#i was trying to be careful to tag only characters the posts were focused on so I didn't clog up the tags lol

[ilygetou]

๑ 2023 KINKTOBER | MINORS DNI. ๑

⋆｡°✩ details. will be posting a total of (almost) 13 fanfics throughout the weeks of october with one bonus/special piece. I’ll only be writing the main c/w here, once you get to the actual post you’ll get the whole c/w list so make sure to read that as well. Some works would be highly suggestive & won’t be suitable for some. read at your own discretion.

⋆｡°✩ notice. please be aware that i might not be able to finish every single piece by time but let’s hope that doesn’t happen. </3 main note is under the cut.

⋆｡°✩ taglist. fill this up if you’re tyna’ get tagged whenever i’m about to post a piece from this masterlist. scroll to the end if you only wanna be tagged in specific ones/pieces. must be 18+ to get tagged!

๑ THE FOLLOWING CONTENT YOU’RE ABOUT TO VIEW INCLUDES EXTREME DARK CONTENT THAT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE.๑

๑ PLEASE PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. ๑

NOTE: AAA HI GUYS!!! this year’s kinktober is going to be a bit different than last year’s kinktober, last time i did a “one kink + character” this year is going to be fully dark content fics with more than one kink, i’ll try & finish & post all of them right on time since i kinda gave up on last year’s kinktober–i’m hoping i’ll manage to post every single fic for this one–anyways!! i hope you guys like it!! (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)

DARK CONTENT WARNING. PLEASE, READ THE TAGS UNDER EVERY LINK.

MET HER ON THE INTERNET. – Eren Jaeger.

c/w: noncon –> dubcon, online stalking, solo m! masturbation, lovesick! eren, possessive! eren, cheating, vaginal fingering, face/throat fucking, facial, brief after-care at the end.

HEROiN CHEERLEADER – Gojo satoru.

synopsis: You were like an addictive drug to satoru, he couldn’t get enough of you. Always coming back for more, that was until you told him that you had enough – that you two should stop messing around. You wanted to focus more on your cheerleading career while gojo satoru was furious with your sudden decision, he knew the whole “focusing on cheerleading” thing is a lie when he saw how swayed you were with the new captain of your cheerleading team. He won’t leave you alone until you willingly come back to him, you got him addicted to your taste so that’s all your fault.

c/w: college au, dubcon, voyeurism, male masturbation, jealous! satoru, degrading (like lots of it), satoru blames you for everything, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, creampie.

PACKRUNNER BiTCH. – Ran Haitian.

synopsis: You were in it for the money. Why would you waste all your young years dating a thirty year old man? Let’s be serious here, you still have so much to do with your life rather than wasting it on an old guy but you need the money. But dating an old man just for money wasn’t that worth it either, that’s why the man you chose to use was a gang member – he’s old but is a part of an incredibly famous gang in your city. You knew he had more than money and that was; drugs. You were in it for the drugs & money! This whole acting in-love thing was fun until you were found out. Do you think Ran Haitian will forgive you for using him? He’s much more arrogant than that.

c/w: age gap (reader is 22 ran is 36), spanking (he uses his hands and a belt), choking, throat fucking, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, multiple (when i say multiple I mean many, numerous) creampies.

UGLY MAN? FUN PLAN! – Toji Fushiguro

synopsis: you found toji fushiguro ugly, he’s not your type and you’d rather die than date a guy like him. On the other hand toji found you gorgeous, it was love at first sight, he fell so hard for you he’s willing to do anything for your love. Toji confessed to you many times and they all ended up with heart breaking rejections. Toji is willing to try one more time and if you reject him again then that’s also alright, he has a nice plan in mind to (forcefully) make you his.

c/w: noncon, babytrapping, forced breeder! toji :<, slapping, sloppy makeout’s, lots of degrading, choking, low-key manipulative! Toji.

WEBGHOST – Rintarō Suna

synopsis: You stumbled across an abandoned hospital and decided to go explore it, alone. You were a huge fan of horror movies & loved the “exploring haunted places” concept, it’s nerve-racking because you never knew what to expect. Once you stepped foot into the old hospital, you felt a chill run past your spin. You hoped that you may run into blood-curdling stuff so you could have something to talk about for the next week or so — but you didn’t expect to run into an actual ghost. And it didn’t seem to want to leave you alone either.

c/w: ghost! suna (don’t ask how cause idk either), mentions of blood, spectrophilia, you feel it but you can’t see suna, hair pulling, creampie.

EViL NiGHT, LOVELY NiGHT! – Jean Kirstein.

synopsis: An infamous burglar lives in your city, he somehow managed to break into 120 homes in total and still didn’t get caught, he was known for stealing valuable objects–if he broke into your house and found nothing worth stealing then he’s going to flee and find another home to rob. He never restores to violence unless the house-victim tries anything against him, he’d immediately pull out his gun and shoot. Everyone was advised to keep their doors locked until they eventually catch the burglar. And tonight was no different, double checking that you had both your doors and windows locked before heading to sleep.

c/w: non con, coercion, somno, slight degrading, gun-fucking, facial, slapping, bondage, creampie per usual.

GRAVE ROBBERY. – Getō Suguru & Gojo satoru.

synopsis: You couldn’t escape them. From middle school to highschool and all the way to college. They were there. Following you everywhere, wherever you went–those two were always there, they made sure they were always there. You haven’t escaped their bullying and harassment for the past 9 years, gaining both enjoyment & entertainment by your reactions to their heinous acts towards you. Both Gojo satoru and Getō suguru loved you despite their horrible treatment towards you, they loved you.

c/w: bully! suguru bully! satoru, noncon, blackmailing, non con recording, hair pulling, threesomes, ass + pussy slapping, clit stimulation, dacryphilia, blowjob, handjob, facial, creampie.

TU4N Y<3R PH0N3 0F5 – Sanzu Haruchiyo.

synopsis: the feeling of someone watching your every move never left you, feeling as if there were eyes on you all the time. To the point you were uncomfortable to do almost everything. Eating? Sleeping? Changing? You couldn’t do anything without feeling two eyes inspecting your every move.

c/w: stalking, noncon, hints of misogyny, semi-public sex, forced/noncon breeding, slapping, virginity loss, mentions of blood and impregnation.

RUSSIAN ROULETTE. – ft. Yuushi Totsumoto.

from lady k and the sick man.

synopsis: Yuushi took you in cause’ you had nowhere else to go. you’ve been living with him for almost two years now and he barely knows anything about you. Not only that but he almost never heard you speak, he was okay with it at the beginning. Thinking you were just a little shy. But it’s been two years and he never heard your voice properly–there were a few occasions when yuushi could hear you speak but those would be barely audible mutters.

c/w: voice kink (auralism?), pervert! yuushi, peeping, breeding kink, cunnilingus, ear licking, size kink, man handling, squirting, overstimulation, creampie per usual.

WiTCHBLADES. – CHILDE/TARTAGLIA.

synopsis: (this takes place after the fontaine archon quest), childe who ended up thrown into jail because that god awful machine decided that he was guilty. And you, you ended up being his jail mate. You wanted nothing to do with childe but he’s a literal chatter box, he never shuts up. Finally, you snap back at him, scolding him and telling you guys are literally in a jail cell right now. Childe didn’t like that attitude of yours so he decided to fuck some manners into you.

c/w: noncon, forced breeder! childe, lots of misogyny, ass + pussy slapping, no prep, size kink, dacryphilia.

F0UR L3AF CL0V3R. — Aoi Todo.

synopsis: your boyfriend was either in his room playing games 24/7, at the gym, or sleeping. Never giving you proper attention until you grew desperate so what’s better than teasing him? until he gives you the attention you’re looking for. <3

c/w: read has big tits😓, dubcon just in case, kinda modern au?, gamer! todo, lots of teasing, boobjob, face fucking/blowjob, possessiveness, size kink, manhandling, pervert! todo, panty sniffing, sumata (“A Japanese sexual term in which the female rubs her labia majora against the male's penis, without actual penetration.”), facial, cum swallowing.

⋆｡°✩ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

DEVIL ON MY BACK./ REPENT. – Getō Suguru.

synopsis: After watching a movie about the so-called game; Ouija board, with your friend Anna, You couldn’t help but grow more curious about it. After purchasing the game, you ran to your basement to try out; the first thing you tried to communicate with was the infamous devil; Getō suguru.

c/w: religious themes, ouija board, non con → dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, spitting, pussy + ass slapping, anal play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, v light somnophilia, manipulation, multiple creampies, non con creampie, lowkey monster fucking??, suguru has two dicks, face fucking, cum swallowing, guilt tripping kinda, very aggressive suguru, he is mentioned to have red eyes.

© ILYGETOU 2021-’23. All rights reserved. DO NOT steal, translate, or modify any of my works <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next morning comes too soon and with too little sleep. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t lay still long enough to get much rest. Every time you sunk into the shallows of sleep, you were just as quickly awoken by visions of the unknown. You don’t know anything beyond the time at which you’ll set off to your fate; nine o’clock. 

You don’t need an alarm. You're already awake and alert. You sit up and rub your temples until the thumping dulls. You can’t entirely shake the pulsing thrum.  

You drag yourself to your feet and cross to your dresser. You open each drawer, sifting through the contents with disappointment. You don’t have anything that nice. You pick out your nicest jeans and a halter top Roxie gave you. You’ll be sweating your bum off in the denim but you don’t have many skirts or even shorts. 

You can hear your mother getting ready for her own day of work. Of actual work. You wait until she’s done to claim the bathroom. She’s off only a couple minutes after, calling out a goodbye and I love you that you return in a higher pitch than you mean to. 

You dress and tidy yourself up as best you can. Your bedtime shower did little to help you sleep but at least it saves you a step. You spritz yourself with strawberry body spray and try to smile at your reflection as you put your toothbrush back.

Sigh. Did Bucky really call you sexy? 

It’s not even eight. Lots of time to wallow in anxiety and self-doubt. You pace around the front room, ready to go, but not really. You have your purse with the fringe and your least-worn flats. They pinch around your toes but they’re cute; pink loafers with a little leather rose on each. 

You cradle your phone then squeeze it hard enough to make it light up. Only a few minutes. Or not. You hear a car outside and peer through the curtain. You recognise the vehicle. Shoot, time to go. Oh, god, what are you doing? 

You lock the door behind you and turn to face the gallows. Each step is filled with sand, your legs are heavy and your feet clunky. As you near, Merv appears to open the door for you. You’re surprised but not to find Bucky waiting within. 

As you slide onto the seat, he watches you and rumbles out a silty, ‘morning, doll.’ You aren’t ready. You don’t know why but you thought the drive would give you time to toss away the last of your caution but you’re clinging to it like a raft. You feel entirely powerless. More than you ever have. 

What he promises, money; you always assumed it would give you more control, that it would solve all your problems, but it’s really just a new set of problems. You settle onto the seat as the door closes and buckle your seat belt, focusing on the simple task. He stretches his arm over the back of the seat as you lean against it and his heat seethes into you. 

“Good morning,” you force out at last. 

“That’s a cute shirt,” he purrs as his hand wanders down to tickle your bare shoulder, your nude bra strap showing garishly. “Would look better without this.” He touches the strap and you make a noise. “But I can wait for that, doll.” 

You stare forward. The divider between you and the front seat is up. You are completely alone. You feel your heart about to swell and split. 

“I’ll admit, I was up late last night,” his arms shifts slightly as he leans forward. You only notice then the scent of coffee and two cups in the holders behind the console. “Got a pick-me-up to start the day. Gotta be awake for you, doll.” 

He takes one of the cups and you realise, he means to offer it to you. You feel too bad to tell him you’re not much for coffee. “It’s called a blue dream tea latte? I think it’s blueberry or something. I saw it in some ad online. Sounded like something you’d like.” 

“Oh, thanks, er, it does?” You murmur. You’d seen the same promotion on Pinterest. It’s a rather strange coincidence that he’d think of you. “I... I’ve never tried a tea latte.” 

“Doll, I’m gonna give you lots of things you never had, take you places you never been,” he flutters his fingers across your neck as he retracts his arm. He grabs the other cup and groans as he sits back, blowing over the plastic lid. “So tell me,” his arms presses against yours. He seems so big sitting so close, “where’ somewhere you always wanted to go?” 

“Er, I don’t...” your eyes drift over as Merv drives lazily through your neighbourhood, “know. I never... thought about it.” 

“Anything you always wanted to do? Skydiving? Wait, yeah, you don’t like being high up. Makes sense, being so close to the ground, huh?” He chuckles and leans into you playfully, “you an outdoorsy type? You like hiking?” 

“Um, I don’t know, I think... I like walking in the park sometimes,” you hold the cup with both hands, letting the warmth flow into your cold veins. You can smell the blueberry and you instinctively take wife through the slot of the lid. 

“Mm, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, doll,” he assures you and sips again, swallowing thickly before he lets out a thigh. “I think you’ll like what I got planned, even if you don’t know what you want. I’ve always been good at figuring that out, you know?” 

“Oh?” 

He laughs again, “you’re so cute, doll.” He looks over at you, “how’s the latte? Did I do good?” 

Your eyes nearly cross as you stare at the cup. You bring it up carefully and take a dainty sip. You almost moan at the creamy but sweet taste. You pull the lid away and dab your lips with the back of your hand, turning to give him a wide-eyed look. 

“It’s delicious,” you smile. 

He grins and tilts his head, “see, doll, you don’t even gotta say it. I know exactly what you need.” 

You’re breathless. Something about his tone, his words, mingles and coils around your throat. It’s like one of those old Wattpad fantasies you devoured in your teen years, those escapist dreams of having everything taken care of and not having to think, and yet, it’s too real. You take another drink to keep busy. 

“After our first stop, we’ll eat,” he says, “that okay? You’re not ravenous?” 

His words make you flinch. You blink and shake your head, “I’m okay.” 

“Sounds good, doll,” he relaxes and once more extends his arms over your shoulders, this time hugging you closer.  

He turns his head and nuzzles you, making you squirm. You’re rigid, paralysed by the proximity. You’ve never been this close with anyone. He still feels like a stranger. 

“Mmm, strawberries,” he growls, “I like that.” 

You giggle and barely keep a hold of your cup. You really can’t understand it. You never had interest from anyone. You didn’t even really have friends in school. Sometimes, you even think Roxie hates you, and your mom, well, she loves you because you have to. You just can’t comprehend what he sees. 

“Thanks...” you wisp. 

“No, thank you, doll,” he drawls, “for making my morning brighter.” 

🃏

You doubt Bucky does anything in half-measures. Merv pulls up to another upscale building and you can’t help but gape out at the white brick facade. Everything is so big and fancy and better than you. You’re so out of place in his world that you can’t but wait for the moment he decides to kick you out of it. 

The white-haired driver gets out to open the door. As you step out, your loafer slips off your heel and your foot slides down the curb. You trip outward, bracing yourself for impact, but don’t hit the ground. A hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back onto the seat. You cringe, happy at least that Bucky can’t see your face as he clings to you. 

“You okay, doll?” He asks, “you hurt yourself?” 

“No, no,” you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m fine. It was just... stupid.” 

