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#need more content for him. more character development

bunthebreadboy · 2 days

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I'm so happy I found your blog. I had no idea Azutara was a legitimate ship in the ATLA fandom until today! I love the aesthetic of bloodbending Katara with Azula's blue fire - a kind of inverse of the blue/water character + red/fire character trope. I have an assassin!Katara AU I've been thinking about where both she and Azula are rather morally gray, and they meet during the full moon during an attempted assassination of someone in the Fire Nation royal family (I'm not sure who). I like the idea of Azula, who's used to being in control and in command during conflicts with an enemy, being rendered completely helpless for the first time in her life by Katara's bloodbending. I imagine that it would be terrifying for her, the complete loss of control, and that the moment would stick with her long after Katara is either captured or escapes. Both Azula and Katara are pretty overpowered in this for self-indulgent purposes, and I like the idea of Katara only being captured because Azula stalled her long enough for the sun to rise. They'd definitely want to interrogate her to determine if she's working alone and whether she poses a significant threat. Maybe she's part of a powerful rebel group (the freedom fighters, perhaps? who knows) and the Fire Lord decides to let her live only on the condition that she helps them track down the rest of the resistance. And, of course, Azula gets assigned lead on the mission. So that leaves one month until the next full moon. One month of Katara and Azula begrudgingly working together (Katara, of course, trying her best to steer them down the wrong trail and fuck with their plans) and unwillingly growing closer. The budding friendship(? ish?) encourages some character development on Azula's part, to the point where she gets conflicted about the Fire Nation's part in the war. (Maybe Katara tells her about her mother. Maybe Azula relates to the righteous, indignant anger of desperately wanting something that's rightfully yours and never getting it.) I don't know if Zuko is there or not. I like the idea of him still being on the hunt for Aang and then encountering the Azula/Katara duo somehow. But I for sure want Katara to escape on the next full moon, when the month is up, and for Azula to stay behind despite wanting to run away with her. So when they meet later on the battle field it's the classic, tragic, sapphic-enemies-with-complex-feelings-about-each-other situation. Sorry this got so long! I've been wanting to talk about this and I saw your post asking for asks! Sorry if I overstepped! I love your Azutara content!

OH THIS IS GOOD. definitely beyond my writing capabilities as i am an impatient person and i know something like this would be at least 50k words. if not more. and im also too busy to commit to something i intend on making long.

however if you end up writing this i will 100% read it. provide suggestions. whatever u need. because i am (somewhat unfortunately) a toxic yuri lover. but only when the toxic yuri has a happy ending lmao

#atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #azula #azutara #kazula

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paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises · 3 days

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So I thought I'd make a post on this as it's been a minute since the season 3 trailer dropped and what I'll be talking about was something that was making the rounds and I thought I'd say something when the craze had died down; but amongst the various topics of conversation, weirdly Colin's virginity seems to have come up, along with the general nature of his sexual experience. So be warned I'm going to be referring to spoilers at points from what's been posted by others on here and on Reddit, I'll leave a gap between this paragraph and the next so there you go, read at your own discretion. (note: post may be long, whoops)

So even if you've remained away from spoilers and seen only the trailer and other official promo stuff, it's clear that Colin has returned from his travel's more experienced this time in more ways than one, namely it is clear that he has been deflowered (kind of hate this term but I couldn't think of something else), and beyond that he's then also become particularly experienced in the bedroom and in the ways of charming women and such. I've seen some people say that they wished he'd still been a virgin more so because they would've found the dynamic of both him and Penelope being virgins something interesting to see as a shift from dynamics of previous seasons, and whilst I don't necessarily hate that, what's disturbed me is the way other people have had such a visceral reaction to Colin having any involvement with any other woman ever and getting ridiculously angry; which is funny when really they should be seen as interesting points of character development. In episode 1 of season 3 he returns home obviously looking as he does now and there's the whole sequence of the dropped glove that he picks up and kisses the hand of the lady in question it belongs to, Colin has returned feeling he has a solid sense of himself but also thinks himself untethered to the necessity of connection in order to engage in sex or even just flirtation, but this is important as the season progresses. In episode 2 from what I've read, he visits a brothel in which he pays for the services of a woman who works there, everything goes fine, I don't know exactly how much we will see of that encounter but it'll probably be enough; also to note, the source of this information stated very clearly that this interaction and a following one in episode 4 do not bear significance or even compare on what we will get with Polin in terms of an array of content that this season delivers.

Speaking of episode 4, reportedly he goes again but this time he's unable to engage as well as he did before and without a doubt this is due to Penelope. Additionally, this is an interesting look at sex in terms of it just being for gratification, and sex in terms of connection, a means to an end versus an act of love. In previous seasons, the depiction of brothels/sex work establishments doesn't really bear the same importance plot wise (side note I am not nor should you go shaming these people in that line of work as it's one that deserved respect like any other, it is simply functioning as a part of the conversation here), unlike here where I think that it's really important as it show's Colin's inner need for connection in order for it to work, because when he was away he probably had no issues getting his kicks because he convinced himself this felt right and back home would be no different, but that only lasts briefly and why you may ask? because the friend who he'd left and returned to transforms from a woman only in name to a woman in fully realised form, from a wallflower into an Emerald, and this kicks into gear the real maturity he needed to gain, realising from not just her appearance but the other qualities she possesses and the ways in which he is both attached and attracted to her, that she is who he has truly loved this whole time, he just needed to get out of his own head. It should also be pointed out that in the show, Colin has always drifted with finding himself let alone sorting out his feelings, so it is highly likely whilst he was technically violating polite society rules with his interactions with Penelope and this should've fired something off in his brain, that it caused him instead to think this is simply something that someone does with a friend they value highly versus being a by-product of his underlying feelings that he has with no one else. And as such, whereas Penelope was the one pining before, now he will be the one doing so and he's no longer on the pedestal he was previously so they'll be on even ground to start something real.

On a quick note, this is a friends to lovers ship but I want to make it clear, especially with men and women dynamics, that not all friends are going to have this trajectory whether we're talking about characters or irl people; friends to lovers tropes should be understood as two people who's connection starts with friendship and there's always a sense it could be something more whether or not both parties are consciously aware and it's to do with how they explore that, and is NOT in any way the case that these friends can somehow never be just friends with a strong connection, case and point Penelope and Morgan from Criminal Minds, close friends and nothing more and they're great.

Something also to say is that the obsession with Colin's sexual experience is just as bad as they way women are treated for their sexual experience, it creates this weird value and attributes a weird rating system of respect to something that's not our business, as well as fetishizing what people do or don't do with their bodies and making assumptions about their activities, so you know maybe we should agree to not do that. Beyond that, how about we actually watch what happens instead of spiralling out of control about this stuff. Also, if I see anyone who aren't fans of this ship to begin with, just leave, you're wasting energy on something that you literally don't need to be, do what the rest of us do and exit out and invest your time in what you actually enjoy instead of festering hate.

#bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #polin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope

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milkywayhou · 3 days

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🍀 🥊🎹 for witchy and snow <3

OMGG HIII TORTA!!! <3 THANKS FOR THE QUESTIONS

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Witchy: For her, I don't know what's her hobby is, since she was the reader, so it was up to the person who see her to interpreting what's her hobby is. But I guess one of her hobby is spent her time with her dear familiar! 💖

Snow: She has a few hobby that are related with making art, like playing instrument and drawing! Sometimes she spent her time alone doing nothing at all.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Witchy: She loves to making new potion or experimenting with a new spell from the old book she bought from a shady merchant, but she hate when she need to used her magic to something she consider useless.

Snow: On one hand, one of her favorite thing she loves to do is stargazing with her Colonel when they're on mission together, sometimes she will tease him and laugh when he try to scold her. On the other hand, one thing she hate to do is when she was order to do something without clear instructions. She doesn't really like the feeling of getting confusion

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Witchy: I don't have many inspired when I create witchy, maybe because she supposed to be a blank character without any deep personality or traits so the reader will feel connected with her! Though the first reason why I created her was because I want to make more König X Reader content but because my english is not very good, I decided to stick in art, and since I can't draw a character without hair and clothes (because my sketch are very messy) I make the reader wear witch hat and give her clothes! And then at that moment I kinda want to try something new, so I created the dynamic between a master and their familiar.

Snow: She was based on my other oc! Though now she more like a character that stand on her own. At first she was a character I made for fun, but then I think it was better if I start to develop her character so she wouldn't feels so plain when my audience see her!

#doodle #art #cod oc #cod x oc #cod mw2 #call of duty original character #answer

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gamebunny-advance · 7 months

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NSR Comic Ideas I'll Probably Never Get To

My brain worms often prevent me from doing the things I actually want to do, so here's a list of NSR comic ideas that live in my head that I just can't bring myself to actually draw. These aren't full scripts like I've written in the past, but more like general outlines.

Draw them yourself if you want, but tag/credit me if you do. It'd be fun to see other interpretations of these prompts.

Since they're mostly gag comics, I've split them into "Set-Up" and "Punchline" in-case you want to write your own punchline or don't want to spoil the joke with the misguided hope that I will someday bring these to life. Some also have "Extended" parts which I think functionally don't need to be there, but may add context or additional jokes at the risk of dragging it out.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy them, and hopefully someday I'll be able to make at least 1 or 2 of these real. If there's a particular one you really like, let me know and it might inspire me to actually do it~

Preview:

Game (Neon J. teaches 1010 a new game.)

Clothes (1010 discuss the concept of nudity.)

Simulation (Kliff plays a 1010 dating sim to gather intel.)

Shorts (Tatiana urges DJSS to reconsider wearing shorts to work.)

Singing (Kliff sings to himself in the hideout.)

Chill (Gigi reveals that he has ice powers.)

Wall (Kliff and Tatiana have an argument that turns violent.)

Magazine (Neon J. tries to find the culprit of a smuggling.)

Trade (Kliff makes a trade.)

"Game" (Warning: Violence)

Set-up: Neon J. offers to teach 1010 how to play a new game. They all agree.

Punchline: NJ throws a gun on the table and declares the game is "Russian Roulette."

Extended: The winner turns out to be Blue (as per the chess poll), but he is traumatized by the events. It turns out to be borderline pointless, as the losing 1010s are immediately restored by the factory. The 1010s attack Neon J. in retaliation.

"Clothes" (Warning: Suggestive)

Set-up: Green holds a meeting to discuss if the concept of "nakedness" applies to the 1010's considering that their "clothes" could also be considered "skin." White is annoyed at the prospect of such a pointless discussion, but the others make their cases. Two camps form: team naked (Red and Green), and team not-naked (Blue and Yellow). Team naked believe the skin theory, and team not-naked believe that functionally they can't be naked. Additionally, Blue believes that their clothes are technically made of skin since they're 80% recycled materials.

White refuses to participate to break the tie, so to settle this Green proposes the "underwear test," claiming that if they look more or less naked while wearing underwear will determine if they are functionally naked or not. If they look more naked with underwear, then they weren't naked before because the underwear would draw attention to their nudity. If they look less naked, then they are naked because now they're more covered up. He convinces White to model for them since he hasn't done anything to help move the conversation anywhere (the sooner they settle this, the sooner they can do something else). White agrees and models some underwear, but all the 1010s determine that he just looks stupid.

Punchline: Green bursts out laughing, revealing that this was just a drawn-out revenge plot. White destroys him and their "Days since White has Destroyed Green" board is reset to 0.

"Simulation"

Set-Up: Kliff hobbles into the sewer looking half-dead and is intercepted by Zam, asking what happened to him. Kliff explains that he was doing research for the upcoming 1010 battle. To meet that end, he discovered that they released a dating sim that was supposedly programmed with the 1010 A.I.'s input, so he figured that there might be something useful in it that he could use for a battle strategy.

"Ellie says: Please don't pirate games from independent developers!"

When asked why he didn't just use a guide or play through for his research, he claims that although each 1010 only has 2 routes (good and bad) plus an ultimate ending for playing all routes, the A.I. adapts to the player, so the information would only be useful if he played as though he was Mayday or Zuke.

Punchline: The content of the game was so expansive and the story so moving that he was burnt-out emotionally and mentally. When he recalls the final ending, he starts crying, mimicking Mayday at the end of the 1010 battle.

"Shorts"

Set-Up: DJSS was recently hired onto NSR and has been pulled into a meeting with Tatiana. Tatiana tries to convince DJSS that wearing shorts is inappropriate dress-code, stating that "There are children here." Offended, DJSS starts pointing out the obvious biases in her request, citing that Neon J. doesn't technically wear pants and Eve accidentally interrupts their meeting in her usual outfit. Tatiana acquiesces on this condition, "Don't come crying to me when you come to regret your choices."

Punchline: DJSS leaves the room in a huff, and begins muttering to himself. At that moment, Yinu and Mama are passing by as Yinu points out that DJSS often talks out loud to himself. DJSS and Mama stop to try and make small talk while Yinu zones out of the conversation. She starts looking at DJSS's leg hairs and grabs onto them. DJSS thinks that she's trying to get his attention, but she suddenly yanks them out, causing him to let out a physical scream which bursts out of NSR tower to be seen by the citizens miles away. When we return to NSR tower, DJSS has toppled over from the pain, and Mama lightly scolds Yinu as they walk away from the scene. DJSS manages to pull himself back into Tatiana's office, crying. To which she replies, "What did I just tell you about crying back to me?"

Extended: It is revealed that this is why DJSS wears platform shoes: to keep Yinu from reaching his leg hairs. He also switched to velcro shoes just to be safe.

"Singing"

Set-Up: Kliff is singing Vs. SAYU to himself in the meeting room. He's embarrassed, but can't help himself because the song is too catchy. He at least finds relief that no one can hear him in there but suddenly notices that someone is peeking in through a crack in the door. It's Zam who was secretly recording it on his phone.

"Ellie says: Don't record people without their permission!"

Zam apologizes and slowly closes the door and begins to talk away before Kliff bursts through the door and begins chase. Zam manages to get the phone to Ellie, who gets the phone to Mayday, who is confused about what's happening. Kliff managed to get back to the game room, but he's too late.

Punchline: Mayday plays the video and says, "Wow Kliff... you've got a really good voice." Zam (who is a little beat-up from the chase) agrees and says, "But he never comes out to karaoke with us." Kliff is confused because he thinks the fact that he was singing one of NSR's songs is embarrassing, but Mayday laments that it's a really catchy song, and she does the same thing sometimes.

"Chill"

Set-Up: It's a hot day in B2J's hideout. Mayday laments the heat when Gigi passes by and puts his hand on her forehead. To her surprise and delight, his hand is really cold. She asks him if he was just holding a cold drink, but he reveals that he's half-ice elemental, so he has a naturally low body temperature, explaining that's why he's always bundled up. Mayday asks if she can hug him, since she thinks a frosty hug would be amazing right now. He's a little hesitant but agrees. Mayday feels relieved from the heat, but Gigi starts sensing murderous intent from somewhere. He notices a darkness flowing out from the meeting room and sees Kliff peering out. He urges Mayday to stop, but before she can do anything, Kliff accidentally falls over into the room from leaning on the door.

Punchline: Mayday wonders why this happened and concludes that Kliff must have been jealous. As Kliff tries to say that "it's not what it looks like", Mayday says, "You're jealous that I'm hogging Gigi all to myself. You can have a turn too." Gigi and Kliff internally monologue about how dense she is, but hug each other anyway to keep up appearances.

Extended: As they hug, Kliff realizes that it actually does feel pretty good. And the next shot has Kliff apparently monopolizing Gigi from the others as the latter wonders how they got to this point.

"Wall"

Set-Up: Tatiana and Kliff are arguing about something when Tatiana suddenly slams her fist into the wall, narrowly missing Kliff's head. Flustered, he says, "You can't win by trying to seduce me!" She replies, "This isn't seduction you moron." Before they can do anything else, they both hear a "Ker-thunk!" as Neon J. has situated a table with a sign reading, "Get wall slammed by Tatiana! $5 [Or the rough equivalent in ringgits]" and a small line has already formed. Tatiana questions this as Kliff slips away from the scene. Neon J. declares that he takes any business opportunity he sees. She's about to tell him to stop when the crowd starts looking disappointed.

Punchline: Tatiana begins wall slamming various characters including:

Mayday, who squees about being wall slammed by Kul Fyra.

Eve, who Tataiana tells could just ask her to do this for her.

Kliff again, who wasn't done with their earlier argument and had to pay Neon J. double since he "got the first one free".

Extended: After all the wall slams, Tatiana is exhausted and Neon J. tallies their profits from the day and gives Tatiana her share. It is also revealed that the "table" was actually a 1010 with a board on his back covered by a tablecloth.

"Magazine" (Warning: Suggestive)

Neon J. has called a meeting for the other 1010s to discover which one of them brought a dirty magazine into the house. They ask where he found it, but he claims it doesn't matter and he just wants to know who it belongs to.

Punchline: The 1010s look to each other but remain silent. Neon J. expresses disappointment that they would disobey orders twice, but they claim that they can't determine who it belongs to without more information. Neon J. then correctly deduces that they all own copies of the exact same magazine, just hidden in different places. They are all grounded for 2 weeks.

Extended: In an attempt to make it easier to identify the culprit the next time this was to happen, Neon J. decides to give each 1010 a different fetish, so he can just match the content to the 1010. To his dismay, this just leads to them finding a magazine which miraculously contains all 5 fetishes.

"Trade"

Set-Up: Kliff sits on a bench in front of a fountain. An individual wearing a trench coat and hat obscuring their face sits next to him. Without looking at the individual, Kliff asks, "Do you have it?" They slide him an envelope. Kliff briefly examines the contents (seemingly a document) which can't be seen by the viewer. After tapping them back in, Kliff sets a USB drive on the bench. The individual takes it. "That should patch up most of your vulnerabilities." Kliff says. "Yeah. Most." The individual says with a square text bubble, revealing himself to be Neon J. As Kliff stands up he says, "I need a reason for you to keep coming back, don't I?" Neon J. is left alone holding the drive before squeezing it in frustration and curses under his breath. Kliff makes his way back to the hideout's meeting room where Mayday is waiting with a stern expression. She asks, "Did you get the goods?" Kliff tosses the envelope onto the desk and says, "I always come through, kid." Mayday examines the contents and smiles to herself.

Punchline: It is revealed that the document is a signed pin-up of Kul Fyra which Mayday excitedly hangs up in the room.

#gbunny writes #nsr #no straight roads #game is the shortest one #because that's the only one that i envisioned as a 4-koma #when writing these i realized that i don't utilize zuke as a character that much #i dunno. he's usually the comic relief in-game #but that somehow makes him more boring to write for #his brand of comedy is more of being 'comically serious' while i write from a slightly more absurdist angle #in other words: he's just too smart for me to write for #and he's also too nice for him to be the instigator of conflict #the only role i have for him is the straight-man but most of these didn't need one or had one baked into the story already #there is one mind comic that he plays a more major role in #but that one's a little too spicy (and under developed) for me to put here #to give you a slight idea of the contents: that comic's code-name is 'orientation'

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

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kinktoberfest • lactation/pregnancy

character: armin artlert

show: attack on titan

word count: 1.1K

content + themes: nipple play, missionary, praise kink, finger sucking, squirting, calls reader mama, daddy’s used, crying (not dacryphilia), breeding

📝: I truly underestimated how hard it was to keep a drabble under 2K words yet how much work they are. Posting every day isn’t realistic but I still got yall! 🫶🏾

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they say that pregnancy for some is an extremely difficult time..the weight gain, the insecurity that comes along with it and the amount of pain sometimes isn’t worth it. Not to mention the weird cravings some develop. But for others…others have the time of their lives. They get told they’re glowing, that they radiate beauty and that bringing a new life into this world was a wonderful thing. You, fortunately, were on the latter end and were enjoying every second of it. Being a new mom for the first time was frightening but your loving, doting man was more than happy to help ease any discomfort. But that wasn’t the only thing he was willing to lend a hand with…

“Oh my gosh…right there. Please, you’re in my spot, baby. Don’t stop!”

“I know, I know…but I gotta slow down. We don’t wanna hurt the baby, angel.”

a soothing, cooing voice responding to you during what could only be described as passionate, raw..amazing sex. The very same love making that had landed you up in this predicament in the first place! A night of heavy drinking and fucking between a wife who despised protection and a husband who had an insatiable breeding kink. It was only a matter of time before the man you married only three years prior and had been in love with you since high school, Armin Artlert..would knock you up. He constantly talked about how he wanted to get you pregnant. How beautiful you’d look with his baby inside of you and that he’d ensure you never had to lift a finger to do a thing as long as you had him. After all, regardless of whether you bared his child or not, you were going to be his spoiled princess. A kept woman, deserving of a soft and easy life; who’s biggest decision of the day would be if you took the Benz Truck or the Audi to brunch with your girls. Any and everything you’ve ever desired was yours..sometimes you didn’t even need to ask. That’s why you felt zero qualms about carrying his kid. But it was once you were pregnant, did those intense feelings and sweet gestures increase tenfold. Especially sexually..he truly couldn’t keep his hands off of you! So you’d find yourself surrounded by rose petals on a soft, plush mattress. One he had prepared just for you.

“Armie..you’re not gonna hurt me, promise. The doctor said it was fine. So please—haaaa! Keep going.”

“Whatever you want, angel..I’ll give it to you..give you all this dick—fuck!”

your shrill voice cried out, pleading with your husband to continue pounding your pussy. At the moment, he had your legs pinned as far as they could withstand..surprisingly almost behind your head with his fingertips kneaded into your supple tits. They were swollen with perfectly erect nipples; they were so beautiful..so much so, he had teased them for nearly an hour whilst fingerfucking you on the couch. His lips latched around the swollen buds..gently mashing and massaging that sensitive flesh to drum up the one thing he craved more than anything. Which was to see them lactating. You had a preconceived notion that only women who had already given birth could do that but you were proven wrong when he began to squeeze at those nipples, gently suckling and rubbing circular patters on them with his thumbs. A few moments later, he felt a dampness underneath and was shocked to find that you began to emit milk… “oh fuck..that’s so sexy..” continuing his little onslaught on your breasts. He was enamored at this point and couldn’t get enough. Fast forward and his fingertips were back on them, working as a guide as he thrashed his cock around inside of you. “Mmmmph!! Arminnnn…” slamming it into that fertile little cunt. “My pretty baby…doing so fucking good f’r me. Taking daddy’s dick like this..fuck, I’m so proud of you.” The thought of breeding you once more, despite already being pregnant, was getting him incredibly aroused! Those icy blue eyes peering down at you with absolute adoration..

“You want me to nut in that pretty pussy, mama? Get you so full all over again?…fuck…you’d like that, huh?” The answer was already a given, apparent by how tight you were squeezing him and the tears streaming down your puffy cheeks. “Yes, daddy! Keep fucking me right there—shit!” You were so cute, he couldn’t help himself! Just as he posed his question, you’d whimper yet again when another stream of that translucent liquid came spouting from your nipples, which he’d swiftly swoop down to catch the remnants of in his mouth. “That’s ittt! Good girl…” simultaneously, sending you into hysterics as you squirm underneath him. To reward you, his thumb would glide in between those lips and you’d gently suckle them as a way to pacify your cries. That round belly bouncing against his pelvis with each smacking stroke..along with a membrane of silky slick. “You’re so wet, baby. ‘Feel so good on my dick…I love it.” Bringing forth absolute delirium from your man. He couldn’t hold out much longer and he damn sure couldn’t hold back. Not when you sucked him into those fleshy walls as if it were nothing…as if you never wanted him to leave it.

“I’m coming, baby..oh my God.. ‘m so close..wanna come in your pussy, please.” Those pathetic whimpers followed by his hand clutching the headboard. Your legs began to tremble from the immense pressure. Both of you shaking and whimpering; bated breaths leaving both of your mouths. Hovering over you, Armin huffed and cried out, urging you to release first. Reluctantly halting in his tracks after pushing him away. Suddenly, he’d be met with a shower of sweet nectar, raining down his abs. It was obvious that you couldn’t take another second so he’d clutch your calves and pin them back, feeding you a couple more sharp strokes just before he reached the end of his own stride and before you knew it…

“Ohhhh fuuuck..oh my God.” That voice rising in pitch as he allowed his throbbing cock be milked for all its worth and those heavy balls be drained and devoid of every bit of that nut. Slowly pulling out and watching his seed spill along with it..he’d soon after collapse to your side and gently sandwich your head between his hands.

“I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re having my baby.”

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wttcsms · 1 month

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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi.

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

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jennifer-jeong · 2 months

Text

[Smut] [Xiao x AFAB!Reader] Your First Time

CONTENT

NSFW, 18+, smut, afab reader (assigned female at birth), no reader pronouns mentioned, virgin Xiao and reader, kisses, handjob, oral, penetration, creampie, Xiao being mildly rough with you but mostly as gentle as possible, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOR NOTES

Kinda porn no plot but this should tie into a storyline that I have. Xiao falls for you like he does in this fic that I wrote but there’s some more development before the events in this fic should happen. I might eventually write something short and fluffy about it. Note that in canon Genshin they probably don’t have “boxers” in the modern sense LMAO I just didn’t know how to say “undergarments” without saying “undergarments” LMAOOO

Word Count: 2713

Your first time with Xiao is almost feverish with how much your bodies need each other. You’ve been together for a while now but have taken a long time to get comfortable with each other's touch, Xiao especially. He’s always been scared of hurting you and he’s also just never really understood what it’s like to need to be touched.

You lead him into it after noticing that he’s been struggling with his body’s urges after learning more about humans and how they love. While on a date in the city, he asked you why he sees some couples look at each other intoxicated when they haven’t drunk any alcohol. You answered that humans feel that way when they need each other's bodies. You swear you see a question mark appear above Xiao’s head. “Like… without their clothes on,” you explain further. More question marks seem to appear. “We’ll learn about that eventually, darling,” you reassure him. “You don’t have to understand it right away, it’s something that couples discover together,” You smile warmly at him and he does the same back.

Xiao’s mind may have been confused at the time but after seeing how other couples look at their partners, his body activated in a way he’s never experienced before. He looked at you in your pretty dress, thought about you with it off, and immediately understood.

So here you are, pinning Xiao to the bed and straddling his hips. Your lips are attached to his as his face is flushed a deep red. You have your left elbow propping you up and your right hand caressing his cheek, occasionally slipping into his hair to brush through it. Xiao doesn’t know what to do with his hands or if he’s allowed to touch you so he lightly holds onto your left bicep. His other hand falls, palm up, next to his shoulder. He fidgets with the pillow as he processes the wonderful feeling of your lips against his. You’ve kissed before but it’s never been as heated as this. It’s almost too much for him already, your hands in his hair, your tongue finally slipping into his mouth cautiously so as not to spook him, your hips on his, the smell of your perfume on your neck, and the warmth from your body radiating onto his. Xiao is already painfully hard from this alone and upon noticing, you grind your needy core into his. He lets out a moan into your mouth and surprises himself. His voice came out entirely automatically, like he couldn’t hold himself back when you finally stimulated him. He wasn’t sure how to comprehend what happened, all he knew was that he wanted more.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. But you trusted Xiao so much and you knew he felt the same way. You felt okay leading him because even though he was having trouble getting the words out, his body did the talking for him, and you could tell it wanted you as much as yours wanted him. You still took precaution multiple times though, asking him if this was okay before leading him to your bed, before laying him down, and before kissing him. He wished there was a better word for him to say than “yes” to explain how much he wanted this but it was all he could manage right now.

You break the kiss to smear your lips on his neck, pecking and asking him if he feels good, breathing in his sweet and lightly musky scent. His hands both reach towards the pillow to grip it as he moans a breathy “yes… thank you.” Your hands sneak up the bottom of his tight shirt to feel his solid muscle and his breath hitches. “You don’t need to thank me, darling” you whisper into his neck. Your hands retract slightly to start to take off his pants. “Is it okay if I take these off?” you say while sitting up slightly. He nods and helps you take them off. You leave his boxers on to help ease him into getting comfortable. You return to straddling him and palm him through the thin layer of fabric and he’s so sensitive he doesn’t know what to do. He moans and his breath quickens. You feel how big he is with your hand and it makes your core clench around nothing. The desire in your core building, turning almost unbearable and burning as you soak through your panties. As you continue, Xiao covers his eyes with his arm as if he didn’t want you to see him like this. You take in how pretty he looks as well as how muscular he actually is. He’s lean but also very toned, his abs evidently solid and chiseled as well as his upper body. You crawl up a little to peck his lips to try and comfort him and explain that since it’s a first for both of you, you’re also flustered. He moves his arm away from his face as you place one of his hands on your waist and the other on your chest. He isn’t sure what to do so you squeeze his hand on top of your chest. He understands and starts to knead your tits while you touch him through his boxers. You start to breathe heavily with him, enjoying the stimulation. Xiao reaches his other hand up, massaging both your tits at the same time, his cock twitching in your hand as he does so. He loves how soft they are, he wonders what they look like uncovered. As if you were reading his mind, you take your dress off to give him more access. You unclip your bra and slowly slide off the straps from your shoulders, holding the cups to your chest still, slightly shy to show him. You’re still straddling him and so he brushes his hands on your thighs to comfort you, and sits up, leaning against the backboard of the bed. “You look so beautiful” he says while looking into your eyes. Xiao might not be experienced with intimacy but he is experienced with you and your emotions, he’s an expert at reading you and comforting you, you love that about him. He puts his hands over yours and rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs, pulling you close to kiss the top of your breasts. It makes you hold your breath. As you breathe out after a pause, you lower your hands and remove your bra. Xiao’s eyes dart back and forth between your face and your chest as he takes it all in. He slides his hands up the sides of your body to grab your tits again. His movements tell you he’s getting more confident.

He ghosts his thumbs over your nipples as you reach down to continue to pleasure him. His hips buck into your touch. As he receives more and more stimulation, his mind gets hazy with lust, his anxiety slowly melting away. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth and you moan. He sucks gently and runs his tongue around the already hardened bud. You take this as a sign to also move further, so you pull his cock out of its fabric restraints to pump it properly with your hand. He moans from the extra contact and his movements falter for a moment. He looks up at you with lidded eyes and you swear you see hearts in each other's eyes. The room feels like it’s burning up and you both love it.

Not soon after, all of your clothes have been tossed to the floor and you’re closing your mouth around Xiao’s leaky tip while he lays down. He’s already a mess because you’ve been licking stripes from the base to the tip for the past minute. You swirl your tongue around him as he can’t help but tug your hair with the hand that he tangled into it. You tease him a little longer before fully deepthroating him. He throws his head back with a moan and bucks into your mouth because he’s so sensitive and can barely control himself. His legs get shaky as you start to bob your head up and down. You move one hand to massage your slick covered clit, unable to ignore the aching need for stimulation any longer and sending vibrations through his body as you moan on his dick. Your other hand reaches to massage his balls and he literally feels like he’s going to die because of how good it all feels. You don’t want to push him too close to the edge yet so you soon pull back. Making sure to leave him well lubricated.

Xiao is already a bit fucked out and doesn’t know what’s happening but he snaps back as he feels your folds on him. You’re hovering above him, angling his dick to your entrance, sticky with arousal. “Mmph- wait, i-is this okay?” Xiao quickly asks as you rub him on your folds. “It’s more than okay, love… I- mmm… need you in me right now,” you slur to him as his tip rubs your clit. Xiao is beyond flustered at your boldness but he still manages to reply, “mmm- t-that sounds so good, darling.” You smile at him and lean down to kiss him before easing your hips down as he bottoms out in you. You both moan in unison as your pussy clenches and his dick twitches. It feels so good it makes your chest tighten. He stretches you out so good and you need a second to get used to his size. He fills you up to your cervix and his girth gives you just the right amount of delicious pressure and pain as you adjust. The ribbed texture of your insides making Xiao dizzy and the veins on his cock making you lightheaded. You lean on his chest to catch your breath and moan into his ear “y’fill me up so good darling.” “F-fuck, it feels s-so good… Your body… You feel so good,” he stutters out to you while digging his nails into your hips trying to control himself. You clench at his words and it drives him crazy. It’s taking so much to not start fucking into you right now. He knows he needs to wait for you to give him the go ahead, but as the night draws on, he’s been getting more needy, more desperate. Your velvety walls sucking him in so nicely, continuously pulling him in deeper. These new sensations are awakening his instincts and it’s so much at once. He loves you so much and knows you feel the same. He can barely get any words out as he’s getting so feral for you.

The moon illuminates your bodies ever so slightly as a warm breeze brushes over your scorching bodies. The only sound other than leaves rustling is your shared panting. The room feels like a sauna and it feels like an eternity before you next speak. Xiao hears nothing but your voice when you look at him with doe eyes and finally say “Xiao… please fuck me.” His pupils seemingly dilate as all rationality disappears. He pulls all the way out and slams back into you, already setting a fast pace. He hugs your waist tight, your chests flush against each other as you rest your arms around his head, pulling at his hair with one hand as he savors the delicious, dull pain. You’re both moaning messes, your hearts beating fast in unison. He continues to pound into you until his legs are burning. You notice his fatigue and decide to tell him to relax as you sit up. He moans at the sight of your naked chest and how your arousal is mixing with his, creating sticky strings on your thighs and where you’re connected. You start to grind on him, feeling him rub at the spongy part inside of you. You tell him to aim for this spot as you point above your core. He nods and breathes out a shaky sigh as he feels his pleasure building. You start to bounce on him with your hands on his chest as his hands find your hips. He loves how your tits bounce while you ride him like this. Your moans sound so heavenly to him and it makes his grip on your waist turn bruising. Your hands on his chest move up to cage his head as you get tired and he understands to start fucking up into you again. His hands find your ass and you moan out a “yes” as he experimentally squeezes it. He fucks you as his hands grip the upper plush of your ass. A few thrusts later and you sob out louder than before and he knows he’s found your spot. Your moans get louder and higher in pitch as he concentrates on fucking you so good you see stars. You’ve been making him feel so good and safe all night and now it’s his turn to lead. You reach a hand down to rub at your clit. “Xiao- mm, I’m g-getting close.” He’s breathing hard and isn’t extremely familiar with this feeling but replies in a breathy voice “m-me too.”

“Please keep going… Ahh- just like that mmmmphh,” you say as your eyes squeeze shut. “Cum with me~ please…” you moan. It feels overwhelming as your core tightens and your body gets even more sensitive to everything. The drag of him along your gummy walls, his hands on your body, the sound of your wet skin slapping together, the repeated stimulation of both your clit and your g-spot. Your orgasm hits hard and sudden as waves of pleasure quickly start to rack your body before you can even tell him you’re cumming. You let out a high pitched sob that quickly becomes uncontrollable moans due to how good it feels. Your walls clench unbelievably tightly around him as he feels your body shake. The squeeze, your moans, your body’s reactions to him, and the fact that he’s making you cum sent him tumbling over the edge with you. His thrusts become irregular as he releases in you, still pounding into you as he experiences waves of bliss. He’s never felt such intense pleasure before and his deep moans are accompanied by whimpers from how good it feels. He whispers praises as he starts to get overstimulated, “so pretty fr’me… love you s’much mmm.” You ride out your orgasms together and you eventually slump against his chest, breathing hard.

You’re both exhausted now and you stay like this for a minute or two to catch your breaths. “Are you okay?” Xiao asks quickly as he comes back to his senses. He’s worried he was too rough with you, especially towards the end. “I’m more than okay, love, don’t worry. That was amazing,” you reply with a sultry voice and a smile. Xiao looks down at you and sighs, he smiles back and agrees “that was pretty amazing… I love you.” “I love you too, darling. I’m glad you had a good time too,” you say, sitting up slightly. You lift you hips to pull him out of you as your mixed fluids flow out of you. Xiao thinks it’s insanely hot. He holds you up and lays you down beside him as he grabs a nearby towel to quickly wipe his abs before the liquids drip onto the sheets. He then gets up to get you a clean towel and wipes you down before helping you to the washroom. He offers you water and leaves another clean towel nearby the bed. You’re already curled up in bed and falling asleep by the time he finishes washing up and climbs into bed.

“Love you s’much” you slur out to him. His heart aches from how much he loves you and he kisses your forehead and tells you he loves you too. You fall asleep with your fists pressed between your chests while he cradles under your head with one arm and holds your waist with the other. Both of you smiling as you drift into sleep together under the moon, resting after the first of many nights like this to come.

Thanks for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #reader x xiao #xiao smut #xiao #j's silly ramblings

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

Object of Delight (3/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, domination, swearing, postpartum depression ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. Despite his initial reluctance, a bond develops between him and his wife that he cannot understand or comprehend. In this chapter I combine several requests into one. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The frequency and fervour with which he fucked his wife caused it to be less than three moons before the measter brought him the joyful news during one of his sparring sessions with Ser Criston, informing him that she was expecting his child.

He explained that he had been summoned by one of her servants when she suddenly fainted, and as it turned out, the cause of her indisposition was his inheritance in her womb.

He couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction and the amused look he threw Cole, for here it appeared that, in fact, her deceased husband had simply failed to perform his duty well − his seed was weak and his lineage would be forgotten.

Although he was buzzing with curiosity and desire to see her now, to take her in this blessed state, he decided not to show his weakness and make it to the end of his training following his daily routine, heading to her chamber immediately after taking a quick bath.

His long white hair was still a little damp when he crossed the threshold of her quarters − the door closed quietly behind him, and he looked at her sleeping figure lying on her bed, covered in thick furs. He hummed, walking slowly closer, recognising that she had made the right decision to rest − in her current state she needed to look out for herself more than before.

He stood over her in silence for a moment, fighting the burning desire to touch her face, to take an unruly strand from her cheek, but hesitated.

He only made gestures that someone might call affectionate after their intense closeness, when she slept snuggled against his naked chest, her hand on which she wore a golden ring in the shape of a sun with a sapphire eye, his gift to her, proof that she was capable of pleasing him both in and out of bed, rested on his heart.

He stroked her soft, smooth hair then, her bare shoulder, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, musing. The fact that she spent the nights with him became natural to them − he did not summon her and she did not wait for his permission, following him to his quarters immediately after supper. They didn't speak much, didn't confide their secrets to each other, instead getting to know each other's bodies intimately.

They were able to lie on their sides in the dark for hours satisfying and teasing each other with their mouths without giving each other fulfilment. He enjoyed watching out of the corner of his eye, trailing his lips over her hot, leaking womanhood as his wife sucked unhurriedly on his cock, licking and teasing it with her pink tongue, her caresses gentle and tender, making his fingers involuntarily clench tighter on the naked skin of her hips right next to his face.

There was something liberating to him in the fact that she did not require him to make confessions or sacrifice his regular daily life; although it had always seemed to him that a wife was merely an extension of her husband and his shadow, she preferred to remain a separate entity and he chose not to overuse the power he had over her, not finding it necessary.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes opened lazily − she smiled barely visible, softly, perhaps even warmly at the sight of him.

"Are you trying to scare me?" She muttered, turning only to sink deeper into the soft bedding, looking at him calmly, her eyes bright, her face smooth, without a trace of a grimace.

He snorted, amused, turning his head away for a moment only to look at her again, sighing heavily − even though he tried to keep a grave face he knew she had noticed his contentment with the news that had reached him.

"I have been informed that you are carrying my son in your womb." He hummed low, deeply − she blinked, smiling wider.

"I don't know if it will be a son." She replied softly, and he hummed again; she shifted back as he walked closer to her bed and lay on his side, his face turned towards her, laying his head on the pillow right next to hers. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, feeling that although neither of them used words, this was a day of their shared joy, for here was the fruit of their efforts.

He raised his large hand at the thought, unable to contain himself − his fingers took a strand of her black hair and flicked it over her back with a light gesture. She smiled wider, knowing that he couldn't stand it when something covered her face.

Her eyes.

Taking advantage of the fact that he had already touched her, he involuntarily ran his thumb over her soft, plump cheek. He saw that she had closed her eyes, sighing quietly, his gaze focused on her long, dark lashes. His fingers tightened around her neck, drawing her to him and she purred loudly as his swollen lips pressed against hers in a wet, loud, hot kiss.

He pulled away from her with a quiet click, but her lips ran invitingly over his, telling him that she craved more, so he sank into their fleshy texture again, slipping the tip of his tongue between them, a sweet, innocent moan came from her throat causing his cock to throb impatiently in his breeches.

He took her more gently than usual, rocking his hips lazily deep inside her, each time the tip of his swollen manhood rubbing the spot between her muscles, from which a shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body, her fingers tightening on his muscular shoulders, her body beginning to meet his, wordlessly letting him know that he could accelerate his pace.

Her short, slender fingernails dug into the bare skin of his firm buttocks as he began to thrust into her more aggressively, wanting him to do it even harder − he stroked her cheek as she began to babble, asking, begging him to give her what she needed.

"− we need to be more careful now because of the baby − I know, I know you need it, shhh −" He hushed her, closing her mouth with his own, his hands gripped her thighs, with sure, deep thrusts pounding into her at an angle that he knew gave her the greatest pleasure − she arched her back with a sweet moan as his thumb began to tease her bud with circular, intense strokes, her walls began to squeeze him, soaking him all over in her moisture.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled pleadingly, in the way he adored most − he looked down at her panting loudly, resting his free hand on the bed frame in front of him, thrusting into her again and again with the sticky splat of his thighs against her buttocks, his cock throbbing hard, demanding fulfilment.

"− I know − I'll lick you good tonight and slap those buttocks a little − sounds good, hm? −" He gasped, looking at her with affection from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. She nodded her head quickly and cried out − he felt her muscles clench at the very thought, sucking him inside, her cheeks red from exertion and desire, her swollen, full lips parted wide, her hands trailing over his hot flesh.

"− yes − please − fuck me good − o-oh gods −" She mewled sweetly as her body shook with eager, overpowering fulfilment − she tilted her head back, writhing beneath him, her weeping cunt began to clench on him greedily, intensifying his pleasure.

"− good girl −" He exhaled wearily as with a few desperate, sloppy thrusts he came inside her with a loud sigh of relief, looking at her in disbelief.

The woman who had given him what he craved.

"− you did so well for me −" He whispered, leaning over her, being careful not to crush her with his body, sinking his nose into her soft cheek. She wrapped her hands around his waist, stroking his back, making a shiver run along his spine every time her fingers brushed over his hot, sweaty skin.

She knew there was a deeper meaning to what he said and that it didn't just refer to their intense closeness.

Her abdomen swelling from his inheritance was his reason for being proud − his hand lay on it and stroked it involuntarily during the evenings or mornings she spent in his company.

As she lay naked beside him at night, sweaty and welted from what he had done to her, her cunt all puffy and sore from the caresses of his tongue, he hugged his face to her womb, smiling involuntarily when he sometimes managed to feel the movement of the little dragon that was growing inside her.

Despite the maester's recommendation that they should not cohabit with each other when she was in such advanced pregnancy and their strenuous attempts to confine themselves to the use of their mouths alone, as she lay beside him, cuddled with her back to his chest, his manhood swelled involuntarily, slapping against her buttocks.

She would then spread her thighs invitingly, teasing him with the strokes of her hips, tilting her head back, whispering how wet she was, and he, impatiently lifted her higher, forcing the fat head of his cock with their sigh of relief into her tight, throbbing opening, and although they knew they should do it slowly, they fucked each other rough.

"− can't you last a few fucking days without my cock? − isn't it enough that you came on my face tonight? −" He exhaled, listening as his thighs slapped fast against her buttocks with loud smacks, his manhood thrusting into her with ease, her insides slick with her juices, his fingers between her thighs, their tips playing with her clit, not letting her escape.

"− I came having your cock deep inside my mouth − have you forgotten already? −" She gasped and he groaned low at the thought, quickening his pace, clamping his hand around her neck so as not to make it difficult for her to breathe and accidentally hurt the baby − he hid his face in her hair, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to another fulfilment.

"− no − that's not something you can forget − fuck −" He muttered, feeling her sticky walls begin to suck him inside in orgasm, her moisture spilling over his thighs, her moans making him let go, letting his hot seed spill inside her.

"− gods, so good − I can't stop −" He mumbled, and she sighed heavily, moving with him for a moment longer, stroking his arm that embraced her swollen abdomen.

"− me too −"

On the day of the delivery he was restless, pacing around his chamber, full of tension, unable to sit still. She felt the first contractions in the morning and collapsed as her servants helped her dress, whimpering, terrified that it had begun.

He consoled himself with the thought that her mother, the Queen and his sister were with her, that she was not alone, but he could not stop thinking about Aemma, her grandfather's sister and his father's first wife, how she had died and that, although he tried to push the vision away, the birth could prove complicated.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, unwittingly seeing in his mind her pale, lifeless body, her empty violet eyes, her cheeks drenched in tears, her nightgown soaked in blood at the height of her thighs.

He groaned lowly, trying to calm down, repeating to himself that this would not happen, that she was not Aemma and he was not his father.

Hours passed, however, and he still hadn't received any news of her condition − he felt like he was dying inside, for some reason he wanted to weep with despair.

He saw himself with his hands placed deep in the fire of his fireplace, holding his dragon egg, clenching his lips in pain, begging the gods for it to crack.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, rising to his feet as the maester stepped inside his chamber, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that his hands were all dirty in blood.

"Your Grace. You have a son." He said in a trembling voice, and he looked at him dully, as if he did not understand what he had said.

"What about my wife?"

He moved immediately to her chamber when he learned that she had endured the birth very badly, that there was no contact with her, that she had a fever.

That she might not survive.

He didn't even look at the wailing child in his Queen's arms − he walked immediately to the bed where her mother was sobbing, stroking her hands.

She looked exactly as in his vision, pale, her gaze blank, directed somewhere far away, her chemise all red with blood − if it weren't for the fact that her breast was rising and falling in shallow breaths he would have thought she was dead.

"− Your Grace, you shouldn't −" He heard the voice of one of the ladies of the court, but he just stood there looking at her with his lips pressed together, feeling a squeeze in his throat and chest so strong that he had the impression that his whole body had begun to tremble.

He involuntarily moved towards her, climbing onto the bed, leaning on his knees, his trembling hand touched her hot, sweaty cheek, all wet with tears.

"− my love − my love, speak to me −" He whispered, but she didn't even look at him − she only twitched, one last, lonely tear flowed from the corner of her eye.

Something about the sight broke him − he pressed his forehead to her temple, panting hard, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.

"− don't leave me − don't leave me alone in this world −"

He didn't know if his words had reached her, her fever intensified by the night he had spent by her side with her mother. He sat in a chair watching as she washed her face, already dressed in a clean, snow-white undershirt, covered by thick layers of furs, her body quivering all over, sunk in a deep, restless sleep.

"− I thought the worst was behind her − after that bastard −" She began, but pressed her lips together, as if unable to get it out of her − he looked at her anxiously, feeling his whole body tense up.

She had never told him about her first husband.

Nor had he ever asked about it, not even wanting to recall that another man had had her before him.

"− was he not a good husband? −" He asked impassively − Lady Arryn looked up at him with big eyes, her eyebrows arched in despair and anger at the same time.

Her hair were as dark as his wife's, but her irises were golden and bright, shining in the candlelight around them.

She swallowed loudly, her chin trembling all over, as if she couldn't get it out of her.

"− I − I didn't find out until a year later − that when it turned out she was bleeding, that she wasn't carrying his child − every month he made her sleep in godswood, in just her nightgown − h-he said − gods, he said that until she gave him an heir, she was like his sword, his book, or his horse − her servants took pity on her and when he fell asleep, they would take her to their chambers beneath the stronghold −" She muttered, tears of grief and bitterness running down her face. He looked at her dully, feeling as if he was about to vomit, his stomach painfully clenched − he ran his trembling hand over his face, hearing her words during their wedding night inside his head.

A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, feeling a burning wetness under his eyelids that he did not let flow.

Her silhouette lying under the weirwood tree, then, as he followed her.

He thought she stopped visiting this place when it became apparent that she was expecting his child because walking such long distances began to be difficult for her.

"− my husband did the right thing − he deserved it −" She exclaimed, and he didn't speak again, knowing what she meant.

He only breathed a sigh of relief the next day when her fever had diminished and she was still breathing. She would wake up and only babble, her mother would feed her and help her dress, and he would just be beside her, overseeing everything, wanting to make sure nothing escaped his attention.

He knew that his son was in the care of his mother and sister.

As she began to regain consciousness, it was decided to introduce their son to her − one of the wet nurses, a plump woman with a wide smile brought in her arms an infant with his white hair and her mother's golden eyes. He smiled involuntarily at the sight, hoping that the appearance of her child would give her strength.

"Look, my Lady. It's your little boy. Would you like to feed him?" The woman asked softly, but his wife merely looked away, tense, staring out of the window, her fingers clenched on the thick fur that covered her. He pressed his lips together at the sight, feeling that something was happening deep inside her, that something had taken place during the birth that had broken her.

She did not want to look at the baby, touch it or feed it − she only expressed in a weak voice her satisfaction that their child was healthy.

Her mother tried to persuade her to at least take her son in her arms, that she would then immediately feel maternal love and attachment, but she shook her head quickly, tears running down her face as if she didn't even want to imagine it.

"− Your Grace, I'm afraid a heavy birth has caused your wife to lose her senses, she is rejecting her own child − I believe that at this point she is dangerous to Your Highness' son and should be left alone for a while to calm down −" The maester told him as he left her chamber to change and refresh himself, his lips tightened into a thin line at his words.

"− weigh your words − my wife is suffering, and you are to find the cause of it −" He hissed, furious, the man swallowed hard and nodded, not speaking again.

When he returned to her quarters, he noticed to his surprise that her bed was empty, her mother asleep in her chair, tired, no one else around.

He went outside in a panic, wondering where she could have gone, heading towards the godswood, however, he froze in a half-step walking down the corridor when he noticed that the door to the chamber his son slept in was ajar.

He walked slowly inside and stopped, noticing her silhouette sitting next to the cradle, looking blankly at the sleeping infant, her face indifferent and expressionless. She lifted her gaze to him at last, as if snapped out of her reverie, her eyebrows arched in pain, her fingers clenched on the fabric of her nightgown.

"What's going to happen to me now?" She muttered in a trembling voice and he shook his head, not understanding what she was asking.

"I do not follow." He replied; she lowered her gaze, her lower lip quivered, tears ran down her cheeks − she seemed to have fallen into some kind of state of panic.

"Now that I've given you a son. What are you going to do with me? Will you pretend I don't exist? Will you find yourself a lover?"

He stared at her stunned, feeling the quick pounding of his heart and the squeeze in his throat, horrified at the direction her thoughts were taking.

"Where did those words come from?" He asked in disbelief, feeling that he was struggling to breathe, his hands clenched into fists.

She hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, bursting into a loud sobs as if something inside her had cracked.

"I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't." She squirmed, drawing in air loudly − he moved towards her, kneeling in front of her, pressing her face to his chest.

"Calm down. Please." He whispered, her fingers clenching tightly on the material of his green tunic in a helpless gesture of despair.

"I am worn out. I'm a worn-out, empty vessel. There's nothing more I can give you." She whimpered, and he clamped his eyelids shut, pulling her close. Her body fell to the ground right beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, cuddling her into himself like a small child, stroking her soft dark hair reassuringly.

"You are my wife. I will never betray you or our family. We can wait with begetting another child until you are ready. After all, we have our ways of doing that, don't we?" He asked in a soft, trembling voice, trying to comfort her, to let her understand that nothing was over, but on the contrary, in his eyes, it had only just begun.

"I've been contemplating for some time that I should take you in front of that guard who looks at you so shamelessly when you're wearing gowns of thinner material. When your breasts are visible through it. That would give him something to think about, hm? And the most important thing. Vhagar. The mother of my child must know what it means to ride a dragon." He hummed into her ear, playing with strands of her hair, feeling her shiver at his words, that she was returning to him, her body no longer trembling, her breathing calming.

"I thought I'd already ridden the world's greatest dragon." She whispered, and he involuntarily smirked and snorted, kissing her hair.

"Not like this."

They stayed like that for a while in each other's embrace, sitting on the floor, stroking each other's cheeks, shoulders and hair, for the first time so close, so tender, so sincere. They shuddered when they heard sobbing and whimpering coming from the cradle − they both rose and he turned his head, calling the guard, telling them to bring a nursemaid.

"No." She said softly, coming closer, leaning over the cradle, taking their son into her arms. She embraced him and began rocking him, shushing him reassuringly as she looked at his face.

"− hello, little one − I know − it's not your fault −" She muttered with difficulty, tears in her eyes − he looked at this sight with a squeezed throat and swallowed heavily.

"− come here − are you hungry? −" She asked, sitting down on the window sill, slipping the material of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing her breast, all swollen, full of milk − he felt his manhood throb involuntarily in his breeches at this sight.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as their son, nestled against her breast, found her nipple and, in a natural, subconscious instinct, began to suck on it greedily, clamping his small hand over her skin.

She looked at their child with curiosity and some kind of warmth that moved him.

He approached her, leaning over her, kissing the top of her head, sinking his nose into her soft hair, looking out of the corner of his eye at this almost mythological sight of a woman feeding her offspring.

"− what did you name our son? −" She asked quietly, and he felt hot in his chest hearing her use the word our.

"− I waited with this decision for you − you are his mother −" He replied softly, taking an unruly strand of her hair from her face. She mused, looking at the infant suckled to her breast and smiled softly.

"− Jaehaerys −" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that they had thought of the same thing.

Of their common ancestor.

"− so Jaehaerys it will be −"

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alxtiny · 2 months

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hi i hope your requests are open 😓😓😓 i was wondering if you could do an ot8 comfort fic thing for when the ateez members find out that reader used to selfharm because of the scars left behind. if you dw to do ot8 then just mingi is fine.

thank you sm!

I’m so sorry it took this long i got sidetracked 😭😭 but i hope you like it

Ateez reacting to their SO’s self harm scars

Synopsis: ateez comforts the reader after finding out about their self harm scars

Pairing: ateez x gn!reader, domestic au

Genre: fluff, comfort

Word count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of past struggles with self harm

masterlist

• Hongjoong

The soft hum of music filled the cozy studio as Hongjoong focused on the delicate dance of his fingers on the MIDI keyboard, his laptop screen glowing with various tracks and effects. Beside him, you were nestled in a comfortable chair, engrossed in a book, occasionally shifting to find a more comfortable position.

As you moved, your shorts rode up slightly, revealing faint scars on your thighs. Hongjoong's eyes flickered with concern as he noticed, surprised to have not seen them before. He paused his work, turning to you with a gentle furrow in his brow.

"Jagi, what happened to your thighs?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You looked down at your scars, a small sigh escaping your lips. "Oh, those? Just old battle wounds," you replied casually, trying to not fall back into painful memories.

Hongjoong's heart sank at your casual response. "But... how did you get them?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

You inhaled sharply, setting your book aside. "It's... a long story. But really, it's all in the past. They don't bother me anymore."

Hongjoong's heart clenched at your stiff tone, but he chose not to pry further. He reached out to gently trace the scars with his fingertips, his touch hesitant, as if it might hurt you, but you found it comforting. "I wish I had noticed sooner," he murmured, his voice laced with regret.

You met his gaze, offering him a small smile. "It's okay, love. I got out of it. It not exactly pleasant to remember but I’ll be fine," you reassured him, squeezing his hand affectionately. "Besides, consider it character development."

Hongjoong pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from any pain. "Don’t make jokes now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "But remember, you don't have to bear it alone. I'm here for you, always."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling With warmth spreading through your body, grateful for his presence and understanding.

• Seonghwa

Seonghwa sat comfortably on his bed, his back resting against the pillows as he played Animal Crossing on his Switch. You snuggled close beside him, the warmth of his body against yours, as you watched the screen together.

You continued watching with fascination, occasionally pointing out cute details or offering suggestions for his virtual paradise.

"Hwa, look! You should put a little picnic area by the beach," you suggested, your voice filled with excitement.

He glanced at you, a warm smile gracing his lips as he listened to your ideas. But then, as the light from the screen shifted, he noticed something on your forearm. Faint scars, barely visible except for when the light from the screen illuminated them but it was enough to catch his attention. He paused the game, concern flickering in his eyes as he gently traced his fingers over them.

"What are these?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over you. But then, meeting his gaze, you offered a reassuring smile. "They're old scars," you explained gently. "I'm better now, Seonghwa. You don't need to worry."

He furrowed his brows, his concern evident. "But... how did I never notice them before?"

You shrugged lightly. "They're not something I like to talk about, anyways being with you makes me feel confident and content with myself and I don't dwell on the past when I'm with you."

Seonghwa's heart swelled with love and admiration for you. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're so strong, Y/N," he murmured, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace. "And you're not alone. I'm here for you, always."

You smiled at him, feeling absolutely content as you relaxed further into his arms.

• Yunho

Yunho had always been passionate about his work, especially dancing. So when he dragged you along to the KQ dance studio one evening, you couldn't say no to his big puppy eyes, even if it meant sitting on the sidelines and watching him move with such grace that not even the best could replicate.

As he swayed and spun across the polished floor, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. His dedication and talent were mesmerizing, filling the room with an energy that was infectious.

"That was amazing," you whispered as he finished a particularly intricate sequence.

He grinned, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Thanks, love. But you know what would make it even better?"

You raised an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.

"If you joined me," he said, extending a hand towards you.

You shook your head, chuckling softly. "No way, Yunho. I'm not half as talented as you are."

But Yunho was persistent, and before you knew it, he had pulled you up from your seat and into the centre of the studio. You stumbled a bit, feeling a little self-conscious as you stood next to him.

"Don't worry," he reassured you, placing his hands on your waist. "Just follow my lead."

You moved together, following his lead as best you could. It wasn't long before you found yourself lost in the music, the worries of the day melting away with each step.

But then, as you spun around, your shirt shifted, revealing the faint marks on your shoulder. Yunho noticed immediately, his expression shifting from playful to concerned. He stopped dancing, his hands dropping to his sides. You froze at his sudden shift in demeanour and looked at him in confusion waiting for him to say something.

"What's this?" he asked, gently tracing the marks with his fingertips.

You bit your lip, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. "Oh, um, it's nothing. Probably just from a cat or something."

Yunho raised an eyebrow at your answer, he wasn't convinced. "You sure about that?"

You sighed, knowing you couldn't keep it from him any longer. "Fine, I used do it when I got frustrated or angry with myself. It's stupid, I know."

Yunho's eyes widened in horror, his fingers still lingering on your skin. "Why would you do that?"

You shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "I don't know. It's like a subconscious thing, I guess."

"You don't have to do that anymore," he murmured against your skin, kissing the scars lightly. "You have me now. Whenever you feel like that, come to me. Lean on me, use me however you like. I'll be here for you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

• Yeosang

Yeosang had gone out for a while to run some errands, leaving you to enjoy a peaceful nap on his large bed. You decided to steal one of his shirts, the comfort of which immediately sent you to sleep. Unbeknownst to you,in your deep slumber as you shifted around, the shirt had slipped off your shoulder, exposing the healed scars that adorned your skin.

As Yeosang returned home, his heart swelled at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping. He couldn't help but smile fondly, thinking of how cute and tiny you looked in his clothes, quietly he approached to admire your peaceful face. Gently, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, as he did his gaze shifted to the scars that marred your skin. Concern flooded his features as he leaned in closer, his fingertips hovering over the healed marks.

You stirred at his touch, blinking awake with a soft smile as you recognized him. "Hey, Yeosang, you’re back, " you greeted smiling at him, your voice still laced with sleep.

But as your eyes met his, you noticed the concern etched in his expression, his eyes fixed on the scars. "Is everything alright?" you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

Yeosang's worry spilled out in a rush of questions. "What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me?"

Confusion flashed across your face before you realised what he was looking at, and you gently reached out to cup his cheek, soothing the furrow in his brow. "Yeosang, it's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle yet firm. "Those scars are old. It's been nearly a decade since then."

You could see the relief wash over him, but he still looked troubled. "But... why? Why did you...?"

You placed a finger over his lips, silencing his questions. "I was going through a tough time back then," you explained softly. "But being with you... you make me so happy, Yeosang. I haven't had any bad thoughts since."

His eyes softened, and he pulled you into a comforting embrace, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay," he murmured against your skin.

You smiled up at him, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. "I'm more than okay," you whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. "I'm better than I've ever been, all because of you."

• San

After a warm evening shower you wanted nothing more but to get into your fluffy pyjamas and go to sleep. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully putting on your clothes, when the door unexpectedly swung open, revealing San on the other side. Startled, you instinctively grabbed a towel to cover yourself.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize you were in here," San stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It's okay, San. Just give me a moment," you said, adjusting your shirt as you continued dressing. You had been with him long enough not to feel entirely uncomfortable with him seeing you like this.

As you finished, you noticed San's gaze lingering on a particular spot near your hips. Sensing his stare, you furrowed your brows and glanced down, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, your voice laced with concern.

San blinked, seemingly snapping out of his trance. "Oh, no, it's nothing," he quickly replied, though his expression betrayed his curiosity.

You sighed softly, knowing he wouldn't let it go that easily. "They're just scars from my past," you explained, gesturing towards the faded marks on your upper thigh and hips. "Back then I struggled a lot with my confidence," you winced slightly at the painful memory.

San's eyes widened in realisation, and his features softened with empathy. "I had no idea," he murmured, stepping closer to you. "You're perfect, you know? I can't believe you would ever think otherwise."

A small, appreciative smile tugged at your lips, touched by his sincerity. "Thank you, San," you replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm in a much better place now."

Without hesitation, San reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. "I'm glad to hear that," he whispered, his gaze filled with adoration. "But just know, I'll always be here to remind you of how incredible you are."

His words melted away any lingering insecurities, and you couldn't help but lean in to press a tender kiss against his lips. "Thank you for always being so understanding," you murmured against his mouth.

"Of course," San replied, returning the kiss with equal fervor. "You don't ever have to worry about anything when you're with me.

• Mingi

After ages of going to the gym, lifting weights and what not, you had finally convinced Mingi to join you for a workout session at home. He was a bit hesitant about it at first, but eventually agreed, eager to spend more time with you. You chose something slow and peaceful, as opposed to the usual fast cardio routine.

You rolled out your yoga mats in a quiet corner of the living room, ready to start your session. "Alright, Mingi, let's begin with some simple stretches," you said, gesturing for him to follow your lead.

Mingi nodded, a determined look on his face as he mirrored your movements. You guided him through various yoga poses, explaining the significance behind each one with patience and encouragement. As you moved gracefully from one pose to another, you couldn't help but notice Mingi's intense focus on you.

Eventually, you transitioned into a seated position, stretching out your legs. That's when you saw Mingi's gaze flicker down to your thighs, his expression shifting slightly.

Sensing his sudden shift in mood, you paused, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. "Is everything okay, Mingi?"

Mingi hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Y/N, I... I didn't realize..." His voice trailed off, his eyes fixated on the faint scars adorning your skin.

You followed his gaze and realized what he was looking at. You never made an effort to hide them, but you hadn't expected Mingi to notice them either.

You shifted closer to him and reached out, gently placing your hands on his. You took a deep breath, deciding to address it calmly. "Those are just old scars from before. I don't hide them, but I understand if it's a bit surprising."

Mingi blinked back tears, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "I... I never knew. I'm sorry, Y/N. I should've noticed sooner."

You shook your head, squeezing his shoulder gently. "You don't have to apologize, Mingi. You couldn't have known. What matters is that I'm here now, and I'm okay."

Mingi's eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice filled with sincerity. "Y/N, please... promise me you won't struggle alone anymore. I'm here for you, always."

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face, as you hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek, making him crack a smile too. "I promise, Mingi.”

• Wooyoung

It was one of those lazy afternoons when you and Wooyoung were both off from work and free from all worries, allowing just the two of you to enjoy each other's company. Of course the best way to spend it was by annoying each other and generally goofing around, engaging in your usual banter and playful teasing.

As you playfully jabbed at Wooyoung's side while he was attempting to pour himself some water, successfully making him spill it, he retaliated by attempting to tickle you. You squirmed and laughed, trying to evade his grasp and running around the apartment, but he managed to corner you and began tickling your sides mercilessly.

"Ah! Wooyoung, stop!" you squealed between giggles, your cheeks flushed from the laughter.

His hands slipped under your shirt, tickling up and down your sides with no mercy as tears escaped your eyes from laughing too much. Abruptly his movements stopped, and a concerned frown creased his forehead as his fingers brushed against thin ridges on the side of your ribs. Gingerly he lifted your shirt, his eyes widened to discover pale white scars strewn across your skin.

"Hey... what's this?" Wooyoung's voice softened as he traced the scars with his thumb, his playful demeanor instantly replaced by worry.

You glanced at him, puzzled by the sudden change in his demeanor, until you followed his gaze down to your ribs. Realization dawned on you, and you gently placed your hand over his, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Ahh those, it's okay, Wooyoung," you said softly. "I'm okay now. You don't need to worry."

He searched your eyes, silently asking for confirmation. Your reassuring words seemed to ease his concern, but he still couldn't shake off the worry completely.

Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss against the scars, his lips warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered softly, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, and a giggle bubbled up from within you. Wrapping your arms around him, you hugged him tightly.

• Jongho

As you walked through the door after a painfully long day at work, Jongho couldn't help but notice the weary expression etched on your face. His heart clenched at the sight, knowing all too well the burdens you carried. He had always known of the battles you fought within yourself and the scars they left behind. Yet, out of respect and understanding, he never broached the topic, letting you open up at your own pace.

Today, however, he felt compelled to reach out, to offer you the comfort you so often extended to him.

"Hey, love," he greeted softly, setting aside his book and rising to meet you.

You managed a faint smile, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Hey, Jongho."

He stepped closer, his gaze gentle yet searching. "Rough day?"

You sighed, nodding slightly. "Yeah, you could say that."

Taking your hand, he led you to the couch, where he enveloped you in a warm embrace. "I'm here for you, you know? You can always talk to me."

You tensed slightly at his words, your gaze flickering to the floor. But Jongho's reassuring touch grounded you, as he smoothed over the jagged lines on your arms, easing the knots of anxiety that tightened within you.

"I'm just... tired," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silence settled between you, but it was a comforting silence. Jongho pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms secured around you.

Jongho nods, his hand finding yours, offering silent support. "You know you don't have to carry it all alone, right?" he says, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you're grateful for the dim light that hides the vulnerability in your expression. "I know," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Send an ask or a message to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

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memryse · 10 months

Text

if mcyt isn’t fiction then

people who create dnd characters that are similar to them in personality are just playing themselves and should not be treated as having made a character

people who make any other dnd character should also be treated as just playing themselves since people refuse to even consider roleplay smps as fiction

any ocs someone puts a bit of themselves into? nope not fiction!

actors who play a character with the same first name as them aren’t really acting

and so on

maybe YOU can’t separate characters and real people and think that everything you see from a youtuber even when they’re explicitly acting is how they are in real life but we as a fandom just don’t have that issue lol. we’ve had disclaimers and indicators for when we’re talking about characters and not content creators for years because a certain smp contained a character having suicidal thoughts as a result of abuse at the hands of another character and we needed to make it absolutely crystal clear that we were referring to a fictional storyline and not real guy #1 being an abuser and real guy #2 being suicidal. these customs have either extended into other corners of mcyt fandom, or some developed their own independently like hispanic mcyt fans have used the word cubito to distinguish mc guy from real life guy from years, a term that other language speakers liked so much we’ve also started picking it up lol

we know exactly what we’re doing. i get that the line maybe does seem more blurred to an outsider looking in (i wouldn’t know given that both my first fandom at age 12 and current fandom at age 20 were mcrp lol) but it’s universally understood amongst us. i don’t have a problem separating hermitcraft!gem and empires s1!gem the wizard with a twin brother and empires s2!gem the princess and cc!gem the real life canadian woman.

idk it rubs me the wrong way that after years of trying to explain this we’re either met with people calling us racists because of three guys that the rest of us (all of us, really, because dream team fans do not claim to be minecraft fans. those are the type to actually write rpf and ship the real life racist guys) hate probably a lot more than any of you do, or they watch a few minutes of a less roleplay-heavy series/part and decide that the entire medium is invalid as a form of storytelling

it’s so annoying. i don’t think we need to be understood to have validity as a fandom we’ve been doing this for years already without that but it is so infuriating and sad how whenever there’s some kind of fandom poll thing one of three things happens

mcyt fans are banned outright and placed on the same level as something like hp

an mcyt fan runs their own and gets harassed for it

a non-mcyt fan allows us in until they get harassed so badly by whatever fandoms we go up against that they end up deleting our bracket

in what world is that normal behaviour. and that harassment always involves calling them all racist cishet white men such as misgendering both eret (real life bisexual genderqueer person) and their character (also queer), attempting to harass jimmy solidarity fans because jimmy makes mc videos so he must be a dream associate (the only time they interacted was in a tournament during which dream and georgenotfound shittalked jimmy’s best friends to his face), all the shit quackity has gotten for being a former friend of the dream team as if he wasn’t the #1 victim of their racism and xenophobia, the fact that any time c!technoblade is involved in a poll we have to beg other fandoms not to talk shit about him because the real life man died of cancer before dream’s grooming allegations came out, similarly when tfc was in one. and so on and so forth. all because people can’t separate roleplay and real life and think that the entire minecraft sphere revolves around dream just because their idea of mcyt does (not even his own smp named after him did that).

#tw suicide mention #tw abuse mention #tw cancer mention #memos #discourse

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asexualenjolras · 9 months

Text

I've finished watching season two, and I have some thoughts I needed to just get out. Neil Gaiman is a very talented writer, and the way he writes the Ineffable Husbands' relationship is so authentic and beautiful.

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is so much more complex than having them end up happy so soon after Crowley admitted his feelings for his angel. They've spent 6,000 years, as Nina and Maggie put it, not talking to one another about how they feel. It isn't unimaginable that Aziraphale would struggle with his feelings when Crowley finally admits how he feels.

Of the two of them, Crowley is more settled in his freedom. He has no ties to Hell, or Heaven, or Earth. He knows that he would be happy living away from all of that with Aziraphale. It's what he's wanted for a while, and he's content with the idea. We've now seen him ask Aziraphale to run away with him twice (once in season one, and once in season two). He's perfectly happy with that idea. And him telling Aziraphale that at the end of season two was such character development compared to him just screaming at his angel in the first season.

Overall, Crowley knows he loves Aziraphale more than Earth, or Hell, or Heaven and Maggie and Nina help him reach that conclusion by the end of the season. Nothing matters more to Crowley than Aziraphale. And we have seen him threaten to throw everything away for him twice now. He wants Aziraphale and Crowley is contented with the idea of it being the two of them for the rest of time.

However, Aziraphale has never wanted solitude. He's never once said that that's something he wants. Aziraphale's wants and needs are in constant battle with one another, and what he wants is ... to be good. His morals are objective, and he is burdened by his constant need to be good and to be fair - even if it means being unfair to himself. He's prone to self-sabotage. And he will forever put other people and beings before himself.

Aziraphale, like Crowley, knows that he is bound to Crowley for eternity. They are soulmates. 6,000 years of finding one another is evidence of that. But Aziraphale's trauma is so deep-rooted. It is engrained in him that he needs to be good. He believes it's integral to his being. He's spent 6,000 years doing his absolute best to impress Heaven and God, and his morals aren't going to change just because Crowley admits his feelings for him. He is, at the heart and soul, good. And he can't move past his morals and put himself first because that would be ... out of character. He's conflicted. But the one thing he is is ... good.

Aziraphale wanted Crowley with him just as much as Crowley wanted him. But he just wanted to try and balance Heaven and Crowley. He wanted Crowley to be an angel with him, and be happy and work together as they always had. He didn't want anything to change (he's so autistic). When Crowley told him that he didn't want to stay in Heaven, Aziraphale was confused and hurt. You could see it in his face.

And, integrally, he could have demanded that Crowley come with him, he could have been selfish for the first time in his life, but he wasn't ... and he couldn't ever be. He let Crowley go. Because he thought that was what was best for him. He put Crowley first and pushed his own wants and needs aside. Crowley told him he didn't want to go, so he let him walk out.

Importantly, we see him doubt. He stops for a split second and considers going with Crowley when he sees that Crowley has waited for him on the other side of the road (Crowley didn't go ... too fast this time, he stayed put and didn't run away - he waited for Aziraphale - but don't get me started because I will cry).

Overall, just as we've seen Crowley's want to run away with Aziraphale before, we've seen Aziraphale turn down that offer in place of doing the right thing (or, what Aziraphale feels is the right thing). This isn't new. And they will get through it. They just have a bad time communicating with one another.

One thing is certain, though: they are soulmates. And they will find their way to one another again. They have done for the past 6,000 years. It's ineffable. They are ineffable.

Neil's a genius. And the mirroring between their relationship in the two seasons is so well-written, and complex and I have so much admiration for it.

Anyways, that's all I can muster in thought. I'm off to cry because angst makes me sob. And I'm heartbroken. I'm so hopeful for a season three. I need to see this angel and ... Crowley again.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season two #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant #amazon prime #good omens 2 #spoilers #analysis #long post #thoughts #autistic aziraphale

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geekgirles · 5 months

Text

Just Look My Way

Can we please talk about the way the lyrics have changed from the original to showcase Stolas' growth and character development?

I was already surprised that what originally looked like it was just going to be a fan video ended up becoming canon content, but when I heard the different lines my mind exploded, you guys.

Note the difference, the major difference, in treatment!

In the original version, which released back in season 1 but before Ozzie's, Stolas' line was actually:

"Come now, my little impish plaything, we've both made our choice."

Keep in mind the original most likely included this line as a reference to what both Striker and Stolas said in regards to Blitzo's relationship with Stolas. Even our dear owl boy referred to him as just a plaything while saving him from D.O.R.K.S! Which most likely only helped cement Blitzo's internalised belief that Stolas would never see him as anything other than a cheap thrill.

Here, however, Stolas is cementing him as his dearest! A loved one! Someone he values and cares for! That is a huge difference from being just a sexual partner!

And the second line. OMG, THE SECOND LINE.

Unlike the original, where Stolas speaks of a choice that, realistically, was never there (as it usually is the case with relationships where there's a power imbalance and, moreover, were born out of transactional needs), this time he is reaffirming Blitzo's agency and independence. The implied choice is clear: Stolas will present the asmodean crystal to him so he no longer relies on his Grimoire and sleeps with him out of necessity. All that's left for Blitzo now will be to choose if he wants to remain by Stolas' side even then. And the choice is his.

As a quick aside, I also love the constant symbolism between Blitzo and the Moon.

Technically, compared to Stolas and the Earth, both are just satellites, nowhere near as important as a Goetia demon and member of Hell Royalty or a planet brimming with life and where beauty and wonder happen at every corner. And yet, without them neither can thrive. Stolas is as fascinated and dependent of Blitzo as the Earth is with the Moon. Without the Moon, there's no tides; it brings inspiration and romance to countless souls, brightening the night sky, just like Blitzo brightens Stolas' life.

Blitzo is Stolas' moon, and I just think that's beautiful.

Every word in this line in particular just oozes character development, too.

The original was:

"What's left for me in this broken house if I cannot have you?"

This is no longer about Stolas using Blitzo to escape his boring routine and his horrible marriage to Stella, it's about Stolas being deeply and hopelessly in love with Blitzo and not knowing what to do to convey that in a way that will reach him.

Once again, Blitzo has stopped being a mere plaything or boy toy and become so much more. He has become an essential part of Stolas' life he doesn't know what he'll do without but knows he'll have to let go of if that's what Blitzo wants!

Now, I must admit I am not exactly a fan of this change in these particular verses. On the one hand, I understand it's meant to reflect Stolas is trying to understand Blitzo and see things from is point of view, but I also feel it robs the moment of the raw feeling the original conveyed:

"Is this how she'd feel? Abandoned, all alone, left to fend for herself, for a semblance of happiness that doesn't have to end?"

"She" clearly referring to Via.

I just think it would have been more powerful to keep it and allow that juxtaposition between the most important people in his life to help Stolas understand Blitzo better. After all, he loves them both dearly and unconditionally, but his actions have also hurt them both very deeply.

I just think it'd be fitting if one allowed him to understand the other better.

Nevertheless, if there is something this song has taught me, is this: we are so not ready for the next episode.

927 notes · View notes

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