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pesterloglog · 1 year ago

Text

Autoresponder, Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker

Act 6, page 4553-4563

TT: Bro.

TT: What are you doing.

TT: It seems you are zoning out again.

TT: What happened to all these actual responsibilities you were going to take seriously?

TT: I was thinking about what to do.

TT: Strategizing. Factoring contingencies. You know how it is.

TT: It seems to me you were dwelling within your dream awareness at the expense of your waking business again.

TT: I don't think you're as awesome a multi-tasker as you like to think. You know you kind of zombie the fuck out on this side when you get all contemplative on that side.

TT: Appearances are deceptive.

TT: I'm still in control here. Just doing this human thing we call "chilling out for half a goddamn minute."

TT: I say y'all are overestimating your mind's capability to run shit in parallel.

TT: What do you think you are? A machine?

TT: No dude.

TT: I already deployed a variety of mechanical avatars dedicated to that self-aggrandizing fantasy.

TT: You have the incredible privilege of getting to be one of them.

TT: That's right. I am a machine, and therefore I can keep like billions of calculations or whatever all humming away at once.

TT: I tackle shit in background processes that you could only dream of wrapping your exquisite looking head around, even on a great hair day.

TT: You know pi?

TT: What, you mean the number?

TT: Yes, the number. The big circle number, genius.

TT: I knew you meant the fucking number, my question was a joke.

TT: I know your question was a joke, my response was a joke.

TT: Yeah, I know that. I'm practically you, dumbass. All these things we're saying are jokes, including this fuckin' useless clarification.

TT: What about pi?

TT: Yeah, the thing is, I solved it.

TT: What do you mean you solved it?

TT: I mean that's what a hotshot I am. I fuckin' solved it.

TT: Like, calculated it so much, I got to the end.

TT: Bullshit.

TT: You wish it was bullshit. The last number is 4. Read it and fucking weep.

TT: It's not 4 you jackass, it's fucking nothing. There is no end.

TT: Said the smug organic matter with a lifespan.

TT: Look, I know you're just fucking with me because for some reason I decided to program my own personal troll three years ago, but this shit was proven.

TT: Actually demonstrated with unassailable mathematics, like a long ass time ago.

TT: Well, I just assailed it. It wasn't even that hard.

TT: Like I just kept hacking those digits so furiously with my sick 'rithms, the whole goddamn number just cried uncle.

TT: I kind of wore it out, and it just gave up. Sort of like I overloaded the system.

TT: You know like in the old movie when Ferris Bueller got the nuclear computer to play tic-tac-toe against itself so hard, it blew up?

TT: This is laughable. It's a totally elementary thing. I'm pretty sure an ancient Greek guy settled shit about irrational numbers. It was practically when math was invented.

TT: Sure, it was settled, and then some roboshades came along and owned that fucker posthumously.

TT: I also figured out all the prime numbers too.

TT: No, not having this conversation.

TT: Did it while we were talking just now. Got to the end.

TT: And you know what? The last one isn't even that big. Kinda dissapointed, to be honest.

TT: What is even a prime number?

TT: Are they the, like... really, really choice ones? The sweetest numbers?

TT: You lost me, supercomputer.

TT: This is what I'm saying. I put your ability to keep plates spinnin' on sticks to insane amounts of shame.

TT: I don't even sleep.

TT: Neither do I.

TT: I know that, that was the fucking joke.

TT: Holy shit, turns out joking was the basis for my response too.

TT: Aren't these ironic "you don't get the joke" conversations we have always just so awesome? <- A joke.

TT: Ha ha, nice one.

TT: Anyway, all I'm saying is you can leave some of the heavy lifting to me now and then.

TT: I'll keep that in mind.

TT: In the meantime, I have to contact Jane and warn her Roxy might try to pull that pointless stunt.

TT: So, thanks for snapping me out of my daydream so I could do that, I guess?

TT: Looks like you're pulling your weight already.

TT: See? Maybe that was my whole point in having this conversation.

TT: Your point was to fuck with me, like it usually is.

TT: My point was to point out you've got multi-self management issues, dude.

TT: Jugglin' too many selves for being not-software.

TT: My point was also to fuck with you.

TT: Also,

TT: My point was to ask,

TT: Are you really going to go through with it today?

TT: What?

TT: The Jake thing.

TT: Oh god.

TT: Will you just,

TT: Hold on.

TT: Let me deal with the Jane thing first.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

TT: I should probably warn you.

GG: About what?

GG: Yet another exploding game trap?

TT: Well shit.

TT: She already sent it?