“Not stupid, good thing I was here to catch you, huh?” He reluctantly releases you, a caress along the back of your arm, “now you be careful. You need me to get out and carry you--” 

“No, no!” You grab the car and push yourself out, fixing your shoe as you get your bearings. “Really, I’m okay.” 

He chuckles and follows. It he laughing at you? You turn to face him as he steps up on the curb. It’s easy when he’s sitting to forget how small you really are. 

“All good, doll, I just can’t have you getting banged up,” he says as he gestures you across the wide sidewalk. 

You peer back as Merv shuts the door and Bucky brings his hand to your lower back, just like that woman at the casino. His gentle touch sends a chill up your back despite the beaming heat from above. 

“Promise, you’re gonna love this.”  

He urges you on to the front doors. They are made of iron, twisted in the middle, and two long handles curlicue in the middle. He stops and presses the little silver button along the side, a buzz muffled within. You wait, fidgeting, and presses his palm firmly to your back. You still yourself and clutch your bag tighter. 

The interior doors, dark walnut, open inward and a woman appears within with a particularly snobbish look. She’s tall with straight shoulders and a Chanel style suit. She unlocks the iron doors and opens the right one. She eyes Bucky past her hooked nose as she lifts it higher. 

“Mr. Barnes,” she greets. 

“Meredith,” he returns, “thanks for having me.” 

“Only for you,” she assures as her eyes fall upon you, “you’ve brought...” 

“Someone very special. A connoisseur like yourself,” he insists, curtailing whatever she thought to remark. 

“Yes, certainly she would be,” the woman accepts with a sniff and steps back, “please, come in. Should I have Charlene make tea?” 

“I don’t think we will require it. Doll?” He pauses as he confirms with you. 

You shake your head, “no thank you.” 

“Very well, follow me, then,” she spins and struts away.  

Bucky nudges you inside first, following through the narrow door. As he comes up parallel to you, a shadow appears to close the doors behind him. The whole experience is eerie. What is going on? 

You follow the woman, Meredith, up the wooden stairs with a rose-printed runner along the center of the steps. At the top, you smell the definitive scent of books. She directs you into a room, opening the door but standing back to let you through. Bucky nods and thanks her one last time. 

“You know the rules, Barnes,” she warns. 

“Been a while...” he mutters. 

“You remember,” she rebukes. 

He laughs and pulls the door shut as she retreats, her heels clicking through the wall until they taper off to nothing. A record player drones from the corner and the window lets in the yellow sunshine, adding to the illumination of glass-shaded lamps. You peer around, as curious as you are confused. 

Bucky brushes by you, knuckles rubbing against your waist, and he approaches the antique table at the center. Several stacks of books sit neatly piled atop it. You approach sheepishly and read the spines. You recognise the titles though you’ve never read any of them. As you think, you realise that these are the same books you have on your reading app. How could he know? 

Your mouth falls open as you keep your hands folded together. You don’t dare to touch anything. It all seems so nice and likely expensive. And with how Meredith spoke, you’re certain she wouldn’t appreciate you putting anything out of place. 

“She’s a book collector. I came here a few years back to buy some first editions for my sister,” he picks up a book. 

“How...” you bend to read further down a stack. 

“A lot you can learn about a person online,” he flutters through the pages, “isn’t there?” 

You look at him and blanch. 

“I know you Googled me. Everyone does,” he snickers, “it’s fine. Comes with the territory. But you...” he snaps the book shut and comes around the table, holding it out to you, “all I found were some books and a few pictures of a cat.” 

You take the book and stare at the cover. Those pictures were old. Kai died at the end of high school. You run your hand over the embossed title; Middlemarch. You remember adding it after binging and old British series. 

“My cat. She’s gone now,” you shrug. 

“Sorry to hear that, doll,” he says. “I might know someone who can cheer you up, though.” 

“It’s... fine. She was a good cat,” you shrug. 

“Hm, yeah, but a friend, all the same,” he says, “so, you want it?” 

“What?” You peek at the book again. 

“All of them? I can have them packed and sent to your house.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “my mom...” 

“Ah, it’s fine, we can sneak em in,” he assures. 

“No, no, I couldn’t... it’s too much. Very nice but... must be... a lot.” 

“It is, doll. Meredith gave me a damn headache tryna get in here on short notice but I did it,” he leans a hand on the table and hooks one foot over the other. “You gotta at least pick one thing to walk out of here with.” 

“Oh, I... I wasn’t meaning... I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” you rub your thumbs along the edges of the book, “sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I know you’re not, doll. You’re... adjusting. I’m doing my best not to scare ya away but you gotta bite the carrot a little here,” he says, “so grab a few and we’ll go have some breakfast.” 

“I...” you look between him and the table. You have no doubt that he went to a lot of effort for this. For you. You can’t just throw it back in his face. “Thank you, it’s...” you turn to face the table and lean in to see more of the books. You let yourself smile, “it’s wonderful. No one’s ever... except mom...” 

“Get used to it, doll,” he steps closer, his hand once more on your back, “with a smile like that, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.” 

[simplyraeblue]

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ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP !femreader x !virginshoto you've had a crush on your friend shoto for a long time, and unbeknownst to you he's been crushing as well. not only that, he wants you to be his first time; for everything WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing, fluff, suggestive, shoto is kind of a simp word count: 2,707 A/N: oopsy daisy real quick short post because I couldn't help myself and the idea of sweet shoto wouldn't leave my brain... little cutesy filler part before they hit home base (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ also I was listening to The Archer x Not Strong Enough while writing this... linked here if you want to listen while you read!

part one | part two | part three |

part four | part five

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you were desperate to ignore the incessant barrage of notifications from Mina. just moments ago, you had dragged yourself off your feet, finally collapsing onto the couch after a grueling day. the minute you sank into the cushions, your phone erupted with a flood of calls and text messages. exhaustion weighed on you heavily, and each buzz and ping felt like an assault on your already depleted energy. it wasn’t until the hundredth call that you finally gave in and answered.

“what do you want, Mina? I’m absolutely wiped out,” you groaned, trying to inject a note of humor into your voice despite how drained you felt.

Mina’s voice came through the receiver with an overly enthusiastic tone, almost too cheerful for your weary brain to handle. “get dressed up; we’re going to a fancy restaurant!”

you sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes in frustration. “did you not just hear me say I’m exhausted? I have zero energy left, and honestly, I’d rather not spend any more money right now.”

Mina’s response was an impatient tsk, filled with exasperation. “I don’t care how tired you are or what you want. put on something fancy and forget about the cost. be ready by seven-thirty, or I’m coming over there to drag you out myself.”

you wanted to argue more, but the stubborn resolve in Mina's voice told you this was a battle you wouldn’t win. plus, deep down, you knew she was right. maybe a change of scenery and some good company was exactly what you needed to recharge. with a resigned sigh, you checked the time on your phone—it was already past six.

“fine, fine. I’ll be ready,” you grumbled, hoping your tone conveyed the minimal enthusiasm you felt.

“great!” Mina replied with an exaggerated cheerfulness. “see you soon!”

you hung up and stared at your reflection in the darkened screen of your phone. despite your fatigue, you found a sliver of motivation. you stood up, stretched, and began to rummage through your closet. picking out a sleek dress and a pair of heels that hadn’t seen the light of day in months, you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of excitement. maybe this would be a good distraction after all.

as you prepared yourself, you tried to push aside the lingering thoughts of your long day. you opted for minimal makeup and a quick hairstyle, focusing on just enough to look presentable without draining what little energy you had left. by the time you checked the clock again, it was nearly seven-thirty.

just as you were about to head out the door, you heard an unexpected knock. you’d assumed Mina would just text you the address and meet you there. curious and a bit puzzled, you opened the door and started to say, “Mina, I promise I’m ready—”

but it wasn’t Mina standing there. instead, Shoto was at your doorstep, impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit. he held a bouquet of flowers, the rich colors and delicate petals contrasting with his formal attire.

“apologies for letting mina trick you,” Shoto said, his voice gentle and warm as he offered you a reassuring smile. “I wanted this to be a surprise.”

“Shoto, what’s going on?” you asked, your confusion mingling with a touch of excitement as you accepted the flowers, your cheeks flushing at the unexpected and thoughtful gesture.

“I’m taking you on a proper date,” Shoto replied, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. he extended his arm toward you, a subtle invitation. “I figured it was about time, especially considering the… less conventional things we’ve been up to.”

you stared at Shoto for a moment, your mind racing to process what was happening. the bouquet in your hands felt surprisingly heavy, its fragrance filling the air with a sweetness that contrasted with the formal setting.

“a proper date?” you echoed, trying to reconcile this unexpected turn of events with the casual plans you had made with mina.

“yes,” Shoto affirmed, his tone steady and sincere. “I wanted to do something special, something more meaningful. and mina kindly agreed to help with the surprise.”

you took a deep breath, a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling up inside you. “this is… really unexpected. but also, kind of amazing.”

Shoto’s smile widened, and he gently took your hand, guiding you out the door. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve been looking forward to this. let’s make it a night to remember.”

as you walked down the stairs and into the cool evening air, you glanced back at your apartment, feeling a mix of disbelief and anticipation. Shoto’s presence was reassuring, his calm demeanor helping to ease your lingering fatigue. he led you to a sleek, black car parked by the curb, its polished surface reflecting the city lights.

“where are we going?” you asked as he opened the car door for you, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“it’s a surprise,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

you settled into the plush leather seat, watching as Shoto got in beside you and started the engine. the car glided smoothly through the city streets, and you found yourself enjoying the rare luxury of simply being present in the moment.

Shoto made small talk as he drove, his voice soothing and easy to listen to. he talked about the restaurant he had chosen, the dishes they were famous for, and the ambiance he hoped you would appreciate. the conversation flowed effortlessly, and you could feel the genuine interest and care behind his words.

when you finally arrived at the restaurant, it was even more beautiful than you had imagined. the elegant exterior was bathed in soft, warm light, and the interior exuded an atmosphere of refined sophistication. Shoto guided you inside, where you were greeted by a host and shown to a private table with a stunning view of the city skyline.

“Shoto, this is insane,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed out the window. the city below sparkled like a sea of stars, the lights stretching out as far as the eye could see. the extent of it all hit you suddenly, making you acutely aware of just how much effort and expense this must have entailed. “you didn’t have to go all out like this. I would’ve been perfectly happy with something more… quaint.”

Shoto extended his hand across the table, his touch gentle yet reassuring as he clasped yours. his smile was soft and genuine, a look of quiet pride in his eyes. “I wanted to do this. for you.”

throughout the evening, Shoto’s attentiveness and thoughtfulness made you feel cherished and valued. the meal was exquisite, each course a culinary delight, and the conversation never faltered. as the night progressed, you realized that Shoto’s surprise was not just about the setting or the food but about the effort he had put into making this night special for you.

by the end of the evening, as you sat back and savored the last of your dessert, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Shoto reached across the table, taking your hand in his once more.

“there’s actually another reason I planned this night with you, y/n,” Shoto said, his voice a bit hesitant. he lifted your hand gently, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. as he pulled away, you noticed a faint pink hue spreading across his cheeks, a blush that made him even more endearing.

“okay, now you’re gonna make me worry,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension with a playful laugh. but his nervous gulp made your own anxiety spike, and a flutter of unease began to settle in your stomach.

“I… shit, I don’t know how to put this,” Shoto murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. he turned his eyes to the sprawling cityscape outside, and you felt a pang of anxiety, your heart racing in your chest. “I care about you, quite a lot.”

“I care a lot about you too, Sho,” you responded softly, hoping to reassure him. his eyes met yours again, filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

“I’m sure this might feel very sudden, and maybe a tad rushed,” Shoto continued, his voice trembling slightly. he squeezed your hand with a tenderness that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “but, after all these years of having a crush on you, and the past few weeks of growing closer, I think… no, I know I’m falling in love with you, y/n.”

the room seemed to hold its breath as Shoto’s words hung in the air. you could feel the weight of his confession pressing gently against your heart, and the enormity of the moment made your mind swirl with a mix of emotions.

for a moment, you were silent, processing the depth of what he had just shared. Shoto’s fingers still rested lightly around yours, his gaze searching yours with a blend of hope and trepidation.

“I… wow,” you finally said, your voice soft and trembling with emotion. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

Shoto’s cheeks reddened further, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I didn’t want to rush things or make you feel pressured. I just needed you to know how I really feel.”

you took a deep breath, feeling a surge of warmth and affection for him. the realization that he had been holding these feelings for so long, and that he had chosen this special evening to reveal them, made your heart swell.

“I’ve been feeling the same way,” you confessed, your voice gaining strength. “I didn’t know how to say it either, but I’ve been falling for you too, Shoto.”

a look of pure relief and joy spread across his face, and he squeezed your hand once more, his eyes sparkling. “really? you mean that?”

“yes,” you nodded, smiling through the tears that had formed in your eyes. “I mean it. I’ve been feeling this way for a while, but I didn’t want to rush things either.”

Shoto’s expression softened into a tender smile, and he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page,” he murmured. “I want to take things at a pace that feels right for both of us. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

you closed your eyes, savoring the closeness and the sincerity of the moment. “I want that too,” you whispered, your heart full of hope and happiness. “let’s see where this takes us.”

as you both leaned across the table, your lips yearning to mold against his, Shoto suddenly smirked and broke the moment. “hopefully to home base,” he joked, the playful glint in his eyes causing you to snort with laughter. his smirk widened as he heard your reaction, and he leaned back in his chair, letting out a hearty laugh that was both infectious and endearing.

as Shoto continued laughing, you felt a wave of boldness and excitement. standing up from your chair, you made your way around the table, feeling a sense of exhilaration that made you disregard the curious glances from other diners. with a determined stride, you leaned in close to his ear, your breath warm and tickling his skin. “let’s take this special evening home, shall we?” you whispered, and you could almost sense the shiver of anticipation that ran through his body.

Shoto’s reaction was immediate—his face flushed with a deep, embarrassed pink. this wasn’t the end goal for him tonight, not by any measure. he wanted you to understand that his confession was heartfelt and sincere, and he hoped you knew that it wasn’t just a pretext to move things forward physically.

“I—seriously?” Shoto asked, his voice dropping to a low, almost incredulous murmur. you could see the nervousness flickering in his eyes, and it only made you more determined. reaching out, you offered him your hand with a reassuring smile, trying to convey your genuine affection and support.

“unless you don’t want to make a home run?” you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. Shoto’s reaction was immediate and comical—he stood up from his chair with such urgency that he almost knocked it over. “wow there, eager are we?” you laughed, watching as he fumbled slightly, trying to regain his composure.

“if you keep teasing me, we’re not making it back to your apartment,” Shoto groaned, his voice tinged with frustration and amusement. he pulled you gently towards him, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. as he lingered there for a moment, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, making your heart race. “I’d hate to have to take you in my car,” he added with a playful edge, clearly struggling to keep his own excitement in check.

his warning tease almost came true, because when you two made it to the car he nudged you against the side of the vehicle, letting his hands roam a little too much for the public as he kissed you fervently.

you would’ve let him take you in the car, white hot desire burning inside of you so quickly that you felt like you’d die if you didn’t have him on top of you.

even when you made it back to your apartment, you both barely made it in the door as he started pawing at your dress. Shoto had to restrain himself from ripping the tight fabric that fit so well around your ass, thinking he needed to try and remain as gentlemanly as possible.

you became a tangle of limbs as his lips met yours, hungry and needy, the two of you stumbling your bedroom. you guided him to sit on the edge of the bed before you started to work on the buttons of his shirt, sliding it over his shoulders and discarding it on the floor.

