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#but i am this way bc im NOT sheltered

rush-the-stars · 5 months

Text

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART III

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.8k || ao3 || <- part ii || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, fainting, fainting from lack of food, reader refuses to eat because she doesn't want getou to feed her, getou does not let reader eat unless he feeds them; forced feeding. forced bathing, smut; masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: happy mother's day to alpha suguru getou <3 this is the third and final part of this lil series for @lorelune 's spring fever collab! pls mind the warnings, i added some! i will be honest this part feels like a fever dream to myself lol...,.not beta read..,.i barely read it back bc im terrified of my own smut JFDKLSK enjoy LMAO but on a real note, thank you to everyone who has reached out and been so kind ab this fic! i hope you enjoy this last part! let me know your thoughts <33

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When Suguru first offers you food from his own hand, you push it away. He cooked it for you and you refuse it, turn your nose up at him and shut your mouth resolutely, feel your lips cage your teeth like a muzzle

“I’ll do it myself.” You tell him firmly.

But then he holds the food away from you.

You go nearly a day and a half, feverish and woozy, without eating.

You do not plan on conceding, but end up fainting not long after. Your body is under too much stress; you need sustenance. You need food and water.

So he begins to feed you as your lashes flutter and you are too weak to deny him this time.

It’s easier, when you can hardly keep your eyes open. His hands are impossibly gentle. You feel his fingers against your lips, careful, and loving.

When you’re feeling better, you glower at him.

He is rather pleased, though.

The next time he tries to feed you by hand, you turn and bite his hand, sink your teeth into the meat of it.

He laughs warmly, fondly.

“Feel better to get that out of your system?” He asks, when you finally pull away.

You don’t respond to him.

He grabs your face swiftly then, big hand fitting around your jaw and bearing down. This time, he holds you steady, and brings the slice of orange to your mouth.

You squirm, but he says, “I will not have you fainting again.”

“Let me feed myself then.” You manage to get out, but he holds you tighter, presses at your jaw to get it to unhinge.

The orange pops into your mouth.

“You’re insufferable.” You say around it, cheek puffed with the fruit.

Unfortunately, it’s good. Sweet. A little cool. Refreshing. You do want more.

“This doesn’t have to be so difficult.” He responds evenly, peeling away the next piece of the orange. It looks so small in his hands.

You swallow the piece in your mouth.

“You’re right,” you respond stubbornly, “it doesn’t.” You reach for the next piece but he holds it away from you.

Frustration overcomes you, chokes you like thorny vines strangling out the softer plants around them. Heat hits your face again and you have to wonder if you’ll ever get over it all. If he’ll ever stop making you feel this way.

Tears prick your eyes again.

You turn your face away from him. He sighs.

“It isn’t so bad,” he says softly, “if you’d just give in.”

You sniff. “I could say the same of you.”

“I’m trying to take care of you,” he says, “and at every turn, you are still trying to refuse it.”

“I don’t need—”

“But don’t you want it?” He asks gently, hand reaching out slowly, knuckles first, so they skim your cheek. “It’s okay to want.”

Stubbornly, you remain silent.

“You’ve been so alone, for so long, my little stray. It’s okay to be taken care of.” He consoles softly, voice just a rumble that warms to your ears.

“I’ll not think you any less strong, if you let me feed you now.” He promises, “if you let me care for you this week.”

You don’t know why, but a tear slips down your cheek. There’s a lump in your throat, hard and aching, and threatening your resolve.

He catches your tear with a thumb. “Poor thing, so torn up.”

You sniff hard, trying to hold everything in. It’s trembling and tender, though, your heart. The ache in your chest.

You don’t think you’ll win this one—

Your head is foggy and throbbing. You don’t even know what you’re winning or losing. Or what you’re fighting for, when he puts it that way.

You feel silly for denying him.

Perhaps worse for agreeing.

Finally, in a voice smaller than intended? you ask, “can I have another piece?”

Suguru studies you for a moment.

He lifts the curved bend of the orange up to your lips, testing. Waiting. It's a half moon curve, ripe and tempting.

You give in and part your lips, accept the crescent into your mouth like holding the moon on your tongue for him.

He presses it inside, on your tongue, and you accept the crescent like holding a soft, tangerine moon in your mouth for him. His fingers skim your teeth, placing a world there, on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he says, pleased and warm, when you close around the slice.

And then you obediently swallow it down—worldeater that you are, hungry dog that you are.

Another tear slips free as you chew it slowly. It’s tangy and sweet and lovely. You feel the well of emotions inside you open up, threatening to drag you down into its depths—you think if you start to cry now, you won’t ever stop.

Suguru dutifully peels off another piece of orange, making sure it’s free of rind or unwanted seeds.

When he lifts it to your mouth, you open readily for it now. Close your lips around his fingers gently, around the sweet orange.

With tears in your eyes, you look up at him, through wet lashes.

His scent has darkened, pungent and spicier. It lingers in the back of your mouth. It’s—it makes your head spin.

And there's a strange look in his eyes now.

Almost hungry himself, if you didn’t know better.

A cramp rolls through you, hips and lower back churning, and you whimper, reaching for him.

He takes hold of you easily.

“Hurts?” He muses softly.

You nod, tense and quick.

“Breathe,” he urges, shifting between your knees from where you’re sitting perched on his counter.

Instinctively, you cling to him.

You let yourself pull him closer, fit himself to you—

“Breathe,” he says again gently.

But you can feel him between your legs, you can feel his own desire, and it strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Like crashing to earth.

He’s hard and heat sweeps through you in a whirlwind, so fast it makes you feel dizzy. Your head spins as you sink your nails deep into him, bear down with your strength like a bad dog, like you could get him to stay.

Distantly, you think he’s such a strange, awful man.

Is he so turned on from feeding you? Or from the fight?

“Suguru,” you mewl, clinging to him desperately. And he holds you, keeps you close, until your hips twitch.

You seek friction and he denies you.

Frustratingly, tears spring to your eyes again.

“You’re so—“ you try to get out, “why are you also denying yourself?”

“Because I made you a promise.” Suguru responds evenly. He pauses, eyes flickering over you, a lightning flash of violet, “and, perhaps,” he squeezes your waist, “to teach you a lesson.”

A noise of frustration works its way out of you, a little growl or whine, somewhere in the back of your throat.

“Won’t you do anything to help me?” You get out, pawing at his shoulders, his chest.

“I’m feeding you,” he says, “I’m caring for you.”

And then he draws away, back to the orange, and your fingers grip the edge of the counter until pain presses into them. You have to force air into your lungs, try and make your head stop spinning.

The wooziness and the aching is perhaps the worst part. You feel out of your mind, wish you could crawl out of your body.

When Suguru returns, he has another piece of orange between his fingers.

You glare up at him with glassy eyes.

“Open,” he says, warm and low.

Pleased.

Turned on.

Your lips part and you accept the fruit and his fingers into your mouth. You let yourself close around them, feel his knuckles on the inside of your warm, wet cheek.

You’re slow about it, or maybe he is.

You hold his gaze furiously.

Maybe it was time you taught him a lesson, too. You bite down hard into the orange. It bursts in your mouth.

***

The third day is perhaps the worst.

You’re so hot and somehow both overstimulated and undertouched. Your skin crawls until Suguru touches you. You ache in a way that makes you fear for your own health; several times you start to cry—not just cry, but bawl—from the pain. From the frustration.

At one point, you beg Suguru to take you to the hospital. To help you. To save you.

You babble that you’re going to split apart. You’re going to lose your mind.

Like a colicky baby, you can’t calm down.

