#FACTS and LOGIC ONLY on my blog

[futuresafe]

I dont know. i wish i was as smart as i pretend to be sometimes

#my posts #oh the imposter syndrome. #experiencing The Symptoms #the truth of the matter is i'm not very creative and i'm mediocre at art and writing #and i may act like i understand music and music theory but i don't #and i pretend to know a lot about metal but i really only know anything about aluminum and copper #and i act like i understand planets and stars and their relation to each other #and i think the worst one among all these things i pretend to be knowledgeable about is ethical philosophy. #i've really only taken two and the other philosophy classes i've taken i eked by on #genuinely don't know how i passed my logic course so much of that goes over my head #i like acting clever because it makes me feel better about the simple fact i'm not really skilled at anything #most of the time when people ask me things i supposedly know i do a quick google search and just rephrase it #do i think this makes me a bad person? no. #it just makes Me feel bad #and honestly who Doesn't like the idea of being smart #and tbh is experiencing that Youngest Child Inadequacy which is t fair to my brother at all but oh baby when that sneaks up on you #anyways i don't really have anyone i can talk to about this stuff #i mean i do but i don't like burdening people with my vents so i use my blog sometimes as a journal #negative/ #tbd.

[todayisafridaynight]

SO FUNNY I was just about to write in complaining that I got sick a day after you posted your last comic... I caught it... yet I don't have an Arakawa to take care of me... [<- I started writing this when you answered my last ask]

OH BUT NO WORRIES AT ALL I always love reading your responses and these were no exception :) It really means the world to me to have you guys listen! I believe I've [probably] mentioned the headcanon is a bit personal [In Other Words projection galore but. Believable Enough. Please DO dare to think... It'll work out...]; I was more or less expecting to keep it to myself forever because I felt the Venn Diagram of people who would know what I'm talking about and be interested had no overlap. I'm incredibly grateful to be able to have these talks and the assurance that's not the case :) and also I just kinda don't wanna Mansplain Jo To You so I'm glad that doesn't seem to be the case as well

AND I MEAN... LOL... LMAO EVEN...

it would be a pretty fair to pursue that line of thinking given he has both visible symptoms of sleep deprivation and things to lose sleep over... reminded of Debt [TWISTING AND WAILING AND CONVULSING] but also the counterpart to Matrophobia you were thinking about...

I absoluuuutely get what you mean by the mirror thing too I see you in the kitchen I smell what you're cooking... same here... very excited to see what he's like when he doesn't have to be a bullet as well... here are those for the sake of completion [If I May I think perhaps he wouldn't feel the need to change his name, just feel a disconnect if it's his father's family name and/or his given name was chosen by his father. Like an ambivalent Aoki I guess; he knows he'll answer to it so why fix what ain't broke and "inconvenience others"...]

SORRY FOR RAMBLING MYSELF HGLDJLKDJG again No Worries At All since you shouldn't be saying much with your Gameritis anyway... I hope your wrist gets better soon, rest up and take care!

NOT MY SILLY COMIC GIVIN YOU THE FLU (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) hope youre doin better now gettin sick SUCKS (╯x╰ )

oh but yaya of course : i have a cockroach for a brain so im glad star can supplement a lot more valuable commentary (╯▽╰ ) even if i have bugs for brains im still happy to see what you (and star should they write again) have to say :)

#snap chats #my only contributions to anything is illustration and now im gettin people sick 😩 horrendous.. #in any case... as a serial Nightmare Haver its only logical id inevitably project that onto people in Way Worse situations than i #if im upset bout the littelest things then i can only IMAGINE The Horrors with what jo- not to mention arakawa- have to deal with #jo esp when he outright confessed to being haunted by masato's outburst for. 'Who Knows How Long' #And Lest I Neglect Ikumi. she also gotta have it bad... everyone gets nightmares its like an episode of oprah in my mind.. #oh but i dont think you mentioned it was a personal topic- i had A Feeling tho thats also why i feel unprepared to touch on it #i generally try not to talk bout things i dont know about and while i know SOME things i certainly wouldnt want to start gettin into it #esp if someones dealt with it themselves i dont wanna say nothin STUPID. more than usual anyway #not without doing studying beforehand with a sensitive topic as such BUT LIKE I SAID im still very much open to listening #onto topis i am familiar with.. i GUESS..i still very much think of jo's potential fear of ending up like his dad #i just wish i knew what to do with the idea.. again my brain is very small and ive accepted that bout myself. at most i can draw but that i #on that note tho About His Name. yeah not many notes on that LMAO I Agree in other words #esp at his age its just a. Well I'll Die Soon Anyway There's No Point In Changing and the whole #The Few People Who Know Me Already Know Me By This So I Shouldnt #just sort of something to be numb to by this point #anyhow... i think thats all my gumball dome can rattle out... now to . drastically shift the tone of my blog with a post BYE TY FOR WRITIN #i always feel bad for apologizing since apologies are like promises and Apparently Im Very Bad At Keeping Promises so. #Forgive Me for having pool noodles for braincells.. i can only try to make up for it with works... #works that I Hope do convey the fact i Try to think and i take everythin sent to me to heart.. #ok bye bye i TRULY must get moving along (╯▽╰ ;;)

[tteokdoroki]

aali my beloved would you be willing to share some more thots regarding domineering consent-king-kiri,,,no pressure at all I am just delighted by the concept!! If nothing else I am holding your hand making microwave noises because this tickles my brain muah

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA. consent and condescension.

about. your wish is my command beautiful anon. this is definitely yuzuya adjacent LDKAKS !!

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. smut, praise kink, consent heavy, condescension, scratching, afab!reader, soft dom/pro hero!kirishima.

“i only want to do this if it’s something you want.” kirishima says, his voice so quiet that it’s barely above a whisper. there’s a huskiness to it, as though he’s been holding back for so long that his tether and tie to sanity threatens to snap. the very simple fact makes a shiver run down your spine and shoot right between your legs. 

kirishima let’s put a condescending coo as he shifts to sit with you on the bed, prying apart your shaky thighs to catch a whiff of your hot cunt, a view of how juices run between your folds like golden syrup that makes you shine. you’re eijirou kirishima’s favourite sweet treat. 

“poor baby, if i hadn’t come any sooner, who knows what would have happened to you.” his voice drips to lower tones that turn on the sex signals in your brain — and as you whine out for more, the corner of the red head’s lips quirk up into a sly smile.

“all alone and unable to cum. well, don’t you worry. i’ve got you now.” you see, he knows you better than you know yourself. that you can’t get off without his thick fingers or his fat cock, and how frustrated you get when you can’t touch yourself in the same way that he does.

that’s why you called him at work, with a wobble in your saccharine voice and squelch from your cunt echoing down the line. you need eijirou.

you hardly notice how fast he strips, too dizzy and needy to speak your mind or even think. your level of desire to be fucked dumb by your man overpowers any logical reasoning you may have. taking hold of the globes of your ass, the mountainous man drags you towards him, pressing right up against your throbbing mound — looking down at you as if you’re the most beautiful, pathetic thing he’s ever seen.

you’ve not a clue as to how much you affect eijirou, with your big wet eyes and shaky hips as you rut into him for any kind of friction. he wants to ruin you and cherish you all at once, fighting with the two halves of him that join together and make him the person that he is. the hero that protects people, the man who loves you, the other that has such depraved thoughts about you. his sweet little thing.

“i’ve been dying to take you since the moment you called, fuck you against your cute little sheets, have your adorable ankles and frilly socks hangin’ over my shoulders….” eijirou’s next move is to tease your wet little slit, tapping his milky cockhead against your swollen clit repeatedly until you’re jolting and twitching from the slight streams of pleasure. “is it okay for me to touch you like this? i really want to but… your needs always come first to me.” 

the question is masked with a patronising kindness in an attempt to hide the red head’s deepest and darkest dreams. if he truly wanted to, kirishima could have plugged your hole full of his monster-like girth and fucked you until that tight, unused hole of yours was coated in his cum. yet, he treats you (the object of his affections and desires), as though you’re a porcelain doll threatening to shatter under the weight of his touch.

the cracks begin to show and the dam begins to break. your pretty face crumples with ecstasy while eijirou pushes his length through your slick pussy, laughing breathily at your arousal that clings to every spiralling blue vein that decorated his shaft. it jumps against the pleasure bud tucked away between your folds. 

you sniffle and his heart breaks for you. it does nothing to calm the flames of desire burning at eijirou’s healthy lungs — blackening them.  

“e-eiji—!”

“‘m gonna put it in now, i know, i know, sweetheart. i gotta hurry it up,” he starts, tutting down at you and your clenching cunt as he hits his hips forward — pushing his bulbous tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. “you’ve been so good, sweetheart. waiting for me to get home, so you could get fucked — i just don’t wanna hurt you.” 

he brushes the pads of his thumbs over your body trembling beneath him. over your pebbling nipples, so hard they could cut diamonds because of the cold air. over your curves, your tummy and navel — every perfectly imperfect part of you. and when he reaches your thighs, they’re folded into your chest so he can give you exactly what you want. 

“oh, little one. you’re so tight, and warm around me. fuck.” eijirou is the one who hiccups this time, gripping the sheets above your head while your warm, ribbed walls grip his cock the further he pushes into you.  “so soft too, i can’t get enough of you. got me thinkin’ about you all the time.” 

he starts thrusting then, forceful but fluid like a rushing river of ecstasy. eijirou pins you to the bed below, giving you no room to wiggle away and the only option being to take everything that he gives to you. his balls clapping against the curve of your ass, his harsh moans in your ear and tip bullying your g-spot before you can even register the sensation blooming in your lower tummy. there’s no room to breathe or think while he fucks you. like he hates you, all while loving you.

“i love your pretty face. how it looks when you take me. the way your brows furrow and your soft lips part when you moan for me. can you take it? just a little more for me.” the surge of praise you receive from eijirou is like a storm that angrily hits the shore. you feel like you’re drowning, clawing at his back to drag yourself to shore while he pounds you to the high heavens. your body jolts up the bed at every one of eijrou’s thrusts — contrasting with the gentle, wet kisses he peppers across your face. 

each sweet word dipped in white sugar has you pliant and mailable under kirishima like freshly made candy. he praises you and your hips rise from the arousal soaked sheets to match his rhythm, sex spasming around him. “holy fucking shit. oh little one…so sweet and wet, hm? so pliant.” eijirou leans over you, shielding you from the world, and  liick at your neck, humming in satisfaction at your whistle tone moans. “you were just aching for me to get you like this, right little one? your knees pressed to your chest and my cock…nice and snug against your insides. you don’t wanna let me go, do you?” 

you promptly shake your head, your pretty bambi eyes fluttering shut while your body thrashes and shakes from the pleasure he feeds you — piece by piece.. “e-eiji…p-please, i need it. i c-can’t—!” 

the red head squishes your cheeks together, grunting impatiently and pressing on until his cock is pressing comfortably against your womb. “oh you poor baby, i need to give it to you just as bad as you want it… but,” the rough pads of his fingers sink into your supple cheeks as he turns your face to look at him. “i need you to look at me first. look me in the eye, sweetheart. show me how badly you want it. you’re so pretty when you do it like that, you know.” 

a wet whimper bubbles up on your lips, cherry bitten from where they’ve been caught between your teeth. they echo between your sweet slicked bodies and mingle with the saccharine syllables of kirishima’s words, as condescending as they might be. that with his domineering presence and constant stimulation of all your pleasure spots has you a ruined mess beneath him.

“i’m gonna make you cum. i have to make you cum, if it’s the last thing i do, little one.” eijirou promised lazily, circling his hips in a slow grind just he can drag out your pleasure for a little bit longer — torture you underneath him so he can keep on seeing your pretty face. he seals the promise with a sloppy kiss, sucking on your saliva soaked tongue until you’re begging him for air. “you want that too, right?”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima x you #bnha smut #bnha thirst #bnha x reader #eijirou kirishima smut #eijirou kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou smut #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[yaesnovels]

. THE KAVEH WAY !

synopsis: after being married for quite some time, you and alhaitham decide to expand your family and try for a baby – unfortunately, things don’t work out as you imagine for a bit. after a short chat with kaveh, alhaitham decides to try switching up things a little and try the kaveh way while trying to get you pregnant – letting loose completely and making you feel absolutely loved and cherished. 

cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used but only in the beginning; mentions of pregnancy, trying for a baby, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), pet names (god there’s so many; baby, babe, sweetheart, good girl, my queen, honey, princess), slight degradation (he calls you his pretty slut once or twice lol), aftercare

minors, please do not interact. i‘m okay with likes because i don‘t go through those but do not interact with my blog via reblogs or comments.

wc; 2.6k

alhaitham was rolling his eyes when he heard kaveh’s laugh, the blond architect acting to be wiping tears off his cheeks. “so, you’re actually telling me that you were completely relying on logic with this whole thing?” 

“yeah, so? what’s so wrong about it?”, alhaitham argued back, it simply just made so much more sense for him to get real with facts and logic about your mutual decision to try for a baby, after being married for quite some time and being absolutely ready and sure about it. “it doesn’t really make sense to try when she isn’t even able to get pregnant, so what’s the problem here?”

“alhaitham, you’re such an idiot, oh god”, kaveh laughed. “so, you guys have only been having regular fucks whenever she was ovulating and didn’t even pay attention on how you were feeling at all? of course things wouldn’t work out like that!”

that made the scribe think – no, neither of you had really considered that your emotions and the intimacy throughout the process of trying. the more kaveh spoke on what to pay attention to, alhaitham was absolutely sure on what to do – well, luckily, you were ovulating anyway. he couldn’t totally let go of relying on logic with this.

he might as well make things up to you for not paying attention to you as much as he should have as your husband. and he might as well try the kaveh way of things to get your mutual dream come true. 

– 

the moment you were back home, alhaitham pulled you inside the house, close to himself and lifting up your chin as he kissed you. he kissed you, oh, so softly, he hadn’t been this gentle with you in such a long time. 

you knew that he had been absolutely busy with the akademiya falling apart so he was insanely stressed out with the sudden workload. so, the whole baby making thing you were both excited about had been a complete disappointment so far – he probably didn’t even realize how much the stress affected his mood and you didn’t really want to talk to him about it either. 

he was going to realize it sooner or later and it appeared that just now, he did realize it. “i’m so sorry for neglecting you recently”, he mumbled, burying his face against your neck. “i’ve been a terrible husband, haven’t i?”

“well, i wouldn’t say terrible because either way, i love you, but yeah, the last couple of weeks were somewhat lonely for me”, you replied, voice soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying your best not to sound too sad about the whole situation. 

“i love you”, alhaitham said, planting yet another kiss on your lips before he pulled you inside to the kitchen where you were met with an already prepared, candlelit dinner that had you look at him with so much love in your eyes. 

“this all looks so great, thank you, my love”, you smiled, sitting down, as you immediately dived in, groaning at how good it all tasted. “this is amazing.” 

“of course, love. you deserve all the best.”

– 

after dinner, he pulled out some wine as he put on some of the sensual music he got from kaveh (which he only accepted reluctantly, after deciding it was time to pamper you since he didn’t get to do that for so long now). 

“going all out tonight, aren’t you?”, you teased, “well, it wouldn’t be fair if i were to let you do everything right?” 

you finally returned from the bedroom you had buried yourself in after dinner, wearing one of the sets of dark red lingerie your friends had jokingly gifted you for your wedding. alhaitham gulped at the sight, you were looking so gorgeous in that soft silk, it was so hard for him not to pull you on his lap and rip that fabric off. 

you grabbed the glass of wine alhaitham had already poured as you sat on the couch next to him, drinking a sip to calm your nerves – it had been so long since alhaitham truly paid attention to you, which you didn’t blame him for. it just simply affected how easily shy you got around him; something you had gotten over with after a while of being with him. 

“you’re so beautiful, baby”, he mumbled, “i missed you so much the last couple of weeks. everything was just so stressful, i’m sorry for not paying attention to you more.” 

“it’s alright”, you replied, placing the glass on the table, pulling him on top of you, giggling as you noticed how taken aback he was about that. you had your legs wrapped around his hips, laying down on the couch before you kissed him. you only realized in that moment how much you had missed your gentle and doting husband. 

though, the only thing you did not realize was that this piece of lingerie that didn’t really cover anything of your skin and beautiful body was letting out the pussydrunk beast he tried so hard to push away from coming out. 

he deepened the kiss, one hand softly lingering over your legs, as the other one was pulling down the fabric to reveal your nipples which he just started to play around with, pinching, sucking, biting on them, having you writhe around. the more he went down on you, he noticed the beautiful scent coming from your body, he assumed a perfume that had an undertone of some sort of aphrodisiac because it made him go so feral out of nowhere, pulling off the panties covered by the short dress. 

“you’re so gorgeous, baby”, he mumbled against your thighs, and leaving a soft kiss on your clit. “i can’t wait to pamper you like you deserve, my queen.” 

alhaitham didn’t care how messy he was when he was fucking you with his tongue, thumb circling your clit and he was holding your thighs apart with his tight grip, already so pussydrunk with your taste and he was unsure if he would be able to stop. 

“feels good, honey? i can tell by your cute noises, baby, oh you sound so good. it’s been so long since i last got to taste you, hasn’t it? i missed the way you taste and the way you pull my hair when you get so needy, baby”, he talked you through your first orgasm of the night, you were shaking and your eyes had gotten all teary. 

“alhaitham”, you whimpered out his name, body relaxing as you calmed down. “please.”

“please, what, lovely?”, he questioned, teasing you with a soft giggle. “just kidding, honey. let’s move to our bedroom, shall we?”  

he had you thrown over his shoulder, having you laugh as he tickled you and then put you down on the bed, before he laid down on top of you, caressing your cheek. “i keep on repeating this but archons, i’m so in love with you, baby”, he whispered, “i can’t imagine spending my life without you anymore.” 

“i love you, too”, you replied, kissing him so passionately when you were turning you both around, sitting down on your husband’s lap as you pulled the silk over your body, all naked on top of him and you couldn’t help the heat rushing up your cheeks as you realized that alhaitham was still in his clothes. 

“not fair”, you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, before he sat up to pull the fabric off his body. you leaned down to press soft kisses over his skin, down to his abs, still so mesmerized by how toned his body was despite being a researcher and mostly sitting in his office doing paperwork. 

“you know what’s not fair, love? the fact that you try to pamper me when tonight was supposed to be all about you. and since i know you love me being rough”, he interrupted himself as he pushed you back down on the bed, keeping your wrists pinned against the soft mattress, “i will just use you until i fuck a baby into you.” 

you rolled your eyes back as he spoke, the thought of you finally getting pregnant after trying for so long had you whine in need; you just wanted him to fill you up over and over until you couldn’t take anything anymore. 

alhaitham pulled his pants down and threw them off the bed, grabbing your hips to lift you up and thrust deep inside of you, having you cry out as you pulled him closer to you. “please, fuck me”, you whimpered, the needy gaze you had in your eyes were simply making him go feral on you, rough and hard thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin had you so weak in the knees. 

“archons, you feel so good around me, honey”, he groaned, keeping up his relentless pace as you buried your nails into his back. “go on, babe, leave your marks on my back. go crazy, i don’t mind. i love the sweet pain you make me feel. beg for me to make you come and cream on my cock. beg for me to come deep inside you, to get you pregnant with my baby. you want that so bad don’t you, baby? you want me to fill you up, don’t you?” 

“please, i need it so bad. wanna make you- make you a daddy”, you babbled, your brain no longer properly functioning as the attention he gave you and your pleasure was making you feel dizzy, tears rolling down your eyes. 

“oh, honey, you will. don’t worry, you definitely will. even if it doesn’t work out this time, i promise you, i won’t give it a break until we make our dream come true”, he calmed you down, slowing down with his thrusts to give you his full attention again. “shh, baby, don’t cry, love.” his voice was so soft and he stopped his movements for a moment, pulling out as he realized you were actually crying and those weren’t tears coming solely from pleasure. 

“need me to stop?”, he asked then, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. you shook your head no. “shh, what happened, love?”

“the thought… of not being able to get pregnant and giving you what you want”, you mumbled, “you wouldn’t leave me if i weren’t able to get–”

“hey, hey, no. stop right there, love. there is nothing in this world that could make me love you less, especially just because this didn’t work out. i would never leave you for something as simple as this. i love you too much to do something like that. i’d rather get old with you alone instead of leaving you because i couldn’t get you pregnant.”

he left soft kisses on your face, making you giggle while your sobs stopped and you calmed down again. “archons, that must’ve ruined the mood now”, you mumbled. 

“what are you talking about, babe?”, he smirked, leaning down to kiss you on your lips. “i recall promising you to pamper you like you deserve, didn’t i? and believe me, i intend to keep that promise.” 

–

he was manhandling you like it was no struggle for him at all – lifting your legs to get you into a mating press, your hips up as you were laying on you stomach as he fucked you from behind. alhaitham was not hesitant to let you know who‘s in control in this situation, having you at his complete mercy as he made you gush around him over and over again. 

“oh, you feel so good, princess. take it like the good girl you are, sweetheart”, he moaned, “mhm, good job, honey. you‘re doing so amazing for me, taking your husband‘s cock like the good and pretty little slut you are. you’re my good little slut, aren‘t you, baby?” he chuckled as you nodded in agreement, brain totally empty from all sort of thoughts. 

“good girl”, he groaned, intertwining your hands as he leaned down to kiss you on your soft, yet somewhat swollen lips from all the kissing sessions you had in your breaks. “oh, archons, i’m so obsessed with kissing you, honey.” 

you were pretty much unable to reply at this point – brain totally clouded from how good and exhausted you were feeling. 

“look at how much you’re coming for me, honey. look how much of a mess we made here”, he mumbled against your neck, watching how his cum leak out your cunt, before he scooped up some of it with his fingers and pushed them inside of you. you had lost all track of time and you were sure it had been a couple of hours since he had started ravaging you.

“sensitive”, you whimpered out, brain unable to process anything else. it had been a bit since all power had left your body and you were just laying there, taking it like his good girl he loved to praise you as. 

“oh, love, did you think i was done? that’s cute”, alhaitham giggled before he thrusted his cock back inside, “i’m not going to stop.”

your eyes widened, the overstimulation had you look at him somewhat in fear of what to expect. you couldn’t remember the last time he had made you shake so intensely, make you come over and over until you were nothing but his good girl, his good little slut, clenching around him so tightly as he had you at his mercy. 

“what is it, sweetheart? am i scaring you, baby? good. you’re all mine. you deserve such a good fuck for being such a good girl for me, lovely.” he let our a groan as he - once again - buried his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls white. “come for me, baby, just take it all and come for me.” 

the moment you gushed around his cock, crying out his name and sobbing in pleasure, he just watched you unfold, losing all control of yourself as you submitted to the way he made you feel so good. 

“you took my cock so good, honey. i’m so proud of you”, he mumbled, pulling out. “and if you this time did not work out, we‘ll try again. it‘s alright, sweetheart. it will happen eventually.”

he placed a hand on your tummy, thumb softly caressing the naked skin. “one day it will work out.”

–

“relax, sweetheart. i know this was a lot to take in, i don‘t really know what came over me tonight”, alhaitham calmed you down as he hugged you tight from behind as you both sank into the bath. “feel good honey?”

you nodded, closing your eyes as you relaxed against him, your tense muscles turning into mush as he simply made you feel so giggly and happy. “i have a good feeling about tonight, y‘know? i feel like this time it will have worked out”, you said. 

“we‘ll see, honey. and even if not, it‘s perfectly fine”, he whispered, making you shiver at how deep his voice was. it was a reminder of all the promises he made; how they were always kept and came true eventually. and you knew that this one, no matter how long it’ll take, wouldn’t be broken either. 

a/n: inspired by jake and amy from b99 trying to get pregnant. i have no idea what came over me with this one. it just happened.

#. flowers for : alhaitham ! #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham smut #genshin fanfiction #alhaitham fanfiction #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you

[david-talks-sw]

When a Star Wars writer engages with the material but not the narrative.

I'm writing a long post about the Jedi and the clone troopers and there's a whole section that I had to remove because it was too long:

Karen Traviss' take on the Jedi and the clones.

I already wrote about why Karen Traviss' take on the Jedi and Yoda doesn't track with what George Lucas had established in his narrative of the Prequels. Since then, I've been able to do more research.

It's no secret that one of the reasons Traviss listed for criticizing the Jedi in the Expanded Universe books she wrote is their treatment of the clones (or at least what she understood it to be).

In 2008, she wrote a now-deleted blog post about it (it was really long, so I'm only including the part relevant to my point, if you want the full context you can look it up, this is old stuff).

So if you ask me, in the above quote, Traviss is essentially doing the equivalent of saying:

"Batman is a psycho elitist who beats up the mentally ill and indoctrinates kids, turning them into child soldiers for his unending crazy vigilante war on crime, and if you can't recognize that then you scare the living crap out of me."

Like... you can argue that, and a couple of comics have argued that.

But by and large, the general consensus is that Batman is a superhero, the Robins are his sons and daughter, and the "mentally ill" are in fact the Joker and Two-Face aka mass murderers.

So if you make that argument, that's you applying your real-life values and conclusions to a narrative that deliberately doesn't acknowledge those points, in-universe, in order to tell the story it wants to tell.

It's counting on your suspension of disbelief, defined as "the avoidance—often described as willing—of critical thinking and logic in understanding something that is unreal or impossible in reality, such as something in a work of speculative fiction, in order to believe it for the sake of enjoying its narrative."

The Jedi accepting the clones and the clones being slaves isn't a "delicate point". It's barely a point at all!

It's never addressed in the film (because of course it isn't, the Prequels are about Anakin and the Republic, not the clones).

It's only addressed once by Slick, an unreliable narrator, in The Clone Wars.

That's it. Hell, in 2008, when The Clone Wars writer Henry Gilroy was asked to comment on the relationship between clones and Jedi, he explicitly said he'd "rather not get into" that particular point.

I recently got Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of 'Attack of the Clones' and nowhere is that detail touched on by Lucas at any point.

Nobody wants to touch on that point with a 10ft pole, because it's not relevant to the story.

So while Traviss acknowledges the Jedi are fictional characters, she doesn't follow that thread through to the end by acknowledging that fictional characters don't have free will, they must abide by the story and the whim of the writer.

She's engaging with the material, but refusing to engage with the narrative. She's having her cake and eating it too.

My reason for saying all this is that in the book Star Wars on Trial, she elaborates on her thought process upon discovering this detail.

Shortly before to this, she acknowledges twice that she knew nothing about Star Wars, beside seeing the original films in her youth.

Another writer who saw the new films and saw Mace Windu argue against there being a war...

... the worry on his face at the prospect of the Jedi being thrown at the Separatists...

... and the sheer melancholy on Yoda's face upon announcing the Clone War had begun...

... might have instead wondered how the Jedi, so opposed to war, could've ended up being generals.

Because while we don't see the Jedi openly protest the use of the clones in the film... they're not exactly giddy about it, either. All they can do is watch powerlessly as it gets voted by the Senate.

"The Jedi are there. But the Jedi aren't really allowed to be involved in the political process. They're there, but they can't suddenly step up and say, "No, no. You can't do that." They have to let the political process go." - George Lucas, Attack of the Clones, Commentary #2, 2002

We also don't see them take on the role of generals, either.

We only see them begrudgingly lead troops on Geonosis, specifically.

But they're not referred to as "generals" yet.

Another writer might have imagined a scene where after Geonosis, Mace Windu talks to Palpatine thinking the Jedi will go back to their roles as diplomats, and that what we saw in Attack of the Clones was a one-time thing to save Obi-Wan, but Palpatine politely goes:

"Ha! No. Didn't you hear? The Senate was so impressed by your performance on Geonosis that they voted to make you all generals in the GAR. Now, get back to the front."

Another writer might've elected to write them having that "big moral debate" she mentions.

Instead, Traviss immediately jumps on the "Jedi are elitists" train.

Because her personal experience with the military makes her sympathize with the clones and her personal belief is that - while the story may frame the Jedi as "the good guys" - nobody is that good a guy, real life people aren't that pure and selfless. There's gotta be something off about them and aHA! That's what it is!

That's her choosing to take that line of thought instead of one more in-line with the story, because she perceives it as unrealistic. But like... Star Wars isn't real life, it's a fairy tale.

That's like saying:

"The hunter in Little Red Riding Hood commits animal cruelty by cutting the Wolf open. He should've let nature take its course, the wolf earned that meal fair and square. If you think the hunter should've saved Red Riding Hood and her Grandma, then clearly you're the kind of monster who thinks one life is worth more than others."

... no?

The story's narrative clearly portrays the wolf as the villain of the tale and frames the Hunter saving Red Riding Hood as a good thing.

Disagreeing with that narrative is absolutely fine, but anybody who acknowledges the wolf is the bad guy in the story isn't automatically an animal hater and/or a bad person. Just because you say "the wolf is the villain" doesn't mean that you think that, in real life, killing wolves for shits and giggles is good.

Conversely, the narrative of the Prequels asks you to suspend your disbelief and not consider the implications that having a clone army entails. Because the use of clones doesn't have a direct impact on either Anakin or the Senate's stories.

Edit: I finished the post this one here originally spun out of!

You can find it here:

#Karen Traviss #clone troopers #jedi order #in defense of the jedi

[seabirdtxt]

Glitch in Irminsul

The creator descends to Teyvat, but the information they know VS the information that Irminsul retains causes the tree of knowledge to glitch out and ‘branches’ the current known state of Teyvat, and the information that was erased blooms into existence once more [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU, Reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. there ARE shenanigans of a different kind though. No romantic relationships in this one despite aforementioned shenanigans

WC. 3.8k

----- ⚘ -----

“You’re just mad because I’m the Creator’s babygirl, and you’re not.”

You’ve never heard such an absurd sentence in your life, but the hands on his hips and smug expression on the Wanderer’s face is unmistakable. Across from him, just barely restrained by Lord Rukkhadevata hooking her arms under his shoulders, is an apoplectic Scaramouche. 

Nobody is entirely sure what happened to Irminsul, yet, but the Tree of Wisdom continues to cheerfully cast its divine light on the scene below without a single care for the chaos it has caused.

“Now now, let’s all settle down for a moment,” Nahida grasps at Wanderer’s sleeves, trying to pull him back from the increasingly tense situation. You can’t help but think of two dogs pulling at the end of their leashes to bark at each other. “I’m sure there is a perfectly logical reason why this is happening.”

You think it might be because of you, considering this all happened when you made your inopportune arrival in Teyvat and accidentally cut your hand on the stem of a Leyline flower, your blood glittering strangely as it was sucked into the plant. 

“There’s no way you’re the Creator’s favourite,” Scaramouche sneers, ignoring Nahida in his effort to escape from Rukkhadevata’s grasp. “You’re just a glorified errand-boy for your betters. I have the power of a Fatui Harbinger at my fingertips! Countless soldiers, ready to live and die by my whims!” 

“Ha!” Wanderer brushes off Nahida’s attempts to restrain him. He moves her to the side, far more gently than you expected him to, and strides up to where Lord Rukkhadevata is holding Scaramouche. He pokes the Balladeer’s cheek and smirks when he nearly gets his fingertip bit off. “And what has that gotten you so far? You still haven’t gotten to be a true god. On the other hand, I’m on the Creator’s main exploration team, along with the Traveler and other equally powerful Vision wielders. At least I have proof that I’m favoured.”

The light from Irminsul glints off the polished metal of Wanderer’s anemo Vision, and Scaramouche’s frown deepens.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone and their mothers can get a Vision these days.” He waves his hand dismissively as best as he can. “Need I remind you of the Vision Hunt Decree project that I—oh, sorry, I mean you—spearheaded? Those things come a mora a dozen.”

“I think you’re both wrong, clearly the Creator likes me the best!”

The two incarnations turn toward the new voice so quickly you’re nearly afraid their heads might snap off. Picture this: you, sitting sideways across Kabukimono's lap with your arms around his neck in a hug as he rocks the two of you back and forth. You wonder if Kabukimono is aware of the effect his words have on his other selves, but judging by his ‘cat that caught the canary’ expression he most definitely is.

The look Wanderer gives you is nearly scandalized, and you can only shrug at him with a helpless smile.

“Sorry guys… but look at him! Isn’t he just the sweetest thing?” you bring a hand up and pinch Kabukimono’s cheek, causing him to giggle and kick his legs in surprise, nearly dislodging you from your spot.

“He’s kinda pathetic, really.” Scaramouche deadpans, finally having stopped struggling in Rukkhadevata’s hold, and attempts to cross his arms.

“He’s you. You don’t have to like him, but at least be polite.” the Greater Lord scolds, making him yelp by shaking him like a sack of rocks. She then changes to a more matter-of-fact tone as she shakes her hair out of her face, and adds: “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“I agree, let’s talk this over like grown-ups, and get to the bottom of this mystery so we can send you all back home to your correct timelines!” Nahida claps her hands together, interrupting any argument that might break out at Rukkhadevata’s statement. Her smile is starting to look a little strained at the edges and you can’t help but feel a little bad for the tiny god.

“This might be the only correct timeline,” the Traveler mutters, chin resting in their hand where they sit propped up against one of Irminsul’s invisible walls. 

“That’s right!” Paimon nods and shakes her finger at Nahida. “We assumed only the Descenders’ memories would remain intact when someone erases themself from Irminsul, but clearly the Creator’s memories still exist too!”

Lord Rukkhadevata drops Scaramouche at last, letting him land on the ground with an annoyed oof, and turns to you consideringly. The taller god glances between you and Irminsul, worrying her bottom lip as she thinks.

“If that were wholly true, then wouldn’t I have reappeared in my last known state, diminished to the form of a child due to having depleted my power?” she wonders. “And for that matter, why have two versions of the Wanderer appeared, when the previous erased timeline only contained the Balladeer?”

The Traveler hums as they begin to think out loud, and your attention shifts to them when they address you. “When we found you, your Grace, you were recently injured by a Leyline blossom, correct?”

You nod in agreement, not bothering to speak as you settle more comfortably into Kabukimono’s arms, the long sleeves of his kimono wrapping over you like a blanket. Whatever mechanism is inside him causes his entire chest to vibrate against the side of your head, as if he’s purring.

“And you did mention that your blood was absorbed into the flower, which we know is an extension of the Tree of Wisdom…”

“I think I can see where you’re going with this, Traveler,” Nahida interrupts. Using her power, she draws two green puzzle pieces in the air and slowly pushes them together until one of them overlaps with the other. “If the Creator’s memories are intact, then it stands to reason that, should their memories somehow be introduced into Irminsul, then the information with the greater priority will overwrite the previous existing information.”

“That still doesn’t explain why there’s three of me.” Wanderer crosses his arms and kicks Scaramouche, who has yet to get up. The Balladeer crosses his own arms, pointedly ignoring his newer incarnation.

“I believe I can answer that, now.” Lord Rukkhadevata jerks her thumb toward the Tree of Wisdom. “Having known Irminsul my entire existence, I can sense that there have been deviations in its growth. Where normally the trunk and branches originate from a single organism, there are now several branches that seem to be… grafted, for lack of a better term, onto the main plant. Likely a result of the Creator’s mishap.”

“So instead of overwriting or restoring knowledge into the correct branches, it just got added on to the side?” Paimon asks, floating closer to the tree before the Traveler grabs her by the back of her cloak and pulls her back before she can accidentally touch any of the sprouts.

Nahida claps excitedly. “Correct! All available information is now running concurrently, meaning that all states of being have been altered to allow the five of us to exist at the same time!”

“Oh!” you exclaim, startling Kabukimono out of his contented state. “Like a glitch in the matrix!”

Seven pairs of eyes turn directly toward you, varying degrees of bemusement on each of their faces. You chuckle a bit and sink further into Kabukimono’s lap out of embarrassment. He dutifully wraps his arms tighter around you, obscuring you with his long sleeves.

“So we’re just going to let you not elaborate on that at all?” Scaramouche drawls, throwing a hand in your direction. “By all means, keep us in suspense. It’s not like we need to know what our situation is or anything.”

“It’s really not that helpful, I promise!” you tell them, muffled by the kimono’s fabric. “It’s just… a figure of speech, I guess? It’s just something we say when something unexplainable happens. It’s based off this story where, like, the world is fake-” 

At this, Scaramouche and the Wanderer share a brief glance, unnoticed by the rest.

“- and everything is programmed to be a certain way. So when something unexplainable happens, like if you see a black cat walking past you and then a minute later the exact same cat walks past you again! It’s an error, or a glitch, in the programming of the world.”

Nahida and Rukkhadevata head over to investigate the new growths on Irminsul, discussing what you’ve told them in hushed voices, leaving the Traveler to mitigate the situation with the three puppets. Kabukimono clings to you as Scaramouche attempts to pull you out of his lap, the two of them making you wince as you’re forced to withstand their tug of war.

“No! The Creator is my friend now!” Kabukimono protests. “Stop pulling, you’ll hurt them!”

“Then let go and it won’t hurt them anymore, stupid!”

“Niwa told me you have to be nice to people if you want them to do things for you.”

“I know for a fact your precious Niwa also said I’m allowed to take whatever the hell I want, so give!”

“I really don’t think that’s what he meant by that,” Wanderer interjects, coming between the two of them and forcing them apart. “Besides, does the creator call you guys babygirl? No? Didn’t think so, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Taking advantage of their surprise, Wanderer scoops you up and launches into the air, anemo power whirring behind him, putting you both out of reach. You shriek at the sudden movement, holding onto the front of Wanderer’s outfit for dear life.

“What, this again? I’m not sure if you want me to be jealous of you, or pity you.” Scaramouche scowls up at where you two are hovering. He tries to look unaffected but you can see him clenching his fists at his side.

“I still don’t actually know what that’s supposed to mean…” Kabukimono wrings his hands and looks between you and the Traveler, who supplies an explanation for you.

“It’s just a term of endearment from the Creator’s world,” they say. “You wouldn’t believe how often I had to hear it when they were possessing me-”

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

Everyone turns to look at where you and Wanderer are. The puppet is trying not to drop you while also batting away your attempts at removing the outer layer of his outfit.  

“Hold still!” you grumble. “I’m just trying to figure out if you can purr, too, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of your anemo ability.”

“What are you talking about?! I don’t purr!”

“I do!”

The four of you turn to Kabukimono as he demonstrates the ability, the mechanisms in him working overtime to produce a loud rumble from his chest. The Traveler and Paimon are particularly impressed, and Kabukimono preens under their attention.

“Cut that out, idiot,” Scaramouche smacks the back of Kabukimono’s head, successfully cutting off the noise. “You’re just going to overheat, and then we’ll be stuck carrying around your powered-down body until you start up again.”

“You know how he does that? Does that mean you can do it too?” Paimon asks, her face scrunched up at the idea of the Balladeer doing anything that could be seen as endearing. 

“Absolutely not.”

“We can all do that,” Wanderer says at the same time, earning a betrayed look from Scaramouche. “It’s not purring though. You all remember that we’re puppets, right?”

“Yeah….?” The Traveler nods along with Paimon.

“Well, the prototype machinery inside us is what makes that noise.” Wanderer explains. “We can control the speed and make it as slow or as fast as we want, so making it run extra fast makes it louder. However, it also makes the machinery heat up, and if it gets too hot then the failsafe kicks in and shuts off the entire system.”

“Does that mean the Raiden Shogun can purr, too?” The Traveler wonders out loud, successfully distracting Paimon with the absurdity of that mental image.

“What happens to you if it overheats?” You ask, wondering if you should feel bad for enjoying it when Kabukimono purred.

“It’s like fainting for humans,” Scaramouche adds. “Which is why we don’t do that. Nobody likes having to carry around a useless burden.”

“But it’s not dangerous, is it?”

“No, it’s just a lot of trouble. Same as for humans, but no. No lasting damage.” Wanderer then sighs and makes a face even as he pulls you into a semblance of a hug. “Here, I’ll allow it this time, because it’s you...”

Your eyes widen as Wanderer begins to purr as well, audible even over the sound of his anemo power. With a delighted gasp, you throw your arms around him and listen happily, unaware of the glares Wanderer is receiving from below. The Traveler rolls their eyes when Wanderer points at your back and mouths ‘favourite’ at Scaramouche.

“Wanderer, if you’re done being jealous could you please bring the Creator back down?” Nahida calls, and you peek down to see that she and Lord Rukkhadevata have finished their discussion. They wait below, where Scaramouche and Kabukimono were earlier. The two puppets are now a little bit further away, bickering while the Traveler supervises them.

“I’m jealous?” Wanderer scoffs, hoisting you up so you can rest on his hip as he holds you with one hand, the other used to gesture down at Nahida rudely. “You even dare to imply-”

“Please bring the Creator down.” Rukkhadevata repeats, hands on her hips. “Don’t make me come up there and get you.”

You have to stifle a laugh as Wanderer slowly brings the two of you back down, making sure your feet are firmly on the ground before letting you go. You don’t bother to mention how you notice that Wanderer’s body actually is noticeably warmer after purring. You smooth the wrinkles of your clothes and turn to the two Dendro Archons with a smile.

“You guys give off such mom energy,” you tell them. “So, what’s up? Did you figure out anything else?” 

“You forget that I was a queen before I was a god,” Rukkhadevata points out. “I know what it’s like to stymie conflict before it becomes a problem. Diplomatically, of course.”

Nahida nods in agreement. “Of course. And yes, Your Grace, we did come to some conclusions! Though, not all of them are final, mostly regarding Wanderer and his counterparts. There are some hypotheses we will need to investigate before we can say for sure…”

“Still kinda wish you wouldn’t call me that,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. The lofty title is uncomfortable to hear, when you still feel like any ordinary person. “But let’s hear it then. What did you guys come up with?”

“For the most part, exactly the same conclusion that we came to earlier.” Nahida says, drawing in the air with glowing green lines. She draws a tree, and then draws some branches in a different shade. “Your arrival in Teyvat brought a ‘backup’ of knowledge which, when reintroduced to the Leylines, conflicted with the current state of things and instead created additional information that now exists at the same time as the current timeline.”

“That being said,” Rukkhadevata adds her own glowing lines to Nahida’s drawing, in a deeper and more intense green. She circles one branch, and says: “I believe that this timeline’s Dendro Archon remains Lesser Lord Kusanali. Irminsul seems to have resolved this conflict by making it so that my sacrifice to eradicate Forbidden Knowledge was not my life, but rather my godhood.”

“What does that mean for you?” You ask.

“It means that I am now happily retired!” Rukkhadevata exclaims, smiling brightly. “And from what I’ve seen of the information recorded in Irminsul, I have an old friend in Liyue who also recently finds himself with a wealth of spare time. It’s been a few centuries since I last saw him, perhaps I should pay him a visit.”

“Wow, congratulations! I’m sure Zhongli would be glad for the company.” You hug her excitedly, and she returns the gesture with a bright laugh. 

“Is that the name he’s going by, now? It would certainly help to have a less recognisable name, I suppose…” Rukkhadevata ponders, and you can hear her humming as she thinks. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just use my old name. From now on, please call me Aranyani!”

Nahida joins in on your hug, practically bouncing with excitement, and you pick up the tiny god so she can see you both. “I’m so glad for you, Aranyani! I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she exclaims with a shy smile. “I have so many things I want to ask!”

“And you are always free to share in my knowledge, little sapling,” Aranyani coos, patting Nahida’s head affectionately before you all release each other, letting Nahida back down gently.

“So what are we going to do about those two clowns?” Wanderer says and you jump a little in surprise, forgetting he was still there.

You turn to where the rest of the group is. Kabukimono seems to have finally had enough and is tousling on the floor with Scaramouche. The Traveler is attempting to haul the Balladeer away, while Paimon grabs onto the back of Kabukimono’s veil and is yanking him in the other direction. To a very small degree of effectiveness.

“Both of you, please stop!” Nahida rushes forward, and the two puppets spring apart like the other is on fire.

“He started it!” Kabukimono points at Scaramouche accusingly and the Balladeer moves to grab him again, but is easily stopped by the Traveler pulling him back by grabbing his wrists. 

“It doesn’t matter who started it,” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. You put on a stern face and your best ‘disappointed parent’ voice. “I sort of expected more from you two…”

Kabukimono’s devastated expression is enough for you to drop the pretense. You sigh and open your arms and beckon, and Kabukimono happily throws himself into your hug. 

“Fine, fine!” You grumble, patting the top of Kabukimono’s head. “As long as you guys aren’t, like, maiming or seriously injuring each other, I guess it’s okay.”

“Yay!”

That’s about as far as you get before Nahida takes Kabukimono’s hand and leads him away, and begins informing him of the history of the world and catching him up to speed on the current timeline. Wanderer and the Traveler chime in every so often, adding in some details that the archon might have missed. Aranyani seems to have already taken her leave, leaving only you and Scaramouche behind.

You pretend not to notice as the disgruntled ex-Harbinger shuffles closer to you, until he bumps his shoulder against yours. 

“Hey,” he begins, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but all these annoying idiots kept interrupting me…”

You wait for a minute, until it’s clear he isn’t going to continue until you say something. “Yes? What’s the matter?”

He exhales through his nose and refuses to make eye contact with you. At the edges of your vision, you can see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” he finally spits out. “I mean, clearly I don’t quite fit in with the rest of these happy-go-lucky morons. I can’t imagine you intended for someone like me to show up.”

“Why not?” You blurt out, more out of surprise than anything else. “I like having you here.” It’s clearly the wrong thing to say, as Scaramouche begins to close off again.

“Don't bother lying to me,” he snaps, facing you with the full brunt of his annoyance. He crosses his arms and sneers at you, looking at you down the bridge of his nose. “I’m not some sad, weak little puppet who needs to be coddled by the likes of you. So save your meaningless placations for someone who would actually feel better after hearing them. You’re only wasting your time, and mine.”

“Okay, no lies then,” you nod, and watch as he braces himself for whatever you’ll say next. “I’m glad you’re here, in a world where every part of you can exist at the same time. And I’m glad I can be here with you to remind you that you’re the sum of all your parts, good and bad, and that I do want you to be here, in all your entirety.”

Scaramouche’s face is carefully blank, and you wonder for a second if he somehow shut down without you noticing. You wave a hand in front of his face, watching as his eyes track your palm. You’re about to say something else when you feel a hand come down on your shoulder heavily.

“Simp.” Wanderer states, patting you with a teasing look on his face.

“What?!” You jump away from him with an indignant squawk. “I am not-”

“Absolutely down bad.” The Traveler adds, and you reach clumsily to slap at the two of them. You miss both by miles.

“I can’t believe I taught you guys words from my world and this is how you repay me!”

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace!” Nahida looks properly apologetic at the treatment you’re receiving. “We were just discussing what to do with all of the new people. The Traveler has kindly offered to introduce you to their friendly teapot adeptus in order to have a realm created for you, and Wanderer’s incarnations can stay with you in the new realm!”

“That’s perfect!” you say quickly, eager to escape any more teasing from your team. You avoid Scaramouche’s probing gaze and turn your heated face away from him to look at Nahida and the Traveler. “When can we go? Can we go right now?”

The Traveler nods and holds out a thin tab of wood that you recognize as their realm dispatch. It’s strange to see it in person, for some reason you expected it to be bigger than it actually is. The entire thing can fit in the palm of one hand, like a credit card. “We can go as soon as you’re authorized, Your Grace!”

You’re giddy as you take the dispatch into your hands, rubbing the engraved surface with reverence. You feel a strange sensation, like pins and needles, as the magic in the dispatch settles over you. “This is so cool, you guys. I can’t wait to meet Tubby! Do you think she’ll make me a teapot, too, or something else?”

In your excitement you grab onto both the Traveler and Wanderer, silently begging them to come with you. Just as the three of you touch the surface of the teapot, Wanderer turns to Scaramouche with a pointed look and grins. 

“Favourite.” He says smugly as he vanishes.

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin self aware au #genshin isekai #self aware genshin #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau scaramouche #sagau wanderer #sagau kabukimono #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #< all currently platonic tho #seabird.txt #glitch in irminsul AU

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 1: Stuck in a wall

Pairings: Rindou x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, top/dom!reader, spanking, dacryphilia, very slight dubcon (Rindou starts to enjoy it pretty quickly), slight fourth wall breaking

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡

Author's Notes: Listen, I'm not gonna figure out logic for how Rindou got stuck in the wall, so just imagine it's some Halloween magic 🤫

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

....How did he even get into this predicament? How does one end up literally sticking through a solid wall?

“Rin...what the fuck happened?” You asked, extremely confused at the sight before you. Your boyfriend was, well...inside of the wall. More like going through the wall actually. When you walked through the hallway, you were immediately greeted by his lower half hanging from the wall. Then when you poked it and it moved, you grew more concerned, walking around to the bathroom directly on the other side to find Rindou's upper half jutting out, looking up at you like a deer in headlights

“Help. Me. Now.” His body thrashed about, desperately attempting to free himself from the building, frustration evident on his features

“What do you expect me to do?! You're in the wall!” Truly the last thing you expected to see when you came home...

“I don't know! Just do something! ” Rindou slumped in exasperation. Muscles tired from trying to hold himself up and wriggle out of the hole

You carefully examined the area around his torso, it was weirdly...intact. The wall was smooth, almost seamless. Clearly, he didn't fall through, otherwise there would be some rubble or debris or something, some kind of evidence that the wall broke. But there was nothing. It genuinely looked like Rindou had phased halfway through the wall and stopped before he passed to the other side

“Rin, I think you need to face the facts...you're just decor now.” He feebly attempted to lunge at you, twisting his body and swatting his hands at whatever he could reach. You only chuckled at his pouty lips and misty eyes, though you felt kind of bad that he was upset. You figured he'd probably been here for a while, trying to free himself and getting angry at the failed attempts

Suddenly, you remembered something from the fanfics you like to read... You've seen this scenario before, where someone magically gets stuck in the wall or something like that, and they usually end up getting fucked hard in such a vulnerable position. And you'd be lying if you said that that thought didn't arouse you...maybe if you did that to Rindou, it would get him magically unstuck? Ok that's shoddy logic, but why not take advantage of the situation, since there weren't any obvious ways to pry him out?

Rindou eyed you suspiciously as you peeked around the door frame, walking back out into the hallway. He flinched when something touched his butt, groping at him and rubbing along his back. “Now's not the time, y/n.” He growled

In response, you gave his cheeks a firm smack, making Rindou yelp from the other side. “I said n-not now...”

“C'mon, it's not like it'll make this situation worse, right?” You reasoned, grabbing his hips and pressing against him. “If anything, this will ease some of your stress. Just let me help you, yeah?”

You heard him whine, wiggling around some. It almost seemed like he was rubbing his thighs together, maybe he did find this a little hot after all...

Your fingers found the front of his pants, slowly unbuttoning them and letting them slide down to his ankles. Rindou gasped when you brushed against his thighs, whining again as you began to touch him more, “Y/n... Stop...”

Smack. His body jerked at the sudden collision. Clamping a hand over his mouth to hopefully muffle any more noises, not wanting to sound pathetic in front of you. Nevermind the fact that you've brought out his pathetic, perverted side plenty of times already, turning him into a sobbing, drooling whore on many occasions...

“I'll be right back, I'm gonna grab something, ok?” With that, you ran to the bedroom to retrieve the bottle of lube that was stored in the dresser. Quickly returning and dripping a small amount onto Rindou's ass, the cool liquid causing him to squeak in surprise. You slowly spread it around his hole, making sure to get enough on your fingers before you worked them inside. He gasped when you finally plunged them in, stretching his pretty ass, scissoring your digits and sliding them in and out. Finding his prostate and making him keen when you pushed on it, gasps and moans escaping from his lips

Rindou clawed at the wall around him, feeling sweat build up all over, his body reacting to your ministrations somewhat against his will. He really just wanted to be unstuck asap, but your skilled fingers pumping in and out of his ass made his head feel all fuzzy... It felt too good, so maybe he'll let you do what you want, as long as he gets out eventually...

When his ass felt thoroughly stretched, you removed your fingers and lined your cock up with his hole, rubbing it against him a little. Rindou bit his lip when you teased him, feeling more eager to just have you inside, stuffing him full like he deserves

And you did just that, pushing your dick inside while he groaned, “Fuck...'s big...” It hurt a little bit when the head first stretched him further, but the pleasure took over shortly afterwards, drowning out any other thoughts and filling his head with pure bliss

You picked up the pace, thrusting into him more harshly, landing another slap on his ass, the skin turning pink and warm. More wanton moans fell from Rindou's mouth, punctuating your every thrust. His squishy insides squeezed your cock just right, milking out more precum to add to the wet mess already inside of him

“You're really getting into this now, huh? Such a pretty little slut for me.” Another painful slap against his cheek as you degraded him, rubbing the skin soothingly to ease the sting. Unseen by you, tears began to pool in the corners of Rindou's eyes, threatening to fall if you spanked him again. The humiliation of being stuck in this helpless state only turned him on more, unable to take control in any way, unable to move away, forced to just take whatever you were going to do to his body

“Ha-harder...please, harder... Aaahh—!! ” Rindou's eyes rolled to the back of his head as you pounded your hips into his rhythmically, slamming against the wall with each sharp thrust. Tears finally dropped onto the ground below him, staining his face as he became overwhelmed by pure pleasure

“Babe, I'm really close...want it inside?” You practically had a vice grip on Rindou's hips, digging into him and nearly breaking the skin

“Y-yes...fuck—!! Fill me...want you in me...” He breathed, sweat beading on his forehead. His own release not far behind

You angled your thrusts so that you were pounding against his prostate again, relentless pace now becoming sloppy as you shot your load deep inside of him, painting his insides with hot, white cum. Rindou screamed as he felt your seed flood his guts, shooting his own cum all over the wall that he was trapped in

Leaning against the wall, you took a deep breath, hearing Rindou's panting on the other side. Both of you were completely spent after your spontaneous fucking. Rindou whined when your dick slipped out of him, already missing you, wishing you could just stay buried inside of him all day

Cum dripped out of his hole and ran down his legs, so you scooped it up and pushed it back into him with your fingers, earning a high-pitched moan from your darling slut. You chuckled and rubbed his hips lovingly

“Wanna go again, Rin? ”

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Tagging: @anxious-chick @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

#my writing #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani #rindo x reader #male reader #dom reader #top reader #sub rindo #rindou x reader #oneshot

[dreamisols]

starting the debut of my new blog with rin bc i love him (slight proofread!)

you've already seen your boyfriend rin itoshi frustrated over a multitude of things before.

you've seen the way his face scrunches into a deep frown whenever his brother asks him how to fix (yet another) problem with the laptop, how he almost shamefully darts his eyes down and bites the inside of his cheek whenever a date plan he initiated didn't go the way he perfectly envisioned, you even got to see his vein near popping at the daily chaos that surrounds his teammates from the blue lock program.

so when you descend the stairs and peek at the living room to see your lover's eyebrows scrunched, lips tugged in a near-childish pout (complete with his tongue poking out a bit—he's frustrated and focused) coupled with grumbles, you know something's bugging him.

you were just surprised that it was all because of colorful strips of paper.

"rin, darling?" you curiously walk all the way to his side, taking a seat right beside him on the carpeted floor.

you take a good look at the initially neat coffee table, now decorated with strips of pastel paper, a pair of scissors, a pencil, and rin's mug that's all the way to the near edge of the table's marble top. you can smell the faint aroma of coffee, probably the one from his cup, and you try to comprehend the reason why rin's suddenly delving into arts and crafts.

"you're already up, my love," rin murmurs back in response. though his words are clearly directed for you, his teal eyes are scrutinizing the two thin strips of papers he's trying to fold into... some shape.

"i made us french toast and plated some berries with honey.. i also made you hot mocha-" his breath hitches when his fingers nearly lets go of the baby pink paper strip "it's- it's on the table."

despite being well over a year into your relationship, rin never fails to surprise you and make your heart flutter. his actions and intent always makes up for whatever he's struggling with when it comes to being vocal.

you delicately plant a kiss on his cheek coupled with a hushed "thank you, darling"

that nearly made him let go of the cream colored paper he's holding.

after staring at him attempting to insert one folded piece into another (with you trying to hold off from giggling at the obvious fact he's more tense and flustered under your gaze), you finally break the silence and ask, "what're you doing, rinnie?"

his teal eyes quickly dart to peek at you before he returns his focus on the papers.

"i'm making paper rings."

you blink, wondering if your ears have been deceiving you. "that's so random!"

rin shifts when he hears an amused giggle from you. his hands start working faster than they used to (if you squint hard enough, he's trembling a bit). he's never felt this pressured in soccer matches but oh god, he feels so seen and so vulnerable under your loving gaze that he can't help the heat that crawls onto his face.

"what's it for?"

it was at that question that rin immediately stopped what he was doing and turned to look at you. there was a quizzical look plastered on him, one with both his eyebrows scrunched again as he blinks at you owlishly.

"last night.. didn't you tell me that you found the idea of matching paper rings romantic? so i'm making one." he said matter-of-factly

it seems as if the heat on rin's cheeks now traveled to your own. this dork, did he really start making paper rings just because you made an off-hand comment about them being pretty cute last night? and he's doing it like it's the only logical thing to do.

"you're really going to be the death of me, rinnie." you laugh, and if that didn't already send butterflies into rin's stomach, then the soft kiss you place on his lips sure did the trick.

"just because i mentioned them in passing and i also squealed about them doesn't mean you're obligated to make it for me."

"but i want to make it for you..." rin stubbornly rebuts and he looks as determined as he is firm. as if to hammer his point, his hands continue moving, continue working. (the ring's nearly done. you can't help but remain in awe at how much of a quick worker your boyfriend is.)

a lighthearted tense silence passes between you two before rin's eyes go wide. he looks down in surprise before he proudly presents to your his creation, "i'm finished!"

considering he wasn't someone who often did handmade crafts, you'd say the ring was impressive for a first timer. it's neat and proportionate, like everything made by your boyfriend. it's obvious that he really took his time to making this. and as always, your heart melts.

"it's so cute, rinnie," you watch as he slips the paper jewelry onto your ring finger gently.

"how do you know my ring size?" "just guessed. i love playing with your fingers anyways." cheeky.

you take your time to admire his work (with the way he's also staring so proudly at it, it's almost as if he considers it to be his magnum opus).

your fingers delicately play with the paper ring on your finger, "i'm assuming you're gonna make a matching one for yourself?" the smile on your lips widen a bit when you see him nod from the corner of your eye.

"it's lovely rinnie, thank you my darling," you engulf him in a warm hug, one that he returns with his now free hands. his head nuzzles into your shoulder, and you hum softly feeling his hair tickle your skin. he whispers a shy 'you're welcome' into your skin, no doubt flustered by your praise.

"as much as i love it, i'm afraid i might not wear it as much though-"

rin's head immediately shoots up at your comment, and an adorable form of dejected confusion paints his face, "why not?"

"well, it's a paper ring... if i go about my daily activities wearing it, it's no doubt going to get flattened, teared, probably even drenched. i don't want it ruined."

rin pulls away from the hug, crossing his arms as he sits there in contemplation. a few moments of silence pass, and you fear your lover might've grown pouty or misunderstood your words. just as you were about to reassure him, he perks up with a determined look,

"then.. i should make an entire jar for you to replace each one..."

your boyfriend really is an endearing dork.

(let me have my rin itoshi bf too please)

please don't copy or repost my work!

#🎐rimi.works #💌.bluelock #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #bllk fluff #bllk rin #bllk x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #i love rin itoshi sm

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For your recent event can I request

Blue Ocean and #2

Thank you

Three Little Words (Gojo x Reader)

CW: rejection, blood, slight spoilers for the jjk movie, implied past satosugu i guess, mutual pining, reader is female, implied death, brief mentions of blood, mentions of injury

Event Masterlist | Event Guide | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

"Sorry, not interested."

Three little words. Three little words was all it took to shatter your heart.

You had spent the last three years of your life trying to track down the person attached to the other end of your soulmate thread.

All that time spent hoping. All that time spent daydreaming about what he would be like, only for this.

For you to meet him because he was your new coworker, and fellow teacher at Jujutsu Tech. For him to reject you upon first sight.

You hadn't even spoken a word yet. All it took was him glancing at the red ribbon connecting the two of you for him to shut you down.

Your mind went blank. There was no way you heard him correctly, right...?

"What?"

"I'm not interested."

He stated casually, as if he was just commenting on the weather.

"You-You don't even know my name yet!"

With all logic having flown out the window, this was the best you could come up with.

"Oh, you're right. What's your name?"

Stupefied, you told him.

"That's pretty. Anyways, it's not you, it's me."

Taking your blank gaze as understanding, he perked up.

"My name's Gojo Satoru. I hope we can be friends!"

With an enthusiastic handshake, he was off, leaving you standing in shock, unsure of what just happened.

Reaching up and touching your cheek, you were surprised to find that it was wet.

Huh, that was strange. When did you start crying?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days turned to weeks turned to months.

At first, things were a little awkward between you and your soulmate.

You were hurt, angry and confused. But the more time you spent with him, the more those feelings ebbed away, his presence a balm that soothed all your hurts and insecurities.

Why. Why did he have to reject you? Why did he have to be so insufferable? Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive? Why did he have to be aware that he was so goddamn attractive?

Why couldn't he send you any clear signals?

One day he was playfully calling you his 'best bud' while the two of you played pranks on Nanami or got into mischief.

And the next he was tenderly cupping your cheek and running his thumb over the dark bags under your eyes; concern evident on his face as he quietly asked if you were doing okay, and telling you to take a break.

And if he really wasn't interested, why didn't he officially break the soulmate bond? Why did he change the subject every time you tried to bring it up?

It was driving you insane. You were falling for him. And hard. But the echo of his words replayed in your head every time you considered broaching the subject.

You didn't know what to do.

So you did the only thing you could; you kept it professional. After all, the two of you were coworkers, nothing more, nothing less.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gojo was tired of just being your coworker.

He wanted more. Had wanted more from the moment he laid eyes on your breathtaking face.

Sure, it had broken a visceral part of him to reject you, but if it was to keep you safe, he would do it a million times over.

However, no matter how much he told himself he couldn't be with you, that he had to officially sever the soulmate bond, he couldn't bring himself to officially break the tie that made the two of you soulmates.

The more time he spent with you, the more time he got to spend with you, the harder he fell.

He had never felt like this towards anyone. The only person that had ever come close before this had been Suguru, but his relationship with him had been soured by the fact that they both knew Gojo's soulmate was out there.

But when you were in his life, his entire world lit up. Everything was brighter and more vibrant. He felt like you saw him for Satoru, the man he was, instead of the burdens fate and Jujutsu society had placed upon his shoulders.

So selfishly he had kept the soulmate bond intact.

And now, staring at your mangled form laying before him, the precious blood that belonged in your veins leaking out onto the floor as you struggled to breathe, he remembered.

He remembered why he wasn't allowed to love. Why he had pushed you away.

God, he was so stupid to think that Suguru wouldn't go after you. He was so stupid for believing that his friend wasn't irredeemable.

And his stupidity and selfishness could very well cost you your life.

"You never change, do you."

Only then did Gojo realize that he had been speaking aloud, voicing his inner turmoil as the two people he cared for most lay dying before him.

Suguru coughed, wincing as the motion aggravated his injuries.

"You say that she's injured because you selfishly clung to your soulmate bond, right?"

"What are you implying Suguru?"

Gojo asked, weariness and heartbreak in his voice as he applied pressure to your injuries. He couldn't take you to get help until he took care of Suguru, but he wanted to give his former best friend a chance to say his last words.

"What I'm saying is that she got hurt because you were selfish, yes, but not in the way you think you were. You aren't selfish because you refuse to break the bond. You were selfish because you kept your distance. You could've come to her rescue much earlier, but you didn't because doing so would admit that she meant something to you. And you were more comfortable keeping her at a distance, because you didn't want to have to fear losing her."

Suguru sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position.

"You know, I never hated the people at Jujutsu Tech. If she survives, tell her how you really feel. She deserves at least that. And after that, tell her I'm sorry, okay."

Gojo barked a laugh, tears burning the backs of his eyes as a looming sense of grief and apprehension filled him. He knew what he had to do next.

"Okay, I will."

He smiled.

"Wingmanning me till the end. My best friend."

His face softened as he reminisced on better times.

"My one and only."

Suguru returned the smile, and Gojo finished him, gently closing his eyes afterwards.

Standing and wiping the tears from his eyes, he turned and picked you up, before stepping into a new chapter of his life.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you woke up, you were greeted by the bright white of the hospital ceiling.

Groaning, you attempted to sit up, only to be stopped by the massive man-child sprawled across your lap.

With a snort, he shot up, disoriented as he rejoined the land of the waking.

Noticing you were awake, he froze, before reaching out and grabbing your hands.

"Can I say something?"

"Right now?"

You asked, a little confused as to what could be so important that he was waiting at your bedside for you to wake up.

"Yes."

His unusually somber tome threw you off.

"Of course. What's the matter?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Um, I'm confused. For what?"

"For rejecting you. This is by no means any excuse, but the last person I was close to abandoned me. I was afraid to let anyone get close to me, but instead of facing my fear, I excused it by telling myself that if I let myself care for you then curses would target you to get to me. So I told myself that it was to protect you instead of acknowledging that I'm selfish coward who was just trying to protect myself-"

"Hold up."

You cut off his rambling, needing a moment to process.

"Are you trying to tell me that you rejected me because you were afraid that in the end I was going to betray you, but you were too emotionally constipated to acknowledge that, so instead you convinced yourself that you were pushing me away for my own protection?"

Downcast he nodded.

"And you're apologizing for that."

"Yes. If I had just protected you by staying by your side, you never would have gotten hurt! The only reason you're in here is because I was too scared to admit that I love you!"

You froze.

"Say it again."

"What."

"What you just said."

Realization dawned on Gojo's face, and his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

"I love you."

He murmured shyly, looking at the comforter.

You leaned forwards and hugged him, burying your head in his chest.

"Again."

You whispered, lips brushing against the fabric of his uniform.

"I love you."

A content smile spread across your face.

"I'm still sorta pissed at you, but you have no idea how happy you just made me."

You said, nuzzling into his shirt.

"I love you too."

He froze in disbelief. There was no way you returned his feelings. He didn't deserve that.

"Do you really forgive me?"

"Mmmm, say it one more time for me."

"I love you."

"Okay I forgive you."

Finally at peace, you basked in the warmth from being in the arms of your soulmate.

Who knew that those three little words were all it took.

Three little words to heal your heart.

Cuddling with soulmate, you knew that you would be okay, as long as he continued to tell you those three little words.

You deep personal reflection was interrupted by Gojo's voice.

"Oh, by the way, Suguru says sorry."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

#lee's brain asks #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #soulmate au #angst to fluff #mutual pining #lee's 1 year anniversary event #crack ending #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x female reader

[caelisblade]

¡! the kaveh way | alhaitham

synopsis: after being married for quite some time, you and alhaitham decide to expand your new little family and try for a baby – unfortunately, things don’t work out as you imagine for a bit. after a short chat with kaveh, alhaitham decides to try switching up things a little and try the kaveh way while trying to get you pregnant – letting loose completely for once and making you feel absolutely loved and cherished. and of course, completely drunk on ecstasy from all the mind-numbing pleasure he was intending to make you feel.

cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used but only once; mentions of pregnancy, trying for a baby, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), pet names (god there’s so many; baby, babe, sweetheart, good girl, my queen, honey, princess), slight degradation (he calls you his pretty slut once or twice lol)

this is a repost from my previous blog yaesnovels.

alhaitham was rolling his eyes when he heard kaveh’s laugh, the blond architect pretending to wipe tears off his cheeks in exaggeration. “so, you’re actually telling me that you were completely relying on logic with this whole thing?”

“yeah, so? what’s so wrong about it?”, alhaitham argued back, it simply just made so much more sense for him to get real with facts and logic about your mutual decision to try for a baby, after being married for quite some time and being absolutely ready and sure about it. “it doesn’t really make sense to try when she isn’t even able to get pregnant, so what’s the problem here?”

“alhaitham, you’re such an idiot, oh god”, kaveh laughed. “so, you guys have only been having regular fucks whenever she was ovulating and didn’t even pay attention on how you were feeling at all? of course things wouldn’t work out like that!”

that made the scribe think – no, neither of you had really considered that your emotions and the intimacy throughout the process of trying. the more kaveh spoke on what to pay attention to, speaking from a more emotional perspective, alhaitham was absolutely sure on what to do – well, luckily, you were ovulating anyway. he couldn’t totally let go of relying on logic, after all.

he might as well make things up to you for not paying attention to you as much as he should have as your husband. and he might as well try the kaveh way of things to get your mutual dream come true.

–

the moment you were back home, alhaitham pulled you inside the house, close to himself and lifting up your chin as he kissed you. he kissed you, oh, so softly; he hadn’t been this gentle with you in such a long time.

you knew that he had been busy with the akademiya falling apart so he was insanely stressed out with the sudden new workload. so, the whole baby making thing you were both excited about had been a complete disappointment so far – he probably didn’t even realize how much the stress affected his mood and you didn’t really want to talk to him about it either.

he was going to realize it sooner or later and it appeared that just now, he did realize it. “i’m so sorry for neglecting you recently”, he mumbled, burying his face against your neck. “i’ve been a terrible husband, haven’t i?”

“well, i wouldn’t say terrible because either way, i love you, but yeah, the last couple of weeks were somewhat lonely for me”, you replied, voice soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying your best not to sound too sad about the whole situation.

“i love you”, alhaitham said, planting yet another kiss on your lips before he pulled you inside to the kitchen where you were met with an already prepared, candlelit dinner that had you look at him with so much love in your eyes. he couldn‘t even remember the last time you had looked at him this way. it had been far too long.

“this all looks so great, thank you, my love”, you smiled, sitting down, as you immediately dived in, groaning at how good it all tasted. “this is amazing.”

“of course, love. you deserve all the best.”

–

after dinner, he pulled out some wine as he put on some of the sensual music he got from kaveh (which he only accepted reluctantly, after deciding it was time to pamper you since he didn’t get to do that for so long now). “going all out tonight, aren’t you?”, you teased, “well, it wouldn’t be fair if i were to let you do everything right?”

you finally returned from the bedroom you had buried yourself in after dinner, wearing one of the sets of dark red lingerie your friends had jokingly gifted you for your wedding. alhaitham gulped at the sight, you were looking so gorgeous in that soft silk, it was so hard for him not to pull you on his lap and rip that unnecessary fabric off.

you grabbed the glass of wine alhaitham had already poured as you sat on the couch next to him, drinking a sip to calm your nerves – it had been so long since alhaitham truly paid attention to you, which you didn’t blame him for. it just simply affected how easily shy you got around him; something you had gotten over with after a while of being with him.

“you’re so beautiful, baby”, he mumbled, “i missed you so much the last couple of weeks. everything was just so stressful, i’m sorry for not paying attention to you more.”

“it’s alright”, you replied, placing the glass on the table, pulling him on top of you, giggling as you noticed how taken aback he was about that. you had your legs wrapped around his hips, laying down on the couch before you kissed him. you only realized in that moment how much you had missed your gentle and doting husband.

though, the only thing you did not realize was that this piece of lingerie – which didn’t really cover anything of your skin and beautiful body – was the reason for the pussydrunk beast he tried so hard to push away from coming out.

he deepened the kiss, one hand softly lingering over your legs, as the other one was pulling down the fabric to reveal your nipples which he just started to play around with, pinching, sucking, biting on them, having you writhe around. the more he went down on you, he noticed the beautiful scent coming from your body — he assumed a perfume that had an undertone of some sort of aphrodisiac because it made him go so feral out of nowhere — as he was pulling off the panties covered by the short dress.

“you’re so gorgeous, baby”, he mumbled against your thighs, and leaving a soft kiss on your clit. “i can’t wait to pamper you like you deserve, my queen.”

alhaitham didn’t care how messy he was when he was fucking you with his tongue, thumb circling your clit and he was holding your thighs apart with his tight grip, already so pussydrunk with your taste and he was unsure if he would be able to stop.

“feels good, honey? i can tell by your cute noises, baby, oh you sound so good. it’s been so long since i last got to taste you, hasn’t it? i missed the way you taste and the way you pull my hair when you get so needy, baby”, he talked you through your first orgasm of the night, you were shaking and your eyes had gotten all teary.

“alhaitham”, you whimpered out his name, body relaxing as you calmed down. “please.”

“please, what, lovely?”, he questioned, teasing you with a soft giggle. “just kidding, honey. let’s move to our bedroom, shall we?”

he had you thrown over his shoulder, having you laugh as he tickled you and then put you down on the bed, before he laid down on top of you, caressing your cheek. “i keep on repeating this but archons, i’m so in love with you, baby”, he whispered, “i can’t imagine spending my life without you anymore.”

“i love you, too”, you replied, kissing him so passionately when you were turning you both around, sitting down on your husband’s lap as you pulled the silk over your body, all naked on top of him and you couldn’t help the heat rushing up your cheeks as you realized that alhaitham was still in his clothes.

“not fair”, you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, before he sat up to pull the fabric off his body. you leaned down to press soft kisses over his skin, down to his abs, still so mesmerized by how toned his body was despite being a researcher and mostly sitting in his office doing paperwork.

“you know what’s not fair, love? the fact that you try to be on top of me when tonight was supposed to be all about you. and since i know you love me being rough”, he interrupted himself as he pushed you back down on the bed, keeping your wrists pinned against the soft mattress, hips pressing against yours as he kept you on your spot, “i will just use you until i fuck a baby into you.”

you rolled your eyes back as he spoke, the thought of you finally getting pregnant after trying for so long had you whine in need; you just wanted him to fill you up over and over until you couldn’t take anything in anymore.

alhaitham pulled his pants down and threw them off the bed, grabbing your hips to lift you up and thrust deep inside of you, having you cry out as you pulled him closer to you. “please, fuck me”, you whimpered, the needy gaze you had in your eyes were simply making him go feral on you, rough and hard thrusts almost immediately, the sound of skin slapping against skin had you so weak in the knees.

“archons, you feel so good around me, honey”, he groaned, keeping up his relentless pace as you buried your nails into his back. “go on, babe, leave your marks on my back. go crazy, i don’t mind. i love the sweet pain you make me feel. beg for me to make you come and cream on my cock. beg for me to come deep inside you, to get you pregnant with my baby. you want that so bad don’t you, baby? you want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

“please, i need it so bad. wanna make you- make you a daddy”, you babbled, your brain no longer properly functioning as the attention he gave you and your pleasure was making you feel dizzy, tears rolling down your eyes and it was obvious that those tears were not primarily from the stimulation he put your body through. they were mainly tears of genuine disappointment coming from the failure from the constant negative pregnancy tests.

“oh, honey, you will. don’t worry, you definitely will. even if it doesn’t work out this time, i promise you, i won’t give it a break until we make our dream come true”, he calmed you down, slowing down with his thrusts to give you his full attention again. “shh, baby, don’t cry, love.” his voice was so soft and he stopped his movements for a moment, pulling out as he finally realized you were actually crying and those weren’t tears coming solely from pleasure.

“need me to stop?”, he asked then, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. you shook your head no. “shh, what happened, love?”

“the thought… of not being able to get pregnant and giving you what you want”, you mumbled, “you wouldn’t leave me if i weren’t able to get–”

“hey, hey, no. stop right there, love. there is nothing in this world that could make me love you less, especially just because this didn’t work out. i would never leave you for something as simple as this; for something we both couldn‘t have any control in. i love you too much to do something like that. i’d rather get old with you alone instead of leaving you because i couldn’t get you pregnant.”

he left soft kisses on your face, making you giggle while your sobs stopped and you calmed down again. “archons, that must’ve ruined the mood now”, you mumbled.

“what are you talking about, babe?”, he smirked, leaning down to kiss you on your lips. “i recall promising you to pamper you like you deserve, didn’t i? and believe me, i intend to keep that promise.”

–

he was manhandling you like it was no struggle for him at all – lifting your legs to get you into a mating press, your hips up as you were laying on you stomach as he fucked you from behind. alhaitham was not hesitant to make sure you knew who‘s in control, having you at his complete mercy as he made you gush around him over and over again.

“oh, you feel so good, princess. take it like the good girl you are, sweetheart”, he groaned, “mhm, good job, honey. you‘re doing so amazing for me, taking your husband‘s cock like the good and pretty little slut you are. you’re my good little slut, aren‘t you, baby?”

he chuckled as you nodded in agreement, brain totally empty from all sort of thoughts, eyes glassy and full of tears from the overstimulation.

“that’s a good girl”, he groaned, intertwining your hands as he leaned down to kiss you on your soft, yet somewhat swollen lips from all the kissing sessions you had in your breaks. “oh, archons, i’m so obsessed with kissing you, honey.”

you were pretty much unable to reply at this point – brain totally clouded and blurry from how good and exhausted you were feeling.

“look at how much you’re coming for me, honey. look how much of a mess we made here”, he mumbled against your neck, watching how his cum leak out your cunt, before he scooped up some of it with his fingers and pushed them inside of you. you had lost all track of time and you were sure it had been a couple of hours since he had started ravaging you.

“sensitive”, you whimpered out, brain unable to process anything else. it had been a bit since all power had left your body and you were just laying there, taking it like his good girl he loved to praise you as.

“oh, love, did you think i was done? that’s cute”, alhaitham giggled before he thrusted his cock back inside, “i’m not going to stop.”

your eyes widened, the realization of what was to be expected of your insatiable husband had you look at him somewhat in fear. you couldn’t remember the last time he had made you shake so intensely, make you come over and over until you were nothing but his good girl, his good little slut, clenching around him so tightly as he had you underneath himself at his mercy.

“what is it, sweetheart? am i scaring you, baby? good. you’re all mine. you deserve such a good fuck for being such a good girl for me, lovely. you deserve everything i could possibly give you just for wanting to create a new life with me.” he let out a groan as he – once again – buried his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls white. “come for me, baby, just take it all and come for me.”

the moment you gushed around his cock, crying out his name and sobbing in pleasure, he just watched you unfold, losing all control of yourself as you submitted to the way he made you feel so good.

“you took my cock so good, honey. i’m so proud of you”, he mumbled, pulling out. “and if this time did not work out, we‘ll try again. it‘s alright, sweetheart. it will happen eventually.”

he placed a hand on your tummy, thumb softly caressing the naked skin. “one day it will work out.”

–

“relax, sweetheart. i know this was a lot to take in, i don‘t really know what came over me tonight”, alhaitham calmed you down. he hugged you tightly from behind as you both sank into the bath. “feel good honey?”

you nodded, closing your eyes as you relaxed against him, your tense muscles turning into mush as he simply made you feel so giggly and happy as he playfully started tracing random shapes over your tummy. “i have a good feeling about tonight, y‘know? i feel like this time it will have worked out”, you said.

“we‘ll see, honey. and even if not, it‘s perfectly fine”, he whispered, making you shiver at how deep his voice was. it was a reminder of all the promises he made; how they were always kept and came true eventually. and you knew that this one, no matter how long it’ll take, wouldn’t be broken either.

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟalhaitham #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham smut #genshin fanfiction #alhaitham fanfiction #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Yo! Good morning/evening, hope you are fine^^💝. I wanted to ask you a question but I was afraid that it may bother you or something (you know..that feeling when you are scared that you might disturb someone or being an unwelcome person) but yeah I will ask you since i was serious about your answer for some time now so I hope I'm not annoying you or something *feel free to answer only if you wish^^. You seem to know the characters pretty well, you are quite capable and great at reading and understanding them, one of the things I'm serious about is what do you think would make someone qualified enough to be with malleus? Do they have to be of the same species?certain Reputation, stature or traits?(sorry can't help it since I can't rest until I know everything about what interests me and figure it all out😅). Thanks for giving me some of your precious time I really like your blog, you're amazing💜

No worries, you’re not bothering me at all ^^ I love to talk about my hyperfixations www

Now, I know a lot of fans (particularly on the EN side) like to ship Malleus with their OC and especially with Yuu so I want to first make it clear that my response is NOT meant to invalidate those Malleus shippers. Whatever I say here is based on my own interpretation of canon lore (and let’s be real here, TWST won’t ever confirm if anyone is romantically interested in Yuu because it might not work with how some players view their own relationship with that character). In fanon, anyone can be with anyone, but in canon there are very specific in-universe rules and expectations laid out for Malleus so these are what I will be referring to.

I also want to emphasize that the final traits I discuss in this post do NOT reflect Malleus’s personal tastes or views. He has little say in what kind of an individual his spouse would be, so his own preferences are not speculated about or taken into account here. The traits I will be bringing up are based on what I believe the lore implies are the desirable traits for those marrying into the Draconia royal family.

We got it? Good 👍 Read more below the cut!!

Firstly, I’m completely disregarding the ideas of “Malleus can love whoever he wants to love”, “Malleus can scare people into accepting who he loves”, and/or “Malleus can change the law so he can marry who he loves” (a la Sultan from Aladdin or through some other Disney magic or logic). Here’s why:

In general, those solutions for “high stakes issues” are too simple, and that has never been how Twisted Wonderland tackles complicated problems. Just look at every single OB boy’s backstory. They’re so complex that they aren’t totally resolved by the end of their books; these problems persist and are long term things each of them are working on addressing. This is also true of the politics TWST introduces to us; Leona for example explains how there is social pushback and resistance to the idea of infrastructure reform because the culture of the Sunset Savanna stresses harmony with nature. This has made it difficult for them to adopt new technologies because real politicians in their world have to seriously weigh their cultural values with their health and societal progress. The only time there are really easy solutions are in events or vignettes where the emotional stakes are not super high, but who Malleus marries is, in fact, super important since this will entirely change the life of a main character and his country.

With that first bullet point in mind… No, Malleus cannot love whoever he wants to love. Certainly, he may feel affection for another but he can never truly be with them. He is royalty and the only heir to the throne of Briar Valley. It follows that he is expected to marry for political reasons/to better his nation. This is a non-negotiable obligation for him.

Rather than saying, “Malleus cannot scare people into accepting who he loves”, I think it’s more accurate to say Malleus knows he probably shouldn’t. I mean, yes, he may be upset about his S/O not being accepted by his people but I feel that is discrediting a lot of the loyalty he has for his own country. As a kid he may have thrown tantrums when he was upset and potentially harmed staff, but as a 178 year old he has a much better understanding of decorum and maintaining it in spite of his own grudges. For example, even though he personally dislikes Leona he still commands Sebek to apologize to him because, at the end of the day, this could harm Briar Valley’s relationship with the Sunset Savanna. That’s not to say that Malleus can’t be petty (he definitely is)—but implying he would be petty toward basically his entire country just because they would disapprove of the one he loves?? (We know this would likely be true because Sebek’s parents faced similar backlash when they got together.) I feel like his own sense of awareness and responsibility for his country, crown, and people would override that. As an example, Malleus states that he has never been in a car before because the senate would be against it and often kept Malleus in the castle. Someone of his power could easily ignore them and sneak out and do whatever he wanted, yet the dialogue implies Malleus didn’t. He obeyed his political advisors even when he was younger and arguably much more immature. Malleus might not like certain decisions made about his life but it sounds like he ultimately complies with them.

Continuing from the previous point, let’s say for the sake of argument that Malleus does scare everyone into line. What about his public image and the mental health of his S/O? Maybe Malleus can frighten people to not talk out of turn to his face, but he cannot control what people whisper about him behind closed doors or to treat his S/O well or like they actually like them. Not only would they be alienated (away from their own home and forced to adapt to a new one) but they’d be treated oddly by others too. What kind of reputation is that for Malleus? To be a tyrant king who throws a hissy fit anytime someone talks about his partner in a way he doesn’t approve of? With a spouse who is not at their best mentally because of the constant ostracization? (This is similar to what Leona experienced in his childhood.) I don’t think Malleus would want to subject anyone to that kind of life, especially not one he loves. And again, this attitude would be the vast majority of his people. It’s not like it can be avoided or resolved in an easy manner, especially when the people of Briar Valley have proven to be against change.

Lastly, Malleus would not change the law so he can be with whoever he wants to. To begin with, I doubt this is a unilateral position the senate would approve of. But okay, let’s accept that Malleus is royalty so his power overrides the advisors’ power. So he effectively just changed a law for a very selfish and personal reason rather than changing something to actually benefit his people. That doesn’t feel in-character for him, not when Malleus seems to understand that it is the duty of those in higher status to help those below them rather than themselves (see: Riddle’s Suitor Suit vignettes. Malleus has acted selfish before, yes (who remembers Endless Halloween Night? His Dorm Uniform vignettes? I do.)—but never at the cost of changing the status quo of his country. (Book 7 is not included here because he’s in a very distressed emotional state then; this “new law” scenario posits that Malleus is in a normal state of mind.) This is a major change—change which Briar Valley, its people, and most importantly, Malleus, are not ready for. You think there wouldn’t be social pushback against this? From a society that has become complacent with its own way of life and is still isolated from the rest of the world? That Malleus, someone who struggles greatly with accepting life changes himself, could enact such a big change so easily? (On a more technical level, you don’t just pass a law and it instantly becomes tangible or real, there is a process of approval and then implementation.)

Additionally, it’s made clear in Ghost Marriage that “[Malleus] cannot enter into an engagement lightly”, which is why Sebek goes in his place. Eliza, the Ghost Bride, is royalty (er, albeit dead) but it seems that royal status is not enough to qualify as his partner. Maybe this is because she’s dead and doesn’t have anything of value for Briar Valley (no land, no people, no political power), but it could also mean that the partner has to be given the thumbs up by other parties.

All that being said, here are some of the conditions I think would have to be met for Malleus’s future spouse:

Has to be someone of equal or at least high status. This means they also have to be a royal or at least of nobility. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who is referred to as a duke.

Because of how self-contained Briar Valley is + nocturnal fae having beef with diurnal fae, I imagine his partner would have to also be a nocturnal fae. This would also solve the MASSIVE lifespan difference between fae and non-fae because at least fae would be far closer to each other even if their lifespans fluctuate but subspecies.

Someone suited to rule by his side. Being married into any royal family is no joke—it comes with the expectation that you will contribute somehow, and the partner should be fully equipped to enter the world of politics with him.

Piggybacking off the last point, I think mental fortitude is also a prerequisite. This is because being a politician (navigating the social climate both within your country and outside of it, keeping your people and colleagues happy, maintaining public approval, managing laws, dealing with potential attempts on your life, etc.) can be very stressful and can hurt those who are faint of heart or not prepared for the responsibility. Leaders have to make tough calls at the drop of a hat, and they have to be ready for it.

Has a lot to offer in terms of benefits to Briar Valley as a country. This could be in terms of resources, connections, and/or political savvy. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who acted as a diplomat for Briar Valley.

Vetting and formal approval from the senate. lmao good luck with that

Has to be able and willing to have a child. They at least need an heir to the throne to succeed Malleus. (However, knowing how exclusionary and conservative as heck the senators are, I doubt they would accept anything but a biological child 💀)

Preferably someone with powerful magic or is skilled at magic already so as to lessen the chance of “tainting” the bloodline with a weak mage or a non-mage.

I believe that Briar Valley would prefer someone with old fashioned values like them, not someone pushing for massive reform. They have a culture that is resistant to change and a history of fighting for resources with outsiders, so if Malleus’s new spouse tries to introduce a bunch of technology or open its borders to other countries (even if they have good intentions), the people + the senate may oppose them. His father is implied to be open-minded, but he at least understood that such change isn’t reasonable without time and effort dedicated to the endeavor.

All that being said 💦 I think that this topic is actually less about what Malleus as an individual wants and what his country, his people, and, yes, even his asshole senators, want. This is basically an arranged marriage situation so that their country can maintain power and relevance. It’s about the collective and what Malleus must do for their perceived security and prosperity.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Sebek Zigvolt #Leona Kingscholar #Yuu #notes from the writing raven #question #spoilers #Eliza #Ghost Bride #Aladdin #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #tw//homophobia #tw//transphobia

[charmedreincarnation]

⭐️ my void sucess story ⭐️

Hi Maya! I entered the void last night using this (https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/717982229971730432/fulfillment-x-i-am-technique) and this (https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/718301527748608000/shifting-recourses-wposts ) post, so tysm!

I won’t get to into it, but I am living my best life despite all the doubts I had about the void. I always knew it was real but I was scared I would not be able to do it. If you’re someone who struggles with the logic behind this phenomenon I suggest reading that post, and also reading @gorgeouslypink blog. I think both Maya and pink understand and acknowledge that this stuff “isn’t natural” (in a human and logical sense) but also encourage us to both appeal to our logical mind and spiritual one as well. But I kind of do want to breakdown what I did, bc it was always annoying how some anon stories didn’t explain what they did lol.

⭐️I suggest reading one peice of Neville Goddard’s work. You don’t have to of course. You don’t even have to apply loa, but trust me it’s the shortcut to this type of stuff. I really liked at your command, and the power of imagination if you want recommendations.

⭐️read this (https://www.tumblr.com/gorgeouslypink/710749646282227712/doubts )post about doubt by pink. Don’t just read it, understand and internalize it. If you don’t and keep re-reading it until you do.

⭐️use some subliminals if you want.i know people say don’t put methods above you, but ehhh :// I just like to listen to music and it won’t hurt as long as you know you choose if they work or not with your assumption. I really like slade, solar subs kira’s domain (yes the scammer but her subs still work pretty well) and v1per, but use whoever you trust

⭐️find logical reasoning to help you come to terms with the fact it’s real. Pink talks about some on her page, and so does Maya. I used the technique I shared in the first paragraph which reminds me of a lazy sats, and combined that with my subliminal usage and after a week it worked

⭐️shifting methods are your best friend. There are so many great methods so find one that resonates with you. Also the shifting community is very open minded and not limited in any way, which is nice. They’re also starting to talk about logic and the law which is awesome. Again this (https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/718301527748608000/shifting-recourses-wposts) post has both resources for the logical and spiritual mind, stuff about the law, methods, and stories.

⭐️stick to 1-2 bloggers who help you feel the most motivated. Most bloggers say the something anyways so it won’t help you that if you read 100 bloggers instead of one. I obviously preferred pink and Maya but choose whoever you want!

Anyways, most importantly I manifested a complete change in my life. Nothing is the same so don’t limit yourself. From the way I look, to where I live, my career, age, love life, wealth, social life, family, friends, nothing is the same. Also I was 30 but I revised my age to 25. I’m just adding this so you know it’s not only kids dabbling in this special amazing ability! I also had very hard circumstances, ranging from poverty, assault, and depression. Most people in the world struggle, no one is struggling alone. Don’t let that victim mentality stop you from living your best life.

I know I say the same thing every time, but I’m genuinely happy and proud of you! Thank you for sharing all your amazing tips and recourses, and I hope you continue to always live your best life and it only gets better!

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #void success

[roosteraloha]

in sickness

jake seresin x reader

wc - 3k

warnings - talks of poor mental health, not looking after yourself, chronic pain discussions, a lot of angst but also a lot of fluff !!

disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!

a/n - I hope this fic can provide you a bit comfort, whether you experience chronic pain or not!! life is terrible right now and this is my little bit of comfort while I get through this flare up. pls always take care of yourselves <3

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

You had been feeling off for a while. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when this feeling started, it just did. And it sucked. Usually a bright and hard working individual, you now felt more like a shell of who you used to be - more than you ever had before.

With no family around, this was the year you’d truly be alone for the holiday season. A welcome change to the fake smile you’d plaster on, anything to avoid more for your family to pick you apart for. Anything to avoid being seen as the family failure even more.

Working part time as a barista while you continued your studies at a new campus, began merely as a way to pay rent and pay the remaining tuition, which failed to be covered by your scholarships. Now, your work was a chance to escape both from your family issues and your school work, a chance to just be.

A few months into living in San Diego, you’d developed a much needed routine; classes in the day, serving regulars at the little café, then studying more when you got home.

There was one regular at the café that always made your smile a bit brighter, a real smile, rather than the fake customer service one that you had perfected.

A tall, blonde aviator.

He arrived like clockwork every single day, ordered the same drink and pastry each day, and something you noticed the longer you worked there, only gave his signature wink and drawl of “Thanks darlin’” to you. A fact that gave you a flutter of butterflies each time he walked through the door.

It had taken you a few months to work up the courage to accept his invitation of a date, ironically he insisted on just going for a coffee (or any drink you'd prefer, as he insisted), which then progressed to him regularly joining you at the café on your late shifts. Jake was the absolute definition of a gentleman, opening and holding doors for you, insisting on walking you home, saying “I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you got home safe darlin’”.

It made your heart flutter to have the attention of such a man. You’d imagined that this type of love would only ever exist in cheesy romance books, but Jake exceeded even those standards and expectations.

Having Jake in your life was a blessing. One that you would never take for granted. Even on your bad days.

It wasn’t that you were intentionally ignoring Jake, it was more the fact that you instinctively knew that as soon as you let him get a proper answer from you, he’d instantly know something was wrong and immediately try and fix it. Something your younger self would crave, but now, you couldn’t find it in you to care. Going from class to class, then to work, picking up extra shifts just to occupy your mind, leaving earlier and earlier, coming home later and later.

It was a good thing you lived alone and hadn’t caved to Jake’s repeated attempts to get you to move in with him, which realistically would be the best idea both for your commute and your relationship, not to mention that you slept over at his place almost daily. However, this flare up of poor moods and anxiety, was clouding your logical view, and you refused each and every plea from your loving boyfriend. You knew he was only looking out for you, but you couldn’t help the irritation that prickled up stronger with each invitation. The insinuation that you couldn’t look after yourself, that you needed someone to take care of you. A snappy comment lodged in your throat, but finding yourself too detached to even voice it.

Living alone provided you with the much needed sanctuary where you could just be. Somewhere you didn’t need to worry about someone seeing just how badly you were suffering on a day to day basis. You knew deep down, that living with Jake would better for you both, but you had particularly stubborn streak that had developed from the constant dismissal of your feeling from your family. Jake, you knew would never be like them, he was far too observant to not notice, and far too caring to let you suffer alone.

It wasn’t until Jake cornered you on your mandatory day off that he finally found the perfect opportunity to get to the bottom of your sudden emotional polarity. He’d cleared the leave with Cyclone, citing a hurried mention of a ‘family emergency’, which to Jake this was, and consequently receiving the next week off without any further explanation.

Knowing your penchant for burying any negative feelings, and faking your way through your days off which aligned with his in the past, Jake followed his normal morning routine. An early wake up call, one which to his growing concern, you were seemingly awake before, a bland breakfast of toast and coffee, then heading to his truck, backing out his truck, then instead of the usual commute to base, Jake parked at the end of the street and waited an hour before heading back.

Jake was greeted by a silent home. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that there was nobody home, but your keys were still by the door, your shoes messily stacked by the coat hooks, everything in the exact place as when he left.

Frowning, he makes his way through the house, scanning every room for any signs that you had moved from your curled position on the bed, the one you hadn’t moved from since you got home the night before.

There was a small crack in the paint of Jake’s bedroom wall.

A minute crack really.

Just to the right of the bedroom door, creeping up from the baseboards. Barely noticeable to anyone else, but you have been so fixated on it, unable to tear your gaze away from it. A quick lick of paint, even one of those tester rollers that Jake kept in his toolbox would do it. But yet again, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

Huffing at nothing in particular, you blink slowly, your eyes drying out from your blank, unwavering stare, the blood vessels shot around your irises, irritated more with each blink.

Jake slowly pushes the bedroom door open, having paused to watch your empty stare, growing more concerned with each passing minute. On your best days, you weren’t known to be the most bubbly and social person, but still made the effort anyway. Now? Now Jake was halfway to calling in reinforcements, in whatever way he could to try and get through to you, even if you hated him afterwards.

His slow pace to your side was an effort to not startle you, he needn’t have worried, you didn’t even flinch, like you normally did, when he pressed a gentle kiss to your exposed shoulder.

Having come from a very complex family, with a concerning lack of physical contact, you often found yourself flinching away from people, getting overwhelmed when people refused to give you space, getting frustrated with your feelings, unable to communicate your desires and needs for physical interaction, romantic or platonic. It was something that Jake had easily picked up on, quickly learning your tells, learning exactly what you craved, without you having to explicitly say anything at all.

Sighing, Jake decided to take a risk, you have been known to lash out in the past, whenever you haven’t been warned about incoming physical contact. Exhaling slowly, praying to whatever he could, Jake slid his hand gently up your arm, getting you used to his touch before pulling you up into a sitting position, crouching before you, directly in your eye line.

Jake nudged you gently, trying to get a response from you. startling from the movement, your gaze darts from the paint crack to Jake’s hand on your knee. Goosebumps erupt across your arms as you focus on the sensation of his large, warm hand on your skin. Feeling your muscles tense under his hand, he rubs his thumb in soothing circles, trying to placate your instinct to flinch away.

Breath hitching in your throat, you instinctively jolt backwards, away from Jake. He exhales loudly, disappointed and slightly hurt that you still have this reaction to him after all this time. Jake has always been the perfect boyfriend, always there to be supportive, even when you often feel that you don’t deserve it.

Having zoned back into reality, you refuse to make eye contact with Jake, instead keeping him in your periphery as you cautiously shuffle back towards him. Jake raises an eyebrow at the sudden change, it was highly unusual for you to even try and instigate physical proximity, where this would normally be a good thing, today, it added to his growing concern that you were not okay. Far from it.

Jake tried and failed to catch your eye line, eyes darting away from him with each attempt. Deciding on a different approach, Jake knelt from his crouched position, “Darlin’ when was the last time you ate?” A halfhearted shrug was the only response, while an improvement, Jake’s heart ached knowing you needed his help and support desperately, but knew you were too nervous and stubborn to ask on a good day, that today he stood no chance of getting a response from you.

Feeling a wave of confidence, you flicked your eyes over to Jake, scanning his features, taking in his clear concern and worry about you. Heart pounding in your chest, you anxiously clench your hand tightly into a fist a few times, before slowly reaching your hand out to Jake, quickly retracting it as you begin to overthink it.

Brows furrowed, Jake moves to sit beside you, leaving a space between you, softly smiling in encouragement as your eyes follow his movements and then slowly turn your body to face him.

“What do you need from me right now?” His voice quiet, yet steady and comforting. Another weak shrug. Registering the increasing frustration in Jake’s expression, you shakily reach out for his hand, intertwining your fingers and taking in all the calluses and faint scars on his hand, finding the simple contact immediately calming, feeling bold enough to express your want.

A gentle tug on his hand, your hand slowing moving up his arm, then round his waist, climbing slowing and shakily into his lap, curling up his strong embrace, nuzzling your head into his chest. Jake stayed still in disbelief, this was everything he dreamed you’d one day be comfortable to ask for, never mind instigate of your own will. Smiling to himself in pride, he readjusts his position on the edge of his bed, a soothing hand in your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp, something that Jake had noticed eaisly helped you relax. After a few moments your muscles slowly began to relax and eyes growing heavy.

The rapid succession of sneezes and soft whimpers that Jake woke to in the afternoon, alerted him to the root cause of your recent lack of responsiveness. A soft grumble was followed by you curling back into Jake’s side, nuzzling into his warmth, finding comfort from him wherever you could.

In the entire span of your relationship, Jake can only recall you being sick a handful of times. Perhaps something to do with your insistence of maintaining your personal space Jake has always thought, but you sick was an experience, one that Jake hated. Thinking back over the past few weeks, the warning signs that you were getting sick, were now glaringly obvious and Jake was mentally kicking himself for not paying close enough attention.

Gathering the various medicines from his bathroom, ones that he had previously taken note of that seemed to help ease your symptoms the best. Jake sets the various bottles and packets on the bedside table, picking one at random to try and convince you to take.

Narrowing your bloodshot eyes at Jake, you shake your head vehemently, an action you quickly regret. Clutching at your head in agony, you whimper quietly, shifting back towards Jake, burying your head in the crook of his neck and clinging to him like a lifeline.

Gently coaxing you out from your comfortable position, Jake’s heart broke knowing he’s asking you to do the opposite of everything you’d been working on together. Eyes glassy with unshed tears, you try to cling to the comfort of his embrace, confused as to why Jake was forcing you away from him. Unable to think logically in your pained state, you took this as a rejection, promptly turning away from Jake, putting as much distance between you both as his king sized bed allowed.

A pill is placed firmly in your hand, a chance to take it yourself, one you instantly refused, tossing the pill over your shoulder, hopefully somewhere in Jake’s direction, you couldn’t really find it in you to care.

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you’re manhandled by Jake, your back now resting against his chest, a firm arm across your waist, keeping you close in his hold. You were too weak to fight him anyway, but Jake took the precaution anyway.

He knows you.

Much to your chagrin, another pill is placed in the palm of your hand. Craning your neck to see Jake’s motives, you’re annoyed to see a blank expression, all he does is gesture to the pill in your hand, and look away from you completely.

Having suffered from chronic pain for years, you despise each pill you have to take, from many years of doctors just giving you pill after pill without listening to your concerns. Now you find yourself avoiding doctors, or any medication wherever you can. Jake knew this, it was something discussed early on in your relationship, not wanting him to feel ignored when you inevitably had a flare up and consequently spent the next week or two in bed recovering, which is why you feel so hurt when he keeps insisting on you taking this medication.

When your equally blank stare at Jake goes on too long, he sighs heavily, pulling you back with him as he leans back against the headboard. Feeling the rumble of his low voice behind you had a surprisingly soothing effect, “Darlin’. Please just let me take care of you.”

When that didn’t produce a response, “C’mon darlin’, it’s breaking my heart to see you in so much pain.”

Turning in his hold, cupping his cheek with your hand momentarily, causing him to flinch at how cold you felt, slowly sitting, reaching for the pill and quickly swallowing the bitterness with the glass of water that jake insisted you keep by the bed whenever you’d stay over. Several kisses are pressed across your hairline and forehead, soft mumblings of praise continue as you settle back in his arms.

“I know how much you hate taking them, but you have to in order to get better darlin’.” Scoffing in disapproval, and resentment of your boyfriend yet again being right, results in Jake wrapping his arms even tighter around you, careful of any known sensitive areas, pressing more gentle kisses to the top of your head.

“Before you get too comfortable, we’ve got to get you something to eat. God knows when you last ate a proper meal.”

You swallowed cautiously, “That time you cooked your grandmother’s recipe.”

Silence.

You felt him tense behind you, sitting up straighter, gentle fingers at your chin in an effort for you to look at him.

“Sweetheart… That was almost a week ago.”

Shrugging, you try a nonchalant approach, knowing Jake would not like the answer, “I eat stuff at the café and in between classes when I can. I just don’t have time to cook a full meal anymore Jake.”

Exasperated, Jake pulls you to stand, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, then taking your hand gently and leading downstairs to the kitchen. He busies himself, after seating you on the counter, checking cupboards and the fridge to see what he could pull together for you both. Settling on something basic, he gets to cooking, something he enjoys. Not that Jake liked to openly share this with his fellow aviators, in case of any ribbing and teasing, yet another reason he had been overly cautious as to not introduce you to the group already.

The delectable scents wafting in your direction results in several rumbles from your stomach, a light blush stains your cheeks when Jake glanced in your direction with a teasing smile. Shrugging playfully in response brings a bright grin to Jake’s face, the one that always has you smiling along with him, because how could you be sad when he looked at you like that, with that much love in his eyes just for you?

One lovingly home cooked meal later, you’re yet again tucked into Jake’s side in his bed, considerably more relaxed than when Jake left in the morning. With the self-reflection that you’d both started to keep your relationship healthy, you knew you weren’t the best at looking after yourself, which only got worse during a flare up or sickness. Jake however, was your constant. A strong caring and protective streak, you would never suffer alone again.

“I missed this. I missed you. Can we stay like this for just a bit longer?” You murmur quietly into his chest, arms tightening around his waist.

“Of course darlin’,” Jake places a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

“You don’t even need to ask.”

While there were some days that you felt so isolated and a burden, those days were notably fewer now that you had Jake in your life.

You just didn’t know that Jake vowed from the day you confessed your struggles that he would always be there to look after you.

In sickness and in health.

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#allina writes #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman x you #jake seresin fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm fanfiction

[jupitercomet]

The Nightlight

summary - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw was ruthless, a stone cold killer both in and outside of the ring—with the belts and trophies to prove it. When a miscalculation results in a target being put on the back of his trainer's daughter, Bradley finds himself facing responsibility he never signed up for. You're a whole new challenge. And Bradley doesn't think you're one he can fight his way out of.

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, no use of y/n, brief mentions of dead bodies, talks of previous abuse, talks of ptsd, mild gore, smut - (daddy kink, pussyjob, subspace kind of, praise, size kink, minor trauma response to sex, aftercare), Bradley is 6′6″ because I said so, stalking, brief mention of smoking

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.1k

monsters in the dark masterlist

For a Wednesday evening, the Target on Powers street is fairly empty. At least, that’s what Bradley notices as he steps through the automatic doors of the red and white building. Almost immediately he’s confronted with a bikini-clad mannequin, rows of bathing suits hanging behind it, and it’s like some strange, capitalist groundhog that reminds him that spring is approaching and stores are all moving their bathing suits to the front. 

Bradley walks past the mannequin without another glance, not even bothering with a cart or basket either as he starts walking through the brightly lit store. It’s one of the first times in a while that he’s shopping by himself—you’re spending the day with Natasha as a much needed distraction—and he finds himself almost anticipating your usual chatter. He keeps waiting for you to tug on his hand and point out some cute shirt on a rack or try to sneak random junk into the basket when you don’t think he’s looking, even though he always catches you. He wonders when he started to get used to that.

After everything with Razor and Elias, you were understandably pretty shaken. Sleeping in Bradley’s bed became a regular thing, though space was always left between the two of you, and, yet another thing Bradley was still getting used to, was sleeping on the left side of his bed as opposed to the middle. You had yet to actually wake up from your nightmares again, but that didn’t mean you didn’t wake him up with your soft sounds of distress. Bradley has only found one thing that seems to help with that. 

Bradley stops when he finds the aisle he’s looking for, scanning the shelves before he finally finds what he needs. He grabs it, turning to walk back to the front checkout, and pulls out his phone to check your location. It’s late, so you should be home by now, and, as he suspects, you are. He stares at your contact photo for a moment longer as he gets in line for the self checkout.

“I got you something.”

You perk up with surprise when Bradley enters his bedroom. Through the confusion you feel a wave of relief that he’s back. Natasha is your best friend, and you know she’d do anything for you and more, but you’ve always felt safest when you’re with Bradley. Still, that thought is overshadowed by the fact that Bradley is setting something down on the bed. Something he got for you.

You look down at it with furrowed brows. “A nightlight?”

“You get scared when all the lights are off in my room,” Bradley explains bluntly.

“I— Oh, I didn’t... I’m sorry,” you feel your cheeks heat up and you keep your eyes trained on the packaged nightlight on the blanket to try to stop yourself from crying out of embarrassment. “I can go back to sleeping in the guest room. It’s probably annoying having to sleep with a bunch of lights on.”

Bradley doesn’t seem to fully pick up on your shame, moving to grab pajamas from his dresser. “If I thought it was annoying, I wouldn’t have bought it.”

He opens one of the drawers to grab pajama pants, further solidifying how little of an issue he perceives this to be and you can only open and close your mouth a few times. Logically, you know this isn’t a big deal—not to Bradley, at least—but you don’t know when it became such a big deal to you. You almost hate that you now need people to convince you that you deserve things. That it’s not enough for Bradley to just do something nice for you, he also has to hold your hand through it the whole time too.

Bradley glances over at you, you can feel it, but you can’t look back at him. You’ve been trying not to cry since you realized why he bought you a nightlight and now that’s piling on top of everything with Elias and the dead man you received in the mail. You don’t want to cry though, so you keep your eyes trained on the nightlight. 

He picks it up, opening the packaging and taking the small light out before plugging it into the outlet on the right side of the bed. It lights up in a soft yellow glow. “Is that good?”

Your throat feels thick, so all you do is nod. 

Bradley seems to take that at face value, leaving wordlessly to go change in the bathroom. The setting sun filters through his window, keeping the room light enough that the nightlight hardly has an effect. But you know it will. Because everything Bradley has done for you has had an effect.

You still haven’t moved when he comes back from the bathroom, knees to your chest and eyes on the nightlight, and Bradley turns off the overhead light before moving to his side of the bed. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you could say anything you wanted and nothing would change. The kind of quiet that keeps secrets.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna be this way forever.”

Bradley stills.

A tear rolls down your cheek, but you don’t even feel it, a hollow emptiness taking hold of you as you numbly stare at the soft yellow glow emanating from the nightlight. “Like, what if I’m just… incapable of being in a healthy relationship? What if I’ll only ever know how to be with guys like Elias?”

Again Bradley is silent. But you know he’s listening. You can feel him looking at you

“I hated him for what he did. I think a part of me still does. But... I think I hate myself more. For, like, letting that happen, I guess.” You wipe at your cheek harshly. “Because, sure, he was the one who— who did everything, but I let him, you know? I kept forgiving him and giving him chances. Even though he never once gave me a reason to believe he’d change. He just— He makes me feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Bradley says finally. He clears his throat softly. “You’re not stupid.”

“I can’t even listen to a trash can drop on the ground without acting like I’ve been to war,” you argue with a small scoff.

“And what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I—” You huff in frustration. “You don’t get it.”

Bradley sits up. “No, no, I get it just fine. I think you don’t get it. Plenty of people go through shit, that’s just how the world works. And you know what they do? They fucking blame everybody else for it. And they put everybody else through shit because why should they be good to other people if no one’s been good to them? But you don’t. You talk to fucking dogs or, I don’t know, offer people milkshakes or some shit. Because, when choosing between still trusting people or blaming them for everything, that’s what you pick. Not because you’re stupid, but because you know shit sucks and you choose to have faith in it anyway.” 

Suddenly the nightlight is just a background thought, your mind consumed with Bradley as you stare at him with parted lips.

“I don’t know everything that happened with you and Elias, and that’s fine, you don’t ever have to tell me. But I do know that I’ve seen guys lose teeth for less than what he did to you. Hell, I’ve knocked out teeth for less than what he did to you. You don’t do that shit, you’re not resentful like the rest of us— He didn’t fuck you up, or break you, or whatever else you think the problem is. It doesn’t matter if you end up ‘being this way forever’ because there’s nothin’ wrong with you.”

This is the longest Bradley has actually spoken consecutive words to you and all you can think is that there’s something so real about him. Sometimes you think that Bradley is incapable of lying—which you know is silly and far too trusting—but, truly, Bradley doesn’t lie. Bradley doesn’t lie because he doesn’t care enough to. It hits you that maybe this is what Bradley looks like when he cares.

“And you got plenty of healthy relationships,” he continues. “You got Nat, and your dad, and me—”

You don’t think. It’s not even a thought that registers in your head before you act on it. One second you’re sitting on Bradley’s bed with tear stained cheeks and surprised eyes and, the next, you’ve planted your lips on Bradley’s. 

It only takes a third second for you to realize what you’ve done and you scramble away from him with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry! I— That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have—”

Your words are lost against Bradley’s lips as he surges forward and cups your cheek resolutely. His mouth moves against yours, strangely tender, as he dips forward to lie you down on the bed, never breaking the kiss. You pull away for air, but it’s fruitless, as you can hardly breathe when he’s nosing along your neck, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach. His hands travel under your shirt, stroking your skin with calloused fingers as he explores your body.

He nips your neck lightly, soothing the area with his tongue, and one of your shaky hands gets lost in his curls, a breathy gasp escaping you.

“So fucking pretty,” Bradley murmurs against your skin. One of his hands reaches the underside of your bra and he traces it with his large thumb slowly.

Your back arches and your sleep shirt rides up, exposing your bare midsection as Bradley’s hand trails down to your thigh. “Please,” you whimper, but Bradley seems to understand, lifting you to pull your shirt off.

His own shirt follows quickly behind, but that’s the only other clothing item discarded as he can’t keep himself from your body for any longer than that. Bradley kisses you again, his hands now exploring under your pajama shorts tracing delicate patterns on your hips. You lift them at the feeling and Bradley curls his fingers over the waistband.

Under the yellow glow of the nightlight, Bradley pulls away from you again, illuminated in soft light as he pulls your shorts down. Your head is starting to get fuzzy, but it’s a nice kind of fuzzy, the kind that makes you feel light and calm. Your tongue feels loose in your mouth, so relaxed just like the rest of you. It was never like this with Elias—you’d almost forgotten it could be like this.

Bradley's eyes travel down to your panties, a large hand keeping your thighs spread open for him as the other plants itself flat against your pelvis, fingers splayed. “So small,” he breathes as he looks at it.

“Brad—” You cut yourself off when his thumb presses down on your clit through the cotton fabric, rubbing it in soft, pressured circles, and your eyes squeeze tight. You bite down on your lip, clamping down on your tongue, and Bradley quickens his circles. “Bradley...”

Bradley dips down to kiss you again, letting his hand cup your pussy as he does so and you grind your hips against his palm slowly. He grunts at the feeling, applying more pressure with the heel of his palm. You feel your tongue getting looser, your mind slipping.

He stops suddenly, his mouth hovering over yours. You can feel the puffs of air he’s letting out against your lips. “Tell me you want this.” It comes out low and gravely and, strangest of all, almost hesitant. Like he doesn’t know if he’s about to go too far.

“I want this,” you assure Bradley breathlessly, arching upwards to desperately take your bra off as if that will persuade him into touching you again. “Please, Bradley, I want this.” For a moment, you almost don’t say it. And then it slips. “I want you.”

Your words linger in the air, frozen against the soft, yellow light of the nightlight. You watch Bradley’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, the scar against his neck catching in the light.

“Alright,” he says finally, then again, once more, “Alright.”

And then he’s kissing you again and you feel yourself sinking deeper into him. Your brain feels hazy, but the good kind. The kind you feel when Bradley takes you grocery shopping, or wipes bits of milkshake from your face, or really does anything because Bradley’s always made you feel safe. You can’t help but think about how much he takes care of you as his lips travel to your neck and his hands move up and up and up your thighs. About how he’s big and he’s strong and he’s there. And he listens to you and understands you and just seems to know you in all the ways you need him to.

It’s only when he coaxes one of his thick fingers inside you, large and long enough to reach that spot that has you seeing stars, that the word slips out as a shaky moan. “Daddy, please!”

You both freeze, your hips and Bradley’s finger stilling. Your mouth drops open, as if waiting for words of apology to climb through, but nothing comes out but a soft, strangled noise. Bradley lifts himself up to look at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

Suddenly his eyes darken. “Say it again.”

You swallow, squirming under his gaze and only able to meet his eye for brief seconds. “Daddy,” you whisper.

“That’s right,” Bradley breathes, the words coming out rough and raspy. His finger pumps in and out of you again as he watches your face for your reactions. “Good girl.” The title is lustful rolling off his tongue, dominance so heavy in his tone you feel yourself sinking deeper.

Words feel like too much and not enough all at once, your brain unable to string them together, so you just paw at his pajama pants with a whine. Bradley gets the message though, sliding his finger out of you to undo the drawstring. 

The sun has gone down, leaving the room a kind of almost-dark-but-not-quite as yellow light glows off Bradley’s bare muscles and brow cinched in concentration. There’s something figurative about it, something you can’t fully describe, especially not in this state of mind. But something about Bradley being lit up by your nightlight just makes sense.

Bradley finally slides both his pants and boxers off, turning his attention back to you. His lips quirk up slightly when he sees you already staring up at him. “You alright, tootsie?”

“Yeah, daddy.” He lowers himself back on to you and your arms wrap around his neck.

Bradley hums, pressing a kiss to your lips before he reaches down to feel how wet your panties are. The cotton is sufficiently soaked, so much so that it’s sticking to your folds, and Bradley rubs you through it a few times before lifting the fabric and sliding his shaft underneath it. You both let out soft sounds of pleasure at the feeling of his heavy cock against your clit. Bradley grunts at the sight of your panties straining against his length.

“Fuck, you’re so small, tootsie,” Bradley starts dragging his cock through your glistening folds. “Probably couldn’t even take half of me before you’d start talkin’ about how full you were.”

You mewl as his strokes become more consistent, you’d probably agree with anything he said if you could keep feeling like this. The head of his cock catches against your hole and you let out a louder moan, one of your arms throwing itself onto the bed as you fist the sheets.

“Fuck.” Bradley bends to kiss you again, another grunt spilling from his lips. If you could think about anything but the sensations moving though your body, you might be surprised at how loud he’s being. But right now all you want is to hear his raspy, gruff baritone talk more. “Feel so fucking good.”

His dick slides through your panties, wet, lewd sounds filling the room as he coats the underside of it with your slick. His head slips inside you again and your eyes roll. “More. More, daddy. Please.”

“Not yet, toots,” Bradley shakes his head, shushing your whine with another, longer kiss. 

You want to argue more, but a particularly well adjusted stroke of his cock distracts you and your back arches as you reach for his hand instinctively. You never did that with Elias. You never did any of this with Elias. He didn’t care about your preferences—what you liked and didn’t like. He didn’t make decisions based on your comfort or take care of you. He didn’t hold your hand.

Bradley’s fingers entangle with your own and something inside you snaps. Your back bends off the bed as euphoria explodes inside you, the knot in your stomach finally unraveling as choked moans and gasps leave your lips. Somewhere in the back of it all, you can register Bradley finishing on your pelvis with a guttural grunt. But there’s something so overwhelming about the feelings crashing through your body that you don’t even fully realize that you’re crying until Bradley’s wiping the tears from your cheeks with soothing thumbs.

He doesn’t say anything as he discards your dirty panties, picking you up and holding you to his chest as he takes you out of the bedroom. His cum is smearing along your stomach and your thighs feel uncomfortably sticky, but you can’t seem to stop crying as your body comes down from its high. 

Bradley cups the back of your head as you wrap your arms around him tightly, shaking in his grip and, in between your sobs, you hear the bath being turned on. Bradley kisses your temple gently and whispers something in your ear but you can’t hear it over your own thoughts. Because you’d forgotten that sex could feel like this. That you could allow someone to take care of you and they would.

Bradley lowers the both of you into the bath, but he makes no move to clean you once you're settled, only holding you to his chest as the warm water wets your skin. He strokes your back softly, tapping on your spine in three tap patterns.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs gruffly. “You’re okay.”

It takes a couple more minutes for your tears to lessen to shaky sniffles, but once they do, you give his chest three taps back. You’re rewarded with a kiss on your forehead and Bradley shifts you so that he can start cleaning you gently. 

You know there’s still things you both have to talk about. That this has marked a very distinct change in your relationship that will affect almost everything about the two of you. But you finally feel calm, and sleepy, and relaxed. You rest your head against Bradley’s shoulder, blinking slowly. Maybe it’s okay to just let him take care of you tonight. Just for tonight.

The rest of your bath is quiet, only filled with the occasional soft and short praise from Bradley, and then he’s wrapping you up in a fluffy towel and changing you into some of his clothes. You sit on his bed somewhat anxiously, watching as he changes into his own clothes and then leaves to drain the bath. Was this over? Does Bradley want you anymore? Would he roll over and fall asleep on the left side of the bed now that he got what he wanted from you?

You wait for him to finish checking the apartment locks like he always does. The soft glow of the nightlight keeps you company as you wait for him to come back.

“C’mere,” Bradley quells your fears, opening up an arm for you once he’s settled himself in bed. You curl yourself into his chest, getting encompassed by the feeling of him as he rests his arm on your hip. He lifts your chin up gently with his other hand to meet him for a lingering kiss before he fixes the blanket. “Go to sleep, tootsie.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as your eyelids droop from exhaustion and you snuggle closer to his chest with a sleepy murmur. “G’night, Bradley.”

Bradley’s out alone again. It’s more usual for him as of late, because he doesn’t want you to be a part of anything he’s doing. No, instead he drops you off at the shelter or your friend’s house and then he goes to Mav’s to meet with Jake Seresin and Bob Floyd.

The man with the scar knows this because it’s his job to know this.

He knows that the waitress and the package have done little to deter the man. That, if anything, it’s made it worse. Razor was an oversight he hadn’t fully been expecting, but conveniently made his job switch gears. The man with the scar believes he now has more of a purpose than to play hide and seek with a bunch of children. What started as bullshit has spiraled into something far more urgent.

The man with the scar knows this. What he doesn’t know is how much Bradley knows.

He watches as Bradley parks his antimatter blue Bronco and gets out, scanning the parking lot suspiciously. He’s alert, the man with the scar can give him that, but he’s been following Bradley for weeks now without the other man suspecting a thing. Because that’s his job.

The man with the scar wipes his hands on his tight, blue jeans, waiting a minute before he gets out of his own car. Bradley is a few yards ahead of him, weaving through pedestrians on the sidewalk, but the man with the scar is in no hurry to follow him. That’s what people get wrong about professions like his—you never follow someone. If your course of direction is determined by someone else, they’ll figure you out. No, you walk all on your own, give them nothing to notice.

He shoves his hands in his leather jacket pockets, walking leisurely on the sidewalk. It helps that Bradley is unusually tall, sticking around a whole head or more above everyone else. It makes him hard to miss. So even now, as Bradley gets farther and farther from him, he’s still easily noticeable.

The man with the scar follows him across the block, and then the next. They should be coming up on Maverick’s soon, it’s in the middle of the next block, and if the man with the scar is right, Jake and Bob will be waiting for him. 

The crosswalk turns to a red hand, stopping Bradley, and the man with the scar is able to make up some distance. He’s only a couple feet away from Bradley when it changes to the white walking figure and the man with the scar watches as Bradley crosses the street and walks up to Maverick’s Gym and Boxing. And then past it and into the alley between the gym and the other building to its left.

Oh? That’s new.

The man with the scar wonders if perhaps they’ve gotten more secretive—instead of speaking so openly to each other in restaurants and gyms. Perhaps Bradley has finally realized that the people he works for are very, very dangerous.

He moves to walk past the alley first, get a look at what’s going on before he turns straight into it. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s nothing more suspicious than a man such as himself turning into an alley for no particular reason. Maybe he could pretend to be going for a smoke—

The man with the scar gets pinned up against the alley wall.

He blinks.

A dull throb flares through the back of his head.

Bradley’s heavy grip is pinning him to the white brick wall by his shoulders, anger radiating off of him visibly. His eyes have been swallowed entirely by rage, something the man with the scar imagines is a fairly common expression for Bradley, but not one he’s familiar with as he’s only really seen him around you. The two stare at each other for a moment as Bradley takes him in.

“Who the fuck are you?” He seethes.

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#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster fic #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfiction #x reader #monsters in the dark #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

[depravitycentral]

Muzan Kibutsuji General Yandere Profile

Yandere! Muzan Kibutsuji x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, violence, graphic gore, mentions of cannibalism, verbal and physical abuse, murder, one brief mention of throwing up, brief mention of Muzan slutshaming you, mild sexism, verbal abuse, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of low self esteem, fem reader, MNDI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Human

Muzan is not one to easily develop feelings for others in any positive context.

He’s a selfish, cruel being, utterly bent on his own self-preservation with no regard for the lives of others.

He’s self-centered to the extreme, and as such, if he develops feelings for someone (especially romantically), it takes a very, very long time and can only be achieved under specific circumstances.

His darling has to be someone intelligent, quick-thinking, perceptive, ambitious, charming, and a whole list of other things that are almost impossible to achieve.

And yet, the biggest, most glaring trait they must possess is their humanity.

It’s strange and a juxtaposition to Muzan’s own inhumanity, but there’s just something that draws him in about the idea that his darling is so very flawed by the very nature of their being and yet so alluring and tempting and intoxicating.

It enrages him, quite frankly, but his darling must be a human in order for these feelings to form. He initially only feels a mild curiosity towards them – mixed with irritation and contempt, of course, but there’s this nagging feeling urging him to learn more about them, to interact with them, to understand why his pulse picks up ever so slightly when they’re around.

He likes the fact that his darling is so weak; he’ll never tell them, of course, but it only reaffirms his own superiority complex, convincing him that he’s the strongest, and his darling is the weakest.

They’re a pet, in a lot of ways, but Muzan finds himself oddly intrigued – his human is so complex, the emotions they feel and their motivations something he’ll never fully understand, but as time passes he finds himself hating their presence less and less, sometimes even desiring to touch them – a notion that makes his skin crawl in both disgust and a strange, potent sense of desire.

It’s frustrating and confusing, but Muzan’s darling will be a human – though not for long.

Intelligent

It’s no surprise, really, that Muzan is absolutely incapable of handling a darling that doesn’t possess above average intelligence.

They don’t need to be a genius, but his darling must have a strong grasp of both academic and social intelligence.

Where these intelligences lie is flexible; he’s equally impressed by a darling that can recite complex physics formulas and one that can analyze some of the most classical literature ever written.

It doesn’t really matter where the smarts lay, but his darling must be able to showcase at least some level of critical thinking in their daily life; Muzan is enticed by someone who can come as close as possible to being his equal, and as a creature that views himself as smarter and superior to all others, his darling must be something special, too.

(Of course, his darling will never truly be an equal – he’s still the most magnificent, perfect creature, tireless in his search to become immune to human constraints like sickness and aging, but there’s something endearing about a darling that can entertain some of his conversation, who can at least follow some of his logic when he’s feeling generous enough to include them in his plans. Besides, and he’ll never admit to it, he’s fond of hearing his darling’s opinion – he’ll continue with what he thinks best, of course, but if his darling present sound reasoning, Muzan will often entertain the notion for a bit, distantly surprised if his darling has considered an idea he hasn’t yet, or if they present a line of argument that manages to stump him.)

And so, in order for Muzan’s interest to be piqued, his darling must be intelligent and must be unafraid to showcase this – but as his attention is initially fickle (it does not remain this way, however), they musn’t be too proud of their intelligence.

Pride is a sin only he can indulge in, not some lowly human.

Perceptive

Muzan is, unsurprisingly, easy to upset.

Being in his presence is akin to walking on eggshells, with the repercussions of a single step out of line costing a life. And while he won’t ever kill his darling, but it’s still very much in their best interest to learn his triggers and what makes him particularly angry or calm.

His darling must be able to analyze others and understand them quickly – a certain level of empathy is needed, and while he’ll never admit that his darling can read him like an open book, in order to survive they must be able to.

He’s attracted to the idea that his darling understands when to speak and when to stay silent, when to approach him and when to give him space, even when to refer to him as my Lord rather than his actual name.

(He always prefers his actual name, as the way the syllables sound rolling off his darling’s tongue is heaven and sends shivers down his spine, but he must maintain a certain level of control over them and forcing such a title is a good way to highlight the difference in power between them.)

And so, a darling that’s able to pick up on these silent cues and patterns is immensely attractive to him – he has very little patience for idiotic people, and he already harbors enough resentment towards his darling for catching his attention that they must be able to navigate the treacherous waters he places them in.

Besides, there’s something indescribably pleasing when his darling knows exactly what he wants, able to predict his desires often before he can express them or realize them himself.

It makes him feel good, his ego getting stroked and relaxation spreading throughout his entire body, and of course, it only makes his feelings for his darling grow, taking root in his gut and twisting and turning these roots until they’re wrapped so tightly around his heart it may strangle it.

And while Muzan likes to think he’d never let someone hold such a grip on him, he’s simply in denial of how truly dependent he is on his darling’s presence – he’s in much, much too deep.

Quiet

Muzan himself is not a particularly talkative man – even during his human years, his voice was reserved mostly for complaints, yells, with a scowl sprawled across those pale pink lips of his.

He’s not one for idle conversation, and while he can force a pleasant smile and white lies and it suits his purposes, he generally doesn’t desire being in the company of those who talk incessantly.

It’s annoying, frankly, and Muzan isn’t exactly understanding or patient once he’s deemed someone irritating.

And so, a darling who is naturally less talkative is incredibly attractive to him – he likes that they’re quiet, that they only really speak when they need to, if only because he enjoys silence.

A more selfish part of him also enjoys the knowledge that a less talkative darling means a significantly lower chance of them interacting with other men – they aren’t likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger on the street, barring them from potential danger and potential suitors.

His darling’s quietness is pleasing, yes, but there are times when Muzan becomes annoyed by this particular trait, however; his darling should be quiet but still talk to him, when he desires it. They should be silent around others, sure, but they should still respond eagerly and enthusiastically when he initiates a conversation with them.

He wants to see them smile at him and treat his every word as if it were gospel, as if it were something precious and important and cherished.

And so, while his darling should watch their tongue around others (and around him too, really), they should be actively engaged when speaking with him.

But not too much – Muzan can tell when they’re forcing themselves to be eager, and it bruises his ego a bit to know that his darling isn’t being totally honest when they compliment his latest strategy in finding the blue spider lily or the Ubuyashiki manor.

It makes a wave of insecurity settle in his gut, a feeling he resents possibly more than feeling weak – it infuriates him, so it’s best to avoid laying it on too thick.

Really, being his darling is just one big balancing act – they’ve got to keep him pleased and happy, a task that could quite literally result in life or death.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Possessive

In general, your existence absolutely infuriates Muzan.

It takes an incredibly long time for his feelings to form, and even then, he’s entirely unsure of why he even likes you – you’re plain, weak, boring, worthless compared to him. Why is he wasting his time with you? You’re simply one human in a sea of them, all doomed to slowly wither away and die some miserable death, inevitably suffering and growing weaker with every day. Why would he ever find himself even remotely interested in a creature with such a glaring flaw?

How could he allow himself to ever hold even a flicker of intrigue towards a being with such obvious limitations?

Centuries and growing power have left Muzan with such an extreme level of arrogance that he’s equal parts enraged and in denial of his interest in you – early on, he tries his best to simply pretend that you don’t exist. Perhaps he’s having to live in human society for whatever reason, and you’re a neighbor or a woman he occasionally sees near his home.

Regardless, he’s making a point to not speak to you, to not even look at you, fully not acknowledging your presence all in the hopes that the weird, scratching feeling in his heart will go away and he’ll no longer be plagued by this weird, horrible awareness of you.

Except, while he likes to think that it works, the moment he sees another man look at you or converse with you, his nails sharpen and veins sprout along his temples, a new kind of irritation coursing through him. He doesn’t like the way you make him feel, but he likes this even less – this man, this human, who’s standing so very close to you and has absolutely no reason to.

The feeling is strange – it’s envy, he thinks, something he’d felt often back in his human days, but this is different. There’s something else, something sharper, something that’s twisting and burning, something that makes him grit his teeth, that gets his feet moving before he can really even think about it. He’s quick to separate you and the stranger, physically separating you with his body between yours, his breathing a bit uneven and strained, those blinding red eyes of his trained directly at the stranger.

He has enough self-control to not immediately slaughter the man (you’re in far too public a setting – killing every human in the crowded plaza square wouldn’t be hard by any means, but it’d certainly be a hassle), but he’s only brought back to reality out of the angry trance he’d been placed into when he hears your small, irritating, alluring voice saying the human name he’d flippantly told you.

Immediately he’s scoffing, glaring at the man for a final moment before turning on his heel, quickly sauntering away from you while trying to figure out why the fuck he’d just unconsciously rushed to your location. He’s unsettled, quite honestly, and angry, of course, but more than that he’s worried – he'd done that without his control, his body not waiting for his permission to approach you, to interrupt whatever that human had been trying to do.

(He personally raids a small village that night, slaughtering every human he can find in ways that leave blood pooling across every floorboard, his pretty, pressed clothing stained red and feeling wet and heavy against his skin.)

And even once Muzan eventually realizes that what he’s feeling for you is attraction – and, dare he say it, fondness – this possessiveness doesn’t subside. If anything, it grows worse. Because now, rather than simply being uncomfortable and angry with other men (and women) approaching you, he’s angry because they’re approaching something that’s his – you’re his human, his woman, his plaything.

And why do these stupid, irrelevant humans think they have any right to look at you, to steal your time and attention, or god forbit touch you? He’s overwhelmingly possessive, and while there is some part of him that feels something loosely resembling love for you, his feelings akin you much more to a beloved object rather than his partner. You are not an equal with him – he is in charge, and he’s the one who decides your fate.

And even once he’s stolen you away this feeling persists – he’s not loving, and he doesn’t really make any attempts to hide how he views you. He’s not particularly expressive, so there’s a very good chance you won’t be aware of his romantic intentions towards you until later into your captivity, but you’ll know that you’re below him from day one. H

e’s constantly verbally reminding you that he’s superior, that any efforts you take to escape, disobey him, rebel, or call for help can and will be dealt with accordingly – often with a few lives lost. He’s possessive and selfish, genuinely believing that you have no reason to interact with another living thing on Earth besides himself – you’re his partner, his woman, and although you’ll never be an equal, he should be absolutely everything to you.

So, you’d better get good at acting.

Obsessive

While Muzan never fully comes to terms with the level of his obsession with you, his actions speak much, much louder than his words. He may speak to you like you mean nothing to him, but if you knew the extent to which he’d stalked you, watched you, and collected information about you prior to kidnapping you, you’d become even more terrified of the demon.

He’s not particularly subtle about his emotions, but he keeps a very strict barrier between the two of you. He holds every ounce of control in the relationship – he knows everything about you, but you know very little about him.

You only know his name (and only Muzan, not Kibutsuji), that he prefers the small home he keeps you in to be extremely clean, that he doesn’t enjoy physical touch (at least, you don’t think he does – if you knew the extent to which he imagines touching you or the things he’s imagined doing to you, you’d never enter the same room as him).

You don’t know a lot of basic information about him that you really, really wish you did – why did he kidnap you? What is he? Does he want to kill you? Questions swirl in your head constantly, but the same can’t be said of Muzan – at least, not in the sense that you’re a complete enigma to him.

On the contrary, he understands you almost scarily well – courtesy of the extent to which he watched you before kidnapping you. Because he was so angered at himself for developing an interest in a human woman, he found himself desperately hoping that by finding out more about you, all of his interest would fade and vanish, allowing him to simply kill you and continue on with his life.

And so, he took to watching you – you’re remarkably weak, he finds out. You live in a home that’s very, very easy to break into, the locks on your doors hardly putting up a fight before budging under his strength. He scoffs at this information, though it does make a small sense of envy eat away at him – has any other man done this before? How often do you get visitors in the night? Are you secretly whoring yourself out to other men?

He finds himself digging through every corner of your small, modest home – every drawer is opened and searched, every cabinet thoroughly analyzed, every closet and shelf picked over in extreme detail. He’s noting each and every thing he finds, his eyes narrowing or his eyebrow cocking up because wow, there is nothing even remotely remarkable about you.

You don’t have any particular wealth, nor do you have any supply of medicine, nor do you even have any particularly enjoyable artwork or cooking materials. He’s disappointed, but as he moves towards your bedroom and slowly slides open the door, his breath catches. You’re laying on your back, the small gap in the window letting in moonlight that shines across your face, your eyes dancing rapidly behind your eyelids.

He frowns, his nails digging into the wood of the door, irritation settling deep in his gut. You aren’t supposed to have this affect on him. He isn’t supposed to lose himself momentarily just from the sight of you – you, who has absolutely nothing to offer in the face of his power, wisdom, and resourcefulness.

 And yet, here he is – staring at you like some sort of lovesick fool, his eyes unable to stop detailing the curve of your nose, or looking at the very vague outline of your chest from underneath the blanket. He leaves, that first night, finding an innocent to slaughter and only feeling marginally better. He’d hoped that one visit would be enough, trying to focus his mind on the fact that you’re so painfully average, that there’s nothing remarkable about you – but for every negative thought he has, a glimpse of your voice or the sound of your voice overpowers it.

And eventually, he convinces himself to return to your humble home, this time going directly to the bedroom. You’re asleep again, this time on your side, with strands of hair framing your face. Your soft breaths make his brows crinkle, and a sudden, fleeting thought runs through his mind – you’re so vulnerable in this moment, he could kill you with very, very little effort.

And soon his nails have grown sharp, and his elbow is cocked, adrenaline surging through his veins because if he could just kill you, perhaps this whole stupid infatuation could be done with. But the elbow stays cocked, doesn’t move, even as his eyes stay staring at you, not blinking, every nerve in his body screaming at him to end your life.

He can’t.

And that realization is the most upsetting of all – he can’t bring himself to kill you. Him - Muzan Kibutsuji, the Demon King, can’t bring himself to murder a sweet little thing like you. It’s comical, really, and although it infuriates Muzan, it represents a turning point in his feelings for you.

After that night, he no longer tries to force himself into forgetting about you or ignoring you – instead, he pushes himself to learn more about you, becoming fascinated with understanding why you of all people have caught his attention.

And really, this is where his more obsessive traits come into play. Suddenly he’s making a point to watch you sleep every night, always staring and watching your chest rise and fall, marveling at what power something as weak as you has over him. He’ll thumb through your closet, pulling each article of clothing out and appraising it, deciding if he likes it or not.

(Those that he doesn’t like are taken away with him, thrown into the trash and discarded so that only what he chooses actually adorns your figure, just as it should be. Later on into your ‘relationship’ this will still be true – he’s choosing what clothing you wear around the cabin, even what undergarments you wear. He’s particularly fond of silk and satin, liking the luxury feeling of the texture on you and the way it feels against him when he’s pressed up against you.)

He’s following you every night, walking around as your shadow and keeping a watchful eye on you, noting with disdain when you stumble or when you spend too much money on a snack or when you aren’t aware of your surroundings.

He’s especially stuck as your shadow when your period comes about – he’s on you like fucking glue, even going so far as to carefully pull back the sheets and spread your legs as you sleep, kneeling between your knees and pressing his face a few inches away from your clothed cunt, letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhales, smelling you you you.

(Masturbating feels beneath him, but the first time he smelled you while you’re menstruating, he’d decided his pride was worth sullying if it meant getting the release his body was desperate for – desperate enough to have soaked a visible portion of his slacks with precum.)

So really, while he’s an arrogant, narcissistic creature, your presence is his one weakness, his one guilty pleasure that allows himself to indulge in – if only just understand how the hell someone like you managed to snag the attention of someone as powerful and important as him.

Controlling

Muzan doesn’t see you as an equal. You’re a possession of his, something that he has full control over and can dictate every part of their life. He’s so much stronger than you, literally able to kill you with just his pinky alone, and this power dynamic is certainly not a secret to you. You’ll be very, very aware of just how liable you are to what he wants.

Even before he kidnaps you, you’ll be aware of the presence of something in your life – to you, Muzan is simply a loose acquaintance. You don’t know each other well, but he always seems to show up at the strangest of times – with excuses of just passing by, wanting to catch up, or some other innocent, plausible explanation.

And so, when he’s telling you at the fruit stand that pears really aren’t the best for your health, consider apples instead, you simply nod and thank him for his insight. (Of course you don’t know that he wants you to eat the apples instead because he can’t stand the smell of pears, and to have you reeking of the fruit would be a serious deterrent his experience of watching you for the rest of the day.)

When you decide to be bold one day and wear the pretty, colorful kimono you own, Muzan happens to run into you and comments on it, telling you that you look so lovely in more neutral colors, don’t you think? (You don’t need to know that he wants you to be wearing less flashy things so that others won’t notice you as much, so that you won’t draw too many eyes, so that you won’t be lusted after and pined after by so many men – you wouldn’t their blood on your hands, now would you?)

He’s subtle about it, never making you believe that you’re being swayed one way or another, but that changes after he’s stolen you away. Once you’re in his clutches, you’ll become very, very aware of just how much Muzan inserts himself into your daily life.

He’s obviously chosen where you’re to live, forcing you stay with him and keep you isolated from everyone else on Earth, just so that your dependence on him will grow, just so that no one else can see you, just so that he becomes your entire fucking world, just as he should be. But he chooses more subtle things, too – things that border on uncomfortable, things that really should be solely your choice.

 He instructs you on which clothing to wear each day – giving you a specific outfit, telling you to style your hair in a particular way.

He’ll tell you whether to bathe that day, and the order with which you should clean yourself – always hair first, then arms, breasts (this is part that he’s most fervent about watching, claiming that you don’t do a good enough job and he must be present to ensure that you’re truly clean), stomach, back, legs, and between your thighs.

(He’ll allow you to privately clean yourself there at first, but as time passes he stops allowing you to turn your back to him, instead standing over the washing tub and scrutinizing your technique with his eyes, insisting that you haven’t thoroughly spread yourself, that you haven’t pressed inside yourself deeply enough. And, once you’ve begun having sexual relations, he’ll insist that you aren’t capable of being fully clean unless something else helps clean out inside of you, too – something clean and meticulous and cared for like what’s between his legs, of course. So let him settle into the bathing tub and seat yourself on him, allowing him to maneuver you to really, thoroughly clean you.)

He’s even instructing you on what order to eat your meals – vegetables first, then protein, then carbs, those watchful eyes of his like a hawk’s making sure that you follow his commands to a tee. It gives him a sense of control, like a palpable sense of superiority over you – sure, you make him feel emotions that he has no control over, making his body respond in ways he despises, but at least he controls you. It’s a weak ploy at maintaining his ego, but it’s effective – because as time passes, slowly you’ll forget what it was like to live a life where your every decision wasn’t made for you, and the thought will honestly scare you – how did you survive? How were you able to stomach the thought of so many small decisions, so many unknowns, so many things that could’ve gone wrong?

And Muzan will feed these delusions – commanding you with a firm, almost bored voice and following it up with an weak women like you shouldn’t be making too many choices, you’ll always choose incorrectly. You wouldn’t have survived without me, don’t you agree?

Which connects to another key aspect of his controlling tendencies – Muzan is extremely manipulative. He’s a selfish creature motivated by his own personal gain, and he is gifted at deceiving others in order to get what he wants. He’ll never explicitly lie to you, but Muzan has no qualms with warping your world perspective a bit, feeding you delusions, forcing you into believing that you truly are nothing without him, that you truly need him in the way he claims that you do.

And it’ll work – all those comments about you being beneath him and unable to take care of yourself will eventually become a mantra for you, and while you’ll still be terrified of the demon, you’ll start slowly depending on him.

You’ll start needing him in a way that makes Muzan smug – because now, he’s not the weak one, right? You need him much more than he needs you. (This isn’t true, but Muzan convinces himself of it – it has to be true.)

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, it’s rare that you find yourself in a situation where another physical person is around you aside from Muzan. He’s very, very possessive over you, treating you more akin to a pet or prized possession rather than a partner. And because of this, he’s able to easily control the people who interact with you – who they are, when they see you, how long they’re permitted to be in your presence, even what words they say to you.

Generally speaking, if he’s feeling kind, you’ll be permitted to see the Upper Moons, but even then it’s in extremely sparing quantities.

He doesn’t like the way Douma touches you, clinging onto you like some sort of leech and getting his filthy hands all over you.

He doesn’t like the way Akaza bends to you as if you have some sort of power over him, as if you were equal to Muzan himself – it makes some part of him smug to think that his underlings recognize that you’re his, but it still bristles his ego to think that you’re even remotely close to his status, even if you’re objectively higher than other demons.

He doesn’t like the way Hantengu sneaks glances at you that Muzan very much notices, just the mere act alone making him scowl and slice off the demon’s neck, sending him squealing and scampering away.

He doesn’t like the way Gyokko is always complimenting your beauty – you’re gorgeous, true, but only Muzan is allowed to admire you. Only he is allowed to take in the curves of your face and body, the softness of your skin, your alluring smell, the gentle lull of your voice. Besides, only Muzan is allowed to compliment you – even that alone is a huge, huge struggle for him, if only because positive affirmations of anyone aside from himself is a foreign concept, and he simply cannot have Gyokko undoing all the hard work Muzan has undergone to break down your confidence and build it back up himself.

He doesn’t like the way Daki insults you, because although Muzan doesn’t want anyone to compliment you, it’s almost more offensive to have an underling openly mock and ignore you – can’t she tell that you’re so, so much more important than she’ll ever be?

He doesn’t like the way Gyuutaro openly stares and leers at you, licking his lips like some sort of animal – as if he’d ever let such scum touch you. Your body is his to touch and fuck, and for the other demon to even briefly entertain the notion of being intimate with you makes bile rise up the back of his throat and his nails to sharpen without his permission.

The only demon Muzan is somewhat likely (emphasis on the somewhat, because he still rarely ever lets you interact with anyone besides himself) is Kokushibo, simply because Muzan knows that the Upper Rank 1 will keep both himself and you in line. He trusts that Kokushibo, ever loyal to his leader, will not entertain any inappropriate thoughts or actions towards you. He also trusts that Kokushibo won’t allow you to step out of line, his punishing hand swift as he ties you up and forces you to await Muzan, the one who will give you your real punishment for nervously playing with your fingers.

(That’s unwomanly of you, Kokushibo will tell you, all six of his eyes glaring down at you. A woman capable of standing beside Muzan should be regal and confident, you are not worthy of him.)

And so, you effectively will have no interaction with another soul aside from Muzan – but before his obsession pushes him to the extreme of stealing you away, he was certainly no stranger to envy or jealousy.

It's an innocent thing, really – the man in the gray kimono was just trying to keep you from falling. The lantern chain you were trying to hang on the ledge of your roof wasn’t too complex, but the stepstool you were precariously balancing on was another story. Reaching high over your head to attach the chain to the wooden beam was extending your limbs to their furthest ability, leaving you wobbly and liable to fall at all any moment.

And, of course, you did – suddenly you were falling backwards, the lanterns slipping out of your hands and a yelp slipping past your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for impact on the hard ground below you, but the air is knocked out of your lungs by a pair of arms slipping underneath your legs and below your back rather than the cold Earth below. The man carefully helps you stand up, laughing sheepishly as you profusely thanked him, rubbing at the back of his neck.

You’re smiling, Muzan can see from his spot at the end of the street, his gaze fixed on you even over the buzz of life at the nighttime market.

Your shop is easily one hundred feet away, but he can still smell you clear as day, your scent alluring and musky and rich, only now tinged with the slightest bit of embarrassment, appreciation, and attraction.

Muzan scowls, his dark brows drawing inward so tightly that wrinkles were sure to form. His fist curls in on itself, sharp nails already slicing into his palms and letting blood drip onto the ground below him. Every muscle in his body clenches, taut with anger, anticipation and the uncontrollable urge to do something, veins standing out against the paleness of his neck and forehead.

That man was touching you.

Helping you.

You, who was stupid enough to get on a ladder and hang up those incessant lanterns – you, who was careless enough with your own miserable, misfortunate human life as to potentially throw it away for some measly lights. Anger clouds his every thought, but he forces himself to stay still, to not immediately jump onto the man and tear him to pieces bite by bite until he was screaming and sobbing and begging –

Soon the man is on his way, leaving you behind as you disappear into the depths of your shop, the man tucking his hands into his pockets with a smile curling on his lips that makes Muzan’s self-control snap, his legs finally pushing him into action.

It’s not hard to snatch the man by the throat, his claws digging against the soft, thin skin and dragging him away to a deserted back-alley.

It’s not hard to hold him in the air, his feet not touching the ground as desperate fingers clumsily grope at Muzan’s, unable to break the inhuman grip the demon has on his neck.

It’s not hard to watch the man’s face slowly turning purple, his actions getting weaker and weaker, and it’s only once the man is right on the verge of losing consciousness that Muzan lets go, throwing him to ground and hearing a sickening crunch noise as the man wheezes. Muzan’s lips curl, his eyebrows still furrowed, his expression looking halfway between pained and exhilarated.

You worthless human. His voice is full of disdain, hatred seeping into every word as he kicks the man in the stomach, the action causing him to cough up blood, more wheezes and desperate heaves filling the back-alley.

Who gave you permission to breath? Who gave you permission to touch her? Who gave you permission to touch what’s mine? He kicks him again, the curl of his lip deepening.

The man is curled up into a fetal position, blood flowing onto the dirt below him. Muzan scoffs. Pathetic. You must think you’ve done a very heroic deed, saving her from falling.

Muzan’s smile drops. You did nothing. You are just a weak, useless human. What could you offer her?

He waits for a moment, just to see if the writhing mess of a man before him wasn’t as pitiful as he appeared, and his brows cock up ever so slightly when his wheezing, strained voice asks, then why didn’t you save her?

And with that, Muzan slices his head clean off, only the smallest of whimpers ringing in his ears, followed by the dull thud of the now decapitated head falling to the ground. Muzan’s chest is heaving, his red eyes wide, a few curls knocked out of place at the exertion, and for a moment he’s frozen.

There’s genuine rage swimming through his veins, and the sheer amount of that man’s blood staining his clothing makes him pause. Why had his words effected him so? He’d quite literally lost control of his body once he heard the question – why didn’t he bother to save you? Why had he only watched, allowing this other man to step in and keep you from cracking your head open on the ground?

Muzan’s scowl deepens, and soon he’s turning back to the body, sharp nails ripping and slicing at the man until all that remains are scraps of clothing and a face so disfigured that identifying him would be impossible.

And even then, Muzan doesn’t feel the sense of satisfaction that killing someone who insulted him would normally bring – instead, the rage is calmed ever so slightly by a strange feeling that makes his fingers tremble, his throat feel swollen, and his heart race in his chest.

And when he returns to the busy streets of the night market, inhaling over and over and over, he’s quick to catch your scent, trailing behind you with those red eyes trained on your form.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Muzan is in denial about his feelings for you for most of the beginning of his obsession with you, kidnapping you isn’t the first thing that comes to his mind. He tries to ignore you for as long as he can, holding out and believing that whatever it is that you’re making him feel will eventually go away if he doesn’t pay attention to it.

Except that it doesn’t, and as time passes he becomes more desperate to see you, to hear your voice and speak with you and be in your presence and – god forbid – touch you. And so, while not seriously considering stealing you away in the beginning, once Muzan comes to terms with the fact that his infatuation isn’t going to simply go away on its own he decides that keeping you by his side permanently is the only acceptable solution. It’s the only solution where he won’t lose his mind, honestly.

He grows so dependent on the idea of you that it starts affecting his daily tasks and life – he’s distracted, every moment he has to himself filled with idle thoughts of you and what you could be doing in that particular moment.

Are you eating enough? He knows humans have to eat more often than demons, and you have to be careful about balancing your nutrition and portion control – he’s sure he could a much better job at managing your dietary health than you can.

Are you sleeping enough? Demons don’t have to sleep, and as a result it’s been centuries since he’s had a full night’s rest, but he knows that you spend over a third of your day asleep – a massive waste of time, as far as he’s concerned.

(This doesn’t stop him from stopping by the measly apartment you call home, however, standing at the end of your bed with an unreadable expression on his face as he watches you sleep. Sometimes he’ll even get closer, kneeling beside you so that he can see your face better, perhaps even ghosting a few fingers over the curve of your cheek, your bedroom so silent he can hear his own breathing falling in time with yours.)

Are you with other people? Are you speaking with others? Are you wasting your time and energy on all of those ridiculous ‘hobbies’ of yours? Muzan wants to know – needs to know, and as time passes he simply can’t stand not knowing every single thing that you’re doing at all times.

And it’s not like kidnapping you would be hard – you’re practically defenseless, your reaction time not nearly fast enough to even pose the smallest fight against him. And so, it’s easy to scoop you up into his arms one night, picking you up out of your bed and taking a moment to lean down closer to your neck, his curls brushing against your jaw as he slowly, deeply inhales, the moment of vulnerability passing just as quickly as it occurred as he gulps and stares for a moment, only to immediately take off running towards the cabin he’s prepared to keep you in.

The cabin itself is in the middle of nowhere – in the countryside, at the base of a mountain, with tall trees and no trails leading anywhere. The cabin is wooden, with a fireplace and a meager dining area (only you’ll be using that dining space, of course, but Muzan grows fond of watching you eat – if only to comment on how pathetic it is that you need to sustain yourself with food so much more often than he does). A futon has been placed in the corner of the cabin – it’s big enough to fit two people, but thankfully he hasn’t tried to share it with you yet, not that you’re confident he will.

(You’ve woken to see him sitting beside you on it, however. He was still fully clothed, with an expression on his face that you’re not sure how to describe, but he’s never actually joined you in bed. Thank god.) t’s not horrible, per say, but your life within the cabin will far from idyllic.

Muzan is not a kind man. He’s not even a man – and this becomes apparent to you very quickly. It’s not unusual for him to return home from long periods of time away with blood staining his clothing, that familiar sour look on his face as he stares knowingly at you, expecting you to grovel at his feet and thank him for finally returning to you.

You’ve never seen him eat – he doesn’t touch the food he brings to you (and it’s good food, too – nutritious and surprisingly delicious, making you wonder exactly how he obtained it), and almost seems disgusted when he has to touch it.

You know there’s something wrong, but multiple things bar you from ever asking why his nails grow so long in such short intervals, or why he’s so inhumanely strong, or how he can be so silent when he moves – those things being the many silent, unspoken rules he has laid out for how you should act. He’s controlling in every sense, and although he doesn’t communicate exactly what he expects of you, you’ll quickly learn that he's picky, and he won’t settle for any behavior less than perfect.

Most of these rules revolve around the fact that you aren’t allowed to escape or disrespect him. Attempting escape is a rebellion against being his woman, and just as an owner does a dog, he will punish your ill behavior and pulling your metaphorical leash much, much further than you should.

Plus, your attempts to escape are a form of rejection in his eyes – he never makes it explicitly clear that he’s romantically interested in you, but he feels that you should just know this, and thus your insistence on getting away from him feels like a personal slight against him, like a slap in the face designed to hurt him in the most acute, intimate way possible.

Of course you don’t know this, but after each escape attempt, he’ll punish you, then promptly return to his office (a small, adjoining room in the cabin that you’re strictly forbidden from entering), sitting on his leather couch and letting his head sit in his hands, taking deep breaths and willing himself to stop letting such stupid, weak, human emotions affect him so.

The only thing that works, though, to calm his heart is to once again watch you as you sleep, allowing himself to get close to you, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, perhaps even holding a shirt in his hands and imagining the way your skin would feel against the fabric. It’s a reminder that although you were disobedient and tried to leave him, you weren’t successful – you’re still here, with him, as you should be.

Disrespecting him is also, of course, a severe infringement of the unwritten code he expects you to follow. He has to maintain some sense of superiority over you, and the moment you disrespect him either with words or actions, this fragile hierarchy is threatened, and you come dangerously close to the uncomfortable truth – that despite all his grandiose talk about you being beneath him, he would be absolutely nothing now without you.

He would be a mess, unable to function, unable to find purpose in avoiding death and sickness, unsure of how to move forward with a life that now no longer seems worth continuing. And so, as long as you avoid those two major triggers, most of your time spent in the cabin will be passed with Muzan simply sitting in your presence, those red eyes watching you like a hawk and making you beyond nervous. He scares you – he’s a monster and you know it, he’s stolen you away from your life and forced you into some strange, pseudo-relationship of roommates, though his intentions are much more sinister than you can imagine.

The one silver lining of being stuck with Muzan is that his crippling fear of rejection bars him from making any sort of sexual advance on you. Of course, he very, very much wants to fuck you (thought the thought shames him, because you’re a human woman, and the idea of touching a human and being touched by a human makes his skin crawl), but the idea of you not being as passionately and needily engaged and eager as him is enough to stop him from attempting anything.

This has an unfortunate side effect though, which is that he channels this anger and fear of being rejected by you into meanness directly at you – comments of how you’re clumsy or loud or irritating slip past his lips. And although he doesn’t often mean them, the venom in his voice will get you shutting up, fearfully and self-consciously staring down at the floor.

He feels the smallest pang of guilt when this happens, because although he’s a sadistic creature, seeing you upset isn’t nearly as pleasing as he’d expected. But it’s a necessary evil in the larger scheme of things – he has to keep you in line, and by stealing you away so that he can keep constant surveillance on you and control your meal times (he decides when you eat, even if you’re not hungry or don’t want the meal he’s brought), how often you bathe yourself (often he’ll watch the process, those red eyes raking up and down your figure, making sure to wear loose bottoms so that you don’t see how the sight of you wet, soapy, and embarrassed effects him), and make sure you interact with no one, he’s ultimately fulfilling a self-serving goal: preserving you, and keeping you all locked up and safe for him to enjoy.

And only him.

PUNISHMENTS:

Despite Muzan’s strange fondness for you (or, more accurately, his dependence on your presence), he’s by no means a gentle lover. He’s cruel, demeaning, incredibly strict and harsh with you, with expectations that he never clearly communicates with you. It’ll leave you guessing in the dark, hoping and praying that your every action, word, and even thought won’t trigger some sort of negative response from him. He’s fickle, his mood changing quicker than you keep up with, and because of this, Muzan finds himself angry with you much more often than he’d care to admit.

He was resistant to developing feelings for you at first, embarrassed, disappointed and frustrated with himself for stooping so low as to develop an attraction with a weak human like you, but as time passes he finds himself growing less resentful and more desperate. He’s still angry with himself, ashamed that he’s allowed himself to let you become his one weakness, and because of this he’s a bit trigger-happy with punishing you.

He’s always looking for reasons to belittle you, to put you down in order to make himself feel better. He’s an egotistical, narcissistic creature, and just because you’ve managed to worm your way into his heart doesn’t mean that you are exempt from this aspect of his personality.

He’ll find ways to twist your words and actions into somehow being displeasing to him, whether by being disrespectful to him, or an attempt to escape.

You’re quiet and avoid speaking with him or looking at him? Sure, you’re scared, as you say, but this could also be an attempt lulling him into lowering his guard around you, like you’re waiting for the right opportunity to try and run or hurt him. (Just the thought along is laughable – as if you could ever do serious damage to him.)

So, he’ll force you into speaking simply by threatening any remaining family you have. That’ll get you spluttering and talking, he’s sure – your weak sensibilities and this absurd devotion to your family that you seem to possess is perfect to exploit. (Plus, it’ll get you to stop ignoring him, something that makes his heart feel like a knife is twisting inside him, making every part of him ache and bile rise in the back of his throat. But you don’t need to know that – he’ll never admit it.)

You’re refusing to eat the food he’s brought for you? You ungrateful thing – he’d gone so far as to get the best quality, fanciest food he could find for you – things that he could imagine himself stomaching back when he was a human. Things that – despite you being below him – you deserve as his pet. He’ll merely scoff, throwing the food off to the side, before returning a few hours later with something warm and wet and fresh – blood is dripping off the pretty white plate he’s dished the human heart on, his face carefully neutral aside from the smallest of smirks while he tells you to eat up, you wouldn’t want an ended life to be in vain, would you?

It’s cruel and it’s evil and it’s horrible, but pinning your compassion and disgust at him murdering innocent people because of your rebellions against you is the most successful and effective tool he could use to keep you in line. It works – every single time.

And Muzan has no qualms with using every possible resource at his disposal – sure, you may be angry at him, perhaps even hate him, but he’s confident that with time, you’ll realize that he’s all you have left. You’re weak and incapable and you’ll never, ever be rid of him, so why won’t you just obey him like you, as the inferior life form, should?

Your fingers are trembling as he nears you, that same unearthly silence to his steps that makes every muscle in your body stand at attention, your fight or flight instincts begging you to run as fast as you can away from the monster in front of you.

There’s nothing in his hands, but that doesn’t make you feel better – you know what he can do with those hands, and you curl up tighter against the corner you’ve sat yourself in.

Muzan’s got a half-smile on his face – it’s the closest he can get to a genuine smile, you think, but it still makes your skin crawl, unease and dread eating away at your gut. He stops in front of you, crouching down so that he’s at eye level with you. His curls sit around his face, the casual white dress-shirt he sports perfectly pressed and rolled up at the elbows.

Hello, how are you faring? He asks, and immediately you grow suspicious – this is unusual. He never directly asks you about yourself – he normally talks about himself, only occasionally dropping a comment or two about you that lets you know he recognizes your presence in the room.

What is he playing at? How do you respond?

I’m okay… you start, nervous that he’s looking for an answer that you don’t know. At your response, he makes no noticeable change, but instead stands once more. He’s still staring down at you, those red eyes feeling heavy and piercing.

Come with me.

And then he’s walking, and you’re scrambling behind him to keep up with his long strides. He settles down onto a leather couch in his study, and for the briefest moments you hesitate at the threshold, having never been allowed in this room.

He notices your resistance, and rolls his eyes slightly. Come here.

You do as you’re told, and carefully, tentatively sit down on the other end of the leather couch. It’s silent for a few moments, before Muzan breaks it, his voice a bit deeper than before. Come here.

Confusion settles over your features, but you slowly scoot over a bit, so that you’re an inch or so closer to him. Muzan’s still staring at you, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, and a frown sits on his lips.

You scoot over a bit more, continuing when he doesn’t say anything until there’s just the smallest sliver of space between your bodies. You can hear his breathing, having never been so close to him before. He’s still looking at you, but you focus your gaze on your hands in your lap, trying desperately to not visibly show your nerves.

Are you afraid of me?

His question startles you, and you stiffen up, peeking at him for just a moment. Unsure of how to respond, you merely nod, your voice small as you murmur yes. Muzan hums, and suddenly there’s a hand sitting on your thigh, his skin cold and dry, the weight feeling heavy. And although you try to stop yourself, knowing the consequences will be anything but pleasant, the unforeseen physical contact makes you jump, scooting away from him ever so slightly.

The room is still for a moment, before you hear his sharp inhale, literally seeing his face morph into one of rage. He’s breathing hard as he gets to his feet and practically storms out of the room, his steps still nearly silent. You’re still frozen, trying to process what you’ve just done – you rejected him.

Obviously you don’t want him, but this surely must be one of the unspoken rules you’re supposed to follow – surely such an arrogant man wouldn’t appreciate being you being so blatantly repulsed.

Unsure of what to do – does he want you to leave his study? Stay? – you stay in place, every part of your body shaking in fear and horrible anticipation at your punishment for such a grave offense.

You don’t have to wait for long – ten minutes later he’s barging through the door, dragging a woman by her hair into the space. She’s already stained with bits of blood, her hair matted with it and her pretty clothes darker than they should be.

Muzan’s staring at you, a wild look in his eye, his hair a bit messy and a few more buttons of the dress shirt undone. He throws the woman to the ground, and you notice how shallow her breathing is – she must be on the verge of death.

Muzan’s voice is deep, husky in a way that stills you to your very core as he growls out you will never, ever reject me. Do you understand? You have no place or authority to reject me. You are nothing. I am the only worthwhile thing in your life. Do you understand?

You nod, over and over, eyes flashing between his piercing gaze and the woman who’s slowly trying to get to her feet. Every time she gets close, Muzan pushes her back to the ground, the tears clouding your lashes just barely letting you make out the way her face twists up in pain.

You are nothing. You are nothing.

Muzan is repeating it to himself over and over again as he picks up the woman, forcing her to face you. Briefly, you’re shocked – you’ve never seen this woman in your life, but something about her seems oddly familiar, like you’re looking in a mirror.

Her hair is remarkably similar to yours – the same texture, the same color, just a different length.

Her nose is similar to yours, her skin color, even her eye color.

Her body is similar, too – a similar build, proportions, and suddenly you’re sick.

This woman is you.

Muzan’s still breathing hard, his face contorted into that ugly scowl, and without a word, his hands are tangled in the woman’s hair again, pulling and yanking upwards until a wet squelching noise fills the room, and suddenly her body falls backwards, limp, with her head still held in the air, his forearm flexing.

You can’t stop yourself from vomiting, the sight and sound too much for you to bear. Muzan watches with pursed lips, his eyes still wide and barely blinking. You look pitiful like this – shaking like some sort of scared mouse, staring at him like he's a monster, like he’s the Devil himself.

And as he stares down at you, something pleasant settles in his gut, because while he’d prefer your adoration, the way you’re looking at him now is good, too. Because you’re looking at him, giving him the attention he was craving earlier.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried to be kind in his approach at initiating physical contact with you. After all, it’s not as if you really have a choice – it’s such a strange, human desire to want to touch another, and really, isn’t it your fault that he’s feeling this urge?

(Isn’t it your influence and doing that he wants to touch you, to feel you, to be inside of you?)

He bares his teeth, an eyebrow cocking up. Do not reject my advances. Your death will not be as merciful as hers.

And to that, you simply nod.

OVERALL DANGER:

10/10

Muzan is, undoubtedly, a nightmare to have infatuated with you. He’s so deeply in denial in the beginning that he forces himself to stay away from you, only for that to make him crave you more, to realize that his feelings for you aren’t simply going to go away.

He’s possessive and controlling, seeing you as his in every sense of the word and feeling completely justified in taking over every aspect of your life.

He’s paranoid, always keeping an eye on you because being this emotionally tied to another living thing is incredibly nerve-wracking, your weak human body and disposition making him nervous that even the wind will send you knocking on death’s door.

And even then, he doesn’t express this worry in any healthy way – he’s not afraid to verbally degrade you, using harsh words as a shield so that you don’t see just how pathetically deep his obsession and attraction to you is.

It’s demoralizing, embarrassing to a degree that forces him to treat you like a pet of sorts – punishing you with threats, stealing you away to be stuck in some remote cabin in the woods where not a soul will dare near the home, smelling both him and the scent of death strongly in the air.

He’s so emotionally out of touch, and as a result your life with him will be a constant series of walking on eggshells around rules and expectations you don’t even know about. It’s difficult, and frankly you’re viable to find yourself quickly losing your sanity.

But don’t worry too much – Muzan may not act like it, but he does care about your health and safety, and you’ll be in capable hands to help reshape and remold you into the perfect little human partner.

Perhaps you’ll even become a demon – a very, very likely event, considering the fact that as a demon, you have to obey his every command.

(Just the thought of you completely obedient and submissive makes him smile, his eyes narrowing a bit and his nails tapping on the nearest surface, those slacks of his feeling a bit too tight.)

He wants you to be his, and a man as selfish as him knows no bounds. So really, get ready – you will be his, and will never escape him. Lucky you.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere muzan #_lee's profiles #_kny #_muzan kibutsuji

[screamingcrows]

Tomorrow - Dottore x reader

Note: Dottore isn't his usual self here, I'm aware. This is meant to be with my so far unknown to everyone OC, but this scenario fits x reader format. Written in Tumblr drafts as I lay in bed. Keep this out of character ai bots or I'm sending Trypanosoma brucei after you.

Tags: comfort?, soft, gn reader, skin to skin contact happens twice that's it, they are not in a romantic relationship (yet), pining

MINORS, AGELESS, BLANK BLOGS DNI

You'd never had reason to set foot in The Second's chambers, had never imagine you would either. It made the intimacy of this moment far greater than you cared to process. He was heavy when he leaned against your smaller frame, one arm slung across your shoulders for support.

Both of you remained quiet while Dottore fumbled with his keys, your eyes flickering to his gloved hand. It still trembled. How long had he been awake by now?

It had been at least four days since the door to his laboratory had been open to anyone but his segments. Not even you had been allowed in, a sentiment that made everyone uneasy. And he despised sleeping in there.

It had always infuriated you how he failed to maintain his own body. The act should theoretically hold the same value as any other system maintenance. Theory and practise rarely aligned, a fact you knew by heart.

A gentle nudge against your shoulder set your body in motion, pushing open the door and leading your superior inside.

It had a surprisingly homely feel to it, causing your steps to falter briefly as you looked around. Most of the furniture was fashioned from dark wood, creating an almost intimate feeling. Shelves filled with books lined the walls, an occasional ornament lingering amongst the tomes.

His desk looked well worn, polish having long since matted. A smile tugged at your lips, it resembled him in many ways.

Your musings were cut short when Dottore shifted his weight, pulling away from your body with a slight groan. His hands rubbed at his lower back, a habit you'd observed despite countless claims that nothing somatic was ailing him.

"Don't"

It was a simple command, his voice a little rougher than usual. The fact that he hadn't asked you to leave threw you off.

"Is there anything you need, Doctor?"

Dottore mumbled something under his breath, making you sigh in defeat. Even now, undoubtedly at his weakest point in a long time, there was no real aid for you to provide.

Uncomfortable with merely standing around, you went to draw the curtains, leaving only a tiny crack for natural light to enter. It made the situation worse, heat pooling in your gut at the sheer familiarity of the gesture.

Dottore had sunk to his knees when you turned back around. His face was pressed into the edge of the mattress, the characteristic mask discarded on the ground.

His hair had grown to an unruly length. When had he become this unkempt? Your fingers itched to run through those locks.

"Doctor, if there's nothing I can do, I'll take my leave"

The gloves had been discarded as well. No matter how many times you saw his hands it didn't ease the sting behind your eyes. It looked painful. Burnt skin, thin scars, and crooked fingers all spoke of a past best buried. His back straightened at the sound of your voice.

"Tomorrow. It'll be finished tomorrow"

A cryptic message, but you didn't feel like prodding. Not with how he seemed to dwindle in the darkness. His hands moved to unbutton the blue shirt, letting it unceremoniously fall to the ground.

"Okay?"

Your feet carried you closer against your will. The curiosity he praised you for would forever remain a curse.

His skin looked ashen. A trick of the light no doubt, that much should be logical. It didn't help the unease feeling spreading through you.

"Come by tomorrow. The laboratory. I must show you."

With every word his shoulders slumped further. He was as muscular as you'd expected, perhaps even more so with how little sustenance you saw him consume.

Objectively, he was beautiful. Subjectively, you could hardly process the sight. Outstretched hand already reaching towards him. He tensed when your palm made contact, his skin surprisingly warm.

Scars ran across his shoulders and back, oh how you yearned to map them and hear their stories. His was a life lived.

In a moment of folly, you pressed your lips to his shoulder, feeling it rise with the sharp intake of breath.

"Tomorrow then."

You left his chambers with practised nonchalance, your gait a mirror of The Second's. You could still taste his skin on your lips. Had your faith been intact, you would have prayed tomorrow never came. Tonight would have been enough.

#il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore #zandik #dottore x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact #crow with a pen