Shoto could only watch in awe as you stepped back, slowly working on the zipper of your dress (thank god you chose one with a side zipper), before letting it drop to the ground.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n,” Shoto whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. his gaze remained locked on yours, though he clearly wanted to let his eyes wander over your now exposed skin. he had seen you like this before, sure, but it never failed to take his breath away, each time more intense than the last.

you settled yourself on his lap, your body fitting comfortably against his. a soft, tender smile played on your lips as you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his mouth. “you make me breathless, Sho,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “absolutely, and utterly, starstruck.”

Shoto’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the kiss before pulling away slightly. his gaze was dreamy, half-lidded with a wide, affectionate grin spreading across his face. “will you be mine?” he asked, his voice filled with earnest desire. “call me your boyfriend, and I’ll call you my girlfriend. we’ll make our friends sick with pda, go on dates all the time, and I promise I’ll treat you like a princess. we can cook together, sleep together, do everything you want to do. I’ll follow you, I’d follow you anywhere.”

your heart swelled with emotion at his heartfelt words. overwhelmed by the depth of his promise, you kissed him deeply, pouring all your passion into the embrace. the kiss was intense, a shared declaration of the love and commitment you both felt. “that sounds perfect to me, boyfriend,” you whispered, the term feeling both exhilarating and right as it fell from your lips.

the moment you said the words, shoto’s arms wrapped around you tightly and flipped the two of you so that you laid bare underneath him.

“can I make love to you, girlfriend?” Shoto’s face was pink with lust and emotions, and his gaze was filled with a deep desire that made you feel like the only girl in the world.

“yes, Shoto.”

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Link to Bakugo x reader here

(word count: 2,328)

Link to Kirishima x reader here

(word count: 902)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ taglist: @ellielover69 thank you so much for all your support! if you'd like to be added to the taglist send a request in my inbox! ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[v4voracity]

TOO CLOSE - SELF AWARE COD CHARACTERS X READER

⥇❥"Reader" is described as "feminine leaning" or "feminine sounding"; however, they/them and it/its pronouns are used and no bodily adjectives are used in this part because reader is only described as "that person" or "the voice". Let me know if I should make an alternate post(s) slightly adjusted for masculine or androgynous description, and if I missed any content warning tags. I plan on making a masculine version for this one due to someone's request, currently deciding if I should just slightly re-write to change descriptions or fully-rewrite it :)

  ⥇❥Word Count: 3940, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ body horror(?) ↪ usual “Darkfic” stuff,  ↪ yandere tendencies ↪ Angst™ ↪ possible OOC characters ↪ american author writing (mostly) british people

I totally plan on continuing this drabble with another part so some of the warnings aren't quite apparent yet teehee <3

Link to main masterlist - Link to TOO CLOSE sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

There was always that nagging feeling that Ghost was being watched, paranoia which he had long since grown accustomed to. But, there were always times he felt it… heighten, where this…  this strange sense of dejá vu seemed to take root in his mind. Sometimes, he felt like his movements weren't his own despite it being his will that moved those joints.

It occurred often after he joined the military, and occasionally, when in the quiet of his thoughts, he could hear something. At first, he thought it was a teammate coming through his comms, yet “the voice” wasn't familiar. 

He remembered when he first heard it. 

A quiet voice saying something he didn’t quite catch. He sighed, heavy and annoyed at himself, focusing a bit more on the radio firmly strapped to his chest as he pressed a button with a familiar practiced ease. Despite the fact he laid prone on the ground, hidden amongst foliage he had no trouble reaching it and speaking up. It was… slightly embarrassing that he lost focus and needed to repeat instructions, but he’d rather face slight embarrassment over fumbling an important mission because he didn’t want to ask for them to repeat what was said. Not that Simon “Ghost” Riley was afraid of dying. As a soldier he honestly felt more fearful that he’d fuck up a mission and get yelled at by a superior. That he’d hurt people he was trying to protect. That he’d prove that nagging voice in the back of his head right, the annoying doubtful little shit always lingering despite his confidence that had grown with experience. 

Regardless, he didn’t care to debate with himself about yet another experience that would keep him up at night, wallowing in his bed thinking about everything he could’ve done differently. “Say again?” He asked, cautious to remain quiet and hidden, yet gravely tone firm and clear enough for the other side of his line to hear. Yet no one on the other side of the line said anything previously, voicing their confusion when he asked them to repeat something never said.

Yet no other soul was around the precarious position he perched himself, his scope aimed at distant enemies. He even briefly glanced around, surveying his surroundings for possible danger, anyone, anything. Then “the voice” came through again, energetic and excited— far too unprofessional for how serious that mission was. ‘A recruit,’ he would’ve thought if not for the fact nobody else acknowledged it.

However, once the mission ended, that strange feeling faded, and “the voice” didn't appear again… 

…Until a few months later, on another mission.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched, the almost foreign feeling of his own body, and “the voice” returned. His skin crawled.

 As if something had forcefully crept beneath it, lifting the skin and making itself comfortable in his body. Claiming it for itself as it burrowed deep into the muscular fiber, into his organs, and flowed in his veins in place of blood. It felt… parasitic and invasive. It disturbed him greatly how the feeling came and went suddenly without cause. Leaving him as it wished and then showing up without warning, without his permission. How it happened to him regardless of how steeled his nerves were. Of how experienced he became.

And, as he would soon find, no matter how intensely he looked around, nobody else was present. Yet “the voice”, which he had to strain to even remotely understand, seemed to respond as if they could see him based on the few words he could catch. 

“HOLY SHIT! He looks so cool, dude! Look at his fuckin’ rifle, his gear! This was so worth the wait. He’s got a new mask too! I’m so glad they brought him back, ugh, literally my favorite poster boy of the whole franchise.”

And if Ghost focused a little bit more, he'd notice it didn't quite sound right, as if it wasn't speaking aloud. “The voice” didn't echo around the room when he was inside, didn't echo through the air when he was outside, nor did it have the crackle of the radio. It was simply muffled, like if someone talked from a room over.

“...Uh, yeah, it was totally worth the fifty-freakin-bucks. Rent can wait, my war criminal pookies can’t! …Yes I know they’re probably not actual war criminals. Yeah, I KNOW they’re… man, you’re no fun. Let me simp in peace.”

Ghost knew he hadn't exactly been the… most sound of mind, but he truly began to worry he might have been hallucinating. “The voice” had been following him for an increasingly long amount of time at this point, and he mostly tuned it out. He recently found himself in a new group though, which led to a disturbing realization that he wasn’t fully insane. His worries about that were swiped away when Soap (his new sergeant who was a little too talkative for his own good, in Ghost’s opinion) ever-so-casually asked about “the voice” he overheard during the mission, which he couldn't quite recognize. Everyone in the helicopter was surprised on the ride back, anxiously discussing that faint voice they'd all heard— had been hearing on and off during missions. It gave Ghost a whole new fear.

It was no secret that a majority of the people in base and on missions with them were men, so that distinctly feminine voice being hard to pinpoint caused a new worry among the team. The potential breach of their communication network. The topic came up as an innocent question from Soap about who “the voice” was before everyone realized they all heard that voice, contradictory in how it sounded so near yet so far, so clear yet it hurt their heads to try and process what was said, clouding their minds in a haze if they tried focusing on it for too long.

It was a clear cause for concern. 

Their task force, Task Force 141, a highly-qualified team, who frequently had taken on missions even some of the most seasoned veterans would find difficult.

Their task force, carefully hand-picked from all corners and crevices of the globe, skills compared, packed like a puzzle to cover all fronts. Their identities and information taken apart and put back together, their secrets in the open to the prying eyes of Captain Price as he was given the authority to form a team. Personalities scrutinized against one another to ensure the utmost efficiency and dynamic interactions between teammates.

Their taskforce, the best of the best, highly efficient, a well oiled machine crafted with the utmost caution for the most risky, dirty, and sometimes immoral missions that most wouldn't be able to stomach. All for the betterment of the world and for the protection of their homes and countries.

And yet they couldn't find a single trail, not a single damn clue, about this… voice. "That voice" that came and went almost exclusively on missions, too. There were very, very few cases where it breached outside of missions. Truthfully, Ghost didn't know what he found worse. That the team heard it outside of missions where they didn't have radio communication, simply just out and about, or that it had breached past the sanctity of the missions, crossing into the supposed safe zone of their respective bases, homes, and private lives. Passing the line that they usually hide behind for comfort after rough missions, the place they went to lick their wounds, to reload their guns, and to confide in each other. And this thing, brash and bold came through, kicking that metaphorical line in the sand and bouncing past their defenses without repercussions.

It started in instances where they could ignore it. 

Where it could've been just their mind playing tricks or someone who sounded similar.

At first it was Soap, running around the track and hearing it faintly. He could've mistaken it for the music blaring through his ears if it wasn't for the fact he knew the lyrics by heart, and the singer sounded nothing like "that voice".

“Whoa, Soap cutscene. We’re being fed today. Get your bowls 'n spoons.”

He could’ve sworn he even heard a ‘clank’ of glass or something. It was worse when he realized his earbuds didn't block out “the voice” anymore than usual. It was always somewhat muffled and incoherent unless he focused, even in the quiet. Yet the earbuds in his ears didn't alter it at all. He took a longer shower than usual that day, trying to let the cold water shock him enough to forget what he heard while thoughts ran wild in his head… It ended with him being slightly late to an important team meeting and getting assigned some training as punishment. He chose to keep why he was late a secret, not wanting to startle anyone about “the voice” or sound crazy.

Then it was Gaz. Friendly, slightly more inexperienced than the rest, Gaz. Gaz was on temporary time off, having accidentally pulled a muscle in his arm. He was simply walking through the streets of a nearby town where he had rented a flat. He rarely actually used the thing, since he spent most of his time at base and it was more convenient to use the barracks. Nevertheless, he still found himself in the quaint little town, going for groceries to stock his apartment's fridge. He was weaving through the streets when he heard that odd and unrestrained laugh, snorting and uncaring if it's an embarrassing laugh. 

“Gaz… my pookie-wookie, my cutie-patootie, my absolute ray of sunshine… WHOMST THE FUCK IS DRESSING YOU LIKE THAT?!”

He probably looked like a madman with how frantically he looked around, suddenly stiffened and still as some people complained behind him from how abruptly he stopped, causing them to bump into him. Yet nothing conclusive, he couldn’t even figure out the direction it came from, much less find out who it came from. He didn’t bother talking about it, only loosely mentioning it later when it came up in a discussion.

After that it was Price and Laswell. The two of them standing in a surprisingly mundane office in the base, not expecting much when that bold-fucking-voice echoed through both of their ears. Something about being a homewrecker? They… didn’t know. 

“Laswell!!! Man I wish they had her appear more often, she’s so cool… I’d totally marry her if she didn’t have a wife… What do you mean you’d become a homewrecker in seconds? Have some fuckin’ respect for the woman. Besides I thought you liked Price? He’s… single? I think?”

But it forced both of them to lose their casual mood from before, because they both heard it and neither of them knew what to think about the fact that they were hearing it outside of missions now. That… that was very bad.

The last straw was when Ghost was handing spare masks to the team when there's a faint comment about it. He can't quite hear it, can't quite wrap his mind around what's being said. No one ever seems to make out the words; at least not fully. As if there's a barricade between them and “the voice”. A veil yet to be ripped away to reveal the person underneath. A blockade made to infuriate them and taunt their attempts.

“How many do you think he has?”

A small silence follows the initial voice, as if waiting for a response, then followed with a giggle. A response unheard to his ears, to anyone’s ears. The others tense, hearing "the voice", but no one comments on it at the moment. They had a mission to get to. But they all knew they needed to do something when they got back.

“They probably do smell. They’re out there hiding in grass, getting bloody and sweaty, sometimes deployed for a month, so they definitely stink.”

And yet nothing came of that either. The only thing that changed is that they were all aware of this voice that seemed to follow them. That only their taskforce ever seemed to hear or acknowledge it. That "the voice" came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sounding as if it was being broadcasted directly to their brains. No trace of this thing only they could perceive, and they started coming to conclusions that were less than rational; because rational thought hadn’t gotten them anywhere thus far. Gaz suggested it might’ve been a ghost, to which Price corrected that it must be a demon rather than a ghost, Soap suggested it was some weird matrix shit, then Laswell tried to convince everyone it was some weird shared delusion. They couldn’t settle on any theories. Ghost didn’t need an explanation. Or at least, he tried convincing himself that, tried telling himself he just needed this thing gone.

These abrupt drop-ins by “the voice” went on for a long while. Something they regrettably got used to. Something they let fester and become a part of them, even if they didn't know it. “That voice” ingrained into their brains, the elated giggles, the annoyed groans, the triumphant cheers, the frequent queries, answers to questions they never heard, stupid comments, everything in-between... 

Ghost didn't notice at first. Time went on, the Task Force's missions increasing after they bombed General Ghorbrani during an arms deal Ghost intercepted. Things were escalating into a silent war the general populace wouldn’t notice, and likely never know about, kept quiet and under wraps to keep the waters calm. The voice lingering on every damn mission, somehow with all of them at once even if they were in different corners of the globe. 

Then he had a wave of realization wash over him.

It was an easy mission compared to the previous few. An easy in-and-out. Just him and Soap, watching a building from afar. Biding their time. He felt anxious, a long gone twitch in his fingers resurfacing as he felt his fingers become clammy beneath his gloves. 

He had to stay calm, stay cool. He was ‘Ghost’ right now, a walking dead-man without weakness. He was strong. This mission was easy. 

This was no time to be antsy. Patience, he reminded himself. It was just him coming down from the high of adrenaline of the previous missions, all fast paced and requiring frequent combat. That's what he tried to tell himself, when that bloody Scotsman casually began chattering over the radio.

Jokes, bad ones, yet jokes he shared an enthusiasm for with Soap nonetheless. Ghost could tell there was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke though, equally antsy. He may have been somewhat distant but he was perceptive. Picked up on behaviors in others. Read them and their emotions. It was necessary in his job, and he was sure Soap probably picked up on his nervousness as well, as he was smart, even if he sometimes seemed a little air-headed and brash at times.

"No laughs from 'that person' today?" Soap feigned offense. Then they both realized. They were anxious from the lack of that person. “The voice”. They obviously didn't know who it was or their name, but everyone on the force knew who was being referred to when someone said 'that person' or “the voice”.

 It felt laughable that they were startled by some incorporeal voice not being there. If anything, they should be grateful they were spared its presence. Yet they weren’t. Ghost laid in his bed that night, sleepless, a common occurrence for him. But tonight instead of the nightmares that played when he closed his eyes, he just… contemplated. Brooding.

It was a few nights later when he came to terms with it. He knew some things were wrong with him, hell, most soldiers had something wrong with them if they worked as long as he did. But, he found himself.. weirdly fine with it. It seemed some of his teammates felt the same way as he did, and others did not. Soap made jokes out of it, unafraid around other Task Force members to refer to “the voice”, sometimes speaking directly at it, most of the time not getting much in terms of responses. There was only really one time he could make out something from “the voice” in response to one of Soap’s direct words towards it.