And this time, he can’t quite seem to soothe you, either.

You twist and turn and pull at your clothes and your hair. You dig your nails into your own skin and drag them down in vicious, curving marks.

You press and scratch at inflamed, painful scent glands.

Your jaw hurts strangely in the joints.

(You realize you want something in your mouth. Maybe you want it between your teeth.)

Suguru tries to hold your hands away from yourself, tries to keep you from tearing into your own skin, but it only worsens you. It only makes you fight harder and cry harder. You lash out more, using more force with yourself, with him.

When he snaps finally, pinning you roughly and with a flash of his sharper, greater canines, something inside of you howls.

All you can do is beg and plead and cry. Press up against him desperately. Sink your face into his throat and inhale and—

Bite.

Your teeth close around the skin of his throat and bear down harshly.

He inhales sharply, spine going rigid with the pain for a moment.

You taste his blood on your tongue and feel your eyes roll blissfully to the back of your head. Darkness as your lashes flutter shut. You whimper into his throat—

“Is that what you needed?” He hisses, slipping his hand behind you to cradle your head to him, to keep you at his throat, “you just needed to get your teeth into me?”

As if in response, you twine yourself around him, hitching your legs around his waist. Your arms winding around his broad shoulders, as if you could absorb him into your very body, your very soul.

“Too bad it won’t take, hm?” Suguru muses, unmoving, allowing himself to melt into your vice grip on him.

You make a soft noise; one that would be embarrassing if you didn’t—if you weren’t so—

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To Mark me properly?” He continues, voice bedroom soft, “you want to scar me with your own teeth?”

As if in response, you try and fasten your mouth down harder, grinder your teeth into his flesh until he groans. The sound reverberates through you, rattles around inside your head until you’re mindless with it.

When you finally manage to unlatch your teeth, he hisses and pulls away to grab your jaw.

“What a little beast,” he sneers at you, “with my blood all over your mouth.”

Something inside of you snaps.

Unintentionally, you shudder into your cursed form—teeth elongating, nails sharpening. Strength rips through your otherwise feeble, heat-laddled body. In a sudden move of power, you shove him hard, and throw him off you.

In an instant, you are back atop him.

This time, when your teeth sink into the juncture of his other shoulder, they are far longer.

He actually cries out in pain.

The sound sparks beneath your skin, roars to life like a sudden fire and when he tries to grab your jaw and pry you off him, your claws sink into his wrist.

You struggle with each other, using your cursed energy, using all the strength you have.

Blood drips down his chest, dampening the collar of his shirt.

He barks out a pained laugh, “you really are a curse.”

And then he is forcing you off of him, wrenching your teeth out of his skin in a brutal drag, shoving you away from him.

You hiss, baring your dripping fangs at him and he growls back. The sound low and primal. Warning bells ping around your head, but you lunge for him again.

This time, he isn’t so ill-prepared.

He grapples with you on the bed, shoving you down into it with his forearm bearing down hard into your chest.

You make a noise of pain but he doesn’t let up.

He’s panting and bleeding, his long hair slipping from its usual half-up appearance.

Something inside of you is quite pleased at the image of him.

Not so pristine.

Perhaps unsure, for once in all the time you’ve known him.

“Calm down.” He says low and soft. Part growl, part purr. “Your aggression is misguided.”

Your teeth are bared in a snarl, “you are my tormentor.”

“I am only respecting your wishes.” Suguru says and there is a horrible, smug lift to the corner of his lips. Maybe it’s more a threat of his teeth, which gleam in the lowlight. “I made you a promise and I’m keeping it.”

“Let me up,” you snap.

“Will you be good?” Suguru asks.

Your fever spikes, tears pricking again at your eyes, and you finally lose your transformation. It melts from you, until you are fangless and drained once more.

So drained, in fact, that your eyes gutter.

Suguru is off you in an instant. Air rushes into your lungs, the pressure from your chest lifting and he lets you heave for breath rough and hard.

You don’t catch him move, but suddenly a glass of water is brought to your lips. When you can breathe, you drink. You let him guide it to your lips. And this time, when you try to pull away, he stops you.

His hand cradles the back of your head, keeping your mouth to the glass.

“More,” he presses, “you’re weaker than you know.”

And for once, you don’t fight him.

You gulp down the rest of it, some of it slipping from your mouth, down your chin, rolling down your working throat. It’s cool but barely a balm to the oppressive heat inside of you.

When you finish, Suguru pulls the glass away. He sets it down and studies you.

He tsks softly, “you’re a mess.”

You take him in, though your eyes are growing heavy, all of that fighting took a lot out of you. It’s catching up with you quickly now.

But your eyes land on the bite marks you’ve littered him with. The one, specifically, that is still ringed and bleeding, dripping down his chest.

“So are you.” You reply, words slurring.

You don’t catch what he says next, muffled, as you fade from consciousness. Darkness sweeps in to cradle you, much the way Suguru is now, and you fall into a restless sleep.

***

Suguru wakes you at some point.

It’s pitch black outside the window; there is very little light in the room at all, which adds to your confusion. Your head is throbbing.

You whimper.

“Sit up for me,” his voice is a hush, “can you do that?”

“Let me sleep,” you reply, pushing weakly at him as he forces you up. Everything swims. Your head lolls like a doll and he catches it so you don’t give yourself whiplash.

“You’re burning up,” he replies, “I need to get the fever down.”

You don’t have the wherewithal to understand this.

For a moment, you hope that he means—

“I’m going to give you a bath.”

You make another noise, this one in disagreement. Fussy.

He tuts softly at you, the way mothers do at bad children, and then he disappears, allowing you to fall back against the bed once more.

You’re not sure for how long, but you doze off again, unable to keep your eyes open. You only awake when Suguru lifts you clear from the bed and into his arms. Again, you make a noise of protest, pushing weakly at him, but he pays you no mind.

You open your eyes and wince against the bathroom light.

The bath is running, filling with water. You frown and squirm in his hold, just as he gently sets you on the floor beside the tub.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he murmurs and you push his hands away.

“No,” you snap, “leave.”

He sighs, “you can hardly sit up right now. I don’t trust you in the bath alone.”

“I’m not a child,” you protest.

“No, but you’re experiencing a compounded Heat, after years of not having one and you don’t have a knot to soothe you.” Suguru’s voice is cool. His eyes are, too.

You level him with the best glare you can manage, “and whose fault is that?”

“I’m only keeping my promise.” He almost sings.

You swat at him but he catches your wrist easily and pulls you up further as you begin to slouch further and further down against the edge of the tub. “Come,” he says, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

This time, when he reaches to remove your shirt, you only grumble in protest. He peels it from you carefully, revealing bare skin. Despite how hot you are, you shiver hard.

You ache.

This is the worst fever you’ve ever had. Perhaps, this is one of the worst you’ve felt ever.

You can hardly move enough to allow Suguru to slip your bottoms off and you feel so miserable that you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed or frustrated or angry.

Tears bead at your eyes again but it’s purely because you are in so much pain.

Suguru lifts you into the bath.

It’s lukewarm. Tufts of bubbles smell like lavender. The water is milky and gentle.

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started to cry again, reaching out for Suguru. You realize he’s cleaned and bandaged his bite mark. He also coos to you, rolling up his sleeves to reach you in the water, stroking at your throat, your cheek.

And then he takes a wash cloth in hand and begins to do the same. He bathes you with a strange gentleness. A gentleness you have not given him. Your tears continue, tracking down your face, which he dutifully washes, too. He wipes away your tears, any sweat and grime, until you feel shining and new.

Eventually, you rest your arms on the lip of the bathtub, folded, and lay your cheek against them. You’re exhausted and still hurting, but at least quiet for now. At least you are cleaned and—

Suguru strokes at your cheek, traces the curve and folds of your ear, gently strokes through your hair.

“Poor thing,” Suguru murmurs, knuckles drawing across your jaw, down your throat. When he passes along your scent gland, you shiver, you wince a little.

“Hurts,” you get out and he coos more to you.

Babying you.

And you don’t have the strength to deny him any longer, so you let yourself be babied. You whimper at him and let him try to soothe you, you let him quiet and pet you.

You’re looking at each other rather frankly, through the haze of your Heat, through all the lust or aggression or fear. In a rare moment of peace, you gaze up at his face and he looks down into yours.

“Do you hate me?” You ask and your voice is rather raw from all the crying, “is that why you’ve led me here?”

A strangely fond smile touches his lips, “on the contrary,” Suguru replies, fingers careful along your cheek, “I adore you.”

“You have such a strange way of showing it.” You tell him.

“I’m only keeping my promise,” he says again and all you have in you is a deep, dejected sigh.

“I’m going to make you pay for this, Suguru.” And though your tone is docile, even sleepy, it is a promise.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.” He agrees, touch growing stronger, bolder, as he pets down your throat, your shoulder. You lean into the touch like a cat, too exhausted to deny it. “And I’ll still be here after—your ire or punishment will not scare me away.”

You look at him for a moment, long and hard, and only find the truth there. Something strangely raw.

After a moment, you say, “I know.”

He hums softly, leaning forward to give your burning forehead a rare and gentle kiss, “do your worst, then.”

You pick your head up barely, tilt your face to his and catch him in a sudden, burning kiss.

You pull away as quickly as you’d done it.

You can tell you’ve surprised him only momentarily, it passes over his features like a bird flickering through the sky, there and gone.

And you say, “no,” soft, and against his lips, “I’ll do my best this time.”

He pulls away, creating carefully controlled distance. “Come,” he says, urging you up and out of the bath, “let’s get you to bed.”

“Carry me?” You ask as he bundles you into a soft towel. “Let me wear your shirt?”

His eyes glint violet, dark and quick, but he says, “of course.” And indulges you.

He even holds you all night and lets you sleep in late.

The fever only worsens.

And you can’t tell if your resolve crumbles or strengthens; but either way, you’re born anew with the sun the next day.

***

Suguru woke up before you. He let you sleep in. But now you're awake and waiting for him. When Suguru returns to wake you in the early afternoon, instead of sleeping, you are half-lidded and sun-warmed, laying in his sheets still. The fever has reached a pitch inside you. You’re sure it’s done irreparable damage to your mind and psyche because of how you find yourself.

Because of how Suguru finds you.

The shirt of his you’d worn to bed is pushed up to your chin, revealing your bare chest, your stomach, flexing and twitching, with your legs spread. Your fingers between them, working messily against yourself, against where you’ve needed since your Heat began.

For once, you have shocked Suguru.

Enough that his lips part.

Just a flash, a ripple of his features, before he smooths them out quickly. Effortlessly. But it is enough to spur you on regardless, to feel just slightly triumphant.

You keen softly, arching your back, pushing your fingers gently through silken folds.

“Suguru,” you mewl his name, all soft and broken, arching your hips into your own touch desperately. Beyond your desire for revenge, is simply your desire, the need to feel full, to feel pleasure like this. And you reasoned with yourself, all night, and all morning, that you’d win regardless; either you’d wrestle his tightly held control from his grasp, and get what you so desperately want from him, or you’d still get to touch yourself and find some brief moment of reprieve.

Beyond either of those two things, you could not think. They ran around your mind like wild, starved dogs hunting down the possibility of a rabbit.

(Or are you the rabbit? Running around and around your mind, trying to escape the bite? Or are you looking for it?)

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks and for a moment, he doesn’t dare step closer to you or the bed.

You push a finger inside yourself, it goes in easy—so slick and easy—that the next pass, you add a second and gasp.

What are you doing? You feel half out of your mind.

“Can’t help it—” you get out, “it hurts so bad. It’s—I’m so—”

You watch a muscle in his jaw feather and tick. His scent is—

It hits you like a blow to the chest, the way he smells. It’s dark and spiced with warmth; tobacco and the oud in his scent has become heavier. You can almost taste it in the air.

“Suguru—“ you mewl again, pleading and cloying. You tilt your hips up towards your hand, towards him. You’re trying to entice him.

You can nearly hear the way his teeth grind together.

“You’re a brat,” he hisses but you can sense the way his control has slipped and thinned. You can nearly feel it fraying in his voice alone.

You practically purr, fingers pushing desperately inside yourself.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” you simper, “I’ve been so good letting you feed me and bathe me—I’m wearing the shirt you put me in, too.”

For a moment, you watch as his eyes slowly dip down the length of your body, to where your fingers are. You watch his expression flicker, the tilt of his eyebrows, the slight parting of his lips. You whimper, knowing he’s watching, and try to curl your fingers.

But they don’t reach as deep as his might—not thick enough, either, and the ache inside you grows monstrously.

Perhaps only soothed by the way, for once, you’ve rendered Suguru Getou rather speechless. You toss your head back and moan at the thought.

“Suguru—won’t you help me? Even a little?” You arch off the bed and catch his gaze when his eyes fly back up to your face.

“No,” he snaps quickly, “I promised you—“

“Then tell me what to do—talk to me.” You beg, “it hurts so bad, Suguru—“

The muscle in his jaw feathers again. But this time, he wades carefully into the room, stepping closer to the edge of the bed.

The moment he’s there, you adjust so he can see you better, move so your foot is just nearly touching his thigh at the end of the bed. And even that small potential for touch has you crying out again.

“I’m not sure I should, after the way you’ve been acting.” He says and though he’s trying for casualness, you can sense the tension lurking underneath.

“Touch yourself then,” you breathe, your own eyes drifting down to his sweatpants—to the noticeable bulge—

In a bold move, you place your foot on his lower abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes as your fingers gently push in and out, walls fluttering desperately around them.

He catches your ankle before you can move another inch. The way he squeezes you makes a thrill run through you, race up your spine, pool somewhere low and hot in the depths of you.

“Is this your way of trying to make me suffer?” He asks and despite everything, a hint of a smile flickers across your heated, panting face.

“Is it working?” You ask.

All he does is hum, thumb stroking along the bone of your ankle.

Even that is enough for pleasure to skitter and flare beneath your skin.

“Wanna see you,” you get out, breathy and soft, “wanna see what I’m missing.”

Suguru curses and you laugh, delirious and soft.

Pleasure blushes and surges beneath your skin.

“No,” he says again but he has to grind the word out, pull it and wrestle it from his own mouth. “You won’t get the better of me here.”

“Don’t you get tired of your tightly wound control?” You get out, twisting a little so that you might free your ankle from his grasp, but he holds firm.

“I should be asking the same of you—but clearly,” his eyes flicker again, “you do.”

“Need you so bad—“ you get out, almost pouting.

You can nearly hear his teeth grind together. He inhales sharply, as if to try and steady himself, but you can tell it only worsens him. Your scent must be thick in the air, sweetened and cloying.

Your fingers slip messily, desperately, over your clit, down inside of yourself and back out. You whine, a little frustrated, trying again and again to satiate the ache inside of you. But anything you do, isn’t enough.

It almost feels as if it’s made it worse.

“Poor thing,” Suguru finally says and you realize, he’s regained some of his composure, “look what you’ve done to yourself.”

You curse this time.