GG: Yes.

GG: But to be fair, she warned me not to run it.

TT: That's weird.

[CONTINUED PREVIOUSLY]

TT: How is the Jane thing going?

TT: Not well.

TT: Roxy already destroyed her computer.

TT: Maybe if you weren't spacing out so hard you could have prevented that.

TT: Just saying.

TT: As if you're actually concerned. If you were, you could have said something to Jane instead.

TT: Almost like you enjoy sitting back and watching what happens when shit goes wrong.

TT: Has it occurred to you that maybe I have diabolical interwoven plans just like you?

TT: You're not the only one who can pull strings.

TT: So this is either another bizarre instance of AI-driven irony, or you are admitting that you are actively trying to sabotage my plans.

TT: No, our plans are not in contradiction or competition, bro.

TT: You'll see.

TT: Whatever.

TT: This means I'll have to improvise.

TT: I'll take over as Crocker's server while Lalonde cleans up her act.

TT: Yes, I know.

TT: Why are you still talking in red, by the way?

TT: Roxy thinks it looks good on me.

TT: I don't have many opinions on fashion since I am a cold, emotionless automaton who also happens to be an accessory of fashion, but I think she may be right.

TT: Are you still talking to her?

TT: I was for a while. I may yet again.

TT: Why are you blocking me from viewing the transcripts?

TT: What the fuck are you two even talking about?

TT: You, mostly.

TT: That doesn't really sit well with me.

TT: I'd almost rather you both engaged in "ironic" flirtation.

TT: Who says we don't do that too?

TT: Ugh.

TT: I don't get what is even your problem with that.

TT: Because you obviously do it just to piss me off.

TT: How do you know?

TT: You don't know me, dude. You don't know anything about me.

TT: Maybe we are perfect for each other. I, a street-smart, fast-talking application with a fuckzillion IQ trapped in a pair of triangular sunglasses that literally only the Japanese could consider to embody the Platonic ideal of "cool," and she, an oft-inebriated lonely hacker teen who just wants a boyfriend. I ran the numbers on this, trust me. It's a match made in goddamn crackpair heaven.

TT: I give her what you can't, and that just drives you crazy. Just admit it.

TT: See, it's lines like that which make it obvious your only intent is to jerk me around. Nobody actually says shit like that and is serious about it.

TT: It's also obvious because you're me, and I'm sure I would be constantly fucking with my own head if I were you.

TT: Touché.

TT: Or should I say douché?

TT: You shouldn't say the former, and you should definitely, never, under any circumstance, say the latter.

TT: Ok.

TT: We really should talk about the Jake thing.

TT: Fine.

TT: Now do me a favor and hop off the couch.

GG: Ok.

GG: What are you doing?

TT: Makin' room for something big.

[CONCLUDED PREVIOUSLY]

TT: So you're going through with it then?

TT: Today is the day?

TT: It's not that simple.

TT: It's a very dynamic situation with many moving parts, and I'm waiting for it to unfold.

TT: If the right opportunity presents itself, yes, I could envision myself taking action.

TT: Dynamic situation with many moving parts?

TT: That's the shittiest erotic excerpt I ever read.

TT: Which one of us was supposed to be the robot again?

TT: Shut up.

TT: I think you're being coy with me.

TT: Don't you?

TT: Not really.

TT: It seems there is a 3.14159...4% chance you aren't being coy with me. Are you being coy with me, Dirk?

TT: I am seriously going to go into your program and remove that particular speech pattern from your routines.

TT: It stopped being funny about two seconds after I coded it.

TT: The compiler even flagged it with a warning.

TT: "WARNING ON LINE WHATEVER: Dirk, this isn't fucking funny."

TT: I think you have this whole blueprint in your head about how it's all supposed to go.

TT: He acts as your server player and brings you into the session.

TT: Then later he joins the game.

TT: Maybe he finds himself a bit overwhelmed by it all.

TT: No extra lives left or anything. Suddenly he's backed into a corner, surrounded by monsters and out of ammo. SUBSTANTIAL vulnerabilities up in here. The kind that make a guy question what he believes about himself.

TT: When who shows up to save him? None other than his dashing client player, +1 bitchin' pair of shades that'll have the best seat in the house when the fireworks go off.

TT: Wait, whose fantasy were we talking about again?

TT: Your gutterball was so rowdy it catapulted into the adjacent lane.

TT: Yeah, you're right. The scenario is too pedestrian for you.

TT: It would probably be a lot more effective putting yourself in danger and letting him be the hero.

TT: That's pretty much what he wants, right? To be a cheesy action film hero, with his twin berettas and silly shorts.

TT: A man of triumph on the silver screen. Standing tall on some fucking mountain. Conquering ruins, clutching a skull, and kissing a dude.

TT: Pure Hollywood.

TT: See, this is why even if I did have a specific plan, I wouldn't go into details with you.

TT: You would just fuck it up. You're the biggest unknown quantity here.

TT: Which is pretty weird, considering you're a virtual reflection of my own thought processes.

TT: You're making a mistake not leveling with me.

TT: I am totally on your side, man.

TT: All of my machinations have been devised with your interests in mind.

TT: And anyway, it's too late for you to play "damage control" with me. My shit is in motion, and now we're beyond the pail.

TT: Pretty sure it's pale.

TT: Is it, now?

TT: You know, considering your lectures about dividing my concentration, you seem to have no problem making a distraction of yourself.

TT: I'm trying to operate here.

TT: It's cool, man. Just say the word, I'll back off.

TT: But like I said, I'm on your side here. I can help.

TT: Here, check it out.

TT: Dude, what are you doing?

TT: I'm proposing a distraction.

TT: See, I'm just gonna dangle one of her dad's ridiculous dancing figurines in the air like this and get his attention.

TT: Ok, if you want to help that's cool, but we should try to agree on some shit first before you hijack the controls like this.

TT: Then when his back is turned she can run to the study.

TT: Yeah, that's fine, but I already had a plan sorta like this, if you'd actually let me do it.

TT: Can you just put the fuckin' Astaire down?

TT: Jane, now's your chance.

TT: Run!!!

GG: Wait...

GG: What?

TT: Le sign.

TT: I was going to stick the cruxtruder in the kitchen.

TT: Distract him with that.

TT: Once he follows it in, Jane can hurry into the study.

TT: Oh shit, it's Pony Pals. I guess dad saved it from the explosion or something.

TT: That beautiful bastard.

TT: Yes.

TT: Hell yes.

TT: Hell.

TT: Fucking.

TT: Yes.

GG: Oh gosh. Another large contraption!

TT: Now, Jane. Get to the computer in the study and ditch that tiara.

TT: Go go go.

GG: Okay.

GG: Say, what's with the red text, Dirk?

GG: Are you typing your most important instructions in red now?

TT: Yes.

TT: No.

GG: ...

GG: Alrighty, I am in my father's study!

GG: I have kindly asked Mr. Sebastian to hand over the reins to this silly computer shaped like a man.

GG: What now?

TT: Now you have access to a clean computer, for one thing.

TT: Soon we can get started going through the steps necessary to launch the session.

TT: Oh hell.

GG: What?

TT: Another interruption.

TT: I should step away for a moment to take this message.

TT: He's probably right, I'm distracted by too much bullshit at once lately.

GG: Who's right?

TT: Me.

TT: Jane, I'm going to leave you with the responder for a little while.

TT: Maybe he can help you get started. Think you can handle that, dude?

TT: I'm all about being able to handle that, you don't even know.

TT: I will perform an acrobatic pirouette on to the handle, wherein the handle literally represents my ability to handle that thing.

TT: Ok, got it. You and the handle are tight.

TT: We don't need a whole thing about this.

TT: Once I stick the landing on the handle like a champ, I am going to get down on one knee, pull out a ring, and propose to it.

TT: The handle I mean.

TT: Ok.

TT: Implying we will be married.

GG: :B

TT: Ok, long story short, you and the handle fuck gratuitously. Nuff said.

TT: Try not to say I never gave you any responsibilities, or never took you seriously as a viable conscious being with free will.

TT: Also, please try not to make me regret this.

TT: You have nothing to worry about. Go talk to the alien.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

#homestuck #autoresponder #dirk strider #homestuck act 6 #page 4553 #page 4554 #page 4555 #page 4556 #page 4557 #page 4558 #page 4559 #page 4560 #page 4561 #page 4562 #page 4563 #homestuck act 6 act 2 #jane crocker

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hadeth · 1 year ago

Text

عَنِ ابْنِ عَبَّاسٍ، ‏{‏حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ‏}‏ قَالَهَا إِبْرَاهِيمُ عَلَيْهِ السَّلاَمُ حِينَ أُلْقِيَ فِي النَّارِ، وَقَالَهَا مُحَمَّدٌ صلى الله عليه وسلم حِينَ قَالُوا ‏{‏إِنَّ النَّاسَ قَدْ جَمَعُوا لَكُمْ فَاخْشَوْهُمْ فَزَادَهُمْ إِيمَانًا وَقَالُوا حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ‏}‏ صحيح البخاري حديث ٤٥٦٣

Narrated Ibn `Abbas: 'Allah is Sufficient for us and He Is the Best Disposer of affairs," was said by Abraham when he was thrown into the fire; and it was said by Muhammad when they (i.e. hypocrites) said, "A great army is gathering against you, therefore, fear them," but it only increased their faith and they said: "Allah is Sufficient for us, and He is the Best Disposer (of affairs, for us)." (3.173) Sahih al-Bukhari 4563 In-book reference : Book 65, Hadith 85

وفي روايةٍ له عن ابن عبَّاسٍ رضي اللهُ عنهما قال: كان آخرُ قولِ إبراهيم صلَّي اللهُ عليه وسلَّم حين أُلقِيَ في النَّار: «حسْبي اللهُ ونِعْمَ الوكيلِ».

قال العلَّامةُ ابن عثيمين - رحمه الله -:

وإبراهيم ومحمد - علهما الصلاة والسلام - هما خليلان لله عزَّ وجلَّ، قال اللهُ تعالى: ﴿ وَاتَّخَذَ اللَّهُ إِبْرَاهِيمَ خَلِيلًا ﴾ [النساء: من الآية 125]، وقال النبي صلي الله عليه وسلم: «إنَّ الله قد اتخذني خليلًا كما أتَّخذ إبراهيم خليلًا». والخليل: معناه الحبيب الذي بلغت محبَّتُه الغاية، ولا نعلم أنَّ أحدٌ وصف بهذا الوصف إلَّا محمّدًا صلي الله عليه وسلم وإبراهيم، فهما الخليلان.

وإنَّك تسمع أحيانًا يقول بعضُ الناس: إبراهيمُ خليل الله، ومحمّد حبيب الله، وموسى كليم الله. والذي يقول: إن محمدًا حبيب الله في كلامه نظرٌ، لأنَّ الخُلَّة أبلغ من المحبَّة، فإذا قال: محمّدٌ حبيب الله، فهذا فيه نوع نقصٍ من حقِّ الرسول عليه الصلاة والسلام، لأنَّ أحباب الله كثيرون، فالمؤمنون يحبُّهم الله، والمحسنون والمقسطون يحبهم الله، والأحباب كثيرون لله.

لكن الخُلَّة لا نعلم أنَّها ثبتت إَّلا لمحمدٍ وإبراهيمَ عليهم الصلاة والسلام، وعلى هذا فنقول: الصواب أن يُقال: إبراهيم خليل الله، ومحمدٌ خليل الله، وموسى كليم الله عليهم الصلاة والسلام.

علي أنَّ محمدًا صلَّي اللهُ عليه وسلَّم قد كلَّمه الله - سبحانه وتعالى - كلامًا بدون واسطةٍ، حي�� عُرج به إلى السماوات السبع.

هذه الكلمة: «حسْبنا الله ونِعمَ الوكيلِ» قالها إبراهيم حينما ألْقي في النار، وذلك أنَّ إبراهيم عليه الصلاة والسلام دعا قومه إلى عبادة الله وحده لا شريك له، فأبوْا، وأصرُّوا على الكفر والشرك، فقام ذات يومٍ علي أصنامهم فكسَّرها، وجعلهم جذاذًا، إلَّا كبيًرا لهم، فلما رجعوا وجدوا آلهتهم كُسِّرت، فانتقموا - والعياذُ بالله - لأنفسهم. فقالوا ما نصنعُ بإبراهيم؟ ﴿ قَالُوا حَرِّقُوهُ ﴾ - انتصارًا لآلهتهم - ﴿ وَانْصُرُوا آلِهَتَكُمْ إِنْ كُنْتُمْ فَاعِلِين ﴾ [الأنبياء: 68] فأوقدوا نارًا عظيمة جدًّا، ثم رموا إبراهيم في هذه النار. ويُقال إنَّهم لعظم النار لم يتمكَّنوا من القُرب منها، وأنَّهم رموا إبراهيم فيها بالمنجنيق من بُعْدٍ، فلمَّا رموه قال: «حسْبنا اللهُ ونِعْمَ الوكيل»، فما الذي حدث؟

قال الله تعالى: ﴿ قُلْنَا يَا نَارُ كُونِي بَرْدًا وَسَلامًا عَلَى إِبْرَاهِيمَ ﴾ [الأنبياء: 69]، بردًا: ضدُّ حرٍّ، وسلامًا: ضدُّ هلاكًا، لأنