#the LACK of apparent fear and desperation

[comicarc]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

A chance meeting with a stranger leads down the road of an inevitable devotion. Breeding a childish love into an obsessive attachment. The devil's temptation is all-consuming, only producing pain disguised as pleasure.

wc: 2906

The grace of his footsteps, despite his enormous figure, had seemed to incite an absurd curiosity within me. His attitude ranged from a spectrum even vaster than that of light, as he got along with almost everyone he met, yet peculiarly, seemed to never lose his morals or beliefs in the face of so many opinions and conversations. 

I had paid no mind to him when he first marched through the halls of Gotham high, the whole school was abuzz with chatter, gossiping about this bizarre new character. He never dressed the part of being Bruce Wayne’s ward, often rocking hoodies large enough to drown in, colored a deep blood red that seemed to fuel the fury of the teachers. He was a delinquent in every right, yet he was also as intelligent in the same capacity.

Paid for by the one-percenters of Gotham, the library the size of a Manhattan penthouse was often eerily empty, met occasionally with the presence of a student trying to pay another for answers to an assignment. I was an exception in all such aspects, for neither was I rich nor conceited enough to believe in the fantasy that I would be handed everything in life. I would relish the silence of the library, a place I had made a home of by the second week of high school. Gotham was not a city for me, and the cheap apartment that I called ‘home’ was anything but its namesake, lacking everything that the library could provide. 

I had heard the whispers of others, of how the girls were intrigued by the new kid to instantly desire him, and of how the boys spoke nonsense, fueled by a jealous rage. Though these polarized opinions had left me curious, I never thought it my place to ever participate in such an activity of imagining. That was a right reserved for the rich, for those who had time enough to do as they pleased. 

Jason Todd sat in front of me, one fine day, in the library, so enamored in The Great Gatsby that he ignored my existence. Although caught off guard, I enjoyed the silent company, feeling as though I was not alone in my fated destiny toward deterioration as I spent more and more time in the library each passing day. Life had only begun to worsen with time, yet his presence had seemed to soothe me with silent comfort.

At first, I brushed him off just as I thought he had done of me, yet the more I saw him, I began to imagine as well. He had made me a rich woman, not materialistically, but rather metaphysically. My mind spent hours trying to reason why he stayed. Was the library his abode as well? Was he trying to read every book he’d laid eyes on in there? Why? Questions only left a hole, a desire to fulfill my curiosity. 

“Hey.” Jason's soft voice, like the serpent tempting Eve, left me craving conversation. It was the third month of our silent routine when he finally spoke, soothing months of contemplation with a single word. Oh, how desperate I had been.

The days that followed after that interaction were like a daydream. Unbeknownst to most, Jason had a poetic soul paired with the heart of a hopeless romantic. He would bring my favorite coffee with a pastry to the library and set it beside me inconspicuously. He’d brush off every thank you, pleased by the apparent delight in my expression when I would realize what he had brought. These little gestures enabled us to evolve beyond the library setting, meeting instead at coffee shops near the school simply to study as we normally had done.  

Our interactions were intimate, yet physical exchange was always kept to a minimum, with either party fearful of crossing the line and losing the other. But observing the way his massive body could maneuver through the crowds of people on the street, watching him eat with a linger of an animalistic instinct through his gentle facade, and catching his radiant smile whenever he laid eyes on me was fulfilling enough. Until it left me longing for more.

It had taken me a while to muster the courage to make a move to him. I had developed feelings for him that grew deeper with each passing day, and I couldn’t hold in my desire any longer. So, on a sweltering summer day, as me and Jason sat at the coffee shop we would always hang out at, I decided that I would do something. Jason, in his tank top and jeans, sweat shining in the glare of the sunlight, had left me a blushing mess, too embarrassed to think through what I should do to further our relationship. In my state, I had barely recognized how he seemed timider than usual, keeping to himself. 

After an awkward afternoon in the quaint shop, I decided my endeavor was a lost cause. I got out of my seat, and walked to the entrance, motioning to Jason that I was about to leave. Together we walked out through the door, yet before we could part ways, he grabbed my wrist with a gentle grip. The sudden action caused me to swing around, crashing into his chest as I did. Before I could apologize, he used his free hand to take hold of my chin and tilt my face upward just enough to meet his lips. 

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. It was a moment of pure magic. In that fleeting instant, I knew with certainty that Jason was the perfect man for me, the one I had been searching for without even knowing it. As we pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, I felt a sense of clarity wash over me like a cleansing tide. In Jason's arms, I had found my sanctuary, my safe haven in a world full of chaos. 

And to tie the not on such a precious moment, he had whispered, “Will you be my girlfriend.”

Since that day, Jason established a routine. He’d keep his distance until the night, when he’d knock on my door, littered with bruises, crying for help. The late nights were reserved for peeling away every layer of Jason’s being his traumatizing past and his blissful present. Then, there came days that I wouldn’t hear from him for days, never seeing him at school or at the cafe. He was like a ghost disappearing and reappearing as he wished, toying with my heart every time. Yet, he always managed to make up for his absence, knowing just the right things to reel me back in when I started to slip away. But despite the distance, despite the pain, I stayed because I loved him. I had fallen in love with his fucked up ways, his twisted dreams, a secret life he kept from me.

He wasn’t a bad lover, just an absent one. His appearance had become the highlight of my days, the way he’d caress me when we hugged, the way he’d hold me in his arms while we rested in my bed. Everything he did was able to erect a lustful emotion I never knew I had. He was by all means, perfectly imperfect. Human in all rights. 

After we graduated, he became more and more distant. He’d never told me what he was up to, convinced that I would stay by his side no matter what. I felt as though I was more of a token anchor than a person to him. Existing just for him, as if I did not have passions and ambitions of my own. But he was right. His love was intoxicating, leaving me an obedient puppet who’d always wait for him. Yet the summer after graduation, when he left me for months, I finally began to become skeptical of our situation.

It was bittersweet to know that this time, he hadn’t stood me up due to his own volition. Fate was a heartbreaker, leaving love a longed-for feeling buried six feet in a grave that I could never see, even if I wanted to. Jason had a simple ceremony, with his blue roses placed upon the coffin as he was buried. A speech was given, tears were shed, and people departed more disturbed than they arrived. Or at least that was what I was told in a letter. The sender was one who shared the same address, the same life, the same ambitions as Jason, yet hadn’t the heart to allow his girlfriend the privilege of knowing about the late son’s departure from this world. 

Bruce Wayne had known loss to a degree incomprehensible to the common man, and no amount of money would ever fix the wounds that bled him dry. Yet, this experience should have encouraged communication. If he was as heartful as the news portrayed him to be, sympathizing with those less fortunate enough to form a family full of grieving children, then how had he glanced over me? The same pain had haunted me, from the moment I felt Jason slipping from my grasp, becoming more and more distant until he left me forever. Bruce Wayne, through Jason, was depicted as a madman driven by an insane drive as persistent as the Joker’s scheming. Jason worshipped the man more than god himself, and yet he often came to me with pained sobs, unfulfilled dreams, and an unbridled rage that his ‘father’ failed to provide for. 

Having never met the man before, I had formed a loose persona in my mind that I had assumed the billionaire was. Yet, my assumptions were solidified after receiving the curt letter, rather, note, written with such passive care that anyone would have thought it was merely as insignificant as a to-do list. 

To whom it may concern:  We gathered to remember Jason at Wayne Manor. It's regrettable you couldn't join us. The Wayne family extends their condolences and offers assistance during this difficult time.

Pretentious, arrogant liars. Gotham’s elite were all the same. I sat in the restaurant for two hours, danced in the street on my way home imagining what I would do for Jason's birthday, and attempted to reason another one of his absences from the date before knowing. The sealed envelope sat on the doorstep, accompanied by nothing but a red seal that indicated its correspondent. It was a strange item to receive out of the blue. 

With no notice, no knowledge of the life that Jason led among the elite, I was baffled by the harshness of facing a sudden reality. It felt surreal to imagine Jason of people dead. He was a killer, with killer looks, a killer smile, and a killer attitude. A body built to fight, and an aura as dangerous as a drug. He couldn’t have died, not my Jason. 

I couldn’t comprehend losing Jason, enough that in such denial I had ventured to Wayne Manor, forcing my way through the ebony gates onto the gothic grounds of the mansion. At the front door, after incessantly pounding on the grandiose doors, I was finally met with the face of the butler, Alfred. Before speaking I stared at him for a few moments as I cleared my blurry vision from the uncontrollable tears that rolled down my cheeks. He seemed to recognize me, as he let me inside, placing a hand on my back for support as he looked toward me with an empathetic expression. 

“Jason can’t be dead. I never saw a body, never heard a lick of what happened to him. You’re liars.” The words left like venom, hurting the old man enough to display his aching heart in his eyes. 

“We all have lost someone very special, but we must accept it.” He spoke, attempting to keep a calm demeanor. 

“Accept it? What the hell are you on about? A funeral I was never invited to and a body I have yet to see. How am I supposed to accept something that seems too imaginative?” I retorted, my anger laced with sorrow.

Silence hung heavy between us, but I pressed on, seeking the truth I feared. “He didn’t care, did he? He loved something more than he loved me, right?”

Alfred nodded, giving into his grief as his eyebrows softened, and his gaze moved to the floor, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. 

“Can you tell me what it was that he adored enough to give his life for?”

“Justice.”

I laughed. Of course, he chased independence from his family, yet revered the so-called philanthropist guardian he had. Though he might have begun with the pursuit of true moral justice, Bruce skewed into a dangerous endeavor. 

Bruce Wayne was a killer, not Jason, no he had a handsome impression, a soft smile, and a hopeful attitude. It wasn’t justice that Jason pursued, it was Bruce’s image of it. He was an imperfect man, his only weakness was the longing for a familial love he was denied by his own parents. One that I could never compensate for. He wasn’t my Jason, never had he been. I didn’t know Jason at all, I was the puppet, toyed with by the father and the son. 

After six months of sleepless nights and living nightmares, I finally found a haphazard peace to settle in. I watched the sky every night, wishing that the hope that blessed Metropolis would make its way into Gotham and give me the will to move on with my life. But, as the general populace is fated to remain in the same cycle, trapped in the chains of modern capitalism, all I was able to do was make do with my shitty job, in my shitty apartment, living a lonely life, as devoid of color as the Gotham sky was of the sun. My visit to Wayne Manor had not changed anything, for I was still left in the dark regarding every manner in which Jason’s name was exploited, whether it be a fundraiser in his honor or a gala, I was always the last to know. 

But without hearing his name, seeing his face, or feeling his touch for so long, I had begun to forget him. Out of sight, out of mind as the saying goes, and though I had forgotten everything, his soft voice still haunted me whenever I slept. I had fallen into insanity fueled by my imagination, one that left me feeling rich in broken pieces of a heart. 

Tonight I sat at the edge of my windowsill, one leg resting on a loose brick outside the apartment, while the other remained crossed beneath me. With my head leaned back against the metal of the frame, I watched the stars twinkle in the night sky, like diamonds. It was a rare night, to hear the sirens go off occasionally. There were no screams, no gunshots no cries for help, only the ambience of the city. I took it as a sign, that change had arrived, that peace was mine to finally be in. 

Closing my eyes, I decided that tonight was safe enough to let my guard down. To enjoy Gotham’s raw essence as a mother to the unfortunate. Her touch let my hair dance in the breeze, cooling my body from the heat of the day. Her sounds were a harmonic symphony lulling me into a deep sleep. But her motherly affection was short-lived, as the sound of boots hitting the fire escape had woken me from my lucid state. 

 The footsteps felt heavy yet sounded as soft as the movements of a ballerina. There was a familiar feeling about the situation, but I couldn’t quite place it, not until his breath hit the back of my neck. Even with the faint light from the neon sign, the man remained a silhouette in the darkness, bigger than what the steps had led me to believe. I didn’t move, waiting for the man to make the first move.

“Hey.” In the same husky voice in which he introduced himself to me all those years ago, Jason had come back, yet again tempting me to be consumed by him. At first, I thought I had finally broken, gone insane from the grief. I was done fighting my end when the weight of Jason's touch settled upon me. It was as though a dark cloud descended, shrouding me in a familiar embrace that I couldn't resist. His fingers traced the contours of my hand, each touch sending shivers down my spine, igniting a flame that I thought had long been extinguished.

I felt the pull of his presence, magnetic and intoxicating, drawing me closer with each passing moment. His breath, hot against my neck, tempted me to abandon reason and lose myself in his embrace. Despite the past, despite the pain, despite everything urging me to resist, I found myself unable to pull away. His hold tightened and his lips brushed against my ear, I knew that I had crossed a line from which there was no return. Swallowed by the shadows of Gotham's embrace, I had sealed my fate the moment I met him. I was fated to die a poor woman, yet the devil enticed me with a taste, and I will die a rich woman consumed by the unending pain of unreal love. 

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #under the red hood #arkhamverse #arkham knight #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #angst #manipulation #toxic love

[luveline]

i think it would be adorable seeing a conversation of spencer freaking out about pregnant!bombshell and hotch just calmly telling him all about different ways to help and them talking about new dad fears :((

pregnant!reader, 1k (sorry it was more about the pregnant part than the new dad fears!)

Hotch doesn’t know what Spencer’s going to say when he knocks, but he ushers him inside his office regardless. He has the appearance of someone with grief to share; Hotch immediately starts to think of the people he and Spencer have in common. 

“I need your advice,” Spencer says desperately. 

Hotch puts his pen in its holder. “Of course.” 

“She won’t sit down.” 

Hotch lets himself relax. “Ah.” 

“She’s acting like she isn’t pregnant at all. I want her to be happy, but she keeps running up the stairs. What if she falls?” 

“Y/N has very likely thought of that possibility already.” 

“Then why doesn’t she stop?” 

Hotch chews his cheek for a moment. “Spencer, sit down.” 

The chair squeaks as Spencer sits, scrubbing at his face roughly. 

Hotch has watched Spencer grow up, in a way, moving from twenty three to thirty quick as blinking, and he’s watched him fall in love with you, and now he gets to watch Spencer have daily conniptions over your apparent lack of self-preservation. He’s enjoyed it, genuinely, and he doesn’t mind offering some wisdom now as a partner who’s made enough mistakes to know better. 

“Spencer, you can’t make her sit down if she doesn’t want to. And she’s four months pregnant. Pretty soon, she’ll have no choice but to sit down. It’s best if you let her stay active as long as she can, so she stays as healthy as she can.” He leans back in his chair. The smirk is unbidden, but he can’t help it. “But you know this.” 

“Her ligaments are weakening, because of the baby. The pregnancy. It’s about to get much more painful for her,” Spencer says. 

“So?” Hotch prods gently. 

Spencer nods. Glances out the window down into the bullpen, before dragging his chair closer to the desk. “Hotch, it’s like she’s two different people. Or three. There’s the crying one, and the happy one, and the…” 

“The hates you one?” he offers. 

“Yes. Which is luckily quite rare, but terrifying.” 

“Just hormones, Spence.” 

Spencer breathes out. Hotch can’t help the immeasurable wave of fondness he’s feeling for his colleague. He genuinely wants to round the desk and pat Spencer on the back. This is all a learning curve, a way of life. Partners have been wrestling with their scary pregnant wives for long before he and Spencer came around. 

“The happy one is worth it, though,” Hotch guesses. He had some lovely days with Hayley. 

“You know what she’s like,” Spencer says.

Hotch can imagine. Before your pregnancy, you adored Spencer. You’ve doted on him since you met him, and if the glimpses Hotch has seen of you these last few months are any indication, you are immovably in love. Yesterday, you brushed the sesame seeds off of Spencer’s sandwich one by one because he doesn’t like them. The day before, you’d pushed your chair next to his and drawn circles into his arm the entire workday (while, impressively, still managing to finish your assigned consults). 

“There’s a common theme, I think, when she’s angry. She’s usually uncomfortable. I’ve started to go through a checklist,” Spencer says. He sounds guilty. 

“I think it’s a good idea. I noticed you’ve been keeping candy in your bag.” Hotch laughs. Spencer joins in. 

“Just the essentials.” 

Hotch doesn’t doubt that you’re on every prenatal vitamin you could ever need, that Spencer has researched pregnancy from the latest journals to the very rarest myths. He has no doubt that you’re well taken care of. You’re going to be fine. Spencer has no need to worry about you. Hotch might have cause to worry about Spencer, though. 

“Reid, I’ll tell you a secret. It might not work for you, but it worked for me.” 

Spencer holds his hands together. “What is it?” 

“The next time you want her to slow down,” —Hotch lays it out carefully, without judgement for you or any private teasing, just genuine care for the both of you— “you can distract her with the baby.” 

“I’ve tried that,” Spencer says. “She tells me I’m worrying.” 

“Not about the baby’s health. If she thinks everything is alright, it likely is. I mean about the future.” Spencer doesn’t seem to understand. Hotch searches for an example. “Baby shoes, clothes. I once calmed Hayley down from an hours-long meltdown by telling her I thought Jack would have her eyes.” 

“That works?” 

“It’s probably much nicer for her to have you encouraging positive thoughts than negative,” he says gently. 

“I guess I worry too much.” 

“Not too much, Reid. I’m just telling you what worked for me. When it’s over, you’ll miss it. A few years later.” 

They smile. Hotch watches with a distinct fatherly pride as Spencer retreats down into the bullpen where you stand talking animatedly to Anderson. You’ve been on your feet all day, in kitten heels no less, and you look tired but not unhappy. 

Spencer joins you for a while. You show no signs of moving. Hotch figures he’ll give Spencer time to act on his advice and goes back to his paperwork, losing track of time, ignoring the beep of his watch that signals lunch time. 

He finishes his paperwork a little while after. 

“I wonder what she'll have,” he hears Spencer saying. 

“She’ll have my hands,” you insist suddenly, your voice floating up the steps. You’ve always had one of those tones that attracts attention, even when you aren’t shouting. “Don’t girls often get their mom’s hands? And their dad’s noses?” 

He’s expecting Spencer to cite an article on genetic lottery, but he doesn’t. He sounds the polar opposite of how he’d panicked in Hotch’s office. “I think so. I got my mom’s hands, too. She had short nail beds.” A pause. Hotch glances out the window to find you sitting in Spencer’s chair, a sandwich laid out in two halves on a napkin, a tray of vegetable batons in your hands where they rest on your bump. “I hope she has your everything.” 

You lift your chin. Spencer taps your noses together. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks hopefully. 

“Yes, please. Anything you’re having.” 

Hotch isn’t smug, exactly, but he is admittedly very pleased at the outcome of his advice. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[baeshijima]

— perfect

your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it

A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.

when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.

it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.

the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.

your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.

you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.

he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.

he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.

that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.

(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)

it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).

and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.

he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.

so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!

when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.

it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.

"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.

should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—

"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.

he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"

silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?

oh god he hopes not.

but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.

and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.

"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."

(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

[monster-slxt]

You are an exorcist that specializes in exorcising demons.

Currently, you are investigating a small town that's had an unusual amount demonic activity.

You questioned the towns people, however, most seem unwilling to even mention the stranger going ons in their town and simply avoid your questions before quickly walking away.

Lucky for you though, you manage to overhear a few of the towns folk gossiping with each other.

Apparently, for the last few months, a terrifying creature has been roaming the streets seemingly search for something. What it is looking for no one wants to know...

Even more terrifying was that anyone foolish enough to still be out at night would go missing. Only to be found the next morning unconscious with their clothes in tatters.

You then visit the local church to see if the priest if he knows anything.

The priest is surprisingly welcoming of you. Quickly leading you inside and even offering some refreshments.

You explain why your here and ask if priest may know of anything. But the priest sadly shakes his head.

With a sigh, you get up to leave, but are quickly stopped by the priest. He says that it is too dangerous to go out this late and that you should stay in the church with him at least until sunrise.

Deciding it's probably a good idea, you agree.

That night as you sleep in the bed given to you, the priest silently creeps into the room. He stares down with glowing red eyes at your sleeping form.

He so desperately wanted to crawl on top of you and rip that teasingly thin layer of clothing from your oh so tempting body and fuck you until your moans like a bitch in heat.

But ah, he can't. Not yet at least. It simply wasn't the right moment.

It ironic really, before he would have condemn such lecherous thoughts. Back then he was a devout servant of God. A truly holy man.

But that was before he got possessed by the demon. Before his mind and soul were beyond redemption.

Now he was nothing more than a monster that indulges into his own sin.

For the past few months his demon had been searching for a mate, but has had no luck.

None of the humans he found were right. Sure they were decent fucks, but they broke way too easily and left him unsatisfied.

Then you appeared.

The moment he saw you, he knew you were perfect. A single whiff of your scent was enough to have the demon in him purring.

Oh he couldn't wait to see you round with his offspring! All in good time, love~

Kissing you on the mouth anon this is so good-

Of course, in the morning the priest would offer up the bed for as long as I needed to rid the town of its demonic influence. And of course I'd suspect nothing from a holy man. The next few days would go on much the same, getting nowhere with the locals during the day and sleeping in the church at night. The priest taking every opportunity to leer at me while I sleep, weakening my defense slowly with his unholy magic. At least The townsfolk seemed to ease up a bit with the lack of recent attacks.

It was only when I'd finally gotten frustrated with getting nowhere and decided to go out at night myself that I'd catch a glimpse of anything demonic. A huge hulking beast unlike anything I'd seen in all my years as an exorcist with a goats head and huge bat wings. The most I'd ever dealt with was a tiny imp. So I panicked.

All I could think to do in the moment was run for the church, the beast lazily keeping pace. It was clear as it followed me onto the holy ground that there was nothing I could possibly do. The sudden hint of arousal mixed into the fear the beast could smell of me finally became too much to bear- lunging forwards and easily catching me in its claws.

"I've waited so long for this" a rumbling deep yet somehow familiar voice purrs in my ear as long claws shred my clothes like butter. My attempts to flee were quickly stopped by an ungodly long tongue licking down my neck and a sudden weight on my stomach.

Risking a glance I felt faint. The demons cock was so huge there was no possible way it could fit inside me. Though he seemed intent on trying, pulling back and lining up with my cunt.

Without warning half the huge rod slammed inside of me, the stretch unimaginable. He wasted no time in pulling out and jackhammering back in, each thrust forcing more and more of his demonic cock in me. It was only then that I dimly became away of the familiarity in the demons voice; the priest. He moaned how I would be such a good broodmare, taking his corruption so well.

All night he fucked me, never once slowing down. Pumping me full of his demonic seed over and over again until sun rise. Leaving me with my stomach huge and swollen with cum, no doubt already knocked up, to go get ready for Sunday mass.

Nine months later I'm showing a group of church woman my engagement ring, stomach round and tight with twins. How lucky I was, the ladies cooed, that the priest was willing to marry me pregnant with an exes child. Not many men would, but he was just so good and holy.

If only they knew they knew they were praying with the father of the hellspawn kicking in my stomach

#asks #monsterfucking #monster smut #tetro #dubcon #preg #demon

[neteyamslovrr]

HOW CAN I LOSE YOU?

summary: prmoised to a stranger Y/N takes flight and finds herself lost in the pandorian forest, only to be found by a omaticayan boy. who knew that strangers could fall in love so fast?

a/n: 5.7K WORDS bro that's more than my assignments. anyway i am incredibly proud of this fic and i hope you enjoy it as much as i do

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Heat rose through your body, fury filling your insides as the words your mother said repeated in your mind like an intoxicating mantra. You are promised.

Promised? Th only promise is your misery. To think it’s not even someone from your clan. A stranger, an outsider, unknown to you and you were meant to mate. The fury grew even thinking about it.

“Y/N? Respond please.” Your mother held her hands on your shoulder as you refused to look in her direction.

“What? I’m being promised to someone I don’t even know. Am I meant to be excited?” You spat venom at your mother avoiding her eye contact, swatting her hands off of your body.  

“Y/N! Do not speak to your mother like that!” Always chiming in when he wasn’t needed, that’s what your father did.

“Don’t treat your daughter like a peace treaty then!” You shouted back, a sharp finger pointed at your father’s chest. You started to walk backwards, hands shaking from the rage racking through your body. “I’m leaving.”

“No Y/N, you can’t leave now, we have things to discuss!” Your mother was desperate walking fast to match the fast pace you had created to reach your ikran.

“You have nothing to say to me.” Harsh words shot at your mother as you hoped onto your ikran. “Go, Lifo!” Shouting out your banshees name you took off, gusts of wind leaving your parents to stare at their fleeing daughter.

You couldn’t remember how long you had been flying, the ongoing replay of the fight with your parents and the doom of your near future plagued your mind. Leaving your ikran to fly into unknown territory, a dense forest filled with a loud glow that encompassed every lifeform.

Landing on a large tree you disconnected from Lifo, the glow was different to your clan, it was much more apparent, the plant life encompassing every step you would take.

Strolling through the forest, you wandered looking for any food or water, as the unexpected trip took a toll on your body, hunger brewing in your stomach creating soft grumbles that harmonized with the sounds of the forest. Inspecting all of the flora around you, you spotted a purple fruit. You only recognized it as the same fruit grew on smaller trees surrounding your village.  

Picking the fruit, avoiding the thorns on the fruits skin, you took a bite. The flesh of the fruit spilling into your mouth leaving you with an amazing taste and a wash of nostalgia. It was the exact same as home, bringing you back to times when you knew you could run freely and weren’t subjected to a life of misery, a life of lack of love.

A sudden crunch of leaves instantly got rid of the nostalgic feeling you had and replaced them with fear, subconsciously holding onto the knife in the loop of your loin cloth as your heart started to beat rapidly.

“Who are you?” A loud voice boomed in front of you. A tall man, braids reaching his shoulders and hand who also reached onto his knife stood tall across from you, his figure intimidating as he questioned you.

“I mean no harm! I am just lost!” You retracted your hand off your knife to surrender yourself to the man in front of you. “I am from the eastern seas, my ikran and I flew too far.” Pointing to your sleeping ikran in the treetops above the pair of you. The mans eyes softened immediately, you noticed a=how the bioluminescent glow of the forest made his features stand out like a flower in a desert.

“Are you alright?” The man asked coming closer, his hand now also abandoning his knife, knowing you were no longer a threat.

“Yes, just looking for food.”

“You cannot stay in the forest at night, you’ll die.” Panic rose throughout you as you realised you stood in such hostile foliage. Eyes immediately scanning around where you stood, conscious of the danger surrounding you. “Rest within my clan, you’ll leave in the morning.” He wasn’t asking you, more like a demand.

Nodding hesitantly, you clapped three times to wake Lifo up, watching her wide wings flap down to the ground to let you board her. “Please lead the way.”

He nodded, calling his ikran to fly high into the sky waiting for you to follow suit. “What is your name Ikran girl?” He shouted over the noise of the two of your ikran’s flying.

“It’s Y/N…what is yours forest boy?”

“Neteyam.” That’s a pretty name.

Upon arrival you watched as many people hustled to look at the newcomer. Two women rose to the front, the rest parting to make way for them. Assuming they were important, you greeted them with a bow. “oel ngati kameie”

The two repeated it before turning aggressively to the boy you knew as Neteyam.

“Who do you bring here?” An older woman asked, she looked wise. Maybe she was Tsa’hik?

“Her name is Y/N, flew over from the eastern seas and got lost in the forest, she is here to rest.” Neteyam’s voice was serious, his face stern, like a man of leadership. Who exactly had you run into in the middle of this forest?

“I see…” She replied, her eyes gliding over you. Frozen in the moment, her stare was intimidating but so was the hundreds of others that oogled at you. It made the hunger settling in your stomach turn into anxiety.

“Feed this poor girl!” A younger woman replied, coming up beside the Tsa’hik. She was thin, her braids similar to Neteyam’s, feathers adorning her hair, as a small child held tightly onto her hand.

“Yes mother.” Neteyam nodded, he looked at you and your frozen form. Laying a soft hand on your shoulder. “Come, your ikran will rest.” He started walking off even before you could process his words but seeing as he was the only person you knew in this place, it was first instinct to follow him around like a lost child.

He lead you into a tent, inside were fruit baskets and water stored in wooden jars. If you weren’t so shocked by the continuous new surrounding you would’ve rushed to the fruit.

“Hurry and eat, everyone can hear your stomach.” Neteyam said as he stood next to the fruit, picking one up to put into your hands. Picking the fruit out of his hands, your fingers brushed his palm slightly.

It shouldn’t have worked you up so much, but the static between the two of you evoked a small gasp out of you. Neteyam felt the touch too, he just decided to ignore it but seeing your overreaction brought a soft smirk to his face.

“Do not make fun of the guests Neteyam!” A girl pushed between the two of you, giving Neteyam a nudge. She was short, her hair messy and her voice deep.

“I was not sister!” Neteyam scoffed pushing his sister back. She let out an exaggerated gasp holding onto her arm dramatically.

Munching onto the fruit in your hands, you watched the pair of sibling’s bicker in front of you. You would’ve giggled at their antics if the anxiety of being in this new place wasn’t controlling every thought.

“Oh! I haven’t introduced myself!” The shorter girl turned to you curtly. “I am Kiri, Neteyam’s sister. What is your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” You said with you mouth full, face covered in a sticky sap excreting from the fruits skin.

“That’s quite pretty, your name.” You heated up, a compliment was rarely something you received.

“Thankyou very much.” You smiled at the girl, your gaze distracted by Neteyam who overlooked your conversation, a soft smile glistening over his face. It looked like was almost in awe watching the two women converse.

Neteyam shook his head, realising he left himself loose in his thoughts. Looking over at your messy face he was mesmerised, each of your features perfectly matched the other, you looked so soft yet sharp, so tough but so elegant.

He shouldn’t be thinking this, not as an Olo’eyktan, he had duties, responsibilities. He can’t develop a liking for another clan woman.

“Are the fruits…good?” He sounded so awkward, destroying the flow of the conversation between you and Kiri. Kiri snorted in response at her brother, she wasn’t dumb, she knew when a boy thought a girl was pretty, especially when its her brother making a fool of himself.  

You nodded enthusiastically. “They’re amazing, thankyou Neteyam.” You had finally finished the fruit, leaving your face and hands sticky. An uncomfortable feeling no doubt.

“I’m uh glad.” Neteyam responded, being slightly deterred as his sister left, poking him in the spine as she snuck out of the tent, leaving Neteyam alone, with this…girl.

“Why are you all the way in the forest by the way?” Neteyam asked suddenly, his eyes directly upon yours, looking into them, noticing the glint of sadness that washed over your pupils momentarily.

“I argued with my parents. Flew off in a rush and got distracted as to where I was flying. So now I am here.” You shrugged, taking a seat on the floor of the tent, your legs growing tired from your long journey. Neteyam followed your actions and sat down in front of you. Much closer to where he stood.

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, my parents should be the sorry ones, but you do not want to be burdened with the quarrels of my family.” A stifled chuckle escaped your throat as you looked up to see Neteyam listening to your ever word.

“I would not be burdened if you decided to talk about it.” His voice was calm, soft, a comforting feeling spreading through your chest as you heard his words.

“Thankyou.”

Neteyam nodded, as he patted just above your knee, a soft hand to comfort whatever grief was consuming your emotions. “Do you want to sleep, or would you like to continue to eat?”

“Uh, I don’t want to eat more than I am allowed to.”

“Well, are you still hungry?”

“…yes”

Neteyam shoved another piece of fruit in your hands. “Then you will eat.”

“Thankyou.” You smiled at him, biting into the fruit once again.

Neteyam was compelled by your presence, he had known you for merely an hour but the magnetic connection he felt as he was drawn to you was undeniable. Was he going crazy?

You noticed his heavy stare on you once more. It made you nervous, his eyes looking through you as you sat in front of him. His beauty was one you had never seen, he poise interested you. Were you attracted to this random man? You must be going crazy.

Chewing the food in a slightly rush you watched as Neteyam’s eyes awkwardly shuffled around the room to try and avoid making too much eye contact with you. With a small inhale you tried to gain the courage to break the awkward tension between you two.

“So Neteyam, you seem important around here, is there a reason why?” Your question surprised Neteyam. He had never met someone who knew nothing of his reputation within the clan.

“I am the future Olo’eyktan, my father is Toruk Makto.” You almost spat out the food in your mouth. You were speaking so casually with the son of Toruk Makto? Not even that, his firstborn son? He must have been staring because you were so informal!

“Oh! Son of Toruk Makto. I should have been more formal!” You rushed to stand up again to bow down to him. Scrambling to your feet with speed, you felt a soft grip on your wrist.

There Neteyam looked up at you, his eyes slightly…disappointed? Was he really that upset about your informalities?

“Sit back down Y/N, there is no need to be so formal.”

“Are you sure.” Your voice was quiet, eyes filled with confusion and hesitance as he nodded giving you the go ahead to sit once again.

“Yes I’m sure…just think of me as Neteyam.”

“Okay, I’ll do that…Neteyam.” He smiled at the sound of his name, the way you giggled as you said it, smile shining brightly in the soft moonlight that slipped through the tents curtains.

“What are you in your clan?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing with you.

“I am the second daughter of the Olo’eyktan. Nothing special.” You shrugged, avoiding his hardening gaze. His hand returned once again to your thigh, an awkward attempt at comfort but still an attempt.

“You are a daughter of your clan’s leaders, that is important.” A stern statement filled with pride, his eyes softening while looking at you.

“Thankyou.” You said followed with a small yawn, eyes watering slightly. Your body was now feeling the fatigue of the long day that was now behind you.

“Oh, that reminds me, sleeping.” A soft chuckle left your lips in response to Neteyam, eyelids now starting to droop subtly. “This is my tent is where I usually sleep but if you would like you can sleep in here and I can sleep in my family’s tent?” He sounded so unsure, to suggest it as if there was another option as to where you could sleep safely.

“I do not want to kick you out of your bedroom.” You said shaking your head.

“But you are a guest you should sleep here safe.” A quick rebuttal

“Well, but this is your tent. This is where you sleep.”

“No, tonight it is where you sleep.” You sighed, pursing your lips together in response to Neteyams final remarks.

“But-”

“No” he stood up, now looking down at you. His figure looming over you intimidatingly. “You will sleep here tonight. If there is any trouble I am not far away.” He smiled at you, offering a hand to pull you up to his level.

“Are you completely sure?”

“Completely. Goodnight ikran girl.”

“Goodnight Neteyam.”

You both couldn’t deny the heat that rushed flowed to your cheeks. Neteyam stifled his smile as he exited the tent, as a smirking Kiri gave him a knowing look. This may have been the start of something terribly amazing.

It was now morning, a restless night filled with anxiety. The new sounds of the world around you, the mysterious moonlight shining into your eyes and to be alone in a brand new clan. It was terrifying.

Waking up for the last time as you decided it was an appropriate time to start off your day. Siting up you examined the tent around you, the small plants and flowers that littered the ground, and carved wooden pieces that were spread strategically around the tent. He must enjoy decorating you thought to yourself.

The curtain of your room slowly opened, a timid hand holding the edge, peeling it open to reveal Neteyam’s face. “Morning Y/N, did you sleep alright?” He asked closing the curtain again as he entered his tent. He looked down at your barely awake form, the sleep in your eyes and overall exhaustion on your face told him that you in fact did not sleep alright.

“It was fine, thankyou for letting me sleep here.”

“There was no way you weren’t going to, mum would have skinned me if I had not let a woman sleep in her own tent.” He chuckled at the thought, a hand being brought up behind his head.

“Either way, I appreciate it. I’ll have to go home soon though, my parents will send out a search party if I’m not back before todays eclipse.” Neteyam frowned, of course you had to leave. But why was there a tugging in his heart to ask you to stay just a couple hours longer, to talk to you longer, to be near you.

“Yes, but you should stay just a bit…longer.” Neteyam sounded so weary, cursing himself in his mind.

You stared up at him, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to be home, yet you had this growing urge to stay by this stranger. Why? Why did you crave his closeness?

“I guess I could…” His face brightened almost exclaiming in joy, but he choked down his urge to shout.

“Cool.” Cool? Oh, Neteyam you had to be kidding.

“Yeah…cool…” The awkward tension was once again returning as you looked away from the boy in front of you, fidgeting with his hands, rocking on his heels to pray something could meld the awkwardness in the room.

Getting off of your makeshift bed you stood close to Neteyam. Closer than any normal conversation would be. His breath was brushing past your ear as he looked down to see you mimicking his fidgeting.

“Would you like to explore the forest with me?” It was a fast, impulsive, brash decision to ask you that but seeing the way your eyes twinkled in response he felt no shame in being so forward.

“I’d love to.” Sharing smiles, you both enjoyed the now comfortable silence between you. A silence two would share in the pining plot point of a romance movie, one that asserts which two characters will be in love.

“Then let us go!”

That conversation led to you being alone in the forest with Neteyam. As he passionately explained all of the things around you, the plants, the animals. He knew you would have them in your clan, but he was enthralled in the spirit of teaching someone all about his life and culture. To have someone listen so intently to something he was passionate about.

“The forest is beautiful Neteyam.” You breathed out resting your back against a large tree trunk, one similar to the one you landed on the night before.

“I am extremely blessed for it to be my home.” His eyes were bright, smile across his face as his gratitude took over his emotions. He looked alluring to you, a sort of instinct drawing you closer to him, even though he was the one walking closer to you, a subconscious decision.

“Neteyam..” It was quiet but seeing him walk towards you unknowingly led him to stand very close to your front. His chest mere centimetres away from yours. “You are close…” Noticing your whisper he noticed how close he was, he was too busy focusing on the plants around him, he had walked right into you.

He froze when he saw your breath hitch, your eyes connecting as his broad chest momentarily brushed up against yours. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t be.” He looked down seeing your flushed cheeks and avoidant eyes. It intrigued him. Why were you so attractive? He shouldn’t think this.

“No, you shouldn’t.” Your eyes shot up to him, desire pooling in your amber orbs. The feeling was taking over your body, this longing for him. Why did you want this stranger so bad? You knew nothing of him other than the fact that your body was calling for him, begging for him.

Neteyam was now the frozen one, lost in your eyes. The desire you felt transferring to him as he felt his chest grow heavy from yearning. “Y/N…” Your name rolled off his tongue with ease, dripping in anxiousness.

Maybe it was to spite your parents, to find someone before you were mated. Maybe it was the overall intimacy of how Neteyam shyly loomed over you or maybe it was the fact that this man in front of you was the most attractive Na’vi you had ever came across and you were just a teenage girl…alone in the forest.

“Neteyam. Forgive me for this.” Crashing your lips against his your eyes shut tight as your hands travelled up his chest to rest behind his neck. He froze, eyes wide as he felt you upon him. Your touch burning as your hands travelled up and down his body.

Accepting your affections, he closed his eyes and continued to kiss you. Lips latching onto one another as he pulled your into his body, his hands wrapped around the small of your back, thumbs digging into the flesh of your hips.

Starting to lose your breath you broke away from Neteyam’s lips. Meeting his heavy breaths and intense stare. “Neteyam-” cut off as he smashed his lips into yours again. This time it was feverish, his body craving you, to taste you lips and feel every part of your body.

You let out small whimpers as Neteyam’s hands travelled down to grab your ass, his hand resting on the flesh. If he was in his right mind he would’ve been repulsed by his lewd actions but in this moment he craved you, and the sounds you made just drove him closer to insanity.

As hands roamed and kisses grew more desperate you and Neteyam separated, hands laying softly on each other as chests rose in sync, breathing loud and eye contact strong.

“Neteyam, I am sorry. I should not have done that.” The feeling of desire soon turned into shame, not being able to look him in the eye, too embarrassed about what you initiated. Neteyam was still, his face showing none of the feelings he was experiencing.

He longed to taste you again, but he knew it was wrong. He had duties to uphold as leader, he couldn’t kiss whomever he pleased. But you were just so intoxicating.

“No.”

“What?”

“Do not be sorry. I kissed you back. I wanted you so badly. No. I want you so badly.”

“Neteyam, I met you yesterday and I’m leaving today. I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” He forgot that you had only known each other one eclipse. It felt like eternity. He also forgot that you were meant to leave, you weren’t here forever. This was a mere coincidence, meeting you in the forest was a coincidence.

“Come back then.”

“Huh” You stared up at him, you knew what he said. You just wanted him to repeat himself.

“Leave and come back. We can visit I just…I want to get to know you more Y/N. I don’t want to kiss a girl to never see her again.” Neteyam’s hands had rested against your cheek. It didn’t feel like you had known him for hours, more like years. An old couple reuniting, lost souls reconnecting. That is what it felt like.

“Neteyam…how do I explain that to my parents?”

“Don’t.”

“You are being a bit delusional.”

“I know I just… this is stupid. You just want to go.” His ears flattened against his skull, a prominent frown etched onto his face. You sighed holding onto the hand that laid against your own cheek.

“Neteyam. I want to get to know you as well.”

There it was. That was the start. It was the beginning. You both felt something click in your heads that day. That this is what is right, despite it feeling so wrong.

You and Neteyam had now been visiting each other twice a week. You would fly out on long ‘training hunts’ to understand new waters you have explored but in reality you were in the Pandorian rainforest, sat against a man’s chest as he played with your hair. It had become routine now. It was now habit to see each other.

It felt like true bliss. It let you escape from the impending doom that was meeting your future mate. It felt disgusting to think of living with someone other than Neteyam by your side. Thinking about it made you queasy but most of it made you feel lonely. Knowing one day you would have to say goodbye to Neteyam as your family had trapped you into misery for the benefits of clan’s over their own daughter. However, you didn’t think you would say goodbye to Neteyam this way.

You sat on the tree where you met Neteyam. You decided to pick that one as its large waterfall next to it made it easy for you to know where you were as you barely knew your way around the forest.

Early morning is when you would leave your clan meeting Neteyam as the sun starts to move towards peak. This morning however felt different. Neteyam who usually was there before you was nowhere to be seen. It worried you wondering where he was. He didn’t forget or something did he? No. That is stupid Y/N, you cursed yourself.

Being in the forest alone was scary, not knowing all that resides it made you sensitive to the smallest noise. That’s why when Neteyam emerged out of the heavy foliage you had your knife out ready to attack.

“Y/N? Why is your knife out?”

“You scared the crap out of me Neteyam.” Putting your knife back into the loop of your loincloth you pulled your hands down your face in embarrassment. Your heartbeat now starting to calm down as Neteyam gave you a soft embrace hoping to calm your anxiousness.

“Sorry…I was late talking to my family.” You didn’t realise before because of the adrenaline but Neteyam’s voice was sorrowful. The usual playful tone changing into a melancholy tune. But what alerted you the most was his tear-stricken face. Puffy eyes and dark cheeks.

“Neteyam…have you been crying?” you rested your thumb against his cheek, wiping the residue of tears off his face.

“It is nothing”

“It is definitely something…” your concern grew larger as he looked way from your gaze, obvious he was hiding the new set of tears welling in his eyes.

“No. It is not.”

“Neteyam please-”

“NO Y/N! I- I can’t talk about it. I just want, I want to stay next to you.” His voice cracked, in turn cracking your heart. It ached to see him hurt.

“That is okay baby, come here.” He crashed into your arms, falling onto his knees to smoosh his face into your torso. You could feel the wetness of his tears near your belly button but ignored it to continue soothing him, patting his head softly.

As you sat down to meet him on the ground you noticed his more recent tears. It pained you. What was troubling your boy?

“Nete you can tell me if something is troubling you…”

“I don’t want to lose you Y/N.” The sentence was unexpected, making you widen your eyes as Neteyam continued to let his tears fall out with a stone cold face.

“But I am right here.” A lie, you knew you would be taken away at some point, but you would tried to push it down. Enjoy the time you had with Neteyam, but for some reason he was the one cutting it short.

“No Y/N…I have been promised. I-” he paused to calm himself down, his hand gripping onto your thigh roughly. “I am to mate with someone for my clan. It is my duty.”

“What.”

“Y/N please, I had no say in this.” Your lip quivered, eyes starting to water as you gazed up to the already crying Neteyam. The pain in your body felt crippling, like your heart had been plunged out of you. Small sobs coming out of your mouth in a soft whisper as Neteyam muttered constant apologies to you.

Your chest felt heavy, your body felt heavy. You felt like you were tied down, stuck on the ground you sat on, stuck on Neteyam who hung onto you as you continued to cry in his embrace.

“Neteyam. Does this mean we never see each other again?” His heart shattered at the thought. He had fallen in love with you. Everything you did he wanted to be there with you. He craved you and you craved him. But now you were grieving him and grieving whatever could have been.

“I do not want it to be.”

“But is it.”

“Yes.”

The quiet sobs turned into loud ones as you clawed onto Neteyam. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear as he rocked you back and forth. He tried to have a little composure but hearing your pained voice broke him. He had broken you.

“I don’t want to let you go yet Nete. I was planning on never letting you go! Why did this happen!” you had this secret fantasy in your mind. That one day you and Neteyam would mate, that you would come to your home, denounce your parents promise over you and live happily with Neteyam.

But no. You were now both tied to loveless lives. Constantly yearning for each other while being with one whom you never craved like you craved each other.

“I am so sorry my love. I wish I could do something, but I am stuck.” You nodded, you were in his exact position. You couldn’t blame him. But you wanted to scream, cause a ruckus and demand for Neteyam to stay as yours. It drove you insane. Who was going to be the girl that kept you away from your Neteyam. You’ll skin her, kill her, slit her throat if it meant that Neteyam could still be yours.

“I know…let’s just enjoy our time together” it felt like a knife to the heart, like a final goodbye those last eight words. But Neteyam understood. He knew that this was a goodbye. That all good things had to come to an end but that didn’t make the thought of never having you in his arms again not the most painful thing he had ever thought about.

The ride home was the most painful thing you had ever done. You didn’t stop crying until you reached home, your throat itchy and head pounding. You wanted nothing more than to lay in your hammock and cry. To stay there until it was your time to mate and be miserable forever.

Flying into your home you would’ve thought your parents got the message that you were not to be talked to. But who were they to care about your feelings? So they barged into your room, gasping at the state of their sorrowful daughter.

“My child what has happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You grumbled facing the opposite direction to minimalize the embarrassment you felt of being caught crying.

“We should tell her.” Your fathers voice rung in your ears, making your body go cold. You couldn’t handle anymore bad news, not after this.

“Tell me what.”

“Your mate is to arrive here tomorrow.” Your body heated up, feeling as if your head was on fire with rage. You didn’t even get time to grieve your romance before you were shoved into the hands of a stranger?

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

“Do not speak to us that way.” Your father tried to discipline you, but your rage was nothing compared to him.

“ARE YOU KIDDING?! I DON’T WANT A MATE I WANT TO BE ALONE. FUCK!” You voice was raspy and loud, sure the entire clan could hear you screams.

“You do not get a choice in this. It is for the clan.” You looked into your parents eyes but all you could see is betrayal, how is this fair?

You didn’t have the energy to fight this any longer. Without Neteyam, your purpose was gone. How was anyone meant to fight for their love when their love had been stripped away from them.

“Fine.” Your mother looked at both her mate and daughter with concern. You had given up. “I don’t care anymore, because it is obvious you do not.”

“You brat-” Your mother coughed loudly to stop your father. Sharing glances, you all looked to each other.

“Thank you daughter for doing this.” Sneering you looked directly into your mothers eyes and then to your fathers.

“I am not your daughter.” Their faces had fallen, the same emotion Neteyam had when he first saw you earlier. They had no right to be upset. Not when they chose this.

As your parents left without a word, you curled into a ball, folding in on yourself trying to shy away from the burden of grief and love tugging on your heart. The pain was indescribable, like someone had taken your heart and diced it in front of you.

That morning your mother had put you in your best attire. A top adorned in red beads and yellow feathers that represented your ikran was placed on top of you. Your usually loincloth had been replaced with one of prettier colour and material, more delicate to look at. Lastly, your hair had been let out, reaching past your shoulder blades as a yellow flower was stuck behind your left ear.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Your mother had her hands over her mouth adoringly. “Doesn’t she look wonderful?” she asked your father as he replied with a proud nod.

A horn was sounded. Here they come. Entitled pieces of shit, thinking that they could mate into your clan. This wasn’t fair, you just wanted to see Neteyam. You wanted to cry in his arms, yet here you were walking out into the crowd of people. Drums being beat as horns blew. You tried to look poised, to try and look like you weren’t writhing in anxiety of who this man would be.

There flew in three ikrans. Why did it look so familiar? Why was the flashing colours of these animals bringing you back to siting in the forest with your love. You must be going insane.

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan! Welcome! Toruk Makto! Welcome!”

What.

No.

This cannot be happening. But it was.

There he stood in front of you. Just as frozen as you. The quiver of your lips came back as you saw him stand in front of you in disbelief.

“Neteyam?” He walked towards you slowly, reaching his shaking hand out to you. You paced towards him, wrapping your hand around his and bringin it to your chest. “It’s! It’s you!” you felt as if you were to burst in relief

“My love, it is you?” Neteyam’s free hand came to caress your cheek, his heart was sparkling, he felt a weight being lift off his shoulders the minute you came into view.

“It is me.” Neteyam’s lip quivered as he sucked in a short breath, trying desperately to not look as if he was a madman. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me Neteyam.” He complied, lips melting together in a harmonious union. Love mixed with the salty tears on both your cheeks as he held you closely to him. You kissed him deeply, ignoring the stares and confusion around you. He was here right in front of you, you would never let him go again. Never.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

hope you enjoyed please comment and reblog and like I appreciate it so much !!

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam angst #neteyam oneshot #avatar #avatar the way of water #jake sully #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak #neteyam imagine #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #avatar oneshot #avatar2oneshot #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #neteyam sully #omatikaya #atwow #avatar imagin #avatar imagine #neteyam x you #neteyam fanfic #avatar james cameron #fanfiction #avatar angst

[sumeruin]

tag, you’re it!!

pairing: yandere! dottore x afab test subject! reader

tw: written by a minor!!!, dddne, heavy noncon, wound fucking, gore, biting, mentions of vomiting but it doesn’t actually happen, biting, lots of blood, blood drinking, kidnapping, drugging, use of weapons, stalking, pet names, dehumanization, i think that’s it, but if i missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: i honestly can’t defend myself on this one um. enjoy <3

minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

you don’t think your heart has ever beat so fast. you can feel it racing beneath your skin as you run barefoot through the forest, blood rushing through your veins as you hold a hand over your mouth to muffle your desperate, horrified sobs. behind you, you can hear the man that’s been chasing you for the better part of an hour. his heavy footsteps, his terrifying laugh, his sickeningly mocking remarks as he spots the footprints you leave in the mud, unable to cover them up with him right behind you. the wind cools the tears on your face, and it feels like the archons are mocking you. you internally curse them for not granting you a vision, a way to get out of this horrible situation.

your legs burn, and your pace involuntarily gets slower as you sob helplessly, his voice filling your ears, condescending and horrible. “what’s the matter, little rabbit? i can hear you crying.” your legs give out, and you collapse on the muddy floor, your sobs increasing in their urgency as his footsteps get closer and closer. you squeeze your eyes shut, curling your body against the tree you fell against as he finally reaches you. you haven’t gotten a good look at him yet, and you hope you never do. you don’t want to put a face to the voice that’s been tormenting you all night.

you flinch when he reaches a hand out and strokes your cheek, shockingly gentle compared to what you had expected, and he lets out a condescending chuckle and yanks your jaw up to meet his eyes, growling out his words as he speaks. it seems he’s dropped the faux kindness from earlier. “look at me. look at me.” when you obediently open your eyes, sniffling and letting out pained sobs every few seconds, he grins, baring his unnaturally sharp teeth from below his mask and nodding as he appraises you. you feel like a piece of meat, and you’re sure that’s his intent. to dehumanize you, make you feel less than.

he nods to himself, then speaks again. “good. you’ll make a fine specimen, i’m sure.”

you stare up at him in fear, doe eyes widened as you try to flinch away from his iron grip. he doesn’t let you, you didn’t expect him to, though your struggling does seem to please him. you find yourself only more terrified at that fact. your voice is quiet, weak, and he only grins more at the sound. “what… what do you want from me?”

he doesn’t respond, only gives you another horribly wrong looking smile before, almost inhumanly fast, pulling out a syringe and sticking it in your neck. the last thing you remember before everything goes black is how painless it was. like he’s had practice.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you wake up, the first thing you notice is the apparent lack of foliage around you, instead replaced with sinister looking metal structures and cages that are stained with something that looks horrifyingly like blood. the second thing you notice is how securely restrained you are. there’s tight, thick straps around your wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, neck, and waist, all of which have locks on them, presumably so you can’t escape.

your mind wanders back to the man in the forest, and what he injected you with. how quickly it worked and left a gap in your memory. as you think more about it, you consequently get more scared. you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by a loud, horrible beeping noise, which you come to realize is the heart rate monitor you’ve been hooked up to. you try to take deep breaths to lower it before the man comes in and realizes you’re awake, but you fail. of course you fail.

his footsteps fill the room, and the beeping gets faster as your heart rate increases more with the terror he inspires in you. he smiles at you again, and his voice rings out, terrible and anxiety inducing. “i see you’re awake. tell me, what’s gotten you so worked up, hm? is my laboratory scary? do you not enjoy your accommodations?”

he leans in closer to you, and you feel tears starts to pool in your eyes as your body fills with dread. the man seems amused by this, cooing softly at you and pinching your cheek in a way that’s somehow more dehumanizing than anything else he’s done so far. “please… please let me go,” you’re painfully aware of how pathetic you sound as you speak, but you hope he’ll take pity on you instead. realize you aren’t meant for whatever he has planned and release you, though you know deep down that you aren’t that lucky.

he laughs, then shakes his head no before speaking again. he talks too much, you think. “i’m afraid i can’t do that, little rabbit. though, i suppose some introductions are in order. i am il dottore, the second of the featuring harbingers, and your new master. i’ve had my eye on you for some time, dear. you… intrigue me. i have never seen someone quite as pretty as you are. so, you see, i just had to have you. you understand, i’m sure,” his voice gets on your nerves, though you know it’s best to be compliant when dealing with lunatics, so you simply nod your head as best you can with your restraints as he continues.

“good. you must be wondering what i plan to do with you, correct?” you nod again. “i have many ideas, i can’t say i’ve ever felt this way before, especially about someone as insignificant as you, so there’s quite a few things i’d like to try. of course, i will bathe you, then examine you more thoroughly than i managed in the forest. after i’ve collected your baseline vital statistics, and you have been thoroughly examined and cleaned, i will take you. for my research, of course. i believe it would be beneficial to encourage in coitus with you, as it might help me to better understand the origin of these feelings.”

you’re sure he can see the alarm on your face at how casually he mentions violating you in such a personal way, for he gives you a pat on the head that you think is meant to be comforting. it has the opposite effect, it only makes you more concerned. you shake your head no and give him a desperate, pleading look, your eyes filling with tears at the thought. “please, no! anything but that, i swear i won’t ever try to leave, just… please, don’t!”

his eyes light up, and you finally realize he’s removed his mask. you had been too caught up in your panicked fear to really pay attention to him, but as you examine him, his heavily scarred face, his blood red eyes, his aquiline nose. he’s… undeniably attractive, your brain supplies. you immediately try to push those thoughts away, he just said he was planning on raping you, for archon’s sake, you cannot find him attractive. he clearly picks up on your inner struggle, judging from the amused smile he wears and the way he leans in closer to you, softly caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“i suppose if you’re that against me taking you vaginally, i could find another way to have you. though i can’t promise it will be as pleasant. it is quite hard to give the recipient pleasure in other orifices,” his cologne fills your nostrils as he leans in so close to you, your lips just barely touching. he smells like roses and leather, with just a hint of blood and bleach along with other chemical smells you can’t quite place. you hate yourself for thinking it, but it’s not an entirely unpleasant scent. in fact, you think you’d quite enjoy it on anyone else.

he hums, nosing against your throat and leaving a bite where your neck meets your shoulder. it’s painful, and you have to bite your tongue to resist crying out as the tears that had been building finally start to fall. you can’t hold back the choked sob that escapes when you feel the copious amount of blood that falls from the wound, sure to leave a scar. an inescapable, undeniable, permanent reminder of what he’s done to you and what he plans to do to you.

he ignores your distress, only whispering half hearted coos as he licks up all the blood from your fresh bite mark and groans softly at the taste. the realization that he’s getting pleasure from this makes bile start to rise up your throat. “shh, shh… you taste divine. perhaps that’s why i’m so enchanted with you. you’ve put a spell on me.”

dottore softly laps up the blood that pours from your wound, and you hate yourself a little more for thinking the feeling is somewhat pleasant. his tongue is soothing on your wound, his saliva is unnaturally cold, and surprisingly doesn’t make the cuts sting. you don’t know if it’s the blood loss or the paralyzing fear you’re feeling, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

he pulls his mouth away from your wound and wipes the last few beads of blood away from it with his thumb. he examines the way the ruby red liquid reflects the light and contrasts the back leather of his glove as it sits on his finger, and then he brings his thumb to your lips, his tone leaving no room for argument as he commands you. “open.”

you reluctantly obey, looking at him tiredly as the blood loss starts to hit you more and more, your vision slowly starting to become fuzzy at the edges, painting everything in a sort of giddy haze as the pain mixes with the pleasant feelings his sweet words and scent invoke in you. he gives you a smile, patting your head once again as he slides his thumb, still carrying your blood, into your open mouth. “good… good pet,” his hand strokes your forehead comfortingly, and the lights suddenly seem all too bright, your eyebrows furrowing weakly as you try to turn your head away from them.

“shh… just sleep, little rabbit. i’ll take good care of you. when you wake, i’ll be ready for the last part of my plans.”

you don’t have time to really think about what he means by that before the fuzzy edges of your vision fade completely to black, your consciousness quickly ebbing away.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

you’re passing out far too often for your liking, you decide as you come to. this time, you’ve been restrained on a soft bed in what looks like the private chambers of some very wealthy individual. it takes a moment for everything to come back to you, but the dull, throbbing pain in your shoulder quickly helps you remember.

you examine your surroundings once more, taking note of the black and dark blue color scheme of the room, along with the silver accents and luxurious feel of, what you assume is, dottore’s sheets. as you try to move to assess how secure your bindings are this time, you come to a horrifying realization. you aren’t wearing your knee length, cotton chemise anymore, and there isn’t a trace of any mud on your skin. someone has bathed and changed your clothes, into a much more revealing, practically see through babydoll dress.

you realize something even more horrific as you examine your body more closely. someone has also shaved you completely bare.

your attention is snapped to the door as dottore enters, holding a briefcase that gives you a horrible feeling. “good, you’re awake. i was almost worried i had injured you fatally.” he sets the briefcase down on the bed, not giving you a moment to speak, and pulls out a terrifyingly sharp dagger, turning to you with a small smile.

“now, since you seemed so distraught over me having vaginal intercourse with you, i’ve decided on an alternative,” he doesn’t elaborate further, only approaching you and inspecting your body as he marks out various places, mostly on your upper thigh or abdomen. you feel horribly exposed, wearing nothing but a sheer, short babydoll, but there’s nothing you can do about it. you have no idea what he plans to do, but you’re sure it will be torturous.

he finally settles on a spot, a fatty area just above your belly button on the left side, and he walks over to that side of the bed with the blade. he marks out a relatively large circle with a pen, and you realize what he means to do.

your struggles are reignited, and you start to sob as he places the pen back in his breast pocket and gently shushes you. “calm down. it will only be worse for you if you struggle, dear.”

your sobs grow louder as he makes the first incision, you start thrashing around in your bindings and trying desperately to get away from his blade. you give him a pleading look as he continues to carve a horrifyingly deep hole into your skin, and your voice is weak, breaking with every word from the excruciating pain of getting carved into without any sort of numbing solution. “p-please, can- can’t, ‘s- ‘s hurting me, st-stop-!”

he completely ignores you, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from his bag and spraying it on the large wound. your pain is only increased, and you realize why you’re retrained so tightly. he finally looks back at your tear covered face, and gives you a smile as he pets your hair. “there, the hard part is over. now it’s time to continue the experiment.”

you sob, shaking your head no as you cry out from the pain, watching in horror as he undoes his pants just enough to pull his cock out. he positions it at the hole he’s created for himself, and, without any sort of warning, thrusts himself deep inside. you cry out, choking on your sobs and gagging from the all encompassing pain as bile starts to rise up in your throat once again.

he gives a deep moan as he starts to move, completely uncaring of your protests and the agony you’re in as he chases his own pleasure inside of you. his fingers curl around the other side of your torso, and he pulls you into each of his thrusts, only increasing your pain. “you truly are fantastic…”

you think you’re going to be sick.

how dare he enjoy this? how dare he violate you in such a way and have the gall to moan about it? if you had the strength, you think you might kill him.

you dissociate for most of the experience, something your eternally grateful for. you don’t want to remember any of it. the feeling of his thrusts into your limp body starting to falter and his cock twitching inside your, now more of a gash, really, remind you of the very real threat that he’ll cum inside of your large wound.

before you get a chance to plead with him not to, though, you feel the burning, hot liquid fill the space nothing should ever touch. it hurts, almost more than the actual fucking did, and you think you pass out from the feeling.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you come to for the third time, you’ve been bandaged and stitched up and dottore holds you in his arms, tucked snugly against his side while he writes notes, presumably about the torture he’s just put you through. he smiles down at you, petting your hair once again before he stands up, leaving you tied to the bed. “i wished to make sure you would wake up. now i must get back to my work.” he pauses in the doorway as he leaves. “you were wonderful, and my hypothesis was incorrect. having intercourse with you did not cure me. in fact, it only made me more taken with you. …i have decided to keep you, in light of this revelation.”

with that, he swiftly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. you cry softly to yourself, and then feel a sudden weight on your lap. as you look down, you feel bitterness fill you at the sight.

there, sitting perfectly on your lap, taunting you, is a shiny, anemo vision.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #tw: noncon #tw: wounds #tw: kidnapping #tw: drugging #tw: gore #dddne #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #yandere genshin smut #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin dottore #yandere dottore smut #yandere dottore #yandere dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore #genshin noncon #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader smut #genshin x you

[lockewrites]

Durge!Reader being comforted by Halsin

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || SFW-ish (slightly violent) || 2390 words AO3

From anon on Tumblr: I feel like theres a real lack of Halsin/durge fics, specifically him helping her after denying to kill, and I think you’d be amazing for this!!

SPOILERS FOR DURGE IN ACT II - wrote the scene Larian denied us with Halsin as our LI :3

You lie on your bedroll, the stars hidden behind the cloth of your tent, the air within suddenly feeling as though it’s not enough to breathe. Sitting up, a wave of nausea roils through you, bile eating away at the back of your throat; each breath in creates a ripple in your gut. You crawl out of your tent, desperate for the open air; your movements are slow as you push to your feet, fearing your stomach will empty itself.

This sensation is certainly not a stranger; you’ve felt it a number of times since waking from the illithid pod. 

The campfire has long since died, and with it is the absence of your companions, each lost in a trance or dreams. You’re grateful for the solitude; they’re aware of your… general situation, or at least as much of it as you know yourself, but they needn’t see you in such a state. 

Your eyes flicker to Halsin’s tent; the druid had quickly drawn your interest upon joining the party. It began solely as a physical attraction; the sheer size certainly was enticing, and his Wild Shape, that very nature spoke to the feral instincts inside you. But his gentle temperament despite the power he holds, both physical and arcane, is an enigma to you, and him extending that soft touch to you, someone who certainly does not deserve it… the interest had quickly shifted to something deeper. 

And for reasons you still couldn’t fathom, it’d been reciprocated. 

Without realizing, you find yourself having approached his tent, your hand reaching to open it. 

“He believes you’ve relieved the weight of his worries, returning him to himself.”

You spin to find a despicable creature standing behind you; decaying skin stretched taut over sharp bones, beady red eyes looking past you at Halsin’s tent. Sceleritas Fel. 

“Such delusions, to think you a savior. As though you aren’t the heaviest burden to wrap around his neck, until he breathes his last, losing himself forever.”

Your mouth pulls into a sneer, and you take a step to block his view.

“You could do so much better, Milady,” the butler says, shaking his head. 

“Back off, you rotten gremlin,” you hiss, your fists clenching. “You won’t touch him.”

He holds his hands up, unphased by your words. “I won’t lay so much as a talon on the elf.” His pointed teeth show in his malicious smile. “I wouldn’t rob you of that delight.”

A sharp pain beats through your head as you stare the creature down; the evidence apparent in your expression. 

“Your clever mind is penning tragedy as we speak,” he remarks, pointing at you. “Your repressed Urge yearns to kill.” His voice drips with something akin to desire. “And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized.”

“But I love him.” Your words are quiet, yet they startle you, spilling from your lips of their accord. Are you surprised by the admission? So early in your journey? Or is it that you don’t know whether you’re truly capable of such a thing?

“We all kill what we love most, in time,” Sceleritas replies. “He is so beneath you; his very presence infects the air with a sickeningly sweet stench. His pure heart would be better served floating in a jar.”

With each utterance, bile crawls further and further up to your throat. 

“Halsin believes I’m stronger than this,” you mutter, more to yourself. “He won’t come to harm by my hand. I haven’t even yet told him how I feel.”

“Why not whisper it while you twist a knife?” He smirks. “Or have a love confession be the final words between you.” Sceleritas leans toward you. “It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master. There was much disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden.” 

Your glare sharpens, suspicion growing and nearly pulling a snarl from your chest.

“You could kill this one deliberately,” he explains. “I’m sure it will be considered a great show of goodwill. The tithe could still be yours.”

The pain stabs through your head again, forcing your eyes shut as you grimace. Your instinct gnaws at your mind, and your Urge claws and screams beneath your skin. 

Forcing your eyes open, you speak through clenched teeth. “Perhaps I sate the Urge by killing you.”

“Oh, my dear Lady.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It’s been many a time I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing your malice personally. But my death means little to your father and the Urge.”

The thought of his death at your hand would be satisfying, but you feel the honesty in his words; it would be far too shallow a victory to quiet the Urge.

“I won’t do it.” Your nails threaten to break the skin of your palms. “I will keep him safe. From you. And from me.” 

He tilts his head. “I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank.” His head dips, giving a bow just as his body glows an eerie red. “Good night, sweet Lady.” 

His body disappears in a moment, leaving you alone with your back to Halsin’s tent. With a deep breath, you will your jaw and fists to relax; the lingering pain offering a bit of comfort as you wrack your mind on what to do. 

You turn, reaching up to open the flap of Halsin’s tent, leaving a dark spot where your fingers touch. A metallic tinge spills into your nose, and you look down to see your hands streaked with blood, spilling from half-moon wounds in the middle of your palm. Without thinking, you run your tongue across your skin, the taste sending a shiver down your spine as your breath wavers. 

Your movements freeze, the Urge rising in your chest, desperate to taste blood spilled from a body you crave.

“No,” you whisper to yourself, as though simply speaking would placate it. “Not Halsin.”

You dare to step through, finding Halsin lying on his bedroll, still deep in his trance, unaware of the looming threat to his life. Kneeling beside him, your bloodied hands hover above his throat; it would be so easy to spill his life with a simple slice of your dagger. 

“Stop,” you plead to yourself, to your hands. 

They move to his shoulders and give him a shake. “Halsin,” you utter, hoping to not wake the others. He doesn’t react. “Halsin!”

He wakes with a start, sitting up and gripping your arms in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Your lips part, but you struggle to find the words. 

Halsin’s hands move to your wrists, turning them to view your still-bleeding hands.

“Speak to me,” he pleads, looking at you with fear and concern, visible even in the dark.

“You’re in danger,” you breathe, not entirely confident your words are loud enough for him to hear. 

His brow furrows. “From what?”

“Me.”

His mouth opens, and you half-expect a lighthearted remark, but perhaps your severe gaze makes him hesitate. Halsin’s grasp slides to rest on either side of your face, his warmth filling you and quelling the nausea still tainting your stomach. 

“Whatever is going on,” he begins, his thumbs brushing away tears that you hadn’t known spilled, “we will get through it, but I need to know what’s happening.”

You blink, his image going in and out of focus. “I… My… My mind isn’t my own,” you cry.

Each word given steals more and more of your energy, leaving your body on the cusp of failing; your vision grows tunneled and red as a headache splits through your skull, the pain unlike anything you’ve experienced before. 

You feel the last of your consciousness slipping, but you must get out what has your heart in a vice grip. You slip from Halsin’s touch, stumbling backward against the tent’s flaps.

“It wants to kill you, and I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose you.”

He leans toward you. “You won’t lose me,” Halsin promises. “Our time together has only begun.” He interrupts himself with a heavy sigh. “You’ve shared a touch of your troubles with me, but this is far beyond anything you’ve said. To hold such a burden alone will destroy you. You could have confided in me.”

“I’m…” Even with the absence of any of your strength, you somehow draw further back; your vision becomes nothing more than a blur, the world spinning beneath you, and your throat burns with bile. “I’m sor—” You collapse into the dirt. 

Whatever time that’s passed is lost to you, waking near the dead campfire with your hands bound behind your back and any semblance of control over your Urge gone. Your body thrashes, your wrists twisting and pulling against the rope, its flesh tearing into your own. 

“Calm yourself,” Halsin orders, his voice sounding authoritative, as if speaking to one of his druids. “My magic cannot penetrate what plagues you. You, your will, will conquer this.”

Your mouth tastes of iron; vile desires gather on your tongue, the Urge itself commanding your body. You try to focus on Halsin, your eyes pleading that he sees you’re trying, even if not successful.

“I know you are still in there.” 

His words are soft, sweet… they sicken the Urge. 

You lurch forward, your teeth seeking to clamp down on any piece of Halsin, wanting to tear the meat from his bones, devouring him raw. 

He doesn’t flinch, but his jaw sets. “I’ve handled the most feral of animals. Your fangs are no threat to me.”

The response sends the Urge over the edge, your limbs pulling with all of your strength, no regard given for any injuries caused by their own actions. The rope breaks through your raw skin, blood soaking the binds.

“Easy, my heart,” Halsin says. “Your strength is greater than this curse, and I will grant you my own alongside. You will not suffer this alone.”

You hold his promise in your chest, hoping it blooms bright enough to allow you to express your gratitude. You try to speak, but all that escapes is a harsh growl that tears through your throat.

“A growl means little from a trapped beast,” he remarks. “But you can escape this. I will see you free of this affliction.”

Tears that feel like acid fill your eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s frustration and anger from the Urge or fear and dread from you. Your body is beaten inside and out, exhaustion’s hands wrapped around your throat. Still, it fights against your bindings, even as your consciousness slips back into the dark. 

“Let your mind rest,” he says. “Your body will soon follow.”

Again, you don’t know how long you’re out, but at some point, you come to. You feel sticky, your clothes clinging to your sweat-slicked skin; your head still pounds, and your stomach still turns, but your mind is once again your own. As your vision clears, you let out a sigh of relief; Halsin remains in front of you, mercifully unharmed.

His gaze holds yours, searching for you. And he finds you. 

Rising to his feet, he steps behind you and cuts your binds; your freed arms settle in your lap, the muscles screaming, and your wrists and hands caked in dried blood. Tentative, you flex your fingers, the maroon stain cracking and falling from your skin.

Halsin returns in front of you and sits back down. His expression is relieved, but as the seconds pass, it shifts to something far more serious. 

“I am overjoyed to have you back,” he begins, “but we need to discuss what happened.”

Your head drops, shame filling you. With a deep breath, you let everything out: divulging the severity of your Dark Urge, how often it haunts your thoughts and dreams, the little creature that calls himself your butler, your mysterious father you’re supposed to please.

Those hazel eyes are hard, his brows pinched; Halsin is deep in his thoughts, sifting through the heavy truth you’ve just shared. And all you can do is sit and wait, anxiety boiling within as you await his response. Will he claim you too dangerous to live? An unnatural being, something that disrupts the world’s balance? Perhaps simply cast you out, banish you from the camp as he’s unable to bring himself to end you? 

Your hands are suddenly gifted his warmth, his own gently caressing yours. He dips a rag in a bowl of water beside him and begins cleaning your wounds, his touch impossibly gentle.

“In all my years, I’ve not come across anything quite like this,” he finally speaks. “But I stand by my words. You will not lose me. And I will not let you lose yourself to this Urge.”

He puts the rag aside and casts a healing spell; the golden glow fills the space between you, and the torn skin pulls back together. Your wrists still ache, still feel some remnant of the deep injuries, but it’s barely more than a pinprick to you. 

His hands remain on yours, but you feel disgusted and have to fight the temptation to pull away. You should be left to rot, ended now to protect everyone around, to protect him.

“I’m a monster,” you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve taken countless lives. I don’t even know the depth of my crimes. I’m an abomination now, and I know… I just know I was fully embracing this Dark Urge before I lost my memories.” Your throat feels as though it’s being stabbed. “You should end me.”

Your head is guided up, his thumb under your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“The Urge is a monster,” he argues. “You, the person you are now, is utterly incredible. And having learned just how hard a battle you face with this evil, I am in awe.”

The tears fall from your cheeks, and while you still don’t believe you deserve a single utterance he’s given, you’re grateful beyond what words could express.

Halsin wipes them away, and his hands remain along your jaw. 

“We will free you from this abomination,” he swears, “and your mind, your heart, your soul, will be entirely yours. And you will see just how extraordinary you are.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #baldur's gate iii #durge #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #durge x halsin #halsin x durge #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate #fic: treasures the night bestows

[turvi]

Severus was doing night rounds as usual. The temperature had dropped as minutes passed, and Severus regretted not listening to his wife, who urged him to wear his coat. He shivered as the cold wind blew past the corridor.

He rubbed his cold palms against each other, trying to find warmth. He could apparate to his home right now and get his gloves and coat, but he doesn't want to see Y/n's 'I told you so' face. As much as he loves her from the bottom of his heart, he doesn't want to admit that he made a mistake by not listening to her.

So Severus wrapped his cloak tighter around his figure. His eyes widened when he saw his breath, a confirmation that the temperature was too cold for Severus to be dependent on his cloak.

Before Severus could walk ahead Y/n apparated right in front of him.

"MERLIN!!" Severus yelped and fell on his butt. He glared at his wife, who offered him her hand. "What is the meaning of this interruption?"

Y/n rolled her eyes "I love you too much to let you freeze to death"

"I'm fine," he grumbled, but his body betrayed his words and shivered as another gust of cold wind passed. Wordlessly, Y/n draped his coat around his body, put gloves on his cold and trembling hands and kissed his nose as he continued to complain to her for apparating carelessly.

"Thank you." Severus blushed, which made Y/n kiss his cheek. With a prideful smile, she whispered in his ear, "I told you so"

Severus merely rolled his eyes and tugged her closer with gentle pressure on the nape of her neck. He enjoyed the look in her eyes as he gently traced the base of her neck. He smirked when he felt her shiver under his touch, even though she had layers of sweaters on her.

He pecked her lips. "Thank you for looking after me." Severus dared not to close his eyes right now, fearing tears would fall down his cheeks. So he simply caressed her cheek with her thumb, hoping she knew how grateful he was to have her in his life.

But at that exact moment, an ugly thought crosses his mind that he will lose her, that when the sun rises tomorrow, he will not be able to see her smile. Y/n immediately notices the change of expression on Severus despite how nicely he tries to hide it.

She immediately holds his hands, her thumbs gently caressing the back of his palm, a habit she picked to avert his brain from overthinking. She had an idea of what he was thinking about.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you." his baritone voice trembled as he looked into her eyes, taking in the features of her face that made him appreciate the moonlight even more.

Y/n kissed him, and he felt her warm breath against his cold skin. She started to pull away only to feel his arms tightening around her waist, kissing her desperately, not caring about the lack of oxygen, letting go of her when he felt her hand on his chest.

"I love you so much. I can't imagine life before or after you, Severus."

Severus was surprised at how easily she spoke the words as if she didn't vow to spend a lifetime with him. "I love you too, darling. With every breath I take, I will keep loving you."

The moon overlooked as the couple parted away for now but not before sharing one last kiss...a promise to meet before the sun rose from the horizon. Oh! How Severus would smile brightly at the sun mockingly as his love shone brighter than the sun.

A/N: It had been a while since I wrote for Severus. If you like this REBLOG AND COMMENT

#severus snape x reader #severus x reader #severus snape x female reader #severus snape #pro snape #snape fandom #severus x you #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x fem!reader #pro severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus tobias snape #severus x y/n #pro severus #professor snape #snape imagines #snape love #snapedom #snape #harry potter imagine #harry potter fandom #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #turvi writes

[melodic-haze]

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader pt. 2

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Petplay, consensual corruption 🥰, dumbification, impact play (whipping), degradation

☆ — NOTES: Omg first ask hiiii I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE ORIGINAL ASK WHEN I WAS LIKE 25% DONE GOD HELP ME LMAIOIO SORRY but ABSOLUTELY I DO I'm glad you see my vision

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2 (you are here)

Arlecchino my loyal little attack dog my baby 🫶🫶🫶🫶 she can So Easily reverse your roles, retaliate, hurt you in ways you possibly couldn't imagine.......and yet she chooses to stay still as you put the gilded collar on her neck, claiming her as yours to toy with for as long as she lives and breathes

You look upon how far you've come—at first she was out of her depth, the mere thought of surrendering power and control was a foreign (dare I even say daunting, TERRIFYING, though she would NEVER admit to it) concept to her, especially when she could overpower you in an instant. Now though? You can see clearly just how much she has embraced her role beneath you

You lean back languidly and lean on your hands placed on the bed behind you, taking your time in moving as your eyes stay locked onto the tall, pale figure kneeling below you as if praising the diety she was clearly devoted to. Her collar's leash was wrapped around your hand, though you make no move to tug on it—it seems that your little pet seems to be anticipating such a move, though she doesn't dare do anything lest she upsets you. And she doesn't want that, not at all! You deserve absolute perfection, and she is willing to give it to you through body, soul and everything she could possibly surrender to you.

You continue to eye her as you spread your legs at a leisurely pace, and your lips curl into a smug grin as you see her straighten up in attention like a dog to an offered treat. She was so adorably pathetic like this, waiting for your command as if she isn't a feared woman who can think for herself.. but that's precisely how you want her, so really you weren't complaining in the least.

You let out a little whistle and she immediately looks at you as you speak, "Are you hungry, puppy?"

There was a time when the Harbinger would've furrowed her eyebrows in a lack of understanding at the intent in your words, but now she was nodding eagerly with that pleading look in her eyes; you find yourself lucky, to be the only person who could ever see her in such a deliciously shameful state.

You need only say the word...

"Then eat."

And Arlecchino obeys without hesitation.

She feasts like a woman STARVED, her levels of desperation only achievable by someone so.. feral underneath the surface, but in no way is she selfish!! She takes care of you first and foremost, making sure to move the way you've trained her to move, because she can't have you unsatisfied with her performance!

Unfortunately she IS left wanting more, her pussy practically aching for YOUR attention.........surely touching herself to your taste would be a way of showing her devotion and adoration to you, right? WRONG❗️❗️ She touched herself without your permission, no matter how she tries to justify herself. She was being such a good girl for you too, a shame she had to ruin it by being impatient and disobedient :(((

You yank her off of you with a disappointed click of your tongue, and you hear her whimper at the loss of contact. You couldn't care less though, and it was evident in the way your tone had lacked its doting warmth from before, "Did I ever say you were allowed to touch yourself?"

Arlecchino shook her head, her breath actually laughably shaky, "No, however--"

"Where did your discipline go? Outside, you paint yourself as this composed, calculating 'Father', and yet all of that apparently flies off the window when a comparably weak human being gets you in such an embarrassing state." You pull her in harshly with a glare, two your fingers hooked onto the collar, "You were doing so well, only for you to ruin it all like an untrained mutt."

Then you push her away and let go of her leash, and looks at you desperately, pleadingly, apologetically, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I--"

"You always say this."

"I mean it, please let me prove it to you. I'll do anything for you."

A dangerous offer; one she'll be sure to regret.. or maybe not.

"You want to make it up to me?"

She nods.

"Then you know what you should be doing."

And the both of you look at a specific drawer, one with an item that you use to.. set her straight once she gets all brave like this.

"Fetch," you say, and she practically scurries over to grab it—a whip, its colour matching her usual style to truly show that it's meant for her and only her.

Though before she goes back to you, she makes sure to place the handle in between her teeth, like a stick you had thrown. When you take it from her, you relent just a little bit and give her a little pet with a decievingly kind smile, "At least you remember how to fetch. Now, come here and bend over for me, hm?"

You see her glitch and shiver before doing as you ask, and your smile turns borderline cruel as you hear her yelp out in a mix of pain and pleasure when the impact comes.

This is absolutely relevant wait a second but she is absolutely the type to not let out a lot of noises unless she's so fucked out and dumb that whatever mental barrier she has that makes her stay quiet kinda. Disappears. Fast track to this would be inflicting pain on her because by GOD it hurts so good, especially when it's by someone technically inferior to her

It's been mentioned literally more than once but power play between you is SO VERY PROMINENT and why wouldn't it be when she could kill you rn but she chooses to let you hurt her instead??? She TRUSTS you so deeply she lets you do whatever, and it's a great bonus that she actually LOVES it too

You hit her again and again and again, and she lets out these delightful screams and noises. She's verbally sending mixed signals, with her begging for more AND begging for you to stop but in no way does she want the latter. She wants you to PUNISH her as she deserves, and she will absolutely bend over for you and take it all

By the time you're almost done, you can see her trying to hold it in and be obedient for you but she's so so SO very close to the edge from the impact alone, eyes glazed out and drool on the corner of her lips as her body glitches in and out of existence from the lack of stability within her......so to reward her, you tell her that she can finally cum. And she does so at the same time as you strike once more, her back arching and her legs twitching as she screams out and squirts on the bed. Sheets are wet but you could care less as she convulses with that dumb smile on her face

You're not done yet, though. Far from it, in fact, and the both of you know this VERY well once Arlecchino calms down and looks at you with no thoughts behind her eyes, apart from the need to please you and do whatever it is you want her to

Safe to say you don't stop for a LONGGGG time and that you're absolutely sore the day after 😭

#hazy thirsts! #hazy demos! #impact play haha call that genshin impact play #i got carried away #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #genshin arlecchino #sub arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #dom reader #gn reader

[carlandrea]

The Passing of a Mother Beyond the World is a surviving play by an exilic noldorin playwright about three mortal siblings dealing with the tragic and inevitable deaths of both of their parents in old age. The play is a fascinating cultural artifact, both for its reflection of the cultural anxieties of the noldor in exile, and for its very clear lack of interest in how mortals act or think. The siblings range widely in age—the eldest has an adult son of her own, while her youngest brother is a child, apparently conceived when his parents were octegenarians. All of their ages are left vague. Their mother is on her deathbed, and all three expect that their father will not survive the night in his grief.

The family is compellingly written in their grief. The play covers only the day and the night before the death of their mother, as they cry, fight, and attempt to comfort each other. There is nothing glaringly inaccurate about the portrayal of bereavement—only a lingering sense of strangeness in the shock and desperation of it. Surely, a mortal audience might think, they were expecting this? Did they not discuss, for example, who would take care of the youngest child (the subject of a fight in the second act)? They seem surprised and devastated, like a family reeling from a sudden illness or a violent death, rather than the peaceful passing of their elderly parents.

In the final scene, the adult grandchild of the dead couple seems to realize that his mother will also die, and they share the final scene in the play. She comforts him, and the play ends with mother and son sitting together in silence—mirroring the first scene, a peaceful morning in the now dead parents bedroom.

This play seems to be a reflection of the cultural anxieties of the exilic noldor—of a newly doomed culture discovering tragedy and death. The unexpectedness of it, the violence of their grief, even the father dying with his wife, all reflect a distinctly elven and exilic view of death and mourning. The playwright projects these fears outwards, making them more palatable by writing about the mortal children of a dying mortal couple—a safer choice for an elven audience.

#silm #tolkien #elves

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

hello dear. for the kiss prompts, may i please see ‘a possessive kiss in the rain’ with crosshair? 👀

hiiii friend, thank you so much for your patience for the wait. the muse has been extra fickle since October, but I hope this is worth the wait <3

Uncertain Tomorrows

Summary: Actions speak louder than words. Aka, Crosshair isn't good at emotions.

Warnings: blog is 18+; angst (it's Crosshair, what do you expect), miscommunication / lack of communication, pre-Echo, swearing

Word Count: 688

Chewing on the inside of your cheek so hard you’re liable to draw blood, you can’t help the way you’re glaring at Crosshair’s back. He’s perched on the edge of a high stool at the bar, long legs crossed at the ankle, twirling a whiskey glass between thin fingers. You’re supposed to be enjoying shore leave, the first one the squad has had in months, and yet all you feel is pissy. 

Earlier in the night, you’d deboarded the Marauder with the others, all of you in civvies and in high spirits, even Crosshair. You feel like you’ve finally been able to get a decent grasp on reading him and his moods, and the loose way his toothpick had hung between his lips was clear indication that he was relaxed, ready for a break. You all were. 

Apparently, Crosshair’s idea of a break is chatting up women at the cantina bar. 

You’re not together. You have to remind yourself of that. Despite the mutual longing glances, neither of you have acted on your feelings, whether by mutual respect for one another or by fear of tearing the squad apart. So it shouldn’t sting as much as it does to watch him toss easy smirks at the pretty woman at the bar right now. 

But it does. 

Hunter gives you a sympathetic look as you finally decide you’ve had enough and scoot out of the booth. With Wrecker across the cantina hustling pool and Tech acting as his number two, the only one who will know where you’ve gone at this point is Hunter. Which also shouldn’t sting, but it does. 

The moment you step outside, you’re met with a bone-chilling rain. Breath fogging in front of your face, you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The spaceport isn’t too terribly far, but you’re already beginning to regret coming outside. 

Whatever. It beats going back inside.

You only make it a few steps, ice needling into your skin, before the cantina door opens behind you. Warm light and laughter spill out, inviting you back. Glancing over your shoulder, you grimace. 

“I’m going back to the ship,” you call. 

“I know,” Crosshair responds.

“You should go back in,” you say, turning to face forward once more, hunching your shoulders against the cold. “She looked nice.” 

He calls your name, but you keep walking. 

You gasp when a hand grips your upper arm and spins you around. Colliding with Crosshair’s chest, you glare up at him and open your mouth to rip him a new one—

Only to grunt in surprise when his lips meet yours. 

Jerking back, you try to break from his embrace. His hands remain on your arms, though he lets you step back. 

“What the fuck, Cross?” you snarl. “You think it’s cool to just—toy with my emotions like this?” 

“No,” he grits out. 

You wait, but that seems to be all he wants to say. Rain streams down your face, the cold an afterthought now with the anger burning through you. 

“That all you have to say for yourself?”

His jaw works as he gazes at you, his short gray hair plastered to his head. Nostrils flaring, he looks away. “No. I’m—I’m not good at this. Clearly. But I don’t know—I don’t know how to—Kriff it! Can I kiss you again or not?” 

All of your anger condenses into a single burning, molten dagger in your heart as you stand there, jaw dropped as you weigh his words. This is so far from how you ever would have expected this confession to go, for either of you, and yet the opportunity is here. If you let it go, tell him no, he’s going to respect that. 

And you’ll have missed your shot. 

You pull him back to you and kiss him. It’s a hungry, desperate, possessive kiss, full of teeth and tongue. Cold rain water sluices off your skin as you swallow his moan. 

You don’t know what this means—you don’t know where to go from here—but Crosshair is in your embrace, and all you know is that you don’t intend to let him go.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl

#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #rhiwrites #rhiplies

[suckerforcate]

Could you do a professor!Larissa weems x student!reader college au where the reader studies English lit at a top university and is a really good student but got disowned by their already not well off family for being queer so due to a lack of stable income and now housing the reader has turned to striping to try to make ends meet. Their teacher Larissa finds them stripping at a club she frequents and pays for a private dance. The reader doesn't realise Larissa is the one who the dance is for and gets really embarrassed and shy because they have feelings for her and they quickly find out the feelings are mutual as Larissa asks why they are stripping and tells them that if she quits strippings she'll take them to her house and fuck them senseless, while paying for their living/tuition essentially becoming her sugar mommy?

Professor Weems

Pairing: professor!Larissa Weems x student!Reader (over 18 ofc.!!)

Word Count: 1253

Warning: strip club, slight NSFW, mention of smut, sugar mommy

A/n: AU!, hope you like this!!! Coukd do a part 2, with smut if you want! <3 @a-random-dead-thing-in-a-grave

You could've described your life as perfect, you had everything you wanted and needed, you were happy and privileged. Until you weren't.

You studied English literature in Oxford, your parents, and you never had the best relationship, but they always supported you financially, and you still lived at home. Having set boundaries and a few rules, living together was actually not too bad.

You loved going to University, especially because you had this amazing Prof. Prof. Weems was her name, she was incredibly intelligent and really fun at the same time. On top of that, she was stunning, making you crush on her fast. You never thought, you'd have a chance with her and were happy admiring from a far. But with time you felt, that it would probably still be appropriate to tell your parents about your sexuality. Quite frankly, you were sick of them asking if you had found a boyfriend already.

After that, it all went downhill. You had never known your parents to be homophobic, but apparently they were. Kicking you out immediately and refusing to pay any further for University. Apart from the fact that you needed to pay a flat now, University of Oxford is damn expensive. So just like that, you weren't privileged at all anymore.

Desperate to make ends meet and pay for your living, you started stripping at this little club close to your flat. You always feared someone you knew would come in, as you couldn't afford to work outside of Oxford.

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

It had been a busy evening, the club was packed, and you made quite a lot of money. You hated so many people at ones, but the money was the important thing.

Larissa had come in quite late, the club had ready emptied a little. Walking in and approaching the bar, first thing she saw was you. She immediately recognised you, being one of her best students.

She was surprised to see you here, never had she felt you were in need for this, or that you were up for something like this. Her interest was aroused, so she asked the girl at the bar, if she could book a private dance with you. She hummed as a response and told Larissa to go wait in a separate room after she had paid.

Larissa didn't even bother to take of any clothes, that's not what she wanted out of this. She sat down on a chair, waiting for you to come in.

You were used to doing private dances, just not so late in the evening. Usually no one booked you so close before closing time. But you didn't complain, money was money.

Checking if your outfit sat right, you opened the door. Looking down, you seductively entered. As you looked up, your cheeks immediately reddened, and you covered your face with your hands.

"Prof. Weems, I didn't expect you here." You felt her stand up and approach you. To your surprise she took off her jacket and placed it around you, guiding you over to the bed.

"I could say the same." You knew she sat down next to you, because you felt the mattress dip down. You still couldn't look at her, too embarrassed.

"(Y/n), please look at me." Hesitantly you looked up, seeing nothing but concern and care in her eyes. The judgement you had expected, nowhere to be seen.

"How come you do this?" She gently rubbed your back, making you feel absolutely safe and showing you that you could trust her. It was a pleasant feeling, thinking back at your life, you weren't sure you had felt like this before.

"I-, My parents kicked me out and stopped paying for University, so I need the money. University is fucking expensive." You chuckled through tears, attempting to lighten the mood. Larissa offered you a reassuring smile.

"Can I ask why they kicked you out?" You stiffened, did you really want to tell her? You had only ever told your parents, and that ended well. Afraid of another rejection, another heartbreak. But she seemed accepting, calming, even comforting.

"I'm gay." You whispered, nearly inaudible. Larissa's eyes widened, and at the sight of your tears she pulled you into a hug. Gently stroking over your hair, holding you close. Careful not to touch any bare skin, which you had a lot of at the moment.

"Oh love, I'm sorry that they weren't accepting." You looked up at her, the fear still in your eyes. Larissa immediately understood what you asked. Being reminded of having the same look in her eyes. She slightly laughed, a sound of the heavens escaping her lips.

"Oh no, don't be scared. I'm also gay." Your eyes widened, fast to hide your face in her shoulder. Not wanting her to see your reddened cheeks. Still Larissa knew, you were flustered, and it made her laugh. She thought you were incredibly cute.

Gently she pushed you away, forcing you to look at her. She brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

"Let me pay for you. I'll pay your tuition and rent. But, you have to stop stripping." Shock rushed over your face, why would she do that?

"No, I can't ask that of you. Absolutely not."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Willingly." You shook your head at her.

"What do you get out of that?" Larissa smirked, thinking of all the things she could do with you. She leaned forward, mouth next to your ear. Voice deep, not more than a whispered, she answered.

"I'll take you to my house and fuck you senseless, how does that sound? Apart from that, you could keep me some company." You felt yourself shiver, goosebumps gracing your skin. Never would you have thought, she could like you in any way, whatsoever.

"Well," You pushed her back, looking in her eyes, "you don't have to pay me, for me to spend time with you. I'll gladly to that anyway." Larissa smirked knowingly.

"Why, even better. Still I'd like to pay for you. I don't like the idea of you in this establishment." You knew, arguing would get you nowhere. Would it be so bad to accept her offer?

Slowly you leaned forward, cupping her cheek. Looking into her eye for permission, you softly kiss her. "Everyone is going to say your my Sugar Mommy." Larissa smirked against your lips, leaning her forehead against yours.

"Would that be so bad?" You rolled your eyes at her, not able to hide the blush on your face. Slightly you shook your head.

"I suppose not." Her hand slipped to the back of your head, pushing you closer again, your lips meeting hers.

"Grab your things, I'll take you home." She waited for you, still sitting on the bed. You grabbed your bag, deciding not to put on your clothes. Instead, staying in the revealing outfit and her jacket. Entering the room again, you felt her eyes all over you. She smirked mischievously.

"What do you think you're doing?" You approached her. Standing between her legs, you let her wrap an arm around your waist. Her head rested on your chest and without warning you felt light kisses all over your chest, between your breast and on the fabric of your bra. You grabbed her hair, pushing her closer to you. A light whimper escaped you, as you tried to direct her to your nipple.

"I'll destroy you later." She said, smirking against your skin, earning a moan from you.

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #wlw #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa x reader #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednsday addams

[dutchess-of-fear]

Secrets

Jonathan crane x reader

Warning: angst but fluffy at the end

Masterlist

Jonathan crane was late again going back home, for the two weeks he had been coming home late whenever you are sleep and then goes off to work before you even wake up, you do understand the importance of his work at Arkham Asylum but this was getting ridiculous.

I decided to woke up a little early to talk to Jonathan, when you went to the kitchen he was surprised by you awake, "my dear? Why are you early up?" He then offer you coffee which you accepted "well apparently this is the only time to see you" I stated drinking the coffee that was quite too bitter for me, I heard him sigh for a bit as I went to add some sugar into my coffee.

"My dear you know how it is like working at a place like arkham, you would expect days I be gone for a long time at work" he began to explain his reasons but stopped talking when he see me upset by the lack of time we spent together, "look Jon.. I know this job takes a lot of time from us to be together I understand, but...I just like to see my boyfriend, from time to time" I replied placing my cup down on the kitchen counter and talking to him directly "but I have patients I have-"

"to work with and need you're upmost attention but don't you think you're girlfriend need just a small bit of attention too" I felt tears stinging my eyes as I try to hold them back.

I don't want to be like that's girls that are desperate for attention but now I started to act like them, Jonathan then held my hand in his and his other hand held my cheek as I look into my lovers eyes, "I'm so sorry, I made you feel this way, I try to be back home early as I can" he kiss me softly on my forehead as I relish in the feeling I had missed for so long, but it ended all too soon as he had to get to work, let's hope he kept his promise.

Timeskip

(Jonathan Crane Pov)

I promise (Y/N) that I be back early this time around but I don't think I won't be able to keep my promise if this Batman give ups, But is just wishes that will never come through.

But maybe my wish did came true as I had the chance to give him some of the fear gas, which in turn worked as it startedto take effect on him, and it was my chance to get away and run back to my home, I just hope (Y/N) isn't too mad.

The house was dark I check down on my watch and seen it was 11:35, weird she would be awake at this time, she must be tired, I unlocked the door and slowly got in and close the door behind me, I only realised I still have my scarecrow mask on so I need to get to the bathroom and remove my mask and hid my briefcase before she would find it in the morning.

I care for her too much to lose her now, "Jonathan you were late again" I suddenly heard for the living room 'shit!' I mentally said to myself  "I'm sorry my love I was late, I am just going to the bathroo-"

"No! Jonathan, you are going to explain to me what have you been doing that you are always late home?" She said and I can see in the dark, tears in her eyes and it hurt me seeing her like this.

"Are you cheating on me Jonathan?" My eyes widened as I look over to where she was in the living room "My darling would never, ever do that to you," I softy said to her hoping it will calm her, "then let me see your face so I know it's not true" she went over a switch the light on as I think of how do I explain this.

((Y/N) pov)

I turn the light on and saw my boyfriend with some sort of mask that would resemble some sort of scarecrow, I stood there confused as my boyfriend hung his head low, "Jonathan why do you have a scarecrow mask on? Are you- Uh.. you" I stumble over my words as I slowly go over to him as I lift the mask from his face, he didn’t had his glasses on as he looked sad 'is this what he was hiding from me? That he is the scarecrow?' I place my hand on his cheek and he nuzzled into my touch.

"Well at least I can say one thing...is that you didn't cheated" I softly spoke as he smiled very softly as he finally looked into my eyes "but this is a lot to take in" I said as I see the sadness in his eyes, I walked over to him and caress his cheek softly smiling to him

"but I am willing to accept for who you are and what you do and would stay by your side" his eyes brighten with happiness as he held my hands "thank you, and you should know I would never hurt you, your too precious to me" he said kissing my hands.

My heart began to rapidly beat and butterfly's appeared again inside me like the first time me and Jonathan met and I feel in love with my man even more "oh! Jonathan I know you wouldn't hurt me. I trust you very much" he then finally kissed me as he held me close, with this kiss it was feel with love and care for me, as I melted into the kiss leaving all the worries for another day.

#jonathan crane #the dark knight #batman begins #cillian murphy #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow #dc comics #nolanverse #the dark knigth rises #the dark knight trilogy #scarecrow x reader

[cheeriecherrymain]

Your Room [Viktor x fem!Reader][Part 1/2]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: E (18+) Chapter Content: fingering | Viktor has a filthy mouth | he calls you a whore (affectionately) | sexy stuff in a semi-public setting (but you guys are alone) | dirty talk (kind of) Proofread: not a chance in hell

---

---

You’ve known Viktor for a couple of months now: almost an entire year, if you were to be specific. And in that period of time, you’ve learned three main things about him.

Firstly, his intelligence isn’t just limited to the subjects of science and machinery. His entire thought process is as quick as a whip, in every aspect of his life. At times it almost seemed like his mind was on fast forward, moving at a pace that the rest of the physical world couldn’t keep up with.

As such, his sense of humour is startling. As proper and calm as he appeared on the outside, he was often capable of making deadpan quips that would have your sides aching in seconds.

No one could make you laugh the way he did.

Secondly, you’ve learned that despite his ability to logic his way out of any situation, Viktor was a deeply emotional man. You’d had your doubts at first - never being able to get him to emote beyond a slight frown or smile, in the beginning.

But the more you’d gotten to know him, the more you’d realized that yes, he really did have feelings. And a lot of them, at that.

He was just guarded when it came to matters of his heart, and for good reason. Growing up as a lonesome boy in the Undercity couldn’t have been easy for him, so you’re not really surprised that he’d come up with all kinds of ways to protect himself.

But you’ve always been a patient woman.

You’d taken your time getting to know him, listening intently when he spoke to you and asking questions all throughout. You’d opened up to him about your own life, about your desires and fears - showing him that not only did you enjoy the things he had to say, but you also trusted him with your own issues.

And, like you had desperately hoped, he’d eventually begun to trust you in return.

Which leads to the third thing you’ve learned about Viktor.

For all his skills and capabilities, and his attention to detail when he works, he is…not a subtle man. 

He knows his way around technology better than anyone you’ve ever met, and he’s an above average partner for conversation. He’s insightful and clever, and kind, and funny, and…

…and he lacks so much tact, that at first you’d thought he was doing it on purpose.

Perhaps the shirt you’d been wearing that day had been too low cut, and he’d been to awkward to say anything about it. Maybe he’d liked the colour you’d chosen, and hadn’t known how to compliment you. But whatever the reason, you’d noticed him, on multiple occasions now, unabashedly staring at your chest.

The first time it had happened, you thought maybe he was trying to make some kind of point to you. Something about dressing appropriately for the lab, yadda yadda. But he’d never made any kind of silent acknowledgement to you - as if he wasn’t even aware of the fact that you’d caught him ogling you.

As if he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was doing it.

And you…aren’t sure what to feel about it.

On one hand, if you pulled him aside and spoke to him about it, you’re fairly certain he’d combust in some aspect. At the very least, he’d be embarrassed about his actions, and would avoid you to an extent: at the worst, he’d end up having some kind of internal crisis which would undoubtedly lead to your entire friendship falling apart.

Neither of which you wanted.

On the other hand, you’re not sure you mind the way his attention always seems to fall to you.

You’d never seen him act in such a way with anyone else, even with the people you yourself would consider pretty. He’s professional, and keeps most others at a distance, and…honestly, it makes you feel special. It makes you feel desirable.

Which has raised the question: what do you want from him?

Were you happy to be the apparent recipient of his attraction?

Or did you want more?

Did you want to go on dates with him? Did you want to fall asleep next to him, and wake up with his hair in your face and his arms around your waist? Did you want to traipse into the lab without so much as a warning, and kiss him good morning? Did you want to hold his hand as you wandered around together? Relax with him in the bath after a long day, tenderly soaping him up as you dig your thumbs into the many knots all over his back, letting your hands wander across his skin-

You take a deep breath, and pull yourself away from the thought before you get too carried away. It’s strikingly obvious what you want, now that you think about it.

Now you just needed to figure out how to approach him.

—

You wander into the lab the next morning with your bag slung over your shoulders, and a tray of coffee in your hands. It’s later than you’d usually show up to work, but given the fact that you’d brought some much needed treats, your friends let it slide.

Jayce wastes no time in fixing himself a cup, briefly squeezing your shoulder in thanks before heading back to his desk.

Viktor, on the other hand, remains seated. Engrossed in whatever he’s working on, you’re fairly certain he hasn’t even noticed your entrance. It would sting a little, were you not already used to such a behaviour.

It also means he hasn’t noticed the clothing you’d decided to wear that day.

You bite back a smirk as you prepare a cup for him, dropping in an obscene amount of sugar and a dash of cream. You’d decided to go with the blouse he’d first ogled you in - it’s gotten a little tight over the past couple months, but that, in your opinion, only serves as better bait.

It hugs your form better than it had before, and had made it so you’d had to leave the top couple buttons undone. Paired with the fitted skirt you’d chosen, and the gartered stockings that peeked out from beneath, your entire ensemble was perfect for showing off your figure.

Entirely unprofessional, you’re aware, but necessary.

“You should take a break,” you say sweetly, as you set the cup of coffee down on Viktor’s desk. You make sure to lean well into his field of vision, with the excuse of making sure the beverage is away from the edge of the table, but you can feel the effects of your actions immediately.

His gaze, darting up from his work to look at what you’ve gifted him, only to trail over your body in the most obliviously lecherous way possible. 

“I- hm?” he replies smartly, blinking out of his momentary stupor.

You bite back a laugh.

“I said you should take a break,” you reiterate. “You’re so focused, I don’t doubt you’ve already been sitting here for a couple hours. You should give your eyes a rest, and have something to eat.”

He makes a noncommittal noise, and slouches back in his seat.

“I’m almost finished,” he tells you, though you hardly believe him.

You carefully set your hands on the arms of his chair, leaning forward so that you’re at eye level with him and can fix him with a disapproving pout. He swallows hard, and at such a proximity, you can see the way his pupils widen - hear the way his breath comes in short draws, as you lock your gaze with his.

“Take a break,” you say again, and this time, he nods in agreement.

—

You continue like that throughout the day. Touching and teasing him in ways that would seem innocent to any onlookers - a hand on the shoulder, your lips by his ear, or your chin on his shoulder while you watch him explain something to you. 

But each time you find yourself in his personal space, you can feel his resolve slipping. He’s realized by now what you’re doing, and he knows that you know. But he’s yet to say anything about it.

It’s maybe a little bit selfish of you, but you want to see him crumble, and you mean it in the kindest and most loving way possible. You want his stubbornness to be washed away by desperation - you want him to be incapable of resisting you.

It takes most of the day, but eventually you make it to that point.

Eventually, after Jayce bids goodnight to the two of you and the room is cast into silence.

You lean quietly against the edge of his desk, affectionately watching him while he tries in vain to ignore your eyes on him, attempting to finish his work.

“Viktor,” you murmur.

His hands tighten around the tools he’s holding.

“What are you doing?” he sighs. Finally addressing the tension.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you reach towards him. Sliding your fingers tenderly along his jaw, reveling in the way his pulse thumps quicker the moment your skin makes contact. You carefully tilt his face towards you, drawing his attention away from the trinket laying in front of him.

And guilt immediately flickers in your stomach, the moment you see how he’s looking at you.

Wholeheartedly, entirely, and terribly frustrated.

You stroke your thumb over the curve of his cheek, watching as the prettiest shade of pink begins to rise in your wake.

“I’m trying to get your attention,” you gently tell him. “You’ve been staring at me for weeks, and you haven’t done anything about it.”

Worry rises up in your throat, the longer the silence lasts between you. Fear. You’d been absolutely certain that he’d been showing an interest in you, in a way he did with no one else. But what if you’d been wrong? What if you’d completely misinterpreted his actions, and had now made a complete and utter fool out of yourself-

The soft press of lips against your palm draws you out of your spiral.

Viktor’s lips, specifically, his breath warm on the hand you’d laid upon him.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t notice,” he mumbles, swiveling in his chair to face you. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or make myself appear rude or…unsafe. I had hoped that admiring you from a distance would work well enough, and that our friendship would be able to continue unchanged.”

You scoot closer to him, until you’re all but sitting in his lap.

“Why would things change?” you wonder, letting your cheek come to rest against his shoulder. “We’ll still always be friends - just now with the added benefit of…you know. Romance.”

You lay a kiss to the pulse point on his throat, smirking at the way it jumps beneath your touch.

“Among other things,” you tack on.

Slender arms snake around your waist, then, pulling you impossibly closer. Until you’re pressed firmly against his body, with your legs spread and hooked over the armrests of the chair. You can feel the way your skirt has ridden up, revealing more skin than you’d intended, though Viktor hardly seems to mind.

Once you’re resting comfortably against him, his hands begin to wander. Slowly walking his fingers down your body - pressing into the curve of your hips, and dipping over the exposed meat of your ass.

You know he can feel the way you shiver when he touches you, if the self-satisfied smirk he wears is anything to go by.

“Other things,” he huffs, sliding a single finger beneath the band of one stocking. He keeps it there for a couple seconds, sliding around to the back of your thigh, where he pulls away and draws the elastic taut. 

“Is that what you came here for, today?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Did you dress up all pretty, hoping I’d bend you over my desk and have my way with you?”

His breath is hot on the soft skin of your neck, until he digs his teeth in.

And lets your stocking snap sharply back into place.

“Viktor,” you whine, squirming in his lap.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, as he dips a hand between your legs, stroking the pad of one finger along the obvious damp spot on your panties. “You’ve been throwing yourself at me all afternoon, like some kind of common whore.”

You whimper, when he pushes the wet fabric to the side and immediately starts drawing lazy circles on your clit, already slick with desire.

“Even now, spreading yourself open for me, in a place where anyone could walk in. I bet you’d let me fuck you like this, wouldn’t you? You’d let me use your slutty little cunt however I pleased, and you wouldn’t even care if you made a mess - you’d let me stretch you open and fill you until I’m satisfied.”

You’re humiliated by how quickly he manages to bring you to the edge. Sliding two slender fingers into your dripping hole, he curls them and spreads them so perfectly within you, grinding the heel of his palm against your puffy clit all the while.

“Would you like that?” he wonders, though it’s hardly a question. “Ridiculous - of course you would. You’re already dripping all over my hand, and clenching around my fingers. Are you really about to come? Even though I’ve barely touched you?”

You nearly sob as he continues to work you closer and closer to the edge, crying out in desperation when he slides another digit in with the first two. You don’t think you’ve ever been spread so wide by someone’s fingers before, the stretch burning in the most delicious way.

Closer and closer, your orgasm approaches, your breath coming in short gasps as you tremble bonelessly against him.

“Please,” you whine, nearly begging. The obscene squelch of your dripping pussy echoing through the room.

“Please what?” he teases. “Please take my fingers out? Is three too much for your poor little cunt? Or please give you another one?”

You wail when he stills his hand.

“Please let me come,” you sob, your voice catching in your throat. “Viktor- I want to come- please-”

Blessedly, deliciously, he slips a fourth finger in, and begins his ministrations anew.

“Look at you,” he sighs, almost dreamily. “You’d look so perfect split open on my cock. I know you’d be able to take it - you can take most of my hand, after all. But it would be tight.”

You nod along with him, barely able to form a coherent thought, orgasm so close you can practically taste it.

And then, like a monster, he stops.

“No- no no no don’t stop-” you cry, rolling your hips in an attempt to grind down on his fingers, only for him to pull them out of you completely, leaving your hole empty and clenching around nothing.

“I’m not fucking you in here. And I’m not letting you come until I’ve filled you up,” he says plainly, and the statement alone makes you want to start weeping. However, he tilts his face down towards yours, nudging his nose against you until you find the will to stare sadly up at him.

Your eyes meet, and you’re entirely started by the sheer desire that shines within his pretty, honeyed gaze.

“Unless you want this to be a one-time thing,” he says, his words catching briefly, as if the thought itself pains him. “If you don’t want…more…then I’ll let you come now, on my fingers, and there will be no hard feelings. Our friendship will remain unchanged, and we’ll never speak of this again.”

You frown slightly at the idea.

“But if you do want more from this,” he continues, “If you do want a relationship, if you want to be mine…then come back to my room with me. Let me take my time with you, let me feel you, let me bring you pleasure in every way I know how - my fingers, my mouth. Let me love you.”

You don’t bother with a verbal answer, choosing to instead bring your lips to his in a hurried frenzy. Your breath mixing, his tongue sliding tentatively against yours, until your chest is so full you’re gasping for air, knitting your hand in his hair to briefly pull him away from you.

Even so, he tries to chase you.

You stare at each other for a couple seconds, chests rising and falling as you calm yourselves and gather your wits.

And then, sweetly, you ask your question.

“Where’s your room?”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #part two sometime this week probably

[mr-president]

i think one of my favorite o’saa character moments (other than the confession booth scene ofc) is the bookstore scene bc there it becomes incredibly apparent how close-minded someone supposedly seeking enlightenment can be, especially regarding emotion/compassion

i say this bc it a) shows just how much of an sad pretentious bitch he actually is (karin LITERALLY calls him a “sad man”) and b) it serves as criticism to those in academia/scholarship in an “apply your politics/philosophies to people sort of way”

like, he criticizes a fucking bookstore as a method of “escapism,” as if the fictional world writers create is completely removed from reality, when in fact fiction and stories have always been a tool to help people understand their reality better. fiction can be raw escapism but it often helps us understand our emotions, other people/cultures, and what’s wrong with a little escapism if it even helps you a little bit? that’s not to say he’s wrong—if you want to understand the world then perhaps it is best to see it for yourself—but o’saa doesn’t consider how not everyone had the same options he did, has his willingness to abandon everything in pursuit of a greater goal.

o’saa wants so desperately to understand the world better than anyone else that he completely forgoes the fact that emotions are just as much a guiding factor in the world as any “magic”/science he studies to further his understanding of it. what he views as “reality” is just one aspect of it; yes, gods do in fact control the world and influence it, but that’s only on the most macro scale. but the mundane, arguably, affects peoples lives even more, and isn’t it worthy to understand that as well?

the confession booth scene shows that he’s capable of understanding the emotions of others, but the bookstore scene reveals that there’s a level of elitism to his beliefs and philosophy.

in other words, though he’s a genius, o’saa lacks compassion.

this can be said for a lotta the enlightened souls that we’ve seen actually—nas’hrah’s a complete bastard, valtei can suck my balls, and enki’s a bitch. only nosramus is quite friendly, and he’s also the only one to figure out true enlightenment on his own.

anyway back to o’saa and the bookstore. all of the other playable characters call him out on his bullshit because stories have the power to help people, change them, or even save them. o’saa, in his mad quest for enlightenment, hasn’t really changed as a person, has he? he himself says in his intro that ever since he left home, he hasn’t felt a genuine emotion. that allows him to see how religion manipulates masses of people, to relentlessly pursue enlightenment without worldly ties—

but the bookstore scene shows that you kinda need “worldly ties” to achieve enlightenment because as nosramus said, the world is constantly changing and enlightenment is not one sudden change. rather, it is continuous, and you have to consider everything.

and i like to think that in that moment, getting shat on by his party members about his shitty literary opinions, he maybe realized something like that.

he doesn’t have a nosramus to anchor his pretentiousness like enki did, but i think a lotta the themes of funter (fear & hunger: termina) is how relationships formulate and change people.

o’saa didn’t need nas’hrah, he needed someone to tell him that he’s a stupid pretentious little shit and to stop drawing himself as a mary sue. and then be his friend anyway and listen to his batshit insane conspiracy theories (that are true).

tldr; he’s like me when i was 11 basically.

#actually i haven’t changed much since i was 11 other than becoming even more gay and annoying #fear and hunger termina #o’saa #mr president’s state of the union address

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Y'know, I don't actually think Taliesin is presenting Kingsley as more competent than Fjord, Kingsley is simply much more confident. (And in the reverse, Travis isn't presenting Fjord as less competent, just more self-doubting.) The difference between them is how they see themselves and how that affects how they work, and their views of themselves heavily filters how we're seeing them here.

The entire thing is that Fjord is suffering a massive crisis of confidence and is struggling under the weight of self-doubt. Jester remarks to him that he needs to be confident, Fjord is so paralyzed by a simple question that he desperately asks the answer from Melora (then freezes mid-attempt to interpret it), he second-guesses his correct assessment into an incorrect one, he nervously seeks constant assurance from someone else on whether an idea is a sensible or good one.

Fjord is trying to transition into a new period of his life, and it's slammed him with an incredible amount of imposter syndrome. It seems that the lack of clear end goals and sudden lack of structure is making this difficult. (We've all joked Fjord has ADHD, well, lmfao.) He is openly displaying the intense self-doubt he's experiencing, which in turn is not inspiring confidence in those around him, which viciously cycles. That pervasive self-doubt is actively disrupting his ability to do, well, literally anything. It's like trying to make your hands stop shaking, so now they shake worse, making you totally incapable of that simple task that you normally can manage, even excel at.

Kingsley is nothing but confidence. He probably has never had enough personal setback nor enough life experience to fear failure. He's even so confident that he razzes Caleb about teleporting off-target. A not insignificant chunk of Kingsley's commentary is simply nonconstructive criticism, nitpicking, telling Fjord to do something Fjord was about to do or already did, snark for the sake of looking clever, or missing that Fjord is debilitatingly dissociative—so it tends to sound more put together, and criticism is easy where doing is hard, possibly just all sound and fury as they say, remains to be seen. Kingsley is untested in the role but he talks fast and big, that much is true.

Taliesin has spoken about how he plays characters who think of themselves in relationship to the world in a very specific, very wrong-headed way, and that extends very much to Kingsley. I think Kingsley has the same problem that Percy did: he believes he is the smartest, most competent, most adult person in the room because he knows approximately four things and is incapable of being anything less than overconfident.

As far as it seems to me so far, the difference is that they are opposites in experience (Fjord sailed for many years, Kingsley for six months) that are inversely proportional to their current levels of confidence (Fjord lost confidence in his ability to make even minor decisions, Kingsley apparently does not doubt himself for any reason). It's a difference, as far as I can tell, specifically born of their perceptions of themselves, and whether that perception affects their ability to work, rather than objective assessment of their relative ability and potential.

We're largely seeing Kingsley and Fjord through the lenses of how they see themselves.

#Critical Role #Kingsley Tealeaf #Fjord #Fjord CR #Fjord Stone #Critical Role things #Critical Role spoilers #CR spoilers #cr meta #Mighty Nein Reunited #posting this at the worst time but that's what morning reblog is for