But you press on, unwilling to give up your win yet, “you’ve also done this—because you wanted the upper hand so bad.” You press inside yourself, hips lifting towards your fingers, “you didn’t have to take the suppressants.”

His brow flickers up, “I did it for you.”

“Did you?” You gasp, adding a second finger.

He swallows, eyes falling to the apex of your thighs, watching, as you fitfully try to pleasure yourself.

“You didn’t have to—you could’ve let me trigger your Rut. Then we both would’ve been like this—” your voice hitches, “then you would’ve gotten what you wanted sooner and you could’ve feigned innocence.”

“You didn’t want that,” he says, watching you carefully, “who's to say you won’t come out of this Heat and resist me again?”

“I won’t,” you breathe, “I did—” you mewl, hips arching and falling, trying so hard, working yourself up so horribly.

You bite off a groan.

Suguru clicks his tongue, makes a soft, disapproving noise. “And now look at you,” his hand slides along your calf, so large, and—

“Don’t even know how to properly touch yourself.”

“Suguru—”

Suddenly, he tugs you gently, so you’re down at the edge of the bed, your legs on either side of his thighs as he stands above you.

He leans down slightly and you sit up, towards him, hoping, desperate—

“Such a terrible, little Omega. Do you need me to teach you this, too? Do you need me to help you?”

You cry out, kitten soft, as needy and tender as a child.

“Please,” you beg, “please, I need you—”

His hand traces up the outside of your calf, up to your thigh and you squirm, hope fluttering, heart racing—

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, “or I won’t help you.”

“Suguru,” you growl in frustration.

“Ah, ah, I thought you were being good?”

Your head spins—you have no idea how he managed to flip it on you so sharply, but suddenly he has, and suddenly you're nearly underneath him, and he’s leaning over you and watching so intensely—so—

You try to go still for him. Your chest is heaving.

“That’s it,” he murmurs and his hand slowly arcs over the bend of your hip, and towards your stomach. Your hips twitch and he stills, “careful—” he warns.

You force yourself to freeze, still panting.

And then he lays the broadness of his hand on your lower stomach, his thumb just barely brushing your mound.

“This is as far as I’ll go,” he says and with the way you almost fall into a frustrated groan, he seizes your chin with his other hand, “I’ll not touch you sexually. This is all I’ll give you—be grateful for even this.”

You sneer at him and he takes his hand away.

Instantly, you miss the warmth, the pressure, the—

“Be good, or I’ll leave the room now and let you suffer even worse than before—see what you’ve done to yourself? Worked yourself up so horribly, and all for what?” Suguru’s voice is soft and smooth and so, horribly in control again. When did he get it back? When did he take it from you?

“My attention? The hopes that I’d give in?” He asks.

When you don’t respond, he squeezes your face, prompting you, “answer me, pet.”

“Yes—I want your attention. I want—” the words break over you like a wave, the realization like a blow. You want.

You desire.

You want him. You want an Alpha and not just any Alpha but Suguru, despite everything, maybe because of everything. Maybe because you made him chase, and he did. Maybe because you have run your whole life from this—this attention and this desire and this intimacy—and you have finally found someone willing to hunt you down like a fox, and in the face of your gnashing teeth and growling and yipping, to treat you gently. Like you’re a beloved house pet and not a snarling, wild beast.

“I want you,” you say honestly and his hold slackens on your cheeks to let you speak, “I hate you and I want you and—there’s no one but you—it’s only you and you’re awful but I am, too, and I need—”

It cracks out of you, voice raw, a half-sob.

Your tears make him smile.

He hushes you gently, “oh, sweet girl,” he soothes, and his other hand slowly returns to its place on your trembling, lower stomach, “you’re so torn up about this. How much grief have you given yourself? Hm? Just for wanting?”

You heave, unable to respond, suddenly reaching with your free hand for him, pulling on his shirt, closer to you.

He gives in and goes, lets you claw at his back and bury your face in his shoulder. He finally lets go of your face, in favor of letting you fall to pieces beneath him. His knee dips on the mattress. But he holds himself above you still.

“I’ll guide you now,” he murmurs and his voice is by your ear. He turns his nose to nudge against your temple, inhaling slowly.

You can feel the rumble of a groan through him that he holds back, a soft growl.

And then, “look at me.”

You sniffle and with a great deal of reluctance, you pull your face away from the safety of his shoulder to find his gaze. Midnight violet. Depthless.

“Hate me all you want,” he says, “but I adore you—no matter how you are. Willing and pliant, or vicious and biting. I’ll always adore you. And I’ll always do what’s best for you.”

Something inside of you cleaves open. Fractures in a way that is irreparable.

You want to say something but you don’t know what, you have something so tremendous and terrifying inside of you, because of him—all you can get out is a soft cry.

“Now,” he continues, eyes flickering over your body, and his thumb gently strokes over your lower stomach. “You feel empty, don’t you?”

A whimper eeks out of you. You nod slowly. Empty and torn apart and open and aching.

“Use three fingers, not two.” He commands gently, “you want something bigger, hm? I’m sure it hurts so badly—you’re so wet.”

Without thinking, you obey him.

You press three fingers carefully inside of you and it’s the first stretch you’ve gotten, the first spark of relief.

You cry out, clinging to him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “in and out for me.”

You tilt your hips up into his hand, towards your fingers, and he doesn’t scold you. The pressure on your lower stomach makes pleasure bloom and strengthen there. For a moment, it’s just the soft, slick noises of yourself, and it’s so—

Embarrassing. So horrible.

You must look out of your depth, you must look lost or terrified, because he finally speaks again, “curl your fingers for me, darling.”

You do just that and moan the moment you press deeper inside yourself.

“Good girl,” he praises, “does that feel better? Answer me.”

“Yes—yeah.” You get out, crooking your fingers inside yourself. “I still want—”

“More?” He murmurs, pressing his hand gently against your lower stomach, “this time, you have to make do with just this.”

You bite back your whine or complaint, head hazy—fingers moving desperately. But you don’t complain, you don’t fuss.

He smiles when he realizes how you’ve caught yourself, “oh, look at that,” he purrs, “you can be tamed after all.”

And before you can ruin it for yourself, Suguru sweeps his thumb just barely over your mound again, and says, “rock your hips now, gentle.”

The moment you do, the friction against your palm makes you moan, head falling back, baring your throat.

Perhaps without thinking, he dips forward, nose tracing over the cure of your neck, following instinct. You make another soft noise, and in your haze, wish desperately that he would just bite down—

All you get is the brief skim of his warm, soft lips. No teeth and you miss them, achingly.

He presses his hand down just a little more and—

Pleasure bursts beneath your skin with enough force that your back bows off the bed, mouth parted.

You sob.

You feel your walls flutter uselessly around your fingers, feel your body desperate for something you can’t have this time, and fall apart.

Suguru is there to catch you.

He coos to you, soft and easy, and even kisses at your damp, tear-struck cheeks. He lets you arch and twist and chase your pleasure, lets you be wanton and shameless and desperate. He lets you claw him and bite him and cry into his shoulder.

And when you begin to quiet, he suddenly hitches your legs around his waist and lifts you clear from the bed. You lope your arms weakly around his neck and bury your face into his throat.

You don’t protest or fight him, you are grateful and eager for all the places you touch, feeling incredibly fragile in his broad arms.

You don’t bother to look where he’s taking you—can’t find it in yourself to care, if you can feel him against your center, feel where he’s hard and aching himself, even with the suppressants—

But between one breath and the next, you’re in the bathtub again, and the water from the shower blasts on from above.

Ice cold water pours on you.

