#I'm so lost without abuse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queers-gambit · 7 months

Text

Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

3K notes · View notes

onnahu · 18 days

Text

Ok, so is it only me who finds Tim's rise to heroing hillarious?

Bc consider: everyone have their traumatic original story, especially in batfam (Cass's whole life, Dami's upbringing, Jay's street life, Dick's parents, Steph's father, Duke's parent. Actually everyone's parents wtv), and then there is Tim. He's rich white boy that canonically was not abused by his parents, only in fanon, that is weirdly obsessed with Dick Grayson. Not even Robin or Nightwing. Dick Grayson and his motherfucking summersault. He didn't plan on becoming Robin, it just happend bc heis sense of duty didn't let him just turn his back on Batman's villain origin storry. And then it was supposed to be Dick back as Robin, but he said 'oh fuck no' and that was it. So Tim was like 'welp, I guess it's only me' and got himself a job without any profit. And then it was just like 'it's actually fun, i'm gonna blow shit up and mess with ppl' and that was it, he was gone for heroism forever.

And then as Robin and later Red Robin he's got a shittone of trauma, but it's after. He literally don't have any deeply rooted motive for becoming a vigilante, just that he was only one that figured out who Batman was and was to nosy to just turn his back on it.

So yeh. Tim is just funny like that.

And it's all actually even funnier when you realise that he's one of the most unhinged one of Batfam. I mean they all are, but he's the one that went on crazy andventure looking for Bruce, got Ra's obsessed with him, destroyed LoA, lost his spleen and tried to clone his dead bf 99 times.

#tim drake #robin #red robin #dc comics #batman #batfamily #tim's origin story is just too funny #he's so unhinged #tim's spleen

840 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

Text

Kickstarting the audiobook of The Lost Cause, my novel of environmental hope

Tonight (October 2), I'm in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

The Lost Cause is my next novel. It's about the climate emergency. It's hopeful. Library Journal called it "a message hope in a near-future that looks increasingly bleak." As with every other one of my books Amazon refuses to sell the audiobook, so I made my own, and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope

That's a lot to unpack, I know. So many questions! Including this one: "How is it that I have another book out in 2023?" Because this is my third book this year. Short answer: I write when I'm anxious, so I came out of lockdown with nine books. Nine!

Hope and writing are closely related activities. Hope (the belief that you can make things better) is nothing so cheap and fatalistic as optimism (the belief that things will improve no matter what you do). The Lost Cause is full of people who are full of hope.

The action begins a full generation after the Hail Mary passage of the Green New Deal, and the people who grew up fighting the climate emergency (rather than sitting hopelessly by while the powers that be insisted that nothing could or should be done) have a name for themselves: they call themselves "the first generation in a century that doesn't fear the future."

I fear the future. Unchecked corporate power has us barreling over a cliff's edge and all the one-percent has to say is, "Well, it's too late to swerve now, what if the bus rolls and someone breaks a leg? Don't worry, we'll just keep speeding up and leap the gorge":

https://locusmag.com/2022/07/cory-doctorow-the-swerve/

That unchecked corporate power has no better avatar than Amazon, one of the tech monopolies that has converted the old, good internet into "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four":

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

Amazon maintains a near-total grip over print and ebooks, but when it comes to audiobooks, that control is total. The company's Audible division has captured more than 90% of the market, and it abuses that dominance to cram Digital Rights Management onto every book it sells, even if the author doesn't want it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

I wrote a whole-ass book about this and it came out less than a month ago; it's called The Internet Con and it lays out an audacious plan to halt the internet's enshittification and throw it into reverse:

http://www.seizethemeansofcomputation.org/

The tldr is this: when an audiobook is wrapped in Amazon's DRM, only Amazon can legally remove it. That means that every book I sell you on Audible is a book you have to throw away if you ever break up with Amazon, and Amazon can use the fact that it's hold you hostage to screw me – and every other author – over.

As I said last time this came up:

Fuck that sideways.

With a brick.

My books are sold without DRM, so you can play them in any app and do anything copyright permits, and that means Amazon won't carry them, and that means my publishers don't want to pay to produce them, and that means I produce them myself, and then I make the (significant) costs back by selling them on Kickstarter.

And you know what? It works. Readers don't want DRM. I mean, duh. No one woke up this morning and said, "Dammit, why won't someone sell me a product that lets me do less with my books?" I sell boatloads" of books through these crowdfunding campaigns. I sold so many copies of my last book, *The Internet Con, that they sold out the initial print run in two weeks (don't worry, they held back stock for my upcoming events).

But beyond that, I think there's another reason my readers keep coming back, even though I wrote a genuinely stupid number of books while working through lockdown anxiety while the wildfires raged and ashes sifted down out of the sky and settled on my laptop as I lay in my backyard hammock, pounding my keyboard.

(I went through two keyboards during lockdown. Thankfully, I bought a user-serviceable laptop from Framework and fixed it myself both times, in a matter of minutes. No, no one pays me to mention this, but hot damn is it cool.)

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/13/graceful-failure/#frame

The reason readers come back to my books is that they're full of hope. In the same way that writing lets me feel like I'm not a passenger in life, but rather, someone with a say in my destination, the books that I write are full of practical ways and dramatic scenes in which other people seize the means of computation, the reins of power or their own destinies.

The protagonist of The Lost Cause is Brooks Palazzo, a high-school senior in Burbank whose parents were part of the original cohort of volunteers who kicked off the global transformation, and left him an orphan when they succumbed to one of the zoonotic plagues that arise every time another habitat is destroyed.

Brooks grew up knowing what his life would be: the work of repair and care, which millions of young people are doing. Relocating entire cities off endangered coastlines and floodplains, or out of fire-zones. Fighting floods and fires. Caring for tens of millions of refugees for whom the change came too late.

But with every revolution comes a counter-revolution. The losers of a just war don't dig holes, climb inside and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. Two groups of reactionaries – seagoing anarcho-capitalist billionaire wreckers and seething white nationalist militias – have formed an alliance.

They've already gotten their champion into the White House. Next up: dismantling every cause for hope Brooks and his friends have, and bringing back the fear.

That's the setup for a novel about solidarity, care, library socialism, and snatching victory from defeat's jaws. Writing it help keep me sane during the lockdown, and when it came time to record the audiobook, I spent a lot of time thinking about who could read it. I've had some great narrators: Wil Wheaton, @neil-gaiman, Amber Benson, Bronson Pinchot, and more.

I record my audiobooks with Skyboat Media, a brilliant studio near my place in LA. Back in August, I spent a week in their recording booth – "The Tardis" – doing something I'd never tried before: I recorded a whole audiobook, with directorial supervision: The Internet Con:

https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78992826/DEA0CE12/purchase

When it was done, the director – audiobook legend Gabrielle de Cuir – sat me down and said, "Look, I've never said this to an author before, but I think you should read The Lost Cause. I don't direct anyone anymore except for Wil Wheaton and LeVar Burton, but I would direct you on this one."

I was immensely flattered – and very nervous. Reading The Internet Con was one thing – the book is built around the speeches I've been giving for 20 years and I knew I could sell those lines – but The Lost Cause is a novel, with a whole cast of characters. Could I do it?

Reader, I did it. I just listened to the proofs last week and:

It.

Came.

Out.

Great.

The Lost Cause goes on sale on November 14th, and I'll be selling this audiobook I made everywhere audiobooks are sold – except for the stores that require DRM, nonconsensually shackling readers and writers to their platforms. So you'll be able to get it on Libro.fm, downpour.com, even Google Play – but not Audible, Apple Books, or Audiobooks.com.

But in addition to those worthy retailers, I will be sending out thousands – and thousands! – of audiobook to my Kickstarter backers on the on-sale date, either as a folder of DRM-free MP3s, or as a download code for Libro.fm, to make things easy for people who don't want to have to figure out how to sideload an audiobook into a standalone app.

And, of course, the mobile duopoly have made this kind of sideloading exponentially harder over the past decade, though far be it from me to connect this with their policy of charging 30% commissions on everything sold through an app, a commission they don't receive if you get your files on the web and load 'em yourself:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

As with my previous Kickstarters, I'm also selling ebooks and hardcovers – signed or unsigned, and this time I've found a great partner to fulfill EU orders from within the EU, so backers won't have to pay VAT and customs charges. The wonderful Otherland – who have hosted me on my last two trips to Berlin – are going to manage that shipping for me:

https://www.otherland-berlin.de/en/home.html

Kim Stanley Robinson read the book and said, "Along with the rush of adrenaline I felt a solid surge of hope. May it go like this." That's just about the perfect quote, because the book is a ride. It's not just a kumbaya tale of a better world that is possible: it's a post-cyberpunk novel of high-tech guerrilla and meme warfare, climate tech and bad climate tech, wildcat prefab urban infill, and far-right militamen who adapt to a ban on assault-rifles by switching to super-soakers full of hydrochloric acid.

It's a book about struggle, hope in the darkness, and a way through this rotten moment. It's a book that dares to imagine that things might get worse but also better. This is a curious emotional melange, but it's one that I'm increasingly feeling these days.

Like, Amazon, that giant bully, whose blockade on DRM-free audiobooks cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through university (according to my agent)? The incredible Lina Khan brought a long-overdue antitrust case against Amazon while her rockstar DoJ counterpart, Jonathan Kanter, is dragging Google through the courts.

The EU is taking on Apple, and French cops are kicking down Nvidia's doors and grabbing their files, looking to build another antitrust case for monopolizing GPUs. The writers won their strike and Joe Biden walked the picket-line with the UAW, the first president in history to join striking workers:

https://doctorow.medium.com/joe-biden-is-headed-to-a-uaw-picket-line-in-detroit-f80bd0b372ab?sk=f3abdfd3f26d2f615ad9d2f1839bcc07

Solar is now our cheapest energy source, which is wild, because if we could only capture 0.4% of the solar energy that makes it through the atmosphere, we could give everyone alive the same energy budget as Canadians (who have American lifestyles but higher heating bills). As Deb Chachra writes in her forthcoming How Infrastructure Works (my review pending): we get a fresh supply of energy every time the sun rises and we only get new materials when a comet survives atmospheric entry, but we treat energy as scarce and throw away our materials after a single use:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/612711/how-infrastructure-works-by-deb-chachra/

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. We have shot past many of our planetary boundaries and there are waves of climate crises in our future, but they don't have to be climate disasters. That's up to us – it'll depend on whether we come together to save ourselves and each other, or tear ourselves apart.

The Lost Cause dares to imagine what it might be like if we do the former. We don't live in a post-enshittification world yet, but we could. With these indie audiobooks, I've found a way to treat the terminal enshittification of the Amazon monopoly as damage and route around it. I hope you'll back the Kickstarter, fight enshittification, inject some hope into your reading, and enjoy a kickass adventure novel in the process:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/02/the-lost-cause/#the-first-generation-that-doesnt-fear-the-future

#pluralistic #audiobooks #the lost cause #crowdfunding #kickstarter #spoken word #climate #climate emergency #monopoly #drm #amazon #audible #skyboat #science fiction #hope not optimism

2K notes · View notes

i-turned-into-the-stone · 1 month

Text

Smut dump 1: Wonyoung

Rough idea: Unfortunately, I lost the ask. It's about helping Wonyoung find the toilet at an event cause she wants to pee. I think it's pretty much something like that.

Trigger warning: noncon and piss

As the head supervisor, I wandered around the backstage area of the venue, keeping an eye out for any issues during the Miu Miu show event. That's when Wonyoung, one of the attendees, rushed up to me looking frantic.

"Sir, I really need to find the restroom. I'm about to pee myself!" she pleaded, squirming slightly.

I eyed her slim frame in the short skirt that complimented her slender long legs and curves. An evil grin crossed my face as I grabbed her arm firmly. "Don't worry, I'll show you where it is."

I pulled the protesting girl down a dimly lit hallway, away from the chaos. Pushing her against the wall, I pressed my body against hers, pinning her there.

"Please sir, what are you doing?! I really have to go!" Wonyoung whimpered, trying to squirm free.

"Oh, you'll get to go alright," I growled, running my hands over her trembling form. I hiked up her skirt, exposing her panty-covered pussy. She gasped as I ripped them off, tossing the shredded fabric aside.

I unbuckled my belt, freeing my thick, veiny cock. Without warning, I shoved the entire length deep inside her tight, unprepared pussy. Wonyoung cried out in a mix of pain.

As I ruthlessly pounded her tight pussy, her cries echoing down the hallway. I didn't care if anyone heard - I was going to use this petite slut's body for my pleasure.

"Please, it hurts!" she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. But her sopping wet cunt told a different story as I relentlessly slammed into her depths over and over.

With one hand, I grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. With the other, I groped and mauled her perky little tits through the flimsy shirt material. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as I ravaged her helpless form.

"You like that, you little whore?" I snarled, increasing the brutal pace. "Your pussy's gripping my cock so tight. Such a needy slut."

Wonyoung could only respond with desperate whimpers and cries as I used her. Her makeup ran in streaks down her cheeks from the torrent of tears. But her tight cunt clenched and throbbed around my invading member, betraying her body's twisted arousal.

I released her hair to grab her hips instead, pulling her fragile form onto my pistoning cock again and again. The sounds of flesh smacking together and her muffled sobs filled the air, mixing with the thick, musky scent of her ravaged pussy.

I glanced over and saw our reflection in a nearby mirror - the sight of me violently slamming into Wonyoung's helpless body from behind was deliciously depraved. I grinned wickedly at her tear-streaked, agonized expression in the glass.

"Look at yourself, you little slut," I growled, giving her hair another harsh yank to force her gaze towards the mirror. "Getting used like the cock sleeve you are. Fucking take it!"

I increased the harsh pace even more, my hips smacking loudly against her ass with each punishing thrust. Wonyoung's body shook from the force of my assault, her pert tits slightly bouncing under the thin shirt.

In the mirror, I watched her tight, hairless pussy stretching obscenely around my shaft as I buried myself to the hilt inside her repeatedly. Her swollen little clit peeked out from between her flushed folds with each stroke.

"You love getting that tight cunt ruined, don't you whore?" I mocked, giving her ass a stinging slap that left a hand print.

Wonyoung could only respond with a choked sob, her eyes rolling back as I relentlessly punched her cervix. Her nails scrabbled uselessly at the wall, trying and failing to find purchase as I rutted into her abused slit like a feral beast.

I felt my balls tightening as Wonyoung's convulsing pussy milked my cock. With a growl, I slammed my full length into her battered depths one final time and unleashed a thick, potent load. Spurt after spurt of my hot seed flooded her womb, painting her velvety walls white.

"Take it all, you fucking slut!" Giving her ass a few more harsh slaps as I emptied my balls inside her.

Wonyoung's only response was a hoarse, broken whimper as my cum seeped out around my still-buried shaft, trickling down her thighs. Her trembling body went limp against the wall, thoroughly used and defiled.

Pulling out with a lewd squelch, I snickered at the wrecked mess of her gaping, cum-dripping pussy. I tucked my spent cock back into my pants and straightened my clothes, not caring about the sobbing, ruined girl sliding to the floor.

"Clean yourself up, slut," I spat, turning on my heel and striding away, leaving Wonyoung to try and collect herself in the dim hallway, her insides still flooded with my seed.

As I walked away from Wonyoung's crumpled, abused form, I heard a soft hissing sound behind me. Glancing back, I saw a puddle spreading out from between her thighs - this desperate little slut had lost control and started pissing herself right there on the floor.

"Aw, did the little whore finally get to go potty?" turning back to watch the pathetic display.

Wonyoung could only whimper in humiliation and shame as her piss gushed out, soaking her thighs and the floor beneath her. My thick load slowly oozed out of her used cunt as well, mixing with the growing puddle.

I strolled back over and grabbed a fistful of her hair again, forcing her to look up at me with those big, haunted eyes. "Look at you, you fucking disgusting mess. Pissing yourself like a baby after getting that tight little cunt wrecked."

Giving her head a harsh shake, I shoved her face down into the warm puddle, making her choke and sputter on the mixture of her own piss and my cum. "Drink it up, slut. Clean up your fucking mess."

Wonyoung gagged and sobbed, but had no choice but to obey as I ground her face into the foul puddle. By the time I finally released her hair, she was an utterly broken, defiled mess - covered in piss, cum, and ruined makeup, her holes still lewdly gaping and leaking my seed.

With one last contemptuous sneer, I turned and strode away, leaving the whimpering wreck of a girl to wallow in her own filth.

Tried writing in 1st person POV for the first time so let me know if you guys want more 1st POV in the future smut. It's easier to write too, tbh.

#kpop smut #wonyoung smut #ive smut #jang wonyoung #smut dump

726 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 1 year

Text

oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.

oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.

oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.

which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.

but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.

which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.

and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!

and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.

the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!

and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -

what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.

and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.

#i hate when people try to tell me i didn't do it right #what should i have done better #i did it ALL the right way #(not that there is a right way)#it's just that others feel comfortable believing that THEY did it the right way and that's how they made money #whereas i must have just committed a sin somewhere in there! i MUST be doing it wrong!!!#and i'm not a victim!!! im simply experiencing consequences!#and im like. where . where. wherewherewherewhere #i graduated top of my class. i was almost the student speaker.#i have always excelled at work and i work hard #i have been working since i was 13 #WHERE !!!!! IS MY FUCKING !!!! MONEY!!!!!!#ps please do not make the assumption i am ablebodied or neurotypical.#i am neither of these things.#it DOES get worse if u are either of those things. so fuckin much #but @ the one anon who was like ''u could be X that would be worse u don't know how lucky u are''#.... don't i?#do i need to be luckier than someone else #or is it possible we are BOTH victims?#and that we need to work TOGETHER to resolve it #not just wave it off since it COULD be harder for someone else... it can be true we BOTH deserve better

5K notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 2 months

Text

if it wasn't for the wonderful, sweet doms out there with "dark" "scary" "abusive" kinks who are willing to learn consent and safety skills and practice those kinks within a bdsm community, then I as a sub would have only abusers to turn to.

in a world without good doms, i would still have an interest in being manipulated and tied up and used and told what to do and gaslit and stalked. i would still seek out ways to scratch that itch. and then i'd only fall in with abusers -- people who actually do terrorize and exploit the people they date either out of incompetence or malice.

and i know this for a fact because before i accepted i was kinky, i was in emotionally, physically, and sexually abusive relationships instead. i was drawn toward relationships where control and power were the driving elements, and i enjoyed getting lost in a lot of it -- but it meant i dated people who could not regulate their anger or desire for influence, and some awful things happened to me.

it is a delicate thing to talk about because some will mistake it for victim blaming, even though having intense kinks is not a reason to be abused, and i'm only talking about myself. but. i feel that there is use in saying it. some of us are drawn to playing along the psychological edge -- and those desires will exist whether theyre accepted socially or not. when we cant meet our needs openly and in community, we do it messily in the fringes, and we have nowhere to turn when things go sideways. and so a lot of people with "scary" kinks get abused.

and that is equally true for doms with "scary" kinks as it is for subs, by the way. their fantasies get used against them and twisted to justify mistreatment by abusers too.