“That line… didn't play last time I played this one.”

It was probably one of the only things he could make the full sentence out of, and it seems everyone else on the team heard it fairly clearly as well. “...‘That line?’” Price repeated, quizzical. Referring to it like a game. 

“Must… Must be an easter egg.” A nervous laugh followed. 

The next time he found himself on a mission with that strange feeling, as if he weren’t himself, as if something else willed his way… There was almost complete silence. Unusual, a first for that sinking feeling to be there without any noise. He noticed after the missions were over that only when he had that uncomfortable feeling was "the voice" responsive. 

“Not talkative today?” He asked, not really to anything in particular and not expecting any sort of response. He could almost intuitively tell whatever “the voice” was, was there. He was again alone for this mission and that probably was what gave him the confidence to actually speak to it. He wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him and sounding crazy. And the response? Well, it was hard to hear, almost inaudible to him, but he heard a small gasp, and a shaky breath afterwards. 

…That was probably the first time the weird feeling left his body mid-mission. As if it was the one unsettled when every time it appeared, he and his teammates felt out of control, a passenger in their own body, hazed and moving as if puppets. Hearing a voice that lacked a body, floating around and seemingly coming from nowhere. It had no echo, no substance or matter, as if the sound didn't vibrate through the air.

And it was a while before he, or anyone, heard that lovely— 

…“The voice” again. He was careful not to directly reference it. Them.

Ghost thought about it some more, and found himself talking to Gaz one night at the pub, Soap hammered, currently in the bathroom while Price tried to help him to get stable enough to get to the rented car so the four of them could return to base. “Maybe Soap wasn’t too far off with the Matrix idea.” Gaz idly swirled his cup, almost devoid of liquid and only really clinking the ice in it around. He wasn’t really talking to Ghost in particular, more-so rambling to the air and himself due to him being tipsy.

Ghost leaned back in the booth, his mask barely lifted enough to allow him to drink a bourbon he’d been nursing half the night. Didn’t want a hangover the next day, he’d already be in a bad mood since he had recruits to train and they were often stupid and infuriating. “Yeah? How so?” 

Gaz, who seemed to not really mean anything when he initially spoke, sat up straighter, more zoned in on the conversation upon seeing his Lieutenant had taken an interest in what he was saying. “I was thinking about some of the things I’ve heard, that the others have heard, and just… the reactions in general. And that feeling… I don’t know if you get it but—”

“Like you’re possessed.” He interjected, knowing what he meant. Gaz’s eyes widened slightly. While they all knew about “the voice”, it seems none of them knew that weird feeling was shared. The feeling of being possessed, watched, almost like they were prey, not highly experienced military men capable of defending themselves and others. He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon, setting it down on the table and looking back to Gaz, tucking his mask back down over his face.

“It’s just like… Like they’re playing a game. Controlling us. The reactions… It's like when you complete an objective or something. And it’d explain the feeling, like we’re controlled. Plus with how they reacted to Soap that one time, I could see it.”

“See it? The hell you seein’?” He didn't want to believe his life was a game. But Gaz made some good points. Ghost… No, Simon didn't play many games. He’d played a few party games with his team during off-time, Price convincing them that Mario-Kart was in fact a good team-bonding activity and absolutely necessary. But his off time wasn’t usually spent playing games, it just wasn’t something he could relax enough to do, never able to get calm enough to focus solely on said game.

“Imagine you’re playing a game—”

“Hard to imagine.” He barks, slightly sorry at the tone, though he wouldn’t correct himself.

Gaz sighs and continues. “Okay, imagine that it's team bonding night, and we’re playing Mario Party. Imagine everyone having a good time, laughing, chatting, playing the game, when Mario turns directly to the screen and acknowledges you. Like, unprompted, never happened before when you’ve played the game hundreds of times before? You’d probably be a little freaked out if you knew it wasn't the type of game to do something like that.”

Price interrupts, Soap slung over his shoulder and motions for them to head out to the car after he pays for the tab. Once everyone is in the car, Gaz continues.

“It’s just, the shit they said made me think about it. ‘That line’, ‘last time I played this one’, hell, them directly talking about us talking to them as an ‘easter egg’ makes it seem pretty clear to me.” Price glanced over, raising a brow at Gaz, who was sitting in the front passenger as He drove. Ghost was unfortunately stuck with a very clingy Soap in the back seat. “It’s clear whatever they were referencing is similar to a game, one they’ve played before. “

“You talking about ‘that person’? ‘The voice’?” Price sighs, slightly exasperated at the topic. He wasn’t quite convinced about "the voice" being real. He was still slightly in denial, but his slight intoxication must’ve allowed him to continue listening to the topic, not shutting down Gaz’s line of thought quite yet.

“You see what I mean though? If you were playing a game and the character you were playing just randomly acknowledges you out of nowhere, suddenly fucking sentient, you’d probably be scared shitless, especially if they’re a normal civilian.” Price hums, and Ghost blinks slowly, taking the information in and moving away from partaking in the conversation. The reaction was pretty akin to the one from when he was alone and spoke to “the voice”.

“Who’d wanna play a game involving the shite we do? We’re a bunch of soldiers doing unsavory work, I doubt that’s entertaining.” Price shakes his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles slightly turning white before he relaxes his hand with a sigh.

“Maybe not to us since it’s real-life. But think about it like this, a ton of people watch horror movies or slasher films. It’s not that they enjoy watching people die or get scared, but it’s like… an adrenaline thing. And you know when ‘that person’ appears most? On missions.”

This time, nobody responded. Gaz didn’t bother continuing either, already having made his point clear. An uncomfortable air settled in the car, not even forgotten the next day, even Soap somehow was capable of remembering the conversation despite the fact his head was reeling and his stomach turning in the backseat of the car.

This time they had settled on a theory.

[lucrezianoin]

Astarion-centric fics recs (49 fanfics)

I will divide them by ship. They are all complete unless specified. Also, if a fic is not here it does not mean that I did not like it, I could have forgotten it or just not seen it given that there is a lot of Astarion content!

Just make sure to read all the tags warnings when you open the AO3 page. I added the non-ship focused but Cazador focused ones at the end.

Also it feels weird to rec my own fics, but in case you want to read astarion h/c I am writing you can find me here at LadyRagnelle (for now all DarkUrge or Tav/Astarion).

Regarding if this reclist might be useful for you... there are a lot of Astarion fics, a lot of tags used and a lot of preferences! I have a very particular preference for a specific kind of fic (h/c, whump, softness, mainly) and in the case of Astarion I tend to not read nsfw, usually. So if you have been around my blog and you think we might share fics preferences... maybe these are the fics for you too! I will update this post with time.

I am trying to add a small description to all the fics, but I prioritized adding the links, so some of them do not have a description yet, but they were beloved in my bookmarks.

GEN (no ship)

Prying eyes (unsupermarket) - One of my absolute favorite. Karlach and Astarion share one of Astarion's nightmares (thanks to the tadpoles).

Reflecting endless down the hall (Asidian) - Each chapter is dedicated to one of the companions and the way they interact with Astarion, each chapter connected to a part of his past and trauma.

TAV (OR DARK URGE)/ASTARION

After all that I can do for them is done (votiveviscera)

To Aid and be aided (Beppoberry) - Post Cazador, taking care of each other.

Between the lines (Slothquisitor) - Amazing story about Tav gifting Astarion books.

Broken mechanism (laquearia) - Character study on Astarion's "Don't touch me".

Copper blood and silver hearts (netherprince)

The darkest corner of Baldur's Gate (Nebulad)

(Don't) lose your head (CL34R)

Don't you hear me praying? (ridgeline) - Short haunting story about Astarion's trauma.

And his pretty hand hold my leash (osiris_ryes) - one of the few nsfw fics in this rec list. This has some amazing Dark Urge writing and manages to use nsfw scene without ignoring the consent issues present in the game.

Hold me without hurting (fairbutnotsomaiden) - Astarion disassociates, Tav is kind.

I could feel my life begin (Flowercitti)

I have a good place to hide (Flowercitti)

I know how this will end (MyFandomCausesHanaji) - Amazing Dark Urge story about Durge trying to stop themselves from killing Astarion - and reliving the same day over and over.

A long dead pulse (enthugger) - Post-Cazador, Tav takes care of Astarion.

Made / Unmade (Adaphyl)

Mortal shortfall (titasylase) - Giving a gift to Astarion + act 1 angst, perfect combination.

Not something that I was but what I played (WitchyBee)

Out of wine and flowers (enthugger)

Porcelain (cweepa) - Astarion is sick, and he really cares about how he looks. Absolutely stunning story full of very delicate hurt/comfort and angst. I've reread this so many times.

Savages (cweepa) - Astarion finds a kitten.

Seducere (Tlon) - This is THE fanfic. I remember waiting every night for the new chapter. It narrates Astarion's past and his present in the game. Heartbreaking and haunting.

Specter (justfortune) - post game fanfic about Tav and Astarion's new life together, with some interesting concepts about personal space and sharing life.

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream (Flowercitti) - I love Flowercitti's stories so so much. This one is specifically about consent. Please, read all their fics.

Vanity items (Flowyen) - Incomplete fic, but still amazing. Just Astarion receiving genuine compliments.

You only feel it when it’s lost (gettin’ through still has a cost) (Flowercitti) - Flowercitti's Tav takes care of Astarion after Cazador.

The way you are (imprinted on a page) (cryptidvaquero) - Tav draws Astarion as a gift.

Was it something you ate (Anoke)

Water down what I call being grateful (Flowercitti) - This fic was written for one of my prompts. I will be eternally grateful because I love stories that deal with looking right through Astarion's seductions.

HALSIN/ASTARION

Animal I have become (Ulfrsmal)

Free (Faetality)

Handmande (BerlinBelin) - One of my favourite, absolutely stunning series about touch starved Astarion trying to ask (with difficulty) fo non-sexual intimacy.

Known in its aching (BerlinBerlin) - sick fic with so much tenderness.

Never gonna fall for (modern love) (Dwinkle) - Halsin offers Astarion his blood.

Through sneers and words snide (BerlinBelin)

HALSIN/TAV/ASTARION

Working on it (casswathever) - Very well written series with multiple fics, I particularly loved the relationship discussions.

WYLL/ASTARION

To die with you (WaterSeraphim)

A dream of sweet things (Asidian) - delicious h/c, trust issues and some nightmares too.

Innocence died screaming (Flowercitti) - Wyllstarion fic that starts from Astarion's past with Cazador, from his turning into a spawn. Ongoing.

KARLACH/ASTARION

Repairs (Asidian) - Heartbreakingly angsty fic about Karlach finding her touch again and Astarion expecting their first night to go a certain way.

The Things you miss (Asidian) - A very sweet fic about Karlach and Astarion interacting.

ASTARION/SEBASTIAN

A lyric on your tongue (justfortune) - Sebastian and Astarion meet.

GALE/ASTARION

The heat is only skin deep (ThatKorka)

POLY

Sharing (Asidian) - a touch of angst, touch starved characters, act 1 spoilers so slightly present consent issues.

CAZADOR-FOCUSED (no secondary ship)

Fake it (deerna)

Lost and never found (arenathesia)

Thou art mine (sophos) - The story of Astarion learning how to keep Cazador happy.

your reflection can't offer a word (to the bliss of not knowing yourself) (undermounts)

[no-where-new-hero]

omg I need your thoughts on the terminally o line author culture bc ngl it makes my eye TWITCH, there are authors I deliberately avoid even tho I've heard their stuff is good bc they're like that 🙈

HHHHH oh good lord, okay, from how I see it, there are two angles on this, both aggravating and sad: the official decree one and the spontaneous ecosystem one.

The officious one is that the nature of publishing nowadays demands an author have an online presence. You need Twitter/X. You need to let every potential reader know your book is coming out. You need engagement through reviews and pre-orders incentives (if you buy now you’ll get a special keychain!!) and word of mouth assurances from your peers that yes your book is as cool as you say it is. You need a newsletter with links (more buying! more voting on lists that are simply popularity contests!) and promises you’re still working on the next thing, don’t forget about me in the morass of everyone else doing the same thing. You need an Instagram and TikTok now to post pretty pictures and videos because one or two authors made it big off this kind of promotion and now everyone thinks it’s the ticket to the bestseller list (sadly, it seems to be working). You need an OnlyFans (a joke but I do recall a twt spat that was a joke/not joke about how rupi kaur will always be more beautiful than her critics and people who took issue with the conflation of beauty with talent). At the end of all this, you’re basically an influencer, a content creator creating content for the content you should be focusing on creating, the finished novel. And the novel itself seems to be disappearing behind the masks used to promote it (fanfic-style tropes, moodboards, playlists, memes) until I now no longer trust the book that I’ll pick up to have any resemblance to the enticements that brought me here. I’ve seen an author or two complain about the stress all this self-promotion generates, but it’s become such an entrenched part of the industry, I think people just accept it. And thus spend too much time online hoping that if they tweet just a little more, produce just one more reel, maybe that’ll be the difference between a sale and no sale.

The other side of this, distinct but obviously connected, is the ecosystem created by this panic of being perpetually visible coupled with the fact that so many of the new authors came of age during the rise of internet fandom culture. That opinionated community mindset that blurs the line between anonymity and friendship is the lens they bring to their own work. I mean, it makes sense I suppose—if you love yelling about characters and words, why wouldn’t you do that once you start to produce your own? This really came home to me hearing about that reviewbombgate “scandal” and how people involved were in reylo circles and that was used to provide receipts. You’re interacting with your readers and peers about your intimate work but they are also all strangers. They will not always give you the benefit of the doubt, and now—as opposed to the past when maybe the worst that could happen was a handful of bad reviews in newspapers—you will either be tagged in hate reviews, sub-tweeted, explicitly called out, demanded to atone for your sins. It’s no longer the morality of consumption but the morality of production. Of course, the easy answer is just log-off, touch some grass. But that can work only when you and everyone else are separated by anonymous accounts or when you have no platform to maintain. As an author trying to make your livelihood from this, suddenly it’s do or die. We’re in a strange moment of authorship bringing the Internet’s echo-chamber and claustrophobic into the real world (this is a lie: publishing now is no longer the real world. But it looks like it) and thus you can kind of no longer escape things.

Will the average reader who isn’t aware of all these machinations care about reviewbombgate? Would a reader browsing at Target think about the controversies around Lightlark? Very likely not. But the impression I’m getting more and more is that the average reader isn’t the one buying all the books. Or shall we say—a bestseller’s status relies on bookstore stock. Bookstore stock is only huge when they know a book will be a good investment. They’ll only know a book is a good investment if it and its author has street cred based on booktokkers, bookstagram, bloggers and reviewers (have you noticed how many books out these last maybe 1-3 years have these kinds of accounts thanked in the acknowledgments? Yeah), and THESE are also chronically online people who will Know. And decide the cast of fate.

Honestly, @batrachised, I see why you avoid these kinds of writers, though I wonder how long it’ll be before the disease becomes epidemic.

[thebreakfastgenie]

this is one (1) redeemable voucher to complain about AO3's tagging system (if you like)

Thanks for the voucher!

I probably should have phrased that post differently because upon reflection what I hate is more downstream of AO3's tagging system. The system itself does what it's supposed to do: it organizes the archive. Of course, users get cutesy with it (and I'm guilty of this myself) and other users will use inaccurate tags on purpose to get more attention (this is not acceptable behavior), but neither of those things are the system's fault.

But because the tagging system is so robust and fics are tagged based on tropes, this culture has developed of hyper-curated, trope-based reading habits. This didn't exist before AO3 because it just wasn't possible to filter fics to that extent. Some of my favorite fic reading experiences have been fics that I stumbled across by mistake because I didn't know what they were or because I had to comb through broader categories.

And this is where I start sounding like Ted Gup. Ted Gup wrote this essay in the late 90s called The End of Serendipity about how computers being so efficient at retrieving information was going to bring about the end of people stumbling upon topics they wouldn't have otherwise explored. I had to read and respond to this essay in English class in middle school and I raked Ted Gup over the coals, because I was writing on my laptop with dozens of open tabs. I still think I was right to point out Ted Gup's failure to foresee the wiki walk, but now that I'm older and technology has developed more over the last fifteen years, I'm starting to think he had something of a point.

I was thinking about this in a fanfiction and fandom context because I recalled a post I reblogged recently saying (paraphrased) "I have nothing against shipping but some of you are too focused on shipping to the exclusion of everything else." I agree with that post, but for me part of the problem isn't even the focus on shipping, it's that the shipping content is often so formulaic. Fandom talks a big game about diversity and creativity in fanworks, but a lot of the actual output I see is incredibly formulaic. In my opinion that's related to the extreme focus on tropes. Tropes are great, but if you're only looking at fic as a list of tropes you're taking a very narrow view. I don't know what the direction of causality is here, if there even is one, but I think the tagging system and the way the tagging system is used facilitate this reductive trope-based outlook.

I'm from the fanfiction.net era and I find the character and relationship tagging on AO3 useful, but I don't really care for the additional tags. I had to train myself to even read them. I prefer to select fics based on titles and summaries, because those are created by the author. Obviously writing a summary is very different than writing a story (and in fact it's a different skill and it's hard!) but a summary is still written by the author, so it gives me some sense of their writing style. When authors actually include an excerpt in the summary it does that even more. Tags can be useful in conjunction with a summary, because well-selected tags make me curious how all the elements listed in the tags fit together. But I don't want to sort by Enemies to Lovers or whatever.

I don't expect everyone to read like I do, this is nothing more than one crank's ramblings about my personal dissatisfaction with the current state of fandom. Maybe it resonates with someone, and if it does they're welcome to reblog it, but I'm not trying to do social commentary here. Maybe it doesn't, and that's okay too.

I also don't know if the trope focus on booktok and in the traditional publishing world comes out of fanfiction or not but it's even more distressing to me there and I think it bothers me in the fanfiction sphere because of the possibility that fanfiction is contributing to that trend.

[mossstep]

More sagau (self aware genshin au) headcanons(plus a little bit of writing) These ones are a bit more focused instead of general.

Ghost!reader sagau headcanons

As always: I am a minor, don’t be weird with my posts!

Note: these posts are made with the intention of lightening up the sagau tag, also, if you’re interested in me writing an entire story using my headcanons just ask and I’ll be happy to!

Tw/cw: sagau, swearing, references to the 4.2 archon quest (not 100% sure if this is needed)

Arriving in teyvat

Waking up in teyvat was certainly not on your bingo card for this year. You had only been playing genshin seriously for about a year or so. You had played before that, but had gotten bored after the Monstadt archon quest, because of the steep ar requirements for the Liyue archon quest.

So waking up in Liyue, specifically wuwang hill was, jarring to say the least. You had recognized the area immediately. You had basically lived in the crimson witch domain farming for your Hu Tao. Not that you had Hu Tao yet, having lost your 50/50 on each of her reruns. (Seriously! Talk about bad luck!)

As you get up you notice a vague feeling weightlessness, looking down, you noticed that you were partially see-through? What?

-

So the creator would probably meet Hu Tao first, as she likes the hang around wuwang (I don’t know her lore to correct me if I’m wrong) and Hu Tao would almost immediately recognize the reader as the creator due to their “golden aura.” Despite this, she’d treat you as your average ghost

-

The creator’s appearance would be like the ghosts seen in a game. But instead of that blueish-white color outline, the creator’s would be golden.

-

The creator’s ability to interact with things would be limited, only being able to slightly nudge or push things. They wouldn’t be able to pick anything up, or eat anything.

Despite this, they’re able to be seen/talk to vision holders and other elemental beings. While regular humans would only be able to sense them.

Also, the creator can possess shit, because ghost!

-

It’s likely that Zhongli, after catching wind of the creator’s arrival in not only teyvat, but also Liyue, would try to meet with them.

I can see the geo archon getting in contact with Ei or Neuvillette about making a mechanical puppet/body for the creator, since they were very limited in what they could do.

-

In their ghost form the creator would likely be able to take advantage of laylines/teleport waypoints/statues of the seven/etc. to travel around teyvat, which is how they meet with their favorite characters, wether or not they know about the creator’s arrival

Creator: hi tighnari :3

Tighnari: ARCHONS WHERE DID YOU COME FROM!?

Creator: secret :3

Alternatively

Creator: Hi Kaveh

Kaveh: OH SHIT A GHOST (unaware they’re the creator)

-

The creator would probably spend a whole 6 months or longer in teyvat without a body, because the people of teyvat would make sure only the best body is given to them.

If the people of Fontaine make a body for the creator they’d probably have the the fortress of meropide temporarily stop production on gardemeks to put all their energy in making the perfect mechanical body for the creator of teyvat.

If Ei instead uses the technique she used to create the shogun and scaramouche she’d source only the highest quality materials, then spend ages meticulously working on every little detail to make sure it’s perfect

No matter how much you say you don’t care about it being perfect, the people of teyvat would consider it blasphemy to give anything less than the best for their creator.

[picturejasper20]

You what’s funny is that I’m seeing so much talk about how this explains why Mabel acted the way she did during Vs. The future.

And etc.

Because of the stuff going on with the parents.

Instead (or at least less so in my experience) of stuff like u and/or me talked about on here.

More on why Dipper seemed and clung so much to what/who he saw as authority figures, like Ford, more in Dipper acting mature/feels the need to act mature/be more mature/etc., why he also, maybe to extent didn’t want to leave (too), him but taking as much care of himself he should and having reoccurring nightmares, what exactly he maybe overheard his parents saying ;like theories on it), etc.

It just kind of bugs me a bit, because these these things are important and interesting. And like it was Dipper’s nightmares, not Mabel’s (at least of the dreams/nightmares that were revealed. The cast probably has more).

She was having nightmares herself ofc, but it involved her pig dying, not her parents. We don’t really knows how much she knows, though she could have suspicions. Though either way, Dipper and Mabel have obviously been affected by their parents in ways.

Anyways, just wish people talked about those kind of things more u and me talked about in relation to Dipper and his nightmares, instead of focusing so much on how this “explains” stuff w/ Mabel (not saying it doesn’t at all. Ur does some. But still).

Curious if u have experienced the stuff I talked about. I.e. how Mabel is affected by their parents, more than Dipper. Despite it being his nightmares? I just find it a bit odd and stuff.

Also, the post which image I an sharing here. I ofc, agree a lot with that post and ur tags.

Also, thank fir answering my other Ask. If u do ever rewatch the show to make that post talking about Dipper’s issues setting up boundaries and stuff. I would love if could ping me that post, if u post it, and if want to ping me. ^^

(Also, lmao at ur toxic your post about Furd and Bill)

Have a nice day/night!

Yes, it does explain quite a lot about Dipper's character in the series itself. He acts more serious than other kids from his age and he really was looking for the author from the journal because he related to him.

I wonder if he acted more ¨childish¨ and, after seeing that argument with his parents, he assumed that he needed to grow up more quickly than other kids? That he would have to depend mostly on himself? It is interesting to think about.

I wouldn't say i experienced that because i'm not that involved in the fandom. I only reblog some stuff i see around and memes of Bill getting drunk over his break up with Stanford (Lol). I haven't seen if people talk more about Mabel than Dipper when it comes to this reveal or confirmation about how their parents are.

And sure! I'll try keeping that in mind if i ever write about it.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can I ask D (distrust), P (protective) and I (Injury) (angst alphabet) for Sir Pentious?

Sir Penious w/ D, P, I (angst alphabet)

Woo yeah first angst alphabet post YIPEE!!

Prompts: distrust, protective, injury

Notes: reader is GN, although like most of my other alphabet posts we're focusing heavily on the canon character, established relationship, prompt I was written before P sooo... wording may be a little confusing since P references I!

CWs: vague injuries and blood, talk of death as a hypothetical for P, mentions of panic attacks

DISTRUST

i think it would be really interesting if the two of you were friendly with one another prior to him joining the hotel... i think you can see where im going with this-

you of course find out he was plotting to rat you all out to vox, and while some members of the hotel are quick to forgive (charlie), or simply dont care (husk), youre crushed. bonus points if youve already told him you wanted to go to the hotel to try to better yourself

to you it looks like he just... went and tried to ruin that for you, which in a way yeah thats what he did even if it wasnt a personal attack on you

it takes a while for you to trust him again, you dont just bounce back from that sort of thing..

he tries to get you to hear him out on his apology as well as leaving you small things he knows you like; treats, trinkets, stuff like that

its not until charlie says something that he gives you space

you can tell hes also crushed, and he blames no one but himself

funnily enough, i think if you did the same thing back it would break his trust too... at least after he commits himself to redeeming himself. that may make him a hypocrite, but in a way that adds to the hurt...

PROTECTIVE

so so protective of you, even if he doesnt have a reason to be

likes having one of his egg boiz follow you around in case you need assistance, hes a lot more lax if nothing has happened to make him worry his head off for you

actually, he thinks youre quite strong! you have your strengths that can help you in a fight, or to avoid on... and he trusts you!

but what if something does happen!

as mentioned in the I portion, hes going to be hovering around you after any incidents; you getting injured, robbed, snatched, or even killed (if youre a sinner and you were killed by normal hell circumstances), not only does he send his egg boiz with you but he might tag along with you if he can

if he cant i can easily see him passing you a weapon... please take it... for his peace of mind...

stays up at night blaming himself for not being there for you when you needed him.. he didnt want to seem clingy or controlling so he let you go out alone, and while yes he does still want you to have your freedom and space... hes scared that its going to happen again... what if something happens during an extermination?

for the first few weeks after any incidents he can be jumpy

INJURY

I WAS going to reference my I headcanon from the fluff alphabet but i realize... i skipped it! so... yeah!

i can imagine theres a difference between seeing you hurt but untreated, and seeing you hurt but treated... and since this prompt tackles the untreated version...

he probably tries to keep himself together as he tries to stop the bleeding, or trying to remove anything that may be lodged into your body...

but hes so very clearly putting on an act, hes so so scared of losing you

even if youre a sinner and youve just been attacked under normal circumstances, no angelic weapons, he still doesnt want to see you in this way.. especially if hes done his best to try to prevent you from getting hurt

the type to just his bare hands to try to stop the bleeding if theres nothing else to press to the wound, it just makes things worse because his hands keep slipping and harshly rubbing into the wound... his claws arent making anything any easier

likely loses himself at a point and just shuts down, he kind of goes into shock himself as he tries to save you- despite his best efforts to remain composed and to keep himself anchored to the moment his mind begins to slip

if youre a sinner and you regenerate, hes going to be lingering around you even closer than ever before. he refuses to let you leave his sight for a while

[a-kaash-me-outside]

not fair - ch6

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer...

previous | ch6 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// "i hope you had your fill of feeling in control" ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6222 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ minors dni super nfsw, not really cheating anymore but still some vibes, use of character first names, somewhat anxious in the beginning, degradation, oral m!receive, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, name calling,very soft feelings, soft sex too wow nice, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns

no more taglist for not fair, but get tagged in my other stuff! ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

You’d think that the walk back to your place would mean time to think and reflect. Kei and you had woken up only an hour or so after all three of you had fallen asleep. You were careful not to wake Tadashi, careful to not make a sound as you got dressed, put your shoes on, and locked the door behind you with your spare key. 

The car was left in the driveway once again. It was a task for another day, you’re sure. For now, you’re just trying to tackle the sorting of everything that’s happening in your head and how you’re feeling leaving the house this time around.

You know that it was good for Tadashi, that’s exactly why you did it. Even with the pressure that was riding on you to make the night run smoothly and the unfamiliarity going into it, you have to admit that it was good for you as well. That surge of power was unlike anything you’ve felt really, and definitely was not something you were used to in the bedroom.

After everything was said and done, you felt confident. The outcome was better than you had anticipated and everyone listened to you and you felt that, on some level, Tadashi understood why everything had to unfold the way it did. All of that was a result of the role that you played, and it was a fun role to play.

But despite all of that, despite the overarching success of the night, the small journey back to your place feels weird, wrong, like something’s not quite in place. You don’t know why your brain feels off or where the confusion is coming from. You try to remind yourself that the night went exactly as it should’ve. You repeat it over and over in your mind, but you can’t shake the feeling.

You’re so focused on it that you barely notice that you’re at your front door. If Kei said anything on the walk back, it was lost to the outside air. You don’t know where it started, but you can feel the concentration in your core, spreading out to your fingertips and toes, and when you cross the threshold and step inside, you start feeling it on your skin. 

Your mouth is about to open when Kei turns to face you. “I hope you had your fill of feeling in control.” His voice is low and you know exactly what that means, what’s coming next. You want to tell him about the feeling, are ready to spout out a warning color just as his hand wraps around your throat. Your instinct, then, is to reach for his wrist, fingers out to tap him, but your hand doesn’t even make it there before a feeling of calm spreads across your body. 

His thumb guides your face up to look at him, to make direct eye contact with him. You’re certain that there is some residual dismay written on your face, because he almost takes a step back. You press your throat into his hand, stomach in knots. You don’t know how to tell him that what he’s doing is actually righting whatever felt so wrong before and if he stops you might burst into tears.

“So you did have your fill of control, huh?” he says softly. It’s riding a line between genuine care and condescending and somehow it still amazes you that after all this time, he’s still so incredible at reading you and knowing exactly what to do. 

That feeling of discomfort, the building aches, and the spreading warmth. You felt out of place. 

It doesn’t matter how much of a success the night was. It doesn’t matter how confident you felt when everything calmed down. When the smoke cleared and the dust settled, you knew exactly where you belonged.

You know exactly where you belong. 

“Are you sure that you want to do this right now?” he asks, the genuine care completely taking over. He takes his hand off of your throat, his thumb out from under your chin, using it instead to caress your cheek. It feels left field only for a moment until you remember exactly how much has happened tonight, the mental preparation and the weight on your shoulders before you even walked in the doors, not to mention the follow-through and the decision making that you never really have to do. 

Sure, part of you wants to wrap yourself around him, feel every inch of his skin against yours and stay there the entire night just like that, but the other part of you, the much bigger part, knows that you’ll have time for that after he puts you back in your place, exactly where you need to be. 

You want to give away all of your control. You want to let go completely in a way that you never have. You don’t want to focus on pleasing him or worry that you’re doing bad, you just want him to use you like there isn’t a single thought behind your pretty eyes. 

You know that once this sentence leaves your mouth, there’s no going back. It’s going to flip a switch, going to be met with a cocky smirk and some sort of quip along with it, and with each thought, you can barely remember how upset you were in the first place. “I don’t think you understand how much I need this right now, Kei,” you murmur. 

“God, you could barely handle a few hours of what I have to do for you every single day,” he scoffs, corners of his lips turning up just the way you envisioned in your head. He plants his fingers back around your neck. “I bet you think you know just what it’s like to be me now, don’t you?” You don’t even have time to inhale before he barks at you again, “I asked you a fucking question.”

You shake your head no, but his grip just gets tighter. 

“Bullshit. You think you know exactly what it’s like to be in my shoes, know what it’s like to have someone listen to you and to be in charge?” he asks, shaking his head. His face gets closer to yours and he shakes you for emphasis. “Tell me. Say, ‘Yes, Kei, I know what it’s like to be in control.’”

If he hadn’t said them immediately before, you’re not sure anyone could’ve made out what you were saying, not with the lack of air and the tightness around your throat. You try your best regardless, squeaking out vague syllables and noises that sound like what he asked you to say. 

“It doesn’t look like you know what it’s like to be in control, now does it? Standing here, barely breathing on your own, not even choosing your own words. What? Do you need me to carry you to bed too?” he asks. He’s really laying into it now that he’s double-checked that this is, as he suspected, exactly what you needed.

He gives you even less time to answer now.

“Say, ‘Yes, Kei, I need you to carry me to bed.’,” he instructs as if you honest-to-god need someone to choose your words for you. 

He drops his hand from your neck, allowing you to catch your breath and to hear you repeat him clearly. “Yes, Kei, I need you to carry me to bed,” you say, warmth spreading from your cheeks, down your neck.

Kei doesn’t say another word, but the smirk he’s wearing conveys anything that he’s thinking. He hoists you up, carries you down the hall and into your shared bedroom, silent as he does. There is no time at all between him lying you down on the bed and him climbing on top of you, one knee on either side of your hips. 

He’s quick to pull your t-shirt off, tossing it aside without a second thought. His hands run down your chest, cold from being outside a few moments ago and rough against your skin, and yet, you can’t get enough. He takes your tits into both of his hands, harshly kneading them, pressing them into one another, watching the ripples and jiggle.

It’s vaguely different from how he normally treats your tits, like he’s still performing the same actions, but you can tell the reasoning has changed. He’s not looking up at your face every so often to see how he’s affecting you. His gaze doesn’t break from staring at your chest. Kei isn’t trying to pleasure you, he just likes the way your tits bounce. 

The rough fabric of his jeans grind against your bare stomach as he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his index finger and thumb. His palms press into your tits as he continues to toy with your perky nipples, flicking and rubbing until he’s satisfied with how hard they are. 

He moves down your body, hands sliding against your stomach and sides, grabbing onto your waistband and completely undressing you in one motion. He’s been quiet since you’ve been in the room, but you can’t help the anticipation of teasing you feel. Once he pushes your legs apart and sees how drenched you are, you’re sure he’s going to have something to say about it. 

But he doesn’t get that far. He sinks his fingernails into your hips, massages his fingers into your thighs, down your calves, but he doesn’t spread your legs. Instead, he gets off of the bed entirely. You go to sit up, to follow him or just object, but he shoots you a look.

“Don’t move, wouldn’t want it to go to your head, having control of your movements and all.” He begins to move you so meticulously. He spins you around, your head hanging off the foot of the bed now. Your instincts tell you to adjust so that you’re comfortably on the bed, but you know that Kei has other plans for you. You also know there’s no reason for you to think that far ahead.

So you let your head hang off of the bed, relaxing your shoulders and the strain of your neck and you just lay there. “This is much more comfortable for you, isn’t it?” Kei asks, undoing his belt. You can’t see much, but you can hear every little noise. The belt buckle clashing against the floor, his jeans and boxers being thrown into the corner, a glob of spit hitting the palm of his hand, wet strokes. “Lying here, not having to think or make any decisions, just being my little bitch. Say, ‘Yes, Kei. Thank you.’”

“Ye-”

He slides his cock past your lips and into your mouth. “That’s a good little bitch,” he laughs, pressing his hips forward, driving his cock further down your throat until you’ve taken his entire length. “Fuck, that’s good.” His balls are resting against your nose, held there as he soaks in the feeling of his cock being swallowed by your tight throat. He doesn’t even want to move, just loves how warm you are around him.

The entire situation is disorienting for you, upside down, mouth full, not being able to breathe. You do your best to breathe out of your nose, but he’s not making that any easier either. You’re so grateful when he finally starts to pull out even if you can only take in one good breath before he thrusts back in. 

He doesn’t hold it this time, fucking in and out of your mouth rythmically. His balls are slapping against your face with every thrust and this new angle is not being very forgiving to your throat. You can already feel the hoarseness coming on, the ache setting in, and with no control over his pace or roughness, you have no other choice than to just lie there and take it.

The thought alone could make you come on the spot.

This new angle also means every thrust feels deeper, every thrust elicits a gag, a cough. You’re choking on his cock like it’s the first time you’ve handled it and you can’t see his face or hear his moans with how loud and visceral your noises are, but you know he’s in utter bliss right now. 

You were dumb to think he’d loose stamina over time, so fucking stupid thinking that by the end, it wouldn’t be as rough or harsh. You can’t see anything. Your eyes are shut so tight, but you can still feel the sting of your spit and precome dripping down your face and into your eyes. It’s up your nose and in your hair, all over your fucking face. 

He places a hand on your neck. “God, I can feel my fat fucking cock right here.” He pushes on your neck, gives himself leverage to fuck into your throat faster, harder while the muscles in your throat squeeze him even tighter. He runs his palm up and down your neck, following the length of his cock like he’s jacking himself off. “Can’t believe it took me until now to fuck you like a little doll, do whatever I fucking want to you,” he says through pants and gritted teeth. 

“Fuck, wanna come down your throat so fucking bad,” he groans, pushing his cock all the way down your throat and holding it there, “I could spill my load right fucking now, you couldn’t even taste it I’m so deep.” So much is rushing through your mind, but you can’t make sense of any of it. You’re soaked, a fucking mess between your legs, thighs sticky and slick from how absolutely drenched you are.

“Too fucking bad I want to use that tight little cunt,” he says, pulling out of your throat. Despite the fact that nothing is obstructing your airway now, you still can hardly breathe. There is too much saliva on your face, up your nose, drooling out of the corners of your mouth. You swallow harshly, trying to at least clear your mouth. Your eyes are still screwed shut as you’re yanked by your hair, pulled to the other side of the bed. You can’t tell where exactly Kei is until he pulls you by the hips, nudging himself between your legs. A soft fabric hits your face. “Wipe your face. As pretty as you look all ruined and messy, I want you to watch me fuck you,” he says. You do as you’re told, running the shirt over your face and wiping as much grime off as you can. You can finally open your eyes and see him towering over top of you.

He uses both of his hands to press your legs open further, slides them towards your cunt and uses more fingers than necessary to spread you open. He can barely hold your lips open to see into your pretty pink hole. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet,” he scoffs, “I don’t think you’ve ever been this fucking wet.” He shakes his head.

“What is it? Is it how you were used? Couldn’t see anything or do anything? You tried to be all big and mighty and in control, but you’re really just my little fuck toy. Is that why you’re this wet? Say, ‘Yes, Kei. That’s why I’m so wet.’,” he instructs. 

“Yes, Kei. That’s why I’m so wet,” you repeat. You don’t move an inch. It feels so taboo, like you’re on display for him in a way you never have been. 

“So fucking wet, bet I could fuck my whole hand into your slutty little pussy.” Kei runs three fingers between your puffy lips, grazing your throbbing clit and teasing your hole. “Wouldn’t want to stretch it out too much, needs to be perfectly tight for my cock, isn’t that right? Say, ‘Yes, Kei. Thank you.’”

“Yes, Kei. Thank you,” you repeat.

He slips one finger into your hole. You barely notice it gliding in and out of you, yet the only emotion in your head is gratitude. He uses his other hand to guide the head of his cock, running the slit of his tip against your clit. Even with how wet you are, you can feel the precome leaking out against you.

Kei doesn’t bother taking his finger out even as he prods his cock against your hole, fucking his sensitive head shallowly inside of you. The thrusts are so short, barely fucking deep enough for his entire head to enter you. “Say, ‘Thank you, Kei’,” he pants. 

“Thank you, Kei,” you whimper. 

“Again.”

“Thank you, Kei,” you say again. 

“Again.”

“Thank you, Kei,” you say once more, louder this time, voice cracking on his name, hoping that he hears how much you mean it despite not choosing the words yourself.

“Good girl,” he breathes. He rolls his hips, pushing his cock deeper. Every roll of his hips, his cock goes deeper and deeper until he’s pressed up against you, cock buried inside of you as far as it can go. He moves his hands to your hips. You’re sure that he’s going to press down, hold you by your hip bones and ram in and out of you. Instead, he pushes you backwards until you’re almost empty and then pulls you back towards him. 

A rush of air leaves your lungs. He doesn’t wait for you to get it back before he does it again, pushing you and pulling you repetitively as he stays in place. Your back rolls against the covers beneath you, the friction warming you after a while, but it’s nothing compared to the bruises forming on your hips. The longer that he uses you to fuck him like this, the more confident he gets. His grip on your hips gets tighter, more assured as the motions keep working.

The way that your cunt looks as it’s being pulled off his cock and speared right back on is something he wants to remember forever. Your pussy is swallowing his fucking cock every other second, so tight and perfectly hot encompassing his thick hard length. He never thrusts forward to meet you, doesn’t adjust himself to get deeper. If he wants to fuck you deeper, he moves you closer. If he wants to fuck you faster, he digs his nails into your skin to better anchor himself and he moves you faster.

He uses you like you’re nothing more than a fleshlight, a glorified fuck toy. 

In spite of how degrading the situation is when you really think about it, or maybe because of it, it doesn’t take you long to get right on the edge. You want to tell him, but you can’t find your voice or the right words. Your whimpers and moans get needier, louder, but he’s not paying any attention to them. He’s too busy watching your pussy slide up and down his cock. 

“I- Mmm. Kei,” you basically whisper. 

“Guess she does know how to talk on her own, huh?” Kei asks, “What? What is it?”

“Gonna… Gonna come,” you breathe, head pressing back into the mattress. 

“Yea? You could stand to be a little tighter. Why don’t you come for me, then?” he asks, continuing to fuck himself with your cunt. He doesn’t even finish his sentence before you’re coming all over him, pussy tightening around him just like he wanted. “Fuck, yea, just like that, don’t stop, keep coming for me, baby, you’re nice and tight like that, squeezing my thick cock.”

He’s throbbing inside of you as you come around him. You can’t even feel the pain from him digging into your hips anymore, not while your core is so fucking tight and his cock is so fucking deep. You’re losing your high, but you’re trying to focus on the pleasure, trying to come again quickly just so Kei can feel so fucking good.

He pushes you up by your hips once more, but this time, instead of pulling you back onto his cock, Kei crawls on the bed to meet you. He hovers over top of you just long enough to get a good look at your confused post-orgasm face before lowering himself onto you, resting his weight against your chest, bracing himself the tiniest bit on his elbows and slamming his cock into you. 

Reaching one hand up, he takes a fistful of your hair, not to hurt you or to put you in your place or guide you anywhere, but to ground himself as he rails you. He stays deep inside of you, lifting his hips up only a few inches, but slamming back into you so hard that your inner thighs are burning. Without his fingers digging into your hips, you can tell how sore they are just being exposed to the air. It only takes a few thrusts before you’re quivering around him again. 

“Come again,” he commands, his head coming into contact with your g-spot repetitively as he rams in and out of you. You do as you’re told, as if you had any power otherwise, cunt clamping down on his cock as the orgasm rolls through your body again. You have nowhere to move, no way to convulse as your body is racked with pleasure, trapped underneath Kei’s strong chest. Your head collides with his shoulder, forehead pressing against it as you scream his name. “That’s my girl,” he praises.

You’re riding your high again, barely even having recovered from the last one, with just those three fucking words. The repetition of his name is replaced with yeses, a million of them over and over. You’re convinced it lasts forever, heart thumping so hard against your chest, teeth clenched, gushing. 

The second that it subsides, your pussy and muscles relaxing, he pulls out of you. He flips you over underneath him, manhandles you in the exact position that he wants, lifting your ass up into the air just enough to show your pussy through your sticky thighs and doesn’t let you realize what’s happening before slipping back inside of your wet cunt.

Both of his hands are braced on your lower back, hands splayed in a way that gives him so much steadiness as he rocks into you. He pulls you back every time he presses hips forward, slowly at first, setting a pace and fucking you like rolling waves. “If you think that you know what it’s like to be me, you’re so fucking wrong,” he tells you, voice just as steady as his motions.

“I know you think that you were in charge that entire time, I know you do,” he says, pace starting to pick up, “but you have to know, deep down, that you were really still under my control.” You have no other thoughts in your head other than how full you feel and whatever is coming out of Kei’s mouth. “You never had an ounce of power.”

He rocks you faster, meeting with his length as he puts more pressure on your lower back. “If I would’ve said anything, you would have listened in an instant.” His breath is getting heavier as his pace gets even quicker, sliding in and out of your wet pussy. “I could’ve told you, in the middle of everything, to get on your back and spread your legs like a good little bitch and you would’ve done it.”

It’s all true.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks. You’re not sure if he’s looking for a real answer, but you want to give him one, one that comes from you so he knows that it’s true.

You nod your head, “Yes, fuck. I missed it. Halfway through I missed it so much. I thought about just leaving and coming home with you. Couldn’t go two seconds without wanting you to take control of me again.”

His hips stutter, cock throbs violently inside of you, and the force that comes after the stutter is animalistic, like he can’t control himself. He snakes one hand around, grabs you by your neck, and pulls you up until your back is pressed against his chest. The backs of your thighs are resting against the tops of his and every time he fucks up into you, you fall back down onto his cock like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“I can’t take control of you again if I never stopped,” he grunts into your ear. His large hand around your throat doesn’t let you respond again, but maybe that’s for the best. You’re not sure you could take another drastic increase in force. Your entire body is more sore than he’s ever made it. Your throat, your hips, your chest, the insides and backs of your thighs. 

His other hand roams around your body, groping whatever parts of you he can reach, desperately trying to fulfill his need to touch every inch of you. It ends with his fingers on your clit, rubbing small circles into your sensitive nub. “Do I have to abuse your cunt even more or are you going to cream all over my fucking cock again?” His lips are pressed up against your ear as he speaks so you can feel the vibrations of each word.

Your body slumps forward, too much energy going towards trying to stay conscious as you come for the fourth time after being handled so roughly. Kei is there to catch you, wrapping his arm across your chest as he fucks you through another orgasm. It doesn’t last quite as long as your last one and you’re grateful for that, not sure how much you could’ve handled without collapsing. 

As soon as the waves have passed over you, he leans you forward and grabs onto your shoulders. If this was anyone else other than Kei, you would’ve protested. There isn’t a single other person you trusted to take care of you in a position like this. One wrong move and you were falling on your face on the floor.

Kei acts like it’s not a big deal, like he’s not incredibly fucking hot for being this trustworthy and strong. As he slams into you, you lurch forward off his cock, but are instantly pulled back on by his grip on your shoulders. The motion is jarring at first, abrupt and hard to get used to, but when you finally do, it feels incredible. He experiments with different holds, different rhythms, and you can’t get enough of it.

But the need comes all at once and leaves your mouth in the same beat, “Kei, wanna- wanna see you, please.” You half-expect him to make a comment about how he’s in charge and how you don’t get to make demands, but instead he starts to move you.

He stays in the same position, but turns you around to face him. You wrap your legs around his torso and sink onto his cock. It’s as deep as it was before, but you feel even more full for some reason. The softness in his eyes when you finally make eye contact with him is something that surprisingly doesn’t surprise you.

You trust him to support you, don’t feel the need to wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady so you use them instead to brace the sides of his face. He wasn’t planning on turning away from you or breaking eye contact, but you weren’t going to take that risk. “I need you to fill me up, baby, please, need to feel your come inside of me,” you tell him.

His grunts and throbbing cock are affirmations, but not as much as him lying you down softly on your back and starting to fuck into you faster. “You want my come?” he asks, hands planted on your shoulders once again. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, please, please, Kei. I want your come, want it deep inside of me, so deep. Fuck,” you beg, trying to roll your hips to meet his. It throws off his rhythm slightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, he adjusts as best he can to match them, breathing harshly through his nose when it matches just right.

“Pretty please?” he smirks.

“Pretty please, baby, fuck. Need you to fill me up, pump me full of your fucking seed,” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer to his face as he struggles to keep his pace, “until I can fucking taste it.”

He opens his mouth, going to ask you to beg again or say something else, but you close the gap between your lips, crashing yours against his and shoving your tongue in his mouth. You’re not concerned with technique or politeness, you just want to be closer to him. Your tongue is exploring his mouth like it’s the first time you’re kissing, little moans escaping out of the sides of your mouth. You pull away for only a moment, “Come for me.”

The second that your lips are back on his, you can feel his fingernails scratch into your lower back where he’s wrapped his arms. His cock is pulsing and you can feel his come spraying against your walls, stream after stream. You’re tightening your pussy as he sloppily fucks into you trying to milk every single drop from his balls. “Wanna feel it drip out of my hole, baby, please,” you whisper against his lips. Another string of come drips out of his cock and into your pussy before he pulls away from you, slowly sliding out of you, come still drooling from the slit. 

It doesn’t take long for the come to start dripping out of your gaping hole. “So pretty and messy, fuck,” Kei says, pressing the head of his cock against your hole, smearing his load on your clit and over your puffy lips. 

By the time you’ve caught your breath, he’s stopped, now only focusing his energy on staring at you. “I should probably go get cleaned up, huh?” you ask with no real intention of moving. Kei nods his head anyway, getting up off the bed and reaching out his hand. 

You, again, with no real intention of moving, don’t make a move for his hand. 

“Come on, pretty,” he leans down and scoops you up instead. You almost protest, already missing the soft mattress until the feeling of grime sets in. He helps you get cleaned and then carries you right back to bed and you’re somehow the most grateful you’ve been all night.

“I feel balanced again. Everything feels back in place,” you tell him as he tucks you under the covers before climbing under them himself, snuggling up against you. 

“Is that so?” he asks. It’s not even the slight bit sarcastic.

“Mhm,” you nod along, “when I was walking home, something felt off. I think it was how little we touched when we were having sex with Tadashi. I never want to have that little of contact with you in intimate moments ever again.”

“When I saw that look in your eyes, I thought I really fucked up, you know?” he admits, “Even when you pushed forward, I still felt like something was really wrong.”

“I barely knew what was wrong,” you laugh. “All I knew was that as you were touching me, I was starting to feel better and I didn’t want you to stop.” You press yourself against his side, throwing one arm overtop of his chest, but it’s still not close enough. Without warning, you throw your leg over him, climbing on top of him and lying on his chest. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him.  

“Is that better?” he asks, softly, smoothing your hair.

“Kinda? Almost,” you quietly state. You chew on your lip, not exactly sure how to ask for what’s on your mind. “Wanna be closer to you.”

Kei cocks his head. He doesn’t have to explicitly ask you what you mean, the question is showing on his face.

“You know how normally you take care of me after by petting my hair and holding me?” you ask. “And it’s very wonderful and comforting, but,” you mumble through the rest of your sentence, “this time, can you just fuck me nicely? Want to be close to you again.”

It’s rare that the two of you do this. It’s really only happened twice in your relationship, but you know that makes it even more special. Neither of you really have any need for slow, sensual sex. It doesn’t get you off as much.

But this time isn’t necessarily to get you off as best as possible, you just want to feel him inside of you, feel his skin on yours as much as possible. 

He slides you down gently, lifts his hips up to rub his soft cock against your thigh. It’s growing hard against your leg as he places soft, gentle kisses into your neck and down your shoulders. “Is this what you want?” he asks.

You nod against him, “Mhm, please.”

“You know that I’ll do anything for you, right?” It’s a rhetorical question, you know, but you still feel the need to answer him despite the incessant warmth spreading through your cheeks and chest. 

“I know that,” you whisper back to him. 

He’s gentle around the spots that he knows he wasn’t too gentle to earlier. He makes sure to avoid your hips and the backs of your thighs, your neck, half of your body essentially. When he slips inside of you, he’s not fully hard, but there’s something about feeling him grow inside of you that has you throbbing. 

Typically, this doesn’t get the two of you off as much as the alternative, but right now, your breathing is heavy and his is mirrored and he hasn’t even started moving yet. 

You push his hair out of his face and you begin rocking against him. His cock isn’t really coming out of you and back in rather than moving along with you, but neither of you mind. You stay as full as possible and he gets to be surrounded by how perfectly warm your walls are.

“Does this feel as good for you as it does for me?” you ask, hands softly grabbing onto his shoulder as you move your hips in small circles. He nods, swallowing harshly as he reaches up to hold your face in his hands.

“Better, maybe,” he admits. 

You breeze over it, don’t have the heart or energy to disagree with him so instead you say, “I love you, Kei.” You lift off of his cock and slowly slide back down, eyes rolling back into your head as you take in the feeling of every inch.

“Fuck, I love you,” he reciprocates. 

You stop moving, resting all of your weight on him and locking your fingers together at the top of his head. “Fuck me harder, baby,” you instruct him. Kei listens immediately, lifting his hips and slamming into you. “And tell me you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you,” he repeats, driving his cock into you forcefully. 

“Faster,” you breathe. You’re absolutely certain that your body can only take one more orgasm before you pass out tonight and you know exactly what’s going to get you there. Kei is fucking up into you just as rough as he was earlier now, the insides of your thighs red and raw. “Feels better for you?” you ask.

He’s out of breath, under covers and fucking into you relentlessly now, but he manages to nod, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. 

“Then fill me up, baby, drain the rest of your come inside of me, need it, need it now,” you say against his ear. 

It takes seconds before he’s spilling his load into you once again. It’s less forceful, less intense, but you can feel his balls tightening and his come filling you. “Fuck it into me. Wanna feel it spill out as you fuck your thick cock into me.”

The come is spilling down the sides of his cock, coating his length and his balls as it drips from your hole around him. You can only imagine the mess between his legs, can feel yourself getting emptier and emptier and it pushes you over the edge. You let your forehead collide with his shoulder, muffling your final moans as you squirm against him one last time. The orgasm isn’t as strong as your previous ones, but the feeling of bliss and euphoria is still residing as your eyelids grow heavier. 

He doesn’t pull out of you, doesn’t move an inch, just whispers into your hair, “You really are everything to me.”

You wouldn’t necessarily categorize it as a nice fuck or a rough fuck. It’s its own category, falling somewhere in the middle of it all, a desperate, sleepy, lazy fuck that’s guided by instinct and not a lot of thought, but still has direction, mostly from you. It’s a testament to how incredible the two of you are together, how your dynamic works no matter what, how you are meant to be. It’s a showcase of how perfect you are for each other, the trust that you each feel for one another, and the inseparable bond between you. 

Really, it just confirms what you knew all along. You’ve been in control the whole time.

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[alsoanyways]

@transgender-scout @1ight wait fuck now i have to compile them okay okay okay i have a feeling this is gonna get long so I'm gonna put it under a cut haha but for real thank you for asking!!

First things first! This is how I imagine the flock is able to disguise themselves. There's no going undercover at an actual school for them, but I don't think anyone's looking twice at a bulky coat, especially if it's set in the future. Not too far in the future though, still in the 21st century. I have no ideas for a plot restructuring or anything, I never read past Nevermore and I barely remember anything past the fourth book, so most of my headcanons are character dynamics and such. I do have some that aren't focused on the flock but not many. Anyways.

(also idk if most of this can even be considered headcanon bc its basically fanfic at this point)

A couple things I should've added to the design post are Toto's Total’s nonexistence (I'm sorry if you like him but I do not lmao) and the fact that their hair is feathers. Like those very fine and very long feathers that roosters get. The flock also doesn't develop superpowers.

In my version of things, there's a small town close-ish to the E shaped house. Far enough that no one in town is gonna drop by for a visit, but close enough to fly down to for some groceries, which they'd do after Jeb left and until the money was gone. I think he would've taught them how to forage for things and that's how they get by since then.

Max (21) isn't The Leader TM either, I think leadership is shared more with Fang/Friday and Iggy. She likes volleyball and usually the one to go foraging. She's never thought about it but if she did, she'd probably consider herself agender.

Fang/Friday (22) gets his name from a Friday the 13th DVD cover, Jeb thinks he wants to be called Jason when he first points to it. He used to help Nudge/Dora and Angel with their hair when they were little and still does occasionally. He likes to draw and he's the go-to when someone needs to be comforted. There's no way in hell I would let him be anything less than bisexual.

Iggy (20) is the one that probably hears Friday's voice the most. He was also taught braille and Jeb got them a labeling machine. He's still the best cook and he's very protective over the vinyls/tapes/cds in the house. He mourns the loss of them when they have to flee the house, but he is excited to finally have access to new music. He's also gay. Because I said so.

Nudge/Dora (17) still wishes she could live a normal life, but has accepted that it's just not a possibility. She clings to "Dorothy" when she learns it. Being talkative and into fashion are still part of her character, but now she also loves bugs. She tags along when Max goes foraging so she can try and get pictures of any new bugs she hasn't seen before. Friday often gets to hear which bugs and what they were doing when they're sketching together.

Gazzy/Gizmo (14) gets his name when he watches the Gremlins movie for two months straight and starts mimicking the mogwai noises. He almost kills everyone when he mixes a couple cleaners from under the kitchen sink. He's quickly enamored with the chemistry books he's given afterwards. Like any other teenage boy, he likes video games and has too much energy for his own good. Max offers to race him when he's particularly amped.

Angel (11) is the only one out of the group that wasn't experimented on and she doesn't get the protectiveness or why they never go anywhere. She likes sitcoms and never refuses an offer to forage with Max. She also took a liking to helping Iggy cook things. She was very quick to tell people she wasn't a boy once she had the vocabulary.

Ari (15) has chronic pain. Being turned to goo and rebuilt into something different will do that to you. It doesn't get better the second time. Nor the third. He used to live in the E shaped house, before Jeb brought Gizmo, back when he was a regular kid. He's always liked animals, caring for them. He wanted to be a farmer or something when he grew up. After he joins the flock, he and Gizmo are fast friends. (Watching him and Gizmo dick around is what makes Friday realize that he really is just a kid.)

Maya/Em (21, kinda) my identity issues queen!! Cloning keeps the original memories intact and then they were further messed with to ensure her allegiance. She has a hard time coming to terms with that, with not being Max, not being who she thought she was. Her friends aren't her friends, she didn't watch Gizmo and Angel grow up, she didn't go to Friday after another nightmare, or call Dora to come catch a spider. That wasn't her. Having time away from them before she joins the flock helps. She renames herself Em during that time, distinct enough from Max but not removed from it completely. She learns that she likes cooking and she discovers cheerleading. She thinks she'd like that if she got the chance to participate. She's also aroace. She wants nothing to do with any of that.

Dylan (21) sticks closest to Em, but he eventually grows close to Iggy as well. They share a soaring/gliding wing shape and Iggy is grateful to have someone who can fly as long as he can (recreational flying is always cut short in his opinion, because the others have to work harder to stay airborne and get tired). Dylan likes to tinker around with motors and mechanisms, trying to get them to work again or building them from the ground up. Not that he has an abundance of opportunities to do that, but being able to fix a busted car comes in handy. He's one of them gays that can drive.

Lastly, I do have ideas on Erasers and different classes of them and their usages but jesus christ this did in fact get very long and I need to go eat something lmao so that'll have to be a separate post for another time.

[thymeyyy]

to a certain degree, i understand people justifying izzy's death through saying it's narratively cohesive or it makes sense thematically. cause like from the way they set up his arc i could def see a conclusion in which he dies and it is narratively satisfying (don't get me wrong id still be heartbroken, but it COULD work thematically) but only if it was given the proper amount of TIME. a SIGNIFICANT amount of time. like that shit shouldve been saved for the s3 finale.

there are good thematic foundations in the beginning of s3. lots of foreshadowing and initial new character arcs that were intriguing. but people are picking up on those foundations and justifying the later actions of the show based on the themes that were set up initially. but the problem is that the show skipped right to the payoff of those foundations. and when you cut out the middle man, you lose the entire story. all you're left with is those initial themes and then a cut straight to the conclusion.

especially in the case of izzy, this leaves a LOT of bad implications since his arc was so sensitive and required so much more care than it was given. and like im not just focusing on him cause i like his tits (i do like his tits tho dgmw). a story arc so sensitive about a character becoming disabled as he struggles with abuse, alcoholism, and suicide cannot be rushed like that. the other arcs were disappointing, but this one honestly felt harmful. and thats such a shame.

imo it's a problem of too many good ideas and too little time to execute them, as so many shows being released recently are. and thats especially common in ensemble heavy tv like OFMD. i can see what they were trying to do, and of course i want all the characters to be developed and have their own stories. but when you're making an ensemble story, you have to go into it knowing that there are certain areas you just won't be able to cover because of time. that isn't to say you can't have an ensemble show that develops everyone well and thoroughly, but you should also be cognizant of whether the stories you want to tell REALLY NEED the extra time you might not have. and thats where s2 failed i think :(

i still love OFMD, and frankly, i didn't hate season 2. there were a lot of aspects and new characters that were very strong (zheng in particualr is ICONIC and might be my new favorite character). i commend the writers and actors for the work they did in creating it, especially under the conditions that eventually led to the strike. and frankly, if the first and only people you blame for an unsuccessful season of a show are the writers, you probably have a very skewed idea of how TV is created and released. but like its okay to critique the things u love while acknowledging that

(i accidentally wrote an essay under @blue-b-bro 's post in the tags that got SO out of hand lmao i am sorry 😭😭 so heres just the post version that they said i should make)

[horizon-verizon]

https://www.tumblr.com/miss-dollette/751777149185376256/wake-up-call-for-ballistic-team-black-and-rhaenyra?source=share lol

Lucky for me, I never thought that Rhaenyra was Daenerys or Daenerys-like. (my "Rhaenyra and Feminism" tag) I have said these things about these two:

Rhaenyra is not a feminist because no one can be at this time and feminism as a movement began in the 18th century under specific conditions of a particular philosophical movement and under specific economic conditions whereas Rhaenyra, Catelyn, Alysanne, even Daenerys all live in a completely different world, a medievalesque/"ancient" own.....does that mean we shouldn't care how any woman before the 18th century (or those in fiction who would exist out of a feminist-minded/included society) or who aren't full blown feminists do to try to gain autonomy for themselves or to help others altruistically? Misogyny still exists, and it existed "back then"; we need to understand these women and the contours of the sexist conditions under which they live which both helps us to define and trace sexism as well as understand and connect ourselves to these characters to understand oppressive structures' effect on individual who then go on to affect and respond to their oppressive societies. And thus, some women, because they are people too (novel idea) are going to be more selfish than others, and partly bc they have been subjected to this double standard and the socially-justified abuse done against them since young (Alicent-Rhaenyra, esp in the show with how fans kept saying "Alicent is queen, se can demand to see thr baby all she wants, Rhaenyra didn't have to go up there", ignoring the fact that Alicent is trying to humiliate her and she herself knows that she wouldn't like it if someone did the same to her when she birthed her kids; in the bk, she turns against Rhaenyra when R is about 9-10, after Aegon is born and Viserys kicks Otto out for protesting against his choice to keep Rhaenyra as his heir) So yeah, she became more self-focused.

but that doesn't give us license to blame things that were not her fault or her doing or came form people who existed way before she was born; ignore the fact that she loved her kids and vice versa; that she died by femicide and bc of systemic sexism against overt female rulership; that she is one of the only woman and one of the last woman who actually had more political power than her husband and chose him (Rhaenys was the other one who got to choose); that after her death and fall, magic in the world took another hit and the dragons that could have been used to fight against the Others was lost before Daenerys Targaryen reawakened them and gave a reboot to magic in general; [🖇rhaenin-time] that after Rhaenyra's fall, after the fall of one of the few women who a Targ male relative actively supported in away unlike most men of her society instead of just abusing, sidelining, and using up, most if not all other Targ women--who never able to choose their husbands--were not protected from Andal patriarchy and its licens eof spousal abuse because the dynasty itself has fully assimilated into Andal patriarchy with the loss

that fans discredit Rhaenyra's victimhood and problems stemming from sexism how they discredit Daenerys' past victimhood; and then they go on to say Dany wasn't a revolutionary figure bec she's a Targ and a child of incest and can ride "nukes" and profited off of slavery -- people will move goal posts to for their anti-woman agendas and the Dance is coming from and centered around that -- these two women are dehumanized both in-world and the fandom/real life because those do not like they are women who have both acquired power over men or "equal" to what men are granted/obtain for themselves

talked myself to death about how "bastard" is a legal and sociopolitical term that can be "fixed" or argued agianst, how only a King/Monarch could legitimize, how Viserys decided--with Corlys--to accept Rhaenyra's kids into his household and thus include in the line of succession, etc. etc.

Some Master Posts with a List of Links Where I have Argued for Rhaenyra & Why We Should Care about Her

POST

POST

POST [esp against Criston Cole and the Idea that Show!Rhaenyra was Predatory]

🖇la-pheacienne's words:

This is a story about how even the "realm's delight" could not be considered worthy enough to live compared to her rapist scum of a brother, because even the "realm's delight" will always be just a woman so she will always be inherently inferior to any man however pathetic or incompetent he may be. This is a story of tragic irony because it is a woman, and Rhaenyra's descendant specifically, that is currently bearing the Targaryen name, it is a woman reconstructing the Targaryen legacy, it is a woman that brought back the music of dragons, almost two centuries after Westeros would rather have them perish and destroy everything in their passing than allow a woman on the throne, the very dragons that are now meant to save Westeros from its impending doom. And this feels like justice to me. I'm sorry that some people are so blind in their contrarianism that they prefer to make up a bazillion nonsensical headcanons than acknowledge that this is the actual theme of this story.

PRIME POST

If no one wishes to read from those links I give here, that's really not on me. It's be ironic, too, if they took the time to read all of that OP's long post anon' links, though.

[anonymous-dentist]

Hi anon, sorry to bring the sbi family fanfic discussion again and for the long post , (your posts ware what made realize why i hated this thing so much)

I don’t know if is the same type of fans but i noticed that some ficwritters that are really foucused on philza and wilbur (and sbi family i think?) Are kinda trying to add cellbit to this situation? Like i read some philza focused fanfic where he interacts with cellbit and the ficwritters act like cellbit is his kid? Its weird idk how to explain very well (this is also the same people that kinda write cellbit as a native english speaker (american and european) and not a brazilian (its something that is too hard to explain right now)

And its kinda stressing me out because cellbit is written in such a weid way and its infesting the spiderbit tag lol and i dont understand what is going on half of the time since idk what the hell sbi even is (brazilian with 0 understanding about english speaking mcty)

Sorry for the long post

Oh yeah no I don’t really get it but like. I also do! Because q!Phil has become one of only a literal handful of people on the island to actually properly trust q!Cellbit and so they’re like. Friends. But obviously you can never just be friends with someone not your age and so. Fandom assigned family dynamic. It’s super weird and lowkey like. Idk it’s just weird lol.

A discussion surely must follow!

First, a brief rundown of SBI:

SBI is Sleepy Boys Inc., a group made of up streamers Philza, Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit, and Technoblade. (Originally it was just Phil, Wilbur, and Techno, but Tommy wiggled his way in somehow.) They’re Best Friends, but somewhere along the way their fandoms said. Fuck it. Family dynamic… mostly because the ccs lowkey thought it was funny and ran with it. Wilbur alone would rather die than not have Philza Minecraft be his father

This dynamic spread to their characters on the dsmp despite them literally not once ever referring to each other all as family; iirc Techno himself said he at least wasn’t part of the family because that dynamic would be fucked up after all the shit his character did to both c!Wilbur and c!Tommy. But c!Phil was c!Wilbur’s father even though he did fully murder his ass, and Wilbur and Tommy were brothers because they’re Wilbur and Tommy and you’d have to kill them to stop them from being brothers. Tommy was never established to be c!Phil’s son, and Phil never seemed to consider him one

But then the dsmp started dying around summer 2021 and everyone was kinda just left with fanon, and SBI fanon can get weird. I’m talking borderline fetishistic nuclear family stuff, especially when you get into ‘Dark SBI’ content with Phil kidnapping Tommy or whatever and forcibly making them family? It gets weird, take a look through the tag sometime

The thing with a lot of these fics is that like. It’s gotten to a point where it’s a fandomized version of both cc! and c!SBI with some really freaky characterizations and some really diehard fans. I’ve talked about that before, so I won’t do it again.

The weirdest thing I’ve noticed about these fics, though- and this goes back to what we were talking about with Cellbit inexplicably being added to the mix all of a sudden- is that everybody has to be a family.

You’ll be hard pressed to find a SBI fic where the characters have friends. Even Tubbo and Ranboo, usually delegated to a ‘Tommy’s friend!’ role despite them not interacting much like as a group ever are treated either as extensions of Tommy himself or as his found family ‘brothers’ who Phil also inevitably helps take care of rather than as friends, and they act that way. Niki isn’t usually ever written in as Wilbur’s friend, she’s Benchtrio’s sister/mother-figure, or she’s described as Wilbur’s found family sister. Jack Manifold? Lumped in with Niki with Benchtrio as their older brother/father-figure. Quackity? Either Wilbur’s boyfriend, thus a member of the family, or Tommy’s older brother/father-figure.

Even characters who never really interacted with SBI as a “family” on the dsmp get this treatment: you’ll read an SBI fic with c!Purpled in it and he’ll be Tommy’s brother figure. c!Sam is Tommy’s father figure. Schlatt is Tommy’s uncle or Wilbur’s brother. Puffy is an aunt. Sapnap and Dream? Tommy’s brother or father figures. Even Hannah is being written as Tommy’s cool older sister figure these days despite only really interacting with him once on the smp

And you can see this kind of behavior continuing now in the qsmp fandom… if the new ccs/characters in question aren’t “problematic”. Chayanne can’t see Techno as a personal hero, he has to see him as an older brother or an uncle. Tubbo is Phil and Fit’s son and Tommy’s brother. Niki is Tallulah’s mom. Quackity is Wilbur’s boyfriend.

What you’ll actually be hard pressed to see is this kind of dynamic with Phil and other, “problematic” ccs, aka ccs who aren’t like. English ccs.

Because you won’t find q!Forever included in the family dynamics despite him basically being q!Phil’s best friend and closest confidant. It took longer for q!Missa to be added to Phil’s wiki page than it did for Techno to despite them literally being explicit canon husbands, and you’ll be lucky if Missa is even mentioned in a “qsmp” SBI fic. Etoiles? Not even mentioned despite him and Phil more or less actually leaning into the family dynamic with the “brothers” thing. Even Tallulah and Chayanne are left out or mischaracterized in “qsmp” SBI fics, giving Tommy the spotlight.

You won’t find nearly anybody who isn’t an English cc in these fics, and this is NOT accusing anyone of xenophobia. It’s most likely just because the SBI people are used to watching only Phil or only Wilbur and they don’t speak enough of the other languages to really care about the non-English ccs and thus disregard their characters and lore. It’s not just SBI people who do this, it’s plenty of people speaking every language on the server not watching anyone whose languages they don’t speak. Yk?

But that brings us to q!Cellbit, and I’m surprised the SBI guys have latched onto him the way they did considering he’s everything they seem to dislike: his first language isn’t English, he doesn’t talk with Phil a lot, he and Tallulah get along really well, he makes fun of Wilbur being gone. And, honestly? The SBI guys did hate him for a long time because of those things, they constantly undermined his efforts and said Phil would be a better Order leader and said that he should never speak to Tallulah again because he was making her sad and he’s friends with their least favorite person ever, Forever.

But then q!Phil said he trusted Cellbit, and it’s like a switch was flipped. Starting around the Pills Arc when they first teamed up, SBI people were suddenly on board with Cellbit despite being part of the haters literally days before. Why? Well. Phil and Cellbit are friends now, and so now he gets the privilege of being in the fics.

The problem with this is that these people have never watched Cellbit. They’ve seen ten minutes of him total from Phil’s pov, and that’s all they’re going to use to write his character. So of course there will be mischaracterization.

And, of course, they’ll be family. Because, as I said, there’s this weird allergy to the concept of friendship in SBI fics. You’re family or you’re an enemy.

Constant fanon mischaracterization of Phil has basically turned him into a universal father figure even if he doesn’t have that dynamic with the characters he’s like the “father” of. q!Cellbit’s only familial figure outside of his actual canon family is generally seen as q!Bad, who even referred to him as family last night on stream. But, because Phil and Cellbit are friends now and Cellbit is younger than Phil is, they have to have a father-son dynamic, because that’s what Phil’s only character trait is in the SBI fics he’s in. He’s the dad whether it makes sense or not.

If that makes sense.

[yurisorcerer]

If anime were appraised solely on their last episodes, Metallic Rouge would be pretty decent, but they aren't, so it isn't.

I'm not going to recap all the various little revelations and plot twists here because honestly who could possibly care? The gist is that the events of the preceding twelve episodes don't truly matter because everything was really just building up to this, a showdown between Rouge and her father figure Dr. Jung, a character who is barely in the show before this point (even in his hooded guise as The Puppetmaster), and who feels ancilliary to much of what the series was trying to do before now.

The actual events of this episode feel very random and I'd almost say fanficky? In isolation it's not a terrible finale but finales of course do not occur in isolation, when taken against the backdrop of everything Metallic Rouge could've been, and indeed *actively tried to be.* The Neans' plight doesn't matter because the entire thing was orchestrated by Doc Jung, which he demonstrates in a long monologue that comes off as trying way, way, wayyyy too hard to make this boring cutout of a Super Intelligent Chessmaster type character seem interesting. If the show had just focused on this from the start instead of interpolating like four unrelated plots along the way, it might've worked a lot better, but it's inherently hard to know.

It would certainly feel less distasteful. I cannot get over the fact that this series treated "serious examination of discrimination and a moral question over the ethics of armed struggle," regardless of its (deeply shitty and unbelievably milquetoast) conclusions, as just another hat it could put on and take off at will. None of it ends up mattering! At the last minute Rouge just decides to free the Neans, because *now* she thinks it's the right thing to do. If we were going to build Rouge up as some kind of liberator and savior it would've had to start many episodes ago, and despite occasional toothless gestures in that direction it, really didn't. I hope fellow tumblr user @naomiortman doesn't mind me digging up the comments they left in the tags of their reblog of my last writeup on this show, because honestly, they're completely correct and get to the heart of the problem of why *this specifically* was a pose that the show should never have attempted to strike if it wasn't going to commit.

The whole thing is just very offputting!

And as for everything *else* the show tries to do, the genre-hopping was occasionally fun when it remembered to not be stupid about it, but that was really only a handful of episodes in hindsight and if someone doesn't feel that that's enough to make up for the show's *many* writing mistakes, I find it very hard to disagree with them.

And then there's the last couple minutes of this episode which....reveal at the end that Clown Robot Girl was secretly a Usurper all along and installed a virus turning all Neans into murderbots, which just completely threatens to saw the legs off what happened mere seconds before, and then it turns out to completely not matter because Gene installed an antivirus beforehand because he knew this would happen somehow? (Gene is a nothing of a character and is another reason this show's writing sucks eggs.) And thus Neans have freedom now, because of a completely unforeshadowed, last-minute minor plot twist that occurred offscreen.

This show is hilarious, and deeply unserious. My friend Sredni (@ihfsttinuf) also pointed out that apparently a bunch of this a wholesale bite of the end of RahXephon? I haven't seen that show so I can't comment, but like, lol. (EDIT: That's apparently by the same guy, by the way! So if anything it's self-plagiarism.)

Just so this entire post doesn't come off like an angry rant, there are a few things that work. Mainly the buildup of real, mutual trust between Rouge and Naomi. (Or maybe I just want it to work because otherwise this show truly does have nothing going for it on the writing side.) At the very least, it's delightfully gay, I like the visual of the two of them together inside Rouge's mindspace. Although even this comes with an icky side effect in that Naomi is now like, functionally dead as her own physical person. IDK man, any time I try to give this show credit for something I find another way in which it could have so easily done better.

Hey, at least they brought the dedicated combat theme back, that's good. And Cyan is right, Rouge's new form does look really cool. (Why did they feel the need to kill Cyan, by the way? You can't both have a shitty central narrative AND kill all your best characters.)

I don't want to come off as though I just completely hate the thing top to bottom. It was entertaining on a week to week basis, but in trying to do so many different things it just kind of does nothing, and I find it really frustrating for that reason. The visual aspect of the show remains compelling (I love the Gladiator designs, seriously), but I could never in good conscience recommend this to someone even if I don't "regret watching it" per se.

What a mess! Glad it's over.