You shriek and Suguru has the nerve to laugh, which makes you lunge for him, yanking him towards the spray of water.

It soaks his shirt, his hair, as he holds himself over you, before stepping carefully into the tub to join you.

He sits with you, beneath the cold water, and pushes his hair out of his face as you clamber into his lap.

You pull at his wet shirt and he lets you take it off of him, throw it over the side of the tub in a heap.

He reaches to do the same to you, ridding you of the only article of clothing you’d had on.

You grit your teeth, “does it have to be so cold?” You ask, feeling the spray now rain against your back, your shoulders. You lean away from it, into his arms.

“You needed this.” He says fondly. And then, as he strokes your wet hair, “I did, too.”

“You’re an awful man,” you curse him, shivering.

“I know,” he agrees with a soft, fond smile.

You look at him, hair inky and dark, lashes damp against his cheek, and the pleased way he smiles. Like an insufferable, giant cat. You’re aching and furious and freezing and so—so tender.

“I hate you,” you tell him but it sounds more like a confession, soft around the edges.

He kisses your temple, lingers there, and you can feel the curve of his smile. You can hear it color his voice;

“I know.”

***

Something shifts between the two of you after that. And the following day, your Heat finally begins to wane slightly.

You try to touch yourself again and Suguru forbids it this time. You fight and snarl with him, but you let him hold you and lull you to sleep. You let him feed you. And bathe you. You sleep bare against his naked chest and are soothed by it the way a fussy baby is calmed by the bare skin of their mother.

You feel infinitely closer to him.

You lounge with him in bed, in his living room, hanging off him all that you can.

He indulges this behavior, encourages it, even.

And on the eighth day, your Heat finally breaks.

When you wake, still curled on his chest, with his hands stroking tenderly over your bare back, he asks, “how do you feel?”

“Sane, I think.” You murmur it into his chest.

“Your Heat broke in the night.” He says and touches your head, your forehead, like he’s taking your temperature. “You’re still a little warmer, but it’s over now, I think.”

Slowly, you pick yourself up to look at him. To hover over him.

He looks up at you, too, uncertain. Waiting. You’re sure he’s waiting to see if you’ll return to your usual self, if you’ll snap or snarl or chew him out—will you storm out? Or seethe? Will you fight him still, after everything, even as he holds you in his arms now?

“Thank you for respecting my wishes,” you say instead and lean down to suddenly press your lips to his.

You feel his surprise, the way his lips part, the way he freezes and you sink down into it. For a moment, you worry he won’t reciprocate again.

But then, his hand comes up to cradle your face, and he nudges into the kiss. Hungry. Deep.

You give into him, you encourage him, coaxing him with soft tongue and eager mouth.

When you pull away, you grab his face this time, the way he always grabs yours, squeezing his lips into a little pout, “but if you ever make me suffer like that again through a Heat,” your nails dig into his cheek, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

He laughs, canines flashing, and surges forward to kiss you again. Harder. Meaner.

It’s all teeth and heat, a little vicious, the way you are. He wrestles you beneath him, kisses you into the mattress. And when he pulls away, he says;

“If you ever make me suffer like that again, you’ll wish you’d killed me first.”

You feel your own smile against his neck, against one of the ridges of your own bite mark, and with all the satisfaction in the world, you sink your teeth down into it again.

It’s like a key coming up against a lock, fitting snugly to their own indents, and finding their own, well-worn place.

It’s like finally coming home.

#suguru getou x reader #getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x you #getou x you #getou suguru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #cw: omegaverse #cielo's writing!#cielo writes!

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pinkpigtailsprincess · 5 months

Text

Little Miss Spoiled!👛🧁

Some Supreme Cutee Princess affirmations bc ur literally a princess!! 💗

🎀 - I am immensely pampered by any and everyone that steps foot into my life because thats just the way it is!!

⭐️ - People hate seeing my have to work because if were being honest it’s my birth right to be spoiled and sheltered !

🧁- Im the Prettiest,cutest,softest,most spoiled princess ever!

🛍️ - Not only do i receive princess treatment from those around me but by myself as well im always treating myself to the cutest and most beautiful gifts ever!!

👛 - Its principal that i receive any and everything that i’ve ever wanted no questions asked , some may say i get on their nerves because i run up phone bills,debit cards etc. but it’s not my fault that i deserve the best in life

🍰 - Theres only One Perfect person its me!!

🫧 - I appreciate everything more with diamonds that’s just my purgative!!

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boatboysrowout · 1 year

Text

my dear friend is distressed about the lack of martyn fics so although i am not clever enough to write martyn inthelittlewood i can offer you some situations i propose he be put in:

- overworked volunteer at an animal shelter. his favorite animal is a giant german shepherd named ren who never leaves him alone. his least favorite animal is a bird named grian who does nothing but imitate human screams and bite.

- amateur comedian. he does stand up every tuesday night and the instant he gets heckled he gets super defensive and starts saying shit like ‘you people don’t understand true comedy’ and ‘you’re just jealous you’re not on my level’ and ‘ren said i’m hilarious screw all of you’

- firefighter. he spends 90% of his shifts chasing down and extinguishing a very handsome man who has the unfortunate habit of setting himself on fire to prove his passion. no one asks him to do this. martyn is very distressed by this. etho and bdubs think it is hysterical that martyn hasnt noticed this only ever happens while he’s on duty.

- renaissance fair employee. i think its obvious where im going with this so instead of the obvious he gets way too into the roleplay and almost commits first degree murder bc someone cut in front of ren in line to get a funnel cake ill talk instead about how there’s a pirate themed booth for some reason at the renaissance fair and martyn hates it bc of the historical inaccuracy and also bc he is convinced joel and etho set his and ren’s tent on fire on purpose.

- burger king employee. there is a mcdonalds across the street and they hate each other’s guts. one day grian breaks in while scar is distracting ren and martyn and smashes their ice cream machine with a baseball bat bc martyn made one too many jokes about their ice cream machine always being broken. martyn’s manager ren takes this personally, dubs himself the burger king, puts on the shitty cardboard crown and declares war on the mcdonalds. by the end of the week every single employee of the burger king and the mcdonalds have been fired and their story is featured on national news.

update: that last one is now written. you’re welcome/i’m so sorry

#lew this is just for you <3 #to other martyn enjoyers i hope i did him justice #im just incapable of writing anything serious so for angsty martyn fics youll have to go to lew #i've actually done a shit ton of worldbuilding for the mcdonalds v burger king third life au #but that is a post for another day #inthelittlewood #renthedog #cat.txt

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opal-owl-flight · 2 months

Note

Can you please tell us more about Neo4. What's their background.

“I need your help.”

Thing is -- I dont exactly own that character! Hes owned by @pastille-pain ... I asked them abt his deets, so here it is under the readmore!

His recruitment by 3 is also under the readmore :) (+more notes abt pre-sploon3)

(From my pal)

My Precious Soy Sauz

Aka croissant

Where he comes from is inkopolis

Lived there his whole life actually. A very sheltered kid due to being raised by grandparents that were in Octaria at one point. So they wanted to make sure nothing really happened to him

An only child but he had his cousin (Nakji, Takoyaki) of the three, he'd be the middle child with Nakji and the youngest.

He's got two friends (three if we count malachite -- the smallfrt) outside of the platoon. Dulce, and (unfortunately) Scara

He dating Melon (oc of mine), we know this

Kinda funny it started as her just battling with him cause he was good but then it turned something more

His time before the platoon was mostly

"Hey are you related to that Sauz idol?" Or "hey, you related to that Sauz wrestler?" It got annoying very quickly so he started introducing himself as croissant and nothing else

Aside from that, if he wasn't turfing he was at home reading or watching shows. Guys a very boring person

He's a pretty big OTH fan...

All this above is still the same even while being apart of the platoon minus the constant questions about his relatives and adding college into the mix

He can do some really cool shit when he's focused (like absolutely demolish competition in turf) but he's also easily distracted so I think you can imagine how that goes

His stress relief is shopping (mostly window shopping, very rarely does he actually buy anything)

He never gets too mad but we know the face if he does

Fun fact, you will never catch this man in pants

Short and anything else

Not pants

The only time he's ever seen wearing pants is in his agent gear and that's cause it's what was given to him.

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

Heres a bonus too, of 3s recruitment of him!

It was a turfing match, and theyve been watching the krak-on user the whole round. They took note of how he responded to stress, to bad calls, and how he acted on his own following calls he had judged as bad. Once it was over, they followed the team into the lobby.

They stand tall against the doorframe theyre leaning against, presence as cold and as commanding as ever.

(Nevermind that Croissant is taller AND older than them, that squid is intimidating as FUCK)

A whistle, calling the team over.

"|May I have a word?|" they sign, "|Ive been watching your team turf for the last few rounds.|"

Scara, the team captain, spits a "Who the FUCK are you."

3s eyebrows raise in surprise. But they should expect it... casual turfers dont usually know their name.

They went to the smaller leagues for a reason. If something happened to a big name in the scene, and its found that they had something to do with it-

No. No. They mentally shake their head. They are NOT picking this person because they are going to be fucking canon fodder.

"|Who I am is not important. Not much, anyway.

I am... interested in one of your teammates.|"

a nod towards Croissant. "|As a krak-on user myself, his performance has impressed me.|"

"Has he now. You seen our losses?? Are you making fun of us??"

"I can train my team perfectly, all by myself. Get lost."

They give a cold stare back. "|Im sure that has worked very well for you thus far.|"

The captain didnt seem to want to back down. 3 continues, ear twitching.

"|This request was not aimed towards you, anyway. Im asking him.|"

"BUT-"

"|I want to hear HIS answer.|"

A test. 3 saw that Scara was pushing him around and the only reason they won the match was bc Croissant decided to go his own way. Will he go his own way now?

"Well I know he'll choose to stick with me-"

"Oh I'd love to train with you I like helping others :D"

"You weren't supposed to say that."

3 nods. "|It begins now. Come. We have much to discuss. And as for you.|"

They clack their beak. "|Captain to captain. You need to listen to your teammates more.|"

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

Once they are in a more private space...

"|Training is only one part of the deal.

I apologize for not being upfront. This is a matter of national security, and I cannot mention much about it beyond base.|"

I suppose Croissant hasnt heard...or at least, isnt into much of the so-called Hero of Inkadia thats plastered everywhere in Inkopolis? If he was, hed at least start thinking of all that being like... "wait all that media was based on something real???"

(3 mentioning national security and a base may also inspire thoughts of "wow this squid's a fucking nerd...")

"|You are free to reject my request if you feel unfit for the task at hand. But where are my manners? I have yet to formally introduce myself.

Topside, I am known as FOR3VRFRSH. Here, I am the Captain of the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

I suppose youve heard of such a force...? No?|

Mm.

|Just know that we keep Inkadia more or less safe from nation-destroying threats.|"

He accepts the offer... but he also wasn't thinking too hard on it cause he saw an opportunity to step away from Scara and took it immediately.

3 nods, beckoning him towards the sewer line. As they walked backwards into base, they signed to him. "|From this point onwards, you will be referred to as Agent...Four.|"

Theres a very slight waver of their hand as they signed the number.

"|You show much promise, from what Ive observed in turf. Dont disappoint me.|"

"The only person I disappoint is that guy, but he's just very critical-"*

Theres a glint in 3s eye, a look of amusement... "|...Overly critical is putting it lightly.|"

"I promise to do my best still."

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

3 introduces him as the new Agent 4 and I feel Marie just scrunches her nose a bit. Then sees the look in 3s eye...

To the folks from the regions around 3s home (Callie, Marie, Cuttlefish), theyre not subtle about missing her.

#splatoon #splatoon fanart #agent 3 #captain 3 #splatoon oc #opal owl’s nest

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for ignoring a dog?

title sounds bad but idk how to phrase it. I (25f) live in the sticks, middle of nowhere. like twenty minutes from a gas station, dirt road off a dirt road. my community is VERY small, so I know almost everyone and their dogs/cats.

I knocked doors (think Get Out the Vote type stuff) for work for years. I love that kind of work, I am so excited to eventually get back to it. but an unfortunate side effect has been that I am scared of dogs that I don't know. most dog owners ime don't train them. even when the dogs are friendly, I am worried w them bc I am disabled and getting knocked down can seriously injure me more easily than most. I still love dogs IF I know them, and actually have one myself.

i was on my way home from work and saw this very fancy, purebred dog in a field. it was a larger dog, one of the kinds where they crop the tail and ears (I think it's mean to do this but irrelevant). I'd never seen it before, my community is poor and idk anyone who even has the money for a dog like that, and I'd have remembered if I'd seen it before bc it's so strange for here. It had a collar, and was in a big field miles away from any houses without anyone around. so it was clearly lost, and probs belongs to someone's family member/friend from a big city.

I kept driving. I wanted to stop for it, bc it's clearly someone's dog, not from the area, and probably not aware of country life. cars go by fast on the paved roads, there's bears, coyotes, wolves, ticks, etc. and it's a very northern place so it's still cold enough to where I have a timer going when I let my dog out so her paws don't freeze.

I didn't stop bc 1.) idk this dog, so I was nervous about it, 2.) if I did stop and it wasn't aggressive towards me, how would I know it wouldn't be towards my dog or my cats? 3.) we don't have shelters here just bc the community is so small so idk what I'd do w it if I couldn't find the owners and I really can't take in another animal atm- financially, food would be fine but I wouldn't be able to cover an extra vet bill if something awful happened, and don't have the time to re-home an animal responsibly and 4.) I'm gonna be honest, it was Friday, the work week was really long, it was cold, and I was having a rough day and ready to get home and relax.

I feel like an asshole bc I always stop and pick up my neighbors dogs when they get out bc there's so much dangerous shit here, between wildlife, cars and the cold.

#aita #am i the asshole

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years

Note

HELLO IT IS I AGAIN (Razor's mom /real)

So you know those imposters aus where characters chase the reader for being an 'impersonator'?

What if... It's a continuation from my ask (where we meet Razor first before everyone), and Razor is just confused at the patrolling knights near Wolvendom constantly asking him if he have saw 'the impostor'

Tbh he just shakes his head. Who tf is the impostor????? Wtf is an impostor???????

Many question marks later..

He had encountered an epiphany (not really it's just the Springvale ppl talking about someone copying the creator's looks).

The 'Impostor' they have been searching is you.

But you're not an impostor! Razor knows it! Andrius knows it! And with how the nature and the monster responded to you, Teyvat knows it too!

So like the good son he is, he sheltered you even more severely.

Ur not allowed to go out of his sights at this point (he'll still take you to places with many lampgrasses if you still wanna make a crown w it)

And my imagination ends there, do you think there's something else he'd do?

Ty for answering my last request btw, ur the best and I hope you get your favorite characters w one 10 pull and your desired artifacts w the best stats <3

Much love and sweets

-Razor's mom

RAZOR'S MOM!! HELLO aw im so glad u liked it :)

Srry about the late reply! 💜💜💜

Ok, so I think this is a good time to point to my shiny

Writing Requests/About Me Post I have pinned on my 👉 blog!!👈💅 taaa daaaa :) i did it guys here ya go

Yall have been GREAT so far abt keeping the requests chill and fun, and i dont have that many "Donts" that arent obvious (homophobia, transphobia, ableism,etc)

♡

Dont worry Razor Mom, i just wanted to use this as a way to talk about this!! /nm /gen

♡

About Imposter AU, there are plenty of other blogs/posts that write for that or posts under SAGAU tag! :)

I said wayyy earlier on in some of my first asks, but basically I really want to lighten up the Genshin SAGAU / Isekai tag and branch out from all these darker Imposter AUs :)

And also add more world-building posts or AUs <3

(language brainrot for example)!!

◇

TL;DR: I am not accepting hunting down/yandere/cult au/imposter au Genshin Sagau, only a funny or chill version of it.

Please check my writing rules post :)

Example: u look like Creator, but everybody's like, "oh lucky them wow rlly blessed, have a free drink, etc.

OR omfg where r they?? They descended to Teyvat oh fuck we lost our god-"

♡

Heres the Razor post !!!

If u wanna check it out :]

Cracks knuckles, Saddle up Baby, bc its time for my version of the Imposter AU 🤭😋😈

(and sorry for answering super late/possible scare Razor mom anon!! :'/ )

♡

So it begins rlly small right?

Like, Razor does not know the new knight patroling Wolvendom's borders

,, weird but ok, he thinks basically

And then when it was time to visit some domains a little closer to Springvale for grinding

(Or rlly just to get some of their tiny restaurants homemade food yumm)

He notices more Favonius knights lurking around than usual

Or at least widening their patrols

And hes like wtf?

Ur like, huh.

I'll ask Springvale ppl wtf goin on

The locals respond that the search for the Great Creator has begun.

...

...you and Razor: 👁👄👁 w h o m s t ❔️

◇

Upon further questioning

(which was apparantly weird that yall didnt know, but eh, u just used the whole "feral wolf child with feral blacksmith parent living in woods ignorance" excuse)

Admittedly yall, quite literally, live under a rock lmao

They explain theres a whole ass prophecy

Abt how the Great Architect would succumb to a long slumber somewhere else in the vast universe after making the planet.

And when the time is right, they will reconnect to Teyvat, and awaken, and descend in a mortal form

(like the archons)

◇

..but the kicker is nobody knows wtf they look like bc:

1. All that lore is hella crumbly and old, and very hard to translate

2. Mortal forms sometimes look different than god forms, so even if they did know some defining features of the Creator, that wasnt guaranteed to be them...

◇

(i.e. they will have brown eyes, well. Thats a fuckton of ppl with brown eyes innit? 💀)

♤

So thru certain signs, that this mysterious prophecy wooooo

Said would happen, the nations of Teyvat and their many supernatural inhabitants are aware the ultimate god has descended

(The crops flourished? Animals got more wily, many of the sick ppl got better for no reason, the Irminsul started regrowing/filling out its base- like how it looked like a lightning struck tree rn 💀)

So every country are now trying to find them to be the first to welcome them home

Needless to say its lowkey a competition

◇

Meanwhile you and Razor are just:

... (゜▽゜;)

"Haha yeah cool..."

(Andrius already told u what u r to Teyvat and explained to Razor)

Ur both immediately slapping a cloak on u and keeping the hood up all the time

Yall dont wanna be seperated :(

Ur both paranoid for diff reasons,

Razor's just scared his Lupical is going to be taken from him again bc there r better, more refined humans wanting to be ur Lupical ;-;

And ur like-

Omfg that sounds like sm work 💀

While its nice to daydream abt what itd be like to be famous, realistically,

U could not handle that shit.

People crowding you all the time?

U cant just look busted anywhere u go, like a midnight snack run

Ppl would also expect u be,

Responsible??

To act like a competent ruler maybe???

Hell no.

U just wanted to play a pretty gacha game and spoil ur skrunklies

(At least, if they do wanna call u that, they dont make u do anything political 💀 but u doubt it)

◇

Needless to say, Razor is glued to ur side everywhere u go.

A domain a half mile away? Oh he'll come with dw

Ur gonna go stop by that food merchant further up the road for ingredients? Cool he'll sniff the best ones!

Ur going to see Andrius??

Oh he needed to see him too-

😭😭🥺🥺 poor babe

♧

Surprisingly enough,

Or maybe not his house is right tf there

Diluc is the first person to actually recognize you.

Razor had been subtly steering u away from Mondstadt for 3 weeks now, ever since yall talked to the Springvale locals

An u cant say u didnt notice, but u werent rlly stopping him

You wanted to be like Venti, chillin among the ppl regardless of ur powers, not the Raiden Shogun :/

And maybe shock some ppl who dont know ur a god like him too lol

◇

Diluc had been looking around the lesser patroled areas of Mondstadt to search for the Architect

He didn't even need those incompetent knights to tell him their god had finally descended

He already saw the signs long before Mondstadt

Bc youve been in Wolvendom, the area has flourished over time, more fish in the water, more game to hunt and bigger, crows making circles in the sky despite there being no corpse

And one of the closest places to you,

Is the Dawn Winery.

Diluc's security against Venti began to hold up better, the staff didn't have to clean as much things like dirt or weather damage to the manor,

His hawk had never been faster delivering his letters, he almost thought the little guy had been drugged with something

◇

He patroled Stormterror's Lair, and deep in the woods surrounding the manor that the knights hadn't bother to go into

Afterall, he figured you'd never had a mortal form before, so u were unlikely to fend for urself for very long in the woods lol

so he wanted to find u quick (aww softy :')

He even made a trip out to the Thousand Wind Temple and Dragonspine (he did report that one to the knights, he didn't want Amber, Bennett, or Creator-forbid Klee, being the few pyro users to have to explore it)

Finally, after doing the further away locations, siginificant in history and rich with leftover magic

Diluc figured that's where you might land first, so he saved Wolvendom for last

It would at least let him check on that wolf kid and maybe get to talk to him long enough to ask him if he's seen anything unusual.

The lord of Dawn Winery manor heads into the Wolvendom woods, just as sunset colors the trees...

◇

It was a Friday evening, the sun was setting, the weather was pleasant and it was time for all of the Lupical to come together and eat a big feast!! :)

About once a month, Andrius will come out for a few nights and dine with all of yall

Hes an old wolf give him a break, he takes long naps

So u cook lots of Mondstadt favorites to eat on and a few Liyue dishes too

Razor, ur favorite helper, has helped u finish the last dish and is now romping around with the puppies bless <3

U guys have dragged ur coffee table dining table setup out to sit and eat at

Andrius lets out a not too loud, not too quiet howl, and as the wolves, Razor and you lmao join in

Yall dig in, bones flying everywhere, spagetti noodles flingling around, it would put toddlers to shame lol

◇

Diluc hears a howl that is too... big to be a regular wolf.

It filled the air of Wolvendom like no howl before it, as he used the glowing lampgrass to help light the path deeper

He sneaks past a hilichurl camp or two, all fast asleep

He scans the woods, and figures he'll search the woods besides the path after he gets to that old stone carved pit-

Food?

Diluc sniffs the air, and squints deeper into the forest

The black branches shade the way ahead, but just barely... he can see the flicker of orange and blue light?

He summons his claymore, bracing it on his shoulder, and creeps into the treeline to better hide him

◇

You swear to god (dammit swear to.. you??) someone is watching you.

You look around the piles of fluffy doggos, happy and stuffed full they r slowly forming puppy piles

Andrius is finishing his meat platter, also sitting on all four legs on the ground

Razor is splayed on his back beside you, eyes closed, his feet sticking out the other side of the table, u chuckle at him

But not a single Lupical seems to be looking at you.

Gulping down your last few bites, you scan the treeline

U refuse to be that bitch in a horror movie where their gut says smth is off and they brush it off or barely look at their surroundings

Turning around to the treeline behind you, u see something... red fur?

U sit up some more, peering over the bushes at the bottom of the trees

You meet a pair of warm brown eyes, widened like they're just as shocked to see you

As u notice his familiar red high ponytail (but also not?? Its weird going from 2D to 3D and still recognizing bitches)

U peer down at his chest, as he carefully stands out of the foliage-

That familiar star shaped button that u can press for the character menu screen, the same thats on Razor, on Benny, on Fischl, on Lisa-

Hovers over Diluc's chest.

◇

Diluc is in the bush, observing the human(???) stranger (he really doesnt want to attract the attention of that.. giant spirit wolf thing)

The figure sitting at a ... table?? (He can barely process all these absurdities at once, hes only got so much brain space)

Has sensed his presence, and as he grips his claymore, ready to demand answers,

Razor startles, and jumps up, smelling the pyro user, he summons his weapon-

The figure locks eyes with him, and all he sees is gold.

Diluc drops his claymore.

☆

♡

☆

Have a cliffhanger bc idk 🤷‍♂️ Also srry it wasnt exactly Mondstadt finding u, and it somehow turned into a whole scenario?? Idk man

🤧 welp i hope that was decent Razor mom! Tysm for ur sweet feedback abt our beloved son 🙏💜🐺

Feel free to always talk again, thru comments, asks whatever!! :D

♡

Cheers,

💀♒️

(guys im so stupid i coud've been signing off with this simple emoji combo the whole time,, 😭i didnt actually think abt emojifying my name, just making it look pretty with some of my fav emojis... 😔)

If anyone reads this u should let me know which one is better lol

💀♒️

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

OR like a combo???

♡my beloved♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

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chasing-faith-and-fate · 2 months

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soooo the obvious weakness is water/rain (unless i am Very Stupid) but like I'm curious about in what way.

is it a physical weakness (from the steaminess of the body that dewbat was holding) where water/rain is like acid and dissolves both the skin and the taker beneath (or just the taker itself if it doesnt have a skin)? and in that case, is one of the signs that something might be a taker that they won't drink water or go anywhere near it or show an unusual amount of nervousness/avoidance to water/rain/storms? (i know they don't have to eat or drink anyway since they have no organs, so in that case, if not already answered, does the fact that they don't eat raise alerts or do they just pretend to eat? CAN they even eat? sorry, tangent.)

i know takers aren't stupid but their intelligence is also not super advanced/high so i feel bad for asking this but i must know: do takers KNOW about their weakness? like are they aware? or are they unaware and then get very injured or very Dead from water/rain on accident. does that make sense?

does water collect at the bottom of the physical rift? and in that case, would that effectively kill takers who can't shelter from it? like. could that be a way to Get Rid of Them? bc all this foreshadowing and prophecy and stuff relating to storms paired with the "we throw takers down in the rift bc we can't rlly kill them" thing makes me think that if they just idk collected/gathered as many of the takers as they could up in the rift and waited for the water/rain to kill them (which is rlly good timing right now since the storms aren't stopping anytime soon if i remember correctly) they could stomp out a large portion of their infestation/problem.

idk im bad with putting my thoughts into words (something I struggle with and get very frustrated with) but i NEEDED to Say Things while it's still fresh.

-@warriorwhiskers

1: Water is very much acid to them, a little bit of water on the fur won't burn them (morning dew), but large amounts (rain, puddles, lakes etc) will burn through the skin, which is already thin and weak with no nutrients to keep it healthy, and will touch the Taker itself, who smoke and dissolve were the water makes contact. Enough damage will kill them fully.

Takers with no bodies to protect them burn away easily. They will seek out shelter.

They never go near water, this isn't exactly unusual to most cats because they get most of their hydration from prey. Takers will eat in social environments, they don't get anything out of it, but they consume it the same way they do the organs from a body they inhabit.

2: Takers are aware of their weaknesses in the same way an animal with rabies fear water, it's simply instinctual. They don't have continence thoughts on "this is bad and this will reveal me" but instead "that is bad that is scary that is death".

3: Yes! The Rift, during rainy periods, will fill with water. The cats don't know about the water weakness and so truly believe that there's an uneasy amount of cat like creatures in the rift (very much the reason that Chasingclan is considered cured is because of this, since the rift surrounds them.)

There are still Takers that are alive in the Rift despite the water. There's many cliffs and caves all along the rift that can provide shelter, but they're all very badly injured still.

Redstep and Cicadabranch are still in the rift, their Takers have been able to survive for years in the rift. This isn't very likely to come up in story, so I don't mind revealing that.

All in all, there aren't actually as many Takers as you'd think currently. There's still an alarming amount, but not as many as there could be.

Doesn't mean that there aren't more being born/made to make up for it. There isn't a set amount of Takers, they're not a critically endangered species :]

#askjon #chasinglore

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uriekukistan · 4 months

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HI I BRING INTERACTION pls feed me megu headcanons if u feel so inclined,,,,

hii ty for the interaction :D ofc i am always inclined to megu hcs! he's in my brain 25/8...megumi my beloved <333333333

megumi's always been a light sleeper/had a hard time falling asleep. even when he was a baby, he'd be up like 37 times in the night, so toji and mamaguro would take turns pulling all nighters because what's the point of going to sleep when baby megumi is just gonna start crying 10 minutes later...even when he's older, he still wakes up several times in the night. it's too hot, it's too cold, i'm thirsty, the door slammed four apartments down, etc. of course this only gets worse after the detention center because he starts having nightmares :( dw, this opens the door for some cute itafushi moments down the road im writing a fic abt this

he also wakes up reaalllly early because of this, like 5am...that doesn't mean he's a morning person though. he's very grumpy and almost completely unresponsive to anyone trying to talk to him. not that anyone else is really up at 5am with him...maybe yuuji, but he's on the other side of his sleep cycle (hasn't gone to bed yet, was binge watching a new series) and probably equally zombie-like. anyway, megumi is the epitome of "don't talk to me before i've had my coffee." gojo got him a mug that said that once...

megumi didn't eat breakfast (much to tsumiki's chagrin) until he met yuuji, but that's mostly because he doesn't want to waste yuuji's efforts food :)

to add on to that, he has a pretty small appetite, my personal thought is this comes from when he was younger. he and tsumiki struggled to get food between when their money ran out post parental departure and when gojo came into their lives, so he just got used to not eating a lot...but for the same reason he'll never leave food on his plate. lingering fear that he'll wake up with nothing to eat one day (SORRY i had to make it angsty bc that's just Who I Am 💔💔💔)

um. to end it on a lighter note :) if megumi wasn't a sorcerer, he'd work at an animal rescue facility or a no-kill shelter and he's all the dogs' fav employee :))) (ik a lot of people like vet megumi, but i feel like he'd get too sad when he had to put an animal down bc he couldnt save it........). if he wasn't into that, he'd be interested in ecology and habitat preservation for endangered species.

um i was gonna do a Day In the Life of Megumi but the first points got sooo long so uh. stopped after breakfast.

(the way i write abt him all the time and still had to take a while to write this,,,had to separate au megumi from real megumi)

#kjsfhgkjs i hope these are satisfactory #ngl my brain exploded when i saw u sent an ask #ur like a celebrity to me lmaoo #thank u for the ask !!!#megumi fushiguro

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