701 notes · View notes

dotster001 · 6 months

Text

When You Escape Him...

Summary: Yandere Heartslaybul boys x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you years later.

CW: Yandere, baby trapping through adoption, kidnapping, allusions to past abuse, drugging, injury to reader (Cater's part), manipulation

Savanaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

Your son's hair was as red as his "father's". He was the spitting image of him. He was only five, yet the resemblance was so strong, there were moments where you would be filled with terror. But then you'd see your eyes staring back at you, and you'd calm down.

Despite the resemblance, he was a sweet, innocent thing. You didn't even think he was capable of anger. So easy going. So mellow. Sevens, you loved your boy.

But that sweet nature could cause trouble sometimes.

You were scrolling through your phone, trying to find an odd job so that you could pay the rent. Sunset Savannah rent was low, but still. When you were trying to stay off the grid, and moved every couple months, money was hard to come by.

Your son entered the room, smiling brightly.

"There's a man at the door who wants to talk to you. He says it's important."

"Baby, I told you not to open the door without me. It's dangerous." And also inconvenient. You'd rather your landlord not know you were home.

"I'm sorry," his lower lip quivered, and you quickly wrapped him in a hug.

"It's alright, love, just don't do it again. Stay here, I'll go talk to him."

You left him on the sofa. And went to the door that your son had left open. You put on a strained smile, and prepared to greet your landlord.

"Sorry for the wait-" you cut yourself off as icy terror filled your veins. Your eyes met Riddles, and you prepared for the worst. The shouting. The beheading. And if he was in his worst mood, his staff would come into play. Which, considering you'd escaped him for five years, he was definitely in a worse mood.

You'd been so careful! Had you gotten sloppy? Complacent? You didn't think you had. You knew Riddle had the money to pursue you, but you had hoped that since you had escaped the country, you would be past his sphere of influence.

You continued to stare, gritting your teeth for what was to come, but you were immediately shocked as he released a sob, and wrapped his arms around you, his tears soaking your shirt.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," he whispered, his grip tightening so much that you thought he was trying to break your ribs.

"Please don't cry, it's okay!"

Oh, your sweet boy. Your poor sweet baby boy.

Riddle pulled away, and crouched to your son's level.

"I'm your father."

Your son's eyes widened. You'd tried to make the idea of two parents a foreign concept, but children had a way of talking. So the idea that he had a second parent, who came for him, made his eyes sparkle in delight.

Riddle scooped him up in his arms, and turned to go.

"Let's go home," he whispered, and the final piece of hope you'd been sustaining finally died.

You'd gotten forgetful.

A large family like the Clover's, all of whom had chocolate centers, would have a large network of acquaintance's.

Even out here, in the middle of the countryside, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

As you were realizing now. All it would take was one person to recognize the "oldest Clover's missing spouse" and then it would be over.

And your son…he looked like a Clover, even if he wasn't one biologically. One peek at him, it would be over, again.

As you realized now that you'd clearly fallen into a trap.

Your new neighbor had invited you and your son for tea. And you were so tired. So tired of running, of not having roots, that you had agreed. What could go wrong with a tea party?

Everything.

You entered the room, and there he was, already seated at the table. Giving you a very disappointed look.

"Thank you, Meredith. Can we have a moment alone?"

Your son wasn't old. But a ten year old like him was smart enough to see the resemblance between himself and the man before him. Even if it was a coincidence.

You had intended to tell him the truth about his "father" in a year or two.

But now he'd never believe you. With the warm smile on Trey's face as he opened his arms, your son would never believe the relationship was built on manipulation and perfectly hidden drugs. Someone with a smile as warm as Trey's would never do anything like that.

Your son ran into his arms, happily explaining about how happy he was to finally meet "daddy".

Meanwhile, Trey stared at you, his eyes cold as he held your son tighter.

"Y/N," he finally said, his voice firm in the way that told you he was out of patience. "Drink your tea."

You stared at the pretty porcelain cup that sat waiting on the table. You had guesses of what would happen if you drank it. It would all be over. Ten years of hiding for nothing. But he had your son. It wasn't like you could go anywhere.

Your feet felt like they were weighed down with concrete blocks as you walked over to the cup, sat, and brought it to your lips with trembling fingers.

The black invading your vision was almost immediate, and you heard Trey explaining to your son, "An evil man stole you both from me. Their medicine will make them sleepy, but when they wake up we can finally be a family."

You didn't even have a phone. You changed your hair every few months. You wore a mask in public. Because you knew the second a photo of you made its way onto the internet, it would be over.

Your son had wanted a phone when he was about ten. And you'd been able to push it off until he reached thirteen, when you'd say him down and told him about the man who wanted to be his father.

He was young, but when he heard how this man hurt you, and took you away from the people you loved, he understood quickly.

Your boy was smart. And he was a responsible kid. So he never asked for a phone again.

He was fifteen now. He was a smart boy, and very protective over you. He always joked that if he and Cater were ever in the same room, he'd punch him in the stomach.

The two of you were at the store, getting groceries. You saw a flash of ginger hair out of the corner of your eye, but told yourself it was just your son's hair. The second and third ginger flashes were harder to ignore.

You shared a look with your son, and made a rush to the exit.

...Unfortunately, running straight into a crowd of ginger hair. Multiple Caters pinned you both down, pressing rags to your mouths, making you sleep.

When you woke up, you found yourself tied to a chair in a dark room.

"You're up."

His voice was far more bitter than you were used to, but you'd recognize it anywhere.

Cater stood from the corner he was seated in, and made his way over to you. A loud crack filled the room, and you didn't quite realize what had happened until your cheek began to sting, and you met his furious eyes as he shook with rage.

No matter what was wrong with your relationship, he had never laid a hand on you.

"You promised me!" He screamed. "You promised I wouldn't have to be alone anymore!"

Another crack filled the room, and your cheek began to feel numb.

"We were supposed to be a family, Y/N! The three of us, together! And you turned him against me!"

He raised his hand to slap you again, but froze with a sob. He collapsed burying his face in your lap as he sobbed.

"Why? Why do you both hate me? Am I not good enough?" He cried, his voice cracking and choking as he spoke. "I'll be better! I'll be whoever you need me to be!"

You could only imagine how the reunion with your son had gone if he was like this already. You hoped he was behaving, so the both of you could reunite and figure out how to escape.

But if the multiple pairs of emerald eyes watching Cater sob in your lap were anything to go by, you were never going to be alone ever again.

Once you'd crossed the border of the country, you hadn't expected to ever run into Ace again. It wasn't that he was poor, per say, it was just that he wouldn't have the means to search for you forever. Private investigators were expensive. And it wasn't like he actually cared.

At least that's how it felt. After one day of having your son, he admitted he was already bored, he just wanted to tie you to him. And he had told you every day of your relationship that he you were only together because he felt bad that you would never have anyone else who cares about you.

The longer you were away from him, the more your brain cleared, the more you realized that he probably did care. Quite a lot. But it was the tactic he used to make you dependent on him.

You were embarrassed by how well it had worked….

Your son was college aged now. He had received an invitation to NRC, but had turned it down in favor of protecting you. You were so grateful, and had worked with a friend who knew your situation to get him into a university without being able to tie it back to you.

You currently lived alone in your apartment. This evening, you were reading a book that your son had recommended, as you ate a basic dinner. There was a knock on the door, and you gently put your bookmark in.

You opened the door to three officers…one of them you unfortunately recognized.

"Deuce," you pleaded, and he looked everywhere but you.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I really am," he cleared his throat, and in his official voice. "Y/N Trappola. You have been missing for nineteen years. You must come with me for questioning."

There would be no questioning. He'd take you back, and drop you off with Ace. The wording was just in case one of your neighbors came to see what was going on.

The trip was long. And Deuce had tried to get you to tell him where your boy was. A sign that Ace actually cares, despite his cruel words.

He'd eventually dug through your phone, and figured out who he was based on your messages back and forth. He'd called him, and given him an address to come meet you at.

"Remember when you were my friend too?" You spat at Deuce. It hurt him, you could tell, but you wanted it to hurt as much as you would inevitably hurt once you were back with Ace.

You happened to both arrive at the house at the same time. Your son looked between you and, at least to him, the unknown officer, but kept his mouth shut.

The three of you walked up to the door together in silence. Deuce knocked on the door, and it was only a moment before he opened it.

He laughed hysterically. "Oh seven, you really found them! I can't believe you actually did it!"

He grinned at your son.

"Hah! You look just like your old man."

Your son growled. "You're not my old man."

"Hee hee, you're feisty like me too!" Ace grinned. Then he turned to you, affecting a look that was saying 'I'm not mad just disappointed'.

"Y/N," he said, his tone a threat in itself. "I'm sure you know how upset I am with you. How are you gonna make it up to me?"

Your son pulled his pen, but Ace was faster, throwing a painless stun spell at him.

He shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You really raised him all wrong, didn't you Y/N? Oh well, I guess I don't mind fixing both of you."

You'd thought once you crossed the border, you'd be safe. You hadn't realized that Deuce would have made friends in his time as an officer, and could use those connections to find you.

To your credit, you'd made it awhile before his investigator colleague had found the two of you.

But you'd hoped you could hide forever. Five years felt like nothing.

You'd paid your neighbor to watch your son while you went out for groceries, and were startled to see her not with him.

"Hm? Oh, his father relieved me of duty," she laughed, until she saw the distress on your face.

"Y/N?"

You ran to your apartment, practically busting the door down. You found Deuce sitting with your sleeping son, staring at him as though he would disappear if he looked away.

"Hey Y/N," he hummed, still not looking at you. "What did I do wrong?"

The question floored you. It was on brand. He never knew what he was doing wrong with your relationship. Which made it easy for you to forgive him early on. But you couldn't ignore how he was hurting you forever.

"Deuce. Give him to me."

You slowly approached him like you'd approach a wild dog.

"Was it something I said?" He looked up at you with heartbroken eyes. "I didn't mean to. I promise I'll be better."

He stood up, and approached you.

"Come home, Y/N. We can start over."

You couldn't risk triggering his delinquent mode while he was holding your sleeping son. And it wasn't like you could hide again, not without leaving the sleeping angel behind.

And you didn't doubt that this time he'd do whatever was in his power to catch you if you ran.

"Give me my son," you whispered.

"Our son," he said firmly, and you froze, breathing deeply to try and calm him down.

"Our son," you repeated softly. You held out your hands, and he scrutinized you with a cold look.

"No. I'll hold on to him," he said, shifting away from you. "I just can't trust you anymore."

Normally, you'd have snapped at him that you could never trust him. But he had the advantage.

"Please, Deucey," you simpered, hoping his affection for you could still cloud his judgment.

"I'll think about it when we get home," he said with a soft smile. He stood up, and walked over to you, nuzzling your noses together.

"C'mon,Y/N, let's go home," he calmly walked out with your son in his arms. What else could you do but follow?

#yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere trey clover #yandere trey clover x reader #yandere cater diamond #yandere cater x reader #yandere ace trappola #yandere ace x reader #yandere deuce spade #yandere deuce x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere

1K notes · View notes

servantofwrath · 2 years

Text

i keep forgetting ive written fanfics for this series

#maybe if i get hyperfixated on it again i'll release chapter 2 of reco after... 3 years of no updates #i was really proud of that fic and then i didnt really get any attention on it so i dropped it cause im a bitch that loves attention #or well it's more that i lost the motivation for it #honestly my yttd phase was a miserable part of my life though #i lost a lot of friends being too clingy and i had a really awful con experience hauling myself around in nao cosplay with a broken leg #i was deep in the thick of my addiction and i did a lot of things wasted and didnt think about the consequences #i was in a really mutually abusive and codependent friendship with an irl #i just started rewatching it without thinking but now that i'm more coherent i'm realizing it's a really good game #i hope i can have better experiences with it now

1 note · View note

myunconquerablesoul · 7 months

Text

His Favored.

r.sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings: historical au, mentions of violence (towards an OC, but never us. Not even Sukuna is allowed to abuse us!), mentions of blood, mentions of wanting to kill someone, mentions of someone hanging, nudity (reader is a concubine), it gets steamy in the end, but nothing too detailed. (I think) Sukuna is soft(?) in this one.

Wordcount: 3.445 (I would like to say I'm sorry, but I'm not)

Fanart

The servant lays in a bloody mess before you. He was not dead, but you were sure he wished he'd be by now.

Sukuna is staring directly at you. His attention was no longer on the poor soul.

His hands grip your cheeks, and the others hold your wrists.

"I told you," Sukuna says, voice low, "to not speak to that servant, or there would be consequences."

He lost his temper today. He has seen you talking to that lowlife, hidden in one of the many hallways in his estate. And as if that wasn't enough, that peasant tried to pull you into his embrace. Forcefully.

Looking back, it was a miracle for him to be still alive.

"Now, why would my concubine disobey my orders just like that?" It was simply inexcusable to him for anyone else to speak to you the way he did when it wasn't any secret that you were, clearly, the curse's favorite.

"The servant... he..." He saw your eyes drifting to the servant again. Nervous. You were in an inner battle with yourself. He had secretly planned to whisk you away from Sukuna's estate so you could have freedom and independence.

You'd felt his kindness and sincerity toward you in the short time you'd known him. You knew he meant well, but it was already too late.

Sukuna, on the other hand, felt that you were hesitating to tell him. Not only that, but you were trying to protect that poor excuse of a man.

It made him want to kill him right on the spot.

Then he abruptly let go of you and turned his attention back to the poor soul. You felt the shift in the atmosphere immediately. You knew that if you did not do anything right this instant, the man's head would be rolling around the floor within seconds.

You were trying to figure out what to do.

If you asked for it to stop, your master would get the wrong idea and kill the man without hesitation. You were sure of it.

"My lord," You had to try to defuse this situation. "may I ask for us to speak privately?" If not for the sake of the man on the floor, then for your sanity.

"I will tell you everything, but please... alone." Sukuna stopped in his tracks upon hearing your request.

If it were anyone else's request, no, others would not dare to. They only dare to speak to him when he addresses them. But you, you were always a particular case for Sukuna.

For a moment, you were met with nothing but silence. You feared that you had made everything worse and sealed the servant's faith.

But then, without warning, Sukuna turned back to you, grabbed you by your wrist, and led you out of the throne room.

You did not dare look back to see if the servant was alright. Knowing it would end in unwanted bloodshed.

"Uraume!"

You haven't even noticed Uraume standing there. But you weren't given the time to properly acknowledge them, as your shared master dragged you forward.

"Ensure that the filth's wounds are taken care of, and lock him in his room until I decide what will become of him!" He spat.

Sukuna leads you to his room.

It wasn't the first time you were here, but the first time you didn't know the outcome of what would happen.

The curse let go of you after sliding the Shoji shut. He leaves you standing in the middle of the room. Sukuna's dark eyes meet yours.

"Explain." He didn't yell.

For a moment, you believe you would've preferred if he did. It was a painful reminder of how patient he was with you. Of how much you could get away with.

"The servant wanted to take me away from here. I told him that I wanted to stay. But he kept pressuring me."

Sukuna leans against the wall, staring at you with a dangerous, hungry light in his eyes. The fact that you wanted to stay was good. He likes it when you're obedient.

"I never wanted to leave you, my lord." You got down on your knees and bowed until your forehead touched the ground. "Please, you have to believe me."

Sukuna looked at you for a long moment. He lets out a low growl, stepping up to you so that he towers over you. "Prove it, concubine."

"He wrote me letters. I can show you." You were still looking at the floor. You knew you had to be careful. If you say something wrong, misstep, or accidentally anger him more, the servant won't live to see the next day.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at that, curious. "Show me."

"They are in my chambers."

Sukuna steps back, ordering you to stand and lead the way to your room.

"Here."

Sukuna sat on your bed as he took the letters and unfolded them. But before skimming each word, he takes a good look at you.

You stood there with all your might. There's not a bit of fear in your eyes, just concern.

Ever since your village offered you as an addition to his harem, the curse felt that there was something about you. Sukuna felt a strong pull toward you, an attraction he had never felt for someone else.

"The servant, Yuto, told me a week ago that he fell in love with me and asked for my hand." You studied Sukuna momentarily, wondering if mentioning his name was wise.

Sukuna, however, didn't pay any mind to that. Instead, he tried his best to conceal his surprise.

He thought that you would try to protect the lowlife. Try to convince him to let him go, but you tell how things were - nothing but the truth - without concealing anything.

"I told him that I didn't feel the same way. But he wouldn't give up. I didn't want to cause too much attention towards this."

You didn't feel alarmed per se. It was just very out of character for the curse to react the way he currently was. He was too calm about all of this newfound information.

Sukuna chuckles at that. "Or were you too afraid?" tone mocking.

"I was afraid of what you would do to him." He raised a brow at that. So, you elaborated a bit more. "He does not deserve to die because he fell in love."

When he hears your words, his eyes darken again. Sukuna eyes you, and you can tell that his thoughts seem elsewhere.

"You're right." As you watch him, he gets up from your bed and approaches you to stand directly before you, towering over you.

"One does not deserve to die for simply falling in love, dear concubine."

Standing before you, you could now practically feel the bloodlust radiating from him.

"But trying to steal someone else's property, especially when said property belongs to me, the king of curses, is where every human with minimum survival instincts may draw the line." he spat, full of venom.

You averted your gaze from him. You knew he was right. You, too, could not understand where Yutu's boldness came from.

But then again, love does blind people.

"That bastard deserves to perish for even thinking he had a chance to get away with it." now that was more like the Sukuna, you know.

You felt smaller with every passing second, and you could no longer think of a way to save the servant's life.

When you looked down on one of your master's hands, you could see the letters in a tied grip. The papers were utterly wrinkled.

Not that it mattered.

"Or is it perhaps that my dearest concubine grew close to that poor excuse of a man and began to like the idea?"

Your eyes snapped to him in an instant. "I didn't grow close to him. I didn't even like him." you desperately needed him to believe you.

"If that were the case," Sukuna counters, "why did you keep these letters?"

You immediately began to shake your head. "I never let him believe he had a chance. I always told him that I belonged to you, my lord." The way Yuto kept insisting the past week made you uneasy; even remembering it made you feel uncomfortable.

Sukuna then gently stroked your hair - a silent apology after noticing your growing discomfort.

He didn't mean to talk to you in that tone, but the mere thought of you being possibly interested in someone other than him-

"I kept the letters because I wanted you to believe me when I told you."

The curse nods, seeming to accept what you're telling him. It pleased him that you were thinking about telling him. "Good girl." His fingers slip down to your chin, stroking it gently.

"I wanted to tell him to stop today, but then you saw us, and- you know the rest."

Sukuna nods, his fingers still caressing your chin. "Indeed... but I want us to go over our boundaries again, dear concubine. I should not have to remind you what happens when you speak to other men besides me."

"No, my lord." you felt the room lighten up again, and for a moment, everything seemed to return to normal. "You should not worry; I will never accept a man who claims to love me. I know my place." you tried to brighten up the mood. But then-

"And if I was the one who loved you?" he asks, tone turning dangerous. "What if I was the one who desired you? Would you have given me your hand?" Sukuna looked at you with his intense eyes again. Something hidden behind them, something you could not read, but your heart answered before your mind could comprehend what was happening.

"I would."

Sukuna considers you for a long moment, his gaze boring into yours.

"I know you to be loyal and obedient, and because of that, I am not as concerned... but I need you to make this promise regardless." Sukuna leans closer to you, his eyes dark and fierce. "If another man speaks to you, you will tell me. No secrets, no hiding that from me."

You nod at that, still not trusting your voice enough. The thought that the king of curses could be jealous and possessive of you made you smile a bit.

Sukuna smiles at you and strokes your cheek and hair. "Good girl, you look beautiful when you smile."

He still didn't know what to do with the servant, but he knew he had had enough of this useless conversation.

His tone shifts again, voice low. "Let us not dwell on this further. Shall we go to bed?"

"Whenever you please."

Sukuna laughs softly, his tone playful and flirtatious. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," he teases you as he pics you over his shoulders and takes you back to his chambers.

Of course, he could stay here and take you right then and there, but he wanted to spend the night in comfort with you.

"Here, let me help you out of these things."

"Yes, my lord."

Sukuna removes your dress, leaving you in a thin chemise. He moves behind you, his hands slipping to the laces of that piece of clothing, his breath warm on your skin.

It feels all too domestic to romantic. And somehow, you can't seem to shake something off your mind. You weren't sure what would become of the servant. But something about your conversation with your master seemed to be off.

"My lord, may I ask something?"

Sukuna hums. "Ask away, dear concubine."

How should you put it? This road you were taking could lead to death, but on the other hand, you needed to know. So you took a risk.

"You asked me if it were you who'd love me."

Sukuna momentarily stops what he's doing. "Yes, I remember..." a dangerous glint enters his dark eyes again for a moment, but it vanishes as quickly as it does. "Continue, dear concubine."

"I- if.. if it's not too bold of me to ask."

The last concubine who dared ended up hanging in the backyard as a reminder of your status - a reminder never to seek more. It would be best never to forget that your only purpose was to satisfy your master's needs.

"Speak. I'm listening," Sukuna tells you softly, hands returning to work on your laces. His eyes trail down the curve of your neck to your back, lingering momentarily.

He knew where this was going. Today was indeed a day full of surprises.

"Do you?" there it was. a silent question. He never thought that you would pull through.

Sukuna's fingers freeze on the remaining laces of your clothes, his hands stilling. "... Do I what?" he asks cautiously.

"Do you love me?" The curse didn't know what to say first. He could deny it and proceed as if nothing happened, but the way your voice calls to him like you were hoping for some miracle.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally replies to you. "...I do."

"You- you Do? But- you have so many beautiful concubines at your service. So many women who'd willingly offer themselves to you…" your voice lost confidence, turning smaller with every passing second.

"None compare to you," Sukuna promises, voice soft and genuine. "None have a hold on my mind like you, my dear concubine. I do not feel for them what I feel for you."

Sukunas's hands slip to your waist and work on your laces again. "Do you think you could come to love me as I have you?" he asks.

It takes you a moment to respond. Sukuna is uncharacteristically patient with you.

"When that servant first told me about his feelings for me, I told him that my heart already belonged to someone else." you reply breathlessly.

"And who, pray tell, would your heart belong to?" Sukuna murmurs, voice low. The laces are almost finished, the thin chemise the only thing separating you from Sukuna's touch.

"Can I be so bold?"

Sukuna hums, a low grin curving his lips. "Yes."

He pulls the last lace free, the garment falling at your feet. "Tell me, dear concubine, whose heart do I have?" he questions eagerly, turning you around and looking straight at your eyes.

"Mine."

Sukuna smiles at you, his eyes shining brightly. "You are truly a good girl," he exclaims, a voice full of affection. "But that answer proves what you knew all along, doesn't it?"

Sukuna begins to move against you, his hand now caressing your cheek, and he leans down towards you as if expecting you to kiss him. His dark eyes are locked on yours as if looking for your consent.

You give a slight nod.

Sukuna cups your face in both hands, his fingers gently pushing your hair out of the way. He moves slowly, not breaking eye contact until your noses and lips are all but touching. His breath is warm against your skin, your heart racing.

"Is this what you want, dear concubine?" he whispers, low and sultry, full of desire for you.

"Am I allowed to speak what I truly want?"

Sukuna chuckles in response, voice low and breathy. "You do know that I allow you to say whatever you'd like, don't you?" he questions you, still close to you that the two of you are almost kissing. "So, speak your mind, dear concubine."

"I- I want to be more than just a mere concubine to you, my lord."

Sukuna stares at you for a long moment, eyes heavy with consideration. "And what more would you like to be to me, dear concubine?" he whispers, looking down at you. "Do you wish to ascend past this place of yours... to be on equal footing with me?"

"I would never dare to ask such things."

"But, if I were to offer them to you, would you accept... dear concubine?" Sukuna's voice is low and husky.

There's promise there, hope, and a little bit of lust. You've been a good and loyal concubine, not one to ever ask for more than what you've been given, and he rewards loyalty.

"What if I allowed you to become my equal?" it all sounds too good to be true.

"Then- then I would be selfish and accept."

"There is nothing wrong with being a little bit selfish," Sukuna reminds you, his fingers running through your loose hair.

"You deserve this, my dear concubine. You have been loyal and obedient for as long as you've been here. You deserve to be treated as my equal."

Sukuna's eyes gleam, his gaze lingering on you in a way you hadn't known him to do before.

"You are more than just a servant," Sukuna says, voice low.

"I'm willing to give you a new title, my dear concubine..." he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues.

His gaze is locked on yours, his eyes sparkling with love and lust. "I want to make you my wife."

"W- wife? As in- in your lady?"

"You will be my lady, yes," Sukuna tells you, voice huskier as he speaks. "My dear, loyal wife. And I will be yours. You will be queen alongside me."

"Your body belongs to me," he adds. "But in every other regard, you will be my equal. We will walk among the humans together, as their rulers, in love, in trust. And I will grant you anything you desire... no matter how dark."

"I- I don't know what to say."

"Then do not say anything," Sukuna tells you. He lifts your face towards him until your lips are almost touching. "Show me with your actions how you feel about this, dear concubine."

"Show me what you feel," he adds, voice low. His gaze is heavy with desire for you, and your heart pounds in your chest, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

Sukuna is kissing you passionately, his hands tangled in your loose hair and pulling you closer. You can feel the force behind the kiss, the want and need from the curse, which sends your body into chaos. He moves a hand down, driving up your body with purpose. They continue moving upwards, over your ribs and chest, to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before they caress you.

"I want this. Everything you're willing to give. I want to be selfish. I want you, please…"

Sukuna responds to your words by deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer to him. He's no longer in the mood for words, his hands sliding up your curves to your neck, pinning you to the wall.

He's gentle, despite the force of his kiss, and he makes sure he doesn't hurt you — but there's no denying he wants you, and you can feel the lust spilling from him as he pushes his body more and more onto yours.

Sukuna groans into the kiss. Your mouth is against his, your lips and his moving back and forth to satisfy this thirst between you two.

He breaks from the kiss and stares at you with soft eyes. His smile is heavy and filled with love, and he leans to press another kiss against your lips. "Then, from today on, dear concubine, you will be my wife."

"You are mine," Sukuna says to himself, too lost in this moment. "My wife, my love. No longer my concubine, my subject, but my equal."

He trails more kisses against you, those of love rather than lust. They are soft and gentle as if he's promising you only the best.

When the two of you are breathless, Sukuna carries you toward the bed. Your heart flutters within your chest as if you're in a dream come true. He lays you upon the bed, and his lips are again moving against yours, soft and gentle, full of love, as if he's worshipping.

He pulls back to look down at you, his eyes heavy. He is long gone. Body and mind filled with nothing but pure ecstasy. "Mine."

"Always yours, my lord." The curse's tone was possessive and full of devotion. It made you breathless to think that was all for you.

Sukuna's eyes locked with yours, his every movement designed to be as erotic as possible. His kiss is heavy, and how he moves against you is enough to force a moan from your lips. His fingers explore your body, moving lower slowly so that you are practically panting by the time he reaches his destination.

"Let me love you in every way possible."

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #fem!reader #jjk

1K notes · View notes

hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

Note

hey bff! can u do percy x a daughter of psyche? who has the gift of empathy and can heal emotional pain, but it drains her so percy is really protective!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of psyche! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of psyche! reader hcs warning: none this one is too soft for any warnings author's note: okay okay i did my research on psyche for this one and just...awwwwwww wtf its so sweet her and eros like wtfffffff why can't i have a tragic greek love yall doom me with the narrative i beg

you have bewitched him, body and soul

drawn in instantly

im sorry but you would be too if you heard of a girl that could basically heal all of your trauma

very popular among the demigods for that reason

borderline harassed and forced into help ease the emotional pain that a lot of them suffer from

and you wanted to help, truly you did, but it was hard when it took so much out of you

but you just pushed through, wanting the others to feel peace even if it cost you your own

you did it out of your cabin, as you knew chiron would try and stop you, scheduling times for them to sneak in and out

you were on your eight demigod of the day, your vision fuzzy but your hands out stretched as you needed a point of contact to heal them

but then instead of grasping your hands, the fuzzy blob in front of you gripped your shoulders

you could just make out dark hair and what looked to be green eyes before your body gave out on you

after what felt like hours, your eyes fluttered open, and you could feel your ladybug pillowpet under your head, which you turned towards the door of your cabin

there percy stood, shooing away another camper

"but-"

"look at her. she'll kill herself to keep you all happy. let her rest. i won't ask again," percy hissed before closing the door, shaking his head as he approaching you, kneeling beside your bed

"welcome back to the land of the living."

"who was that? are they alright?! i'm sure i could-"

"and i'm sure you could, too. but i won't let ya. you're off for the rest of the week," percy argued and raised a brow at you as you opened your mouth to argue.

you swallowed your argument, nodding your head and offering him a soft smile, which he returned

that was the first time you met and from that point on, it was hard to find one without the other

it got worse once you two started dating

percy might as well have glued his hand into your back pocket of your jeans, as it seemed to never leave

and no matter how much you offer, percy refuses to let you use your powers on him

he thinks it would be an abuse of his position as boyfriend

what he doesn't know, is while he sleeps with his head in your lap and you comb your fingers through his dark hair, you do little spurts of it

nothing major or serious enough for him to notice, but just to give him a little peace of mind here and there

but, for her birthday, once everyone else had left, you offered your services up to sally

percy had told you enough about gabe to leave you, every the pacificist, raging and seething with anger

sally was hesitant but agreed, you two sitting criss cross apple sauce in her bedroom on some rug paul had insisted on

you took her hands into yours and talked through the process, which you typically didn't do with the demigods

you walked her through her own emotions, why she was feeling that, why she dealt with that the way she did, how she might do better next time

you were both crying not even half way through

she pulled you into the tightest hug after, thanking you so many times you lost count

then she sent you home with a boat load of cookies, which she made percy swear on his father not to steal

you were sweet enough to give him a third of your ration, but that's it!! (he ended up with a half, bc you love that boy far too much)

he finds it very amusing to be like 'she's an empath ' at inappropriate times

"she just killed two monsters"

"she's an empath"

"percy! you're girlfriend is crying bc mr. d won't give her another marshmallow!"

"what can i say, she's an empath."

"hey, is that your girlfriend?? she's currently hugging a tree and refuses to let go because she thinks it was a lover in a past life."

"she's an empath- wait, what?"

idk but you are very jane austen coded, you just are

soft and ancient loves are sooooo you!!

those kind of loves where their souls are clearly tied in a neat little bow

percy buys you all those fancy cover versions of the books, making sure they match your aesthetic and all the things

just a boy being protective over his soft babygirl idk what to tell you

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

857 notes · View notes

the-scythes-pen · 2 months

Text

Bleeding Pastels (Kabukimono x Reader)

The puppet's life is colourful; while tainted and stained with a dark smudge in the middle- originating from his creation- at least it won't discolour the world he lives in...

right?

Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader

Kabukimono era

Canon-divergent. Some abuse briefly described later on. Symbolism-heavy. Read between the rainbow to find the shadows that the light casts.

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

I. Pink

The day that the boy first saw you, he almost mistook you for a god.

You sat alone underneath wispy sunlight that broke through the gaps in the bright pink petals above you. Gently fluttering down around you, picking up with the occasional spring breeze; sakura petals adorned your atmosphere and lay like a bed around your form.

The shade of pink that dusted the boy's cheeks was only somewhat darker then the beautiful pale pink of the sakura and it's flowers.

The boy could only stare in awe, lost in his own world of reverence and admiration- that was until a beautiful, soft voice pulled him out of his head.

"And who might you be?"

The puppet blinks. Your bright, vivid irises held him captive among the falling blossoms; his pale pink lips open and close without a sound- the boy unable to find a response.

You laugh. Gods, that sound makes something within him stir. It steals his artificial breath and replaces it with something so soft and light that he does not dare to look too deep into.

"Well? There's room for both of us here, if you want." You say with a smile, palm patting the soft grass beside you.

It takes a moment for the puppet to register your words, but as soon as he does it's like a string has been pulled taut- and he longs to loosen the tension that has formed. He makes his way over to you, his knees folded underneath him as he merely stares at you silently.

"You're that boy that guy brought with him a couple days ago, right? What's your name?"

For once, the puppet speaks.

"I... Don't know." His voice is soft, light, and almost somewhat childish. He sounds so innocent and boyish.

Your eyes wander down his face and trail down his arms. He doesn't say anything, but he can see you stop and stare at the joints in the middle of his arms; the ones attached with a ball and some hinges.

"Hey, you're not human, are you?" You say with curiosity in your tone, as you pull yourself onto your knees to take a closer look. Your hands are soft as they take ahold of his wrist and hand, pulling it out to a stretch as you stare in wonder at his unblemished skin and the way his arm connects to the rest of his body.

The puppet watches as a bright pink petal flutters down against the untainted sky and lands delicately in your hair.

"I hope you forgive me for oogling you; I've just never met someone like you before..."

Your eyes flicker up to meet his wide-eyed stare; and you offer him a smile as bright as the sunlight above.

"Your skin is so soft, and the way your elbows are designed is so cool! Are your knees like this too?"

The puppet doesn't say anything; instead unable to find an appropriate response as all he can do is nod his head.

"Really? That's so cool!" You say with wonder to match his own.

"I'm (Y/N). I-"

Your mouth hangs open, but no words escape you as you watch the puppet's hand slowly move atop your head. Delicate fingers pluck what his eyes are so intensely trained on from your hair, before bringing it down infront of the both of you to see.

"This... was on you."

You blank at the pink petal between his fingers, and for a moment the puppet's mind whirs to life with questions of whether he had done something wrong, but you soon snap out of your trance with a laugh. The boy sits still, confused about your reaction.

"Thank you. You don't have to show it to me though." You say before snatching the soft object from him and swiftly placing it atop his own head.

You laugh at the expression on his face from your actions, and the puppet finds the wonderful sound brings a smile to his face. He doesn't quite understand why you did that, or why you're laughing, but he finds your joy infectious all the same.

II. Purple

Over time, the people of Tatarasuna as well as the puppet himself learned how he differed and how he was similar to the humans around him.

He felt pain and bled just like they did. Yet, he didn't seem to have a heart. He didn't need to eat or drink either, but he claimed that he could and that he wanted to do so to 'become more human'.

The puppet- now called Kabukimono by his peers- also didn't quite understand social ques and what was wrong or right. After finding out that humans would often disrobe and bathe when they became dirty, the puppet had tried to do the same in the nearby stream of village. That little event had a few people swiftly ushering him to put his clothes back on while laughing awkwardly; as if he was a child who didn't truly know what he was doing.

Which, in all honestly, was pretty much what he was. A child who knew nothing about the world or people around him. But he was learning.

The pastel purple clothing that he was so often seen in flowed freely in the breeze; the smell of lavender was picked up by the summer wind off his freshly washed robes and filled his nostrils with the calming scent. It was the smell that adorned him whenever you were the one responsible for washing his clothes (as you often took turns among the other villagers to look after him).

He had grown to love that scent.

"Just... like... this." You said as you dragged the teeth of the comb through his wet hair; letting the Kabukimono watch your actions through the mirror.

"Think you got it?" He nods at your question, and you hand him the comb.

His hand is steady as he mimics your previous movements; dragging the teeth of the light purple comb through the strands of dark indigo atop his head. After a few strokes, he pulls the comb away; a deep violet staining the teeth as if to remind him that he wasn't like you.

You smile at him. "Perfect! Just like that. Now you're all set to wash yourself next time you need to."

The Kabukimono stares down at the comb in his hands; staring down at the violet that taints the pastel shade. You had gotten him this comb, it was one of the first objects he had ever owned. And now, because of him, it was stained a dark purple from the dye that was used for his colour- that still coated his hair.

And yet, the same dark stain that now marred his gift from you had dyed your palms a similar shade to that of the comb- a bright, pastel purple. Originally, he had panicked and apologized profusely for staining you, for tainting you, but you merely had laughed and said you didn't mind. That it would go away eventually.

And while others wore gloves when taking care of him and his hair, you didn't. You let your fingertips run through the dark locks and dance across the top of his forehead; you let him feel the warmth and softness of your touch as you scrubbed the dirt and dust that had accumulated in his hair. You let his colour stain you; and somehow, you managed to make the dark purple such a bright and beautiful shade of lavender once it touched your skin.

"My... arms hurt. Can you do this for me?" He says quietly, turning towards you and holding the comb back up to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling in adoration at the Kabukimono's barely-concealed lie.

You had done a lot to take care of him and teach him about various things; he knew that lying was 'bad' and that he shouldn't do it. But even so, on rare occasion- like right now- he would say something small that didn't match what you already knew. And it would always end up with you taking a little extra care of him then you otherwise would have.

You knew you shouldn't let him keeping lying, but he was so bad at telling them, and it was adorable how he yearned for attention... so you couldn't make yourself scold him for his behaviour. You let this lie slide like all the others.

"Alright, alright. Come on then, turn around."

You can see the corners of his mouth tip upward in a smile, however subtle, as he did as he was told and let you run both the comb and your fingers through his hair.

The Kabukimono couldn't help but watch your hands. To seek glimpses of the bright purple staining on your palms that could only have been from him. He always loved when the other humans would point out your coloured hands and comment on how you practically took sole care of him with how often your hands took on the familiar shade.

Even when he wasn't by your side like a loyal puppy, it was like a part of him was still with you. Even if at first he saw the colour as a stain upon your otherwise perfect skin, you had assured him that it was harmless, told him you liked the colour, even.

You had taught him that being 'selfish' is one of the 'bad' things, and he shouldn't be 'selfish'. But if it was so 'bad', then why did it feel good? Why did it feel good to leave a piece of him with you, as if to claim you as his own human?

The teeth of the comb grew ever darker as they sorted through his indigo hair.

III. Yellow

For a being that was supposedly crafted by the hands of the god of thunder, the Kabukimono couldn't help but jump at each loud roar of lightning that dared to light up the dark night.

"Oh, Kabuki..."

The puppet was shaking; his arms wrapped around his knees as he sat staring at the floor, trying to ignore each jolt of thunder only to be hyper aware of every crash of it outside the window.

The pity in your voice somehow comforted the puppet, even more so when you kneeled beside him to pull him into a hug.

"It's ok, you're not in any danger. The Electro Archon would never hurt us."

The Kabukimono still shook. Sure, she may never hurt you, but to him- every bolt that struck the earth was searching for him; the fruit of the anger and hatred he knew his mother held for him.

Each flash of lightning lit the inside of your warm home a bright yellow. A stark contrast to the usual deep purple of the electro element he knew so well.

Your hand smoothed over his back, the other wrapped around his shoulders as you held him close. Another flash had him jump once again; burying his face into your shoulder as if to try to hide from the storm.

"Oh, hey, hey... It's ok..." You tried to soothe him, your voice gentle and low as his arms wrapped around you to hold tightly to your clothes.

Your arms wrapped around him were warm, firm, secure, as if you were the one shielding him from the tumultuous rain and deafening thunder.

"Ok, c'mon, lets go to bed."

The boy in your arms sniffled as you pushed him away from you, guiding him towards your plush bed.

"B-But... My bed..." He mumbled out, his eyes falling onto a small mat off to the side that you had done your best to make comfortable. And as shabby as it was, the Kabukimono loved it. You had made it for him, after all.

"You won't be able to sleep if you're over there, will you? This storm doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon, so... Why don't you stay with me? That way, I can protect you."

The deep purples of his eyes were wide and glossy with tears at your proposal; but he swiftly nodded and climbed onto the bed with you following suit.

The two of you got settled underneath the blankets, and the Kabukimono couldn't tell if your bed was just more comfortable then his, or if he really liked being beside you that much more then being alone. He watched as you shifted around; moving the pillow you normally slept on to rest underneath his head as you lay flat on the mattress next to him.

You smiled at him, a smile that made his chest tighten and something within his artificial body malfunction. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your fingers brushing along the side of his face, pushing his bangs out of the way of his eyes.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep? I'll be right here if you need me."

The rain was loud on the old glass of your home; a flash of lightning bringing attention to the lack of purple that the Kabukimono had so loved to see on your hands.

But the fear of the thunder triumphed over his sadness that his hair no longer stained your palms; and he couldn't help but jump at the noise that shook him to his core once again.

Trembling hands grabbed your soft, steady one and brought it up to his cheek. The Kabukimono rested your palm against his flesh, nuzzling into it even as he shook in fear. You couldn't help but pity him, the pad of your thumb brushing over his cheekbone as you indulged him.

"You won't leave me, right?" He says quietly, warily, as if he's afraid the storm will hear his weakness and aim straight for his non existent heart.

The smile you give him almost looks sad. But it remains as sweet as it always does nonetheless.

"Never."

"You promise?"

Another crash of thunder has him jump once again, but with your hand against his cheek, he's quick to recover.

"I promise."

He peers at you and sees no trace of malice; no trace of annoyance or deception or betrayal. All he sees is you; your beautiful smile and crinkled eyes, glistening even in the darkest of nights.

The next flash of yellow lightning that illuminates the two of you only proves to show that even against the Electro Archon herself; your light is so much brighter then anything the god could conjure to harm him.

He doesn't jump at the sudden thunder. Instead, he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you forward- bringing your head onto the pillow that you had given him before he buries his head right underneath your chin; pushing himself into your body as if he wished to become one with you.

You can't help but smile at his unintended affection. Your hands move to embrace him; to smooth over his back and run your fingers through his hair.

"It's... bad to break a promise." He mumbled into your chest. "You won't break your promise, right?"

You let out a soft chuckle, tightening your embrace as you let the boy cling to you for life.

"Of course I won't. I love you too much to hurt you like that."

Your words were accentuated with another jolt of thunder. Another flash of yellow. And then a second bolt of lightning- this time, right through the cavity where his heart would have been.

I love you.

The words repeated in his head like a prayer; and he nestled himself deeper into your embrace in an attempt to muffle his thoughts and hide the pink on his cheeks.

The innocent, pure little Kabukimono had heard the words before. Humans who were close, who kissed and slept in beds together would say it to one another. Humans who were bound for life by little bands of metal on their fingers would whisper it to eachother whenever they pleased.

His tongue burned- yearned to repeat the words back to you, but something inside of him refused. Rejected the idea of feeling the intimacy of human love... of the idea that he could be with you just like all the other humans who loved eachother.

That night, when the puppet and his human had fallen asleep, the Kabukimono found himself without a single dream.

IV. Blue

Even when the Kabukimono wasn't under your care for that day, he still hovered near to where you were.

The old woman who was tasked to care for him that day was a vile creature. One who refused to acknowledge the puppet as anything close to human; instead treating him as merely an object, a plaything, something that could do whatever she wanted of him without complaint.

Because the poor Kabukimono didn't know how.

The puppet watched from where he sat by a large bucket. His hands were filthy; red and sore from scrubbing away at the clothing that he was forced to wash by his current caretaker.

He watched as you bid farewell to your fellow villagers; a basket hung off your arm as you walked into the nearby woods.

Oh, how he longed to follow you. To see where you were off to, to accompany you and watch every move you made.

He looked down at the water in the bucket, browned with dirt and dust. Surely, the water flowing through the stream in the forest would be nice and clean, right?

He's quick to set everything aside; emptying the water into the nearby crops like he was instructed, and then following you into the forest.

It was like your presence had merely teased him; he stumbled blindly through the brush hoping that you would be found in this direction. That he could, at the very least, be able to lay his gaze upon you once more and lighten this heavy feeling in his chest.

What the Kabukimono hadn't thought about, though, was just what you may be doing out here in the forest. And what he saw when he finally approached the familiar babbling brook stole his artificial breath away- the feeling all to familiar to that time had first laid eyes upon you.

The water was a beautiful crystal blue; your clothing lay next to the stream, a telltale sign of what he had stumbled across.

You looked divine. Beautiful. The way the water ran by your bare form and dripped so deliciously from your skin had the puppet star-struck. Pink was quick to dust his pale cheeks.

Then, like an all-too-familiar flash of sickeningly-yellow thunder, a thought occurred to him.

He shouldn't be seeing this.

Sudden panic washed over him, a fear he had felt so many times before now baring it's fangs at him once more.

If you caught him, you would leave him too.

He bolted.

The trees rushed by him in a blur of green; sticks cracking beneath his feet as he retraced his path out of the forest. Birds flew and squirrels panicked as he went by them like the roaring wind; and finally he reemerged from the trees to the sight of the village before him.

He felt warm. He couldn't get the image of you out of his head. The picture of you bathing in such beautiful blue waters was ethereal. He felt his chest tighten even further at the memory.

"You damn puppet! Where have you been!?"

The Kabukimono's face paled instantly at the shrill sound.

"You thought you could just go for a stroll through the forest, huh?! You didn't even finish your chores!! And where's my water pail!?"

The voice boomed. It's origin angrily stomping up to him before grabbing his wrist so harshly, he was sure it would have bruised if he were human.

If he were human.

"You damned-... Can't you do anything right!?" The old woman shouted, dragging the shrinking boy along behind her and towards her old, decrepit house.

"I'm sorry-" He tried to speak, tried to make himself heard over the pounding in his ears.

The woman was like a constant flash of thunder; waiting for the perfect moment to strike the puppet where he stood. And this time, it looked like he was all alone in this storm.

The woman tossed open her front door before dragging the Kabukimono inside, harshly slamming the door shut before she turned to him with a wild look in her eye. The puppet looked absolutely pathetic as tears welled in the corners of his violet eyes.

She shouted at him. Cursed at him. Pushed, pulled, hit him in whatever way she felt fit to.

The Kabukimono shut his eyes, and recalled the divine scene he had stumbled across just a little while prior. He pictured you, standing within the crystal blue water of the stream, and he pictured himself standing infront of you. The sky such a rich, pale blue above the two of you as you found comfort in one another's embrace.

"Are you listening to me!?"

The puppet opened his eyes, and all he saw was blue. The world was blue, he was blue, the old woman was blue, and the constant patter of liquid splashing onto wood from his cheek was blue as well.

A sad, soulless, cold blue. The blue of loneliness and pain.

He remembered how beautiful you looked underneath the cherry blossoms that day he first met you. The shade of pale pink that so beautifully complimented the darker pink on his cheeks that day.

He remembered how tightly you held him under the flashes of yellow that threatened to consume him whole. How you told him you loved him- how you promised you would never leave him.

And he remembered the blue of the water running by your hips. The blue of the sky above, the blue of the cotton of your clothing.

The pounding in his ears was overwhelmingly loud.

A blue hand raised itself before him.

Before it could hit it's target, the pounding stopped.

Everything stopped.

V. Red

The world's colours had returned. But they were so much darker then before. As if drenched in thick shadows that clung even to the most well-lit areas.

And it was like the Kabukimono was just seeing the real world for the first time.

The green of the foliage outside had turned from a beautiful bright shade to a deep, forest colour. And even darker still were the greens inside; where moss and mildew grew along the corners of the old house, and the various stains from archons-know-what seemingly having appeared from nowhere now dotting the surroundings with the deepest shade of black.

The puppet had seen black before. But this was different. Darker. And it was like the entire world had been tainted by those stains of black.

Even the deep brown of the rotting wood below almost seemingly started turning black as a dark red seeped into it's pores.

Such a deep shade of red it was. The colour akin to the same that flowed freely from his cheek; although his was so much brighter then the vile woman who stained the floorboards.

No- if he wasn't a human, then she wasn't either. She was merely a creature, a worm- that now lie pathetically limp at his feet.

Her words, despite his attempt to drown them out, had seeped into his head regardless.

You will never be human.

You will never be wanted.

You will never be needed.

Perhaps she had been correct.

After all, she had only been repeating what he had been telling himself already.

But, if she was correct, then what did that make of the words that the other villagers had said? What, pray tell, did that make the humans themselves?

Liars. All of them. Filthy, red-stained liars.

They had never once truly cared about him. Merely tossing him scraps, at best; demanding that he do things for them and barely leaving him to fend for himself.

Barely giving him space in their village, barely caring to try and be 'polite' with him- even when they demanded that he be polite around everyone he interacted with.

At first, he just accepted it. Of course he did. The world was bright, colourful, beautiful- but now, he's seen it for what it truly is. He's seen the suffering, the pain, the lies; the shadows etched into every crevice of this forsaken world.

He knows that they had lied to him when they said they considered him a fellow human.

And you had taught him, the saint that you are, that liars are bad.

Oh, you... how beautiful you are. How wonderful and amazing and kind you are. Out of everyone in this damned, pathetic village, you had been the one to treat him like an equal. To treat him like a human.

To love him like a human.

His chest tightened at the memory of your voice above his head that night; "I love you" falling so effortlessly from your lips as you held him close.

Archons, you loved him. You promised him you would never leave him. And you had never broken your promises before.

You loved him.

Deep purple eyes fell to the human shaped insect on the floor. And a laugh bubbled up from within him.

He did something bad. Terrible. He had made the woman who hurt him stop moving.

But it felt good.

And if it felt so good, then... why stop?

He was already stained a deep, dark black. He could never go back to being as pure as you had seen him. Perhaps, he had always been this way- perhaps that's why his so called 'mother' and her fox-pet had decided to seal away what was rightfully his. The power that she had inlaid within him.

The power that now pounded so freely through him. And it seemed like the only way to silence it was to let it go.

As the puppet exited the house, a trail of red followed behind him. Electro crackled at his fingertips as he walked towards the center of the village, and he revelled in the hushed and desperate whispers of the humans he passed by.

The pounding in his ears- in his head- only grew stronger with each passing second. The crackling electro a disgusting shade of darkened, tainted yellow as it emanated from him.

And like a bolt of thunder that once had scared him so; flashes of yellow now flew through the open air and showed no mercy to the humans he was surrounded by.

Screams filled the air, filled his ears- and all he could do was laugh. Such pathetic insects, all scrambling to seek shelter from his divine wrath. It was chaotic, beautiful, as red stained the ground and painted the houses in it's corruption.

A gentle breeze kissed the cheek that had rapidly healed it's wound. With it, it brought delicate pale pink petals from the sakura trees that were so abundant in this land.

The village fell still. Nothing but the blossoms that danced on the wind dared to move; to catch the eye of the puppet-murderer.

"K-Kabuki...?"

A voice so small called out to him, stirring him from his thoughtless-thoughts.

He turned to you, and it was like your very presence made the surrounding area brighten to how it was before. Suddenly the world was perfect again; bright and happy and welcoming and loving.

Your eyes, so beautiful and vibrant, were wide and tinged with fear. Your hair was still wet- evidence of your bath, but all it served was to remind the puppet of what he had seen. Of the divinity he had been so blessed to witness.

You didn't move as he walked up to you. You couldn't. Shock had it's tight grasp on your body and mind, and you were unable to even speak at the bloody scene around you.

The puppet smiled so sweetly at you. And despite being the same smile as he had always given you, it no longer looked so innocent.

"I love you." He said, voice proud and unwavering.

Your eyes darted to meet his. He looked so...

dark.

"What...?" You couldn't even process what he said.

"You said you loved me that night, and I never said it back. I love you, (Y/N)."

"What-... what did you do..?" Your voice trailed off into a pathetic whisper, and it made the puppet smirk as his hand moved up to cup your cheek- much like how yours had once done for him.

"They were... bad. All of them. They could have hurt you, like they did to me..." The pad of his thumb spread a deep red over your skin as it rubbed your cheek. "But you love me. You promised you would never leave me. And I know you would never hurt me like they did..."

It was like his eyes had become gateways to the abyss itself; dark, devoid of life- of the boy you had once loved. Black stained his beautiful purple irises; tainted the beautiful colour with darkness and something sinister. Just like the blood that now stained your cheek.

The puppet-murderer intently watched your face drain of colour; intently watched as your pupils shrunk into pinpricks- and made note of your body starting to tremble.

He knew the signs of fear- he himself had expressed the same many times before. He knew you were scared. His chest felt like it tightened around a non-existent heart... he didn't want to see you scared. Not of him.

"...They were going to hurt you. I-I heard them. T-They were waiting for you to come back, a-and they would have... I-I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them be bad. I-I wanted to protect you..."

You still continued to tremble. It was like you had barely heard the lie he had told- but you didn't push him away when he pulled you into a cold, blood-stained embrace. And that was enough for him.

"I will... protect you. Stay with you. I will... be good for you."

...another lie. He was no longer good- he could never be good again. His soul- his hands- were now permanently stained red... a red that would be drained of colour as soon as you left his side- and he refused to be seen with that vile black ick. He refused to let you go.

It was almost sickening how swiftly he was able to return to how he was just hours ago... innocent, sweet, gentle. Even as the vibrant crimson stained his once-white flesh. Tainted him. Changed him.

As you gazed at him with a slacked-jaw expression, you could see the surrounding area- the massacred village- devoid of colour... of life. As if the puppet-murderer had drained the pinks and purples and blues and reds and it all congregated into a swirling black in the center of his beautiful indigo irises.

Was your beautiful, sweet little puppet-boy always so... heartless?

The way he pressed his lips to yours was robotic. Stiff and almost forced- but you knew that this was just his way of doing things, until he got used to it.

Until he got used to kissing you. Loving you. Tainting you.

A colourless tear cascaded down your cheek, your eyes closed as the puppet continued to kiss you as sweetly and gently as he could.

When he pulled away, he gently took your hands into his own, and looked down to see you trembling in his grasp. He noticed just how pretty your hands were covered in red.

And his violet eyes flicked up to your face, your hair- his red-stained fingers reaching up to pluck a crimson petal from your hair.

The pretty pink looked good on you, he once thought.

But he thinks you look so much better covered in red.

#reader insert #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #kabukimono x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere wanderer

440 notes · View notes