder blades.
You sat down in front of her, trying not to feel like you were going to throw up.
"There is no need to look so frightened, I will not do anything against your will. Seijuro tells me your mother has Borderline Personality Disorder, and from what I've heard about it I can imagine your mother to be quite controlling. That is not my intention and I will not cross any of your boundaries. It's safe."
There was something about her saying it was safe that triggered you as you could feel the burning sensation of tears in your eyes.
You didn't want to cry in front of Akashi's grandmother without even having said a word about it, you didn't want to break down so easily.
You didn't want to seem weak.
"Yes, that is true." You managed to say, holding back your tears. "My mom has BPD."
Rima nodded calmly, "Has she ever received psychiatric help before?"
You inhaled, "Yeah. When she was pregnant she thought it was important, so she could become a better mom."
"And did she stop thinking it was important?"
You bit your lip as tears leaked from your eyes. You nodded, being unable to respond in words.
"When did she stop therapy?"
"When I was small, s-she relapsed wh-when I was about n-nine," you hiccuped.
Rima looked at you, and couldn't help but feel sorry, for you had lost the mother that you knew at such a tender age. 'She was even younger than Sei-Chan when Shiori passed away. It must be such a painful loss'.
"Where's your father?"
"On a bussines trip overseas, he is most of the ti-time. I feel like he's just t-trying to escape her."
You looked like such an unloved child, it broke Rima's heart in a maternal way.
"Does your mother at least take some medication?"
You shook your head, as more tears rolled down your face.
"Now, I'll see to it what I can do, but I do need to know the grounds of which I can operate. You don't seem to be hiding any bruises, but what about emotional abuse, neglect?"
You gritted your teeth.
"When she's mad at me, she'll c-call me names and say mean s-stuff." You wiped your face with your sleeve. "L-like," you took a deep breath, trying to say the following sentences without hiccuping over your words, "I'm a parasite that suck away her happiness."
Whilst you got the sentence out, the words triggered a new wave of tears, and Rima stood up so she could come over and hold you close.
You cried in the elderly lady's warm arms, as she patted the back of your head.
"It's alright, it must be so hard for you. Does she take proper care of your needs?"
You shook your head. "For a couple of yea-years now she ref-refuses to cook dinner when she d-doesn't feel like it. For e-example."
Rima sighed, and she continued patting your head.
After a while, when you started calming down, she said, "How about you meet up with Seijuro before going to bed. You should allow yourself to be loved."
Your lips trembled, but you did as she said after thanking her.
And thus you rested your head against Seijuro's shoulder.
The two of you were allowed to hang out in his new bedroom, and you were curled up against him, using his bed as an improvised couch as he had been going through a photo album of his mom's childhood whilst you had been talking with his grandmother.
You looked at the album, but you didn't really see it.
Your mind was in a distant place, the softness of the matrass, silk sheets and Akashi's hand that was rubbing soft, comforting circles on your back was soothing you and you were too emotionally exhausted not to give in and space out.
"You know, you should go to sleep and take some care of yourself. I'll be here, in the same house as you for the next couple of days. We'll enjoy ourselves plenty tomorrow, okay?"
You looked at him and he kissed your forehead.
Smiling lazily, you said, "It really was nice to see you before going to bed."
"Perhaps someday we'll be sleeping in the same bed, and you can relax as you listen to me breathe." Akashi teased.
"You shouldn't let your grandmother hear that!" You giggled and got off the bed. "Can't wait for that day though, goodnight."
"Goodnight my love."
#knb#kuroko's basketball#akashi#akashi seijuro#knb x reader#basic instinct#toxic parents#bpd mom#akashi seijuurou x reader
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
creazingara
Album de CréaZingara
motylek337
🦋🦋
ladiesman2-17
NOAH ᡣ𐭩
inflr123088
香蕉公社丨萌妹子援助社❣️丨（招募MM丨接投
in-oddwetrust-blog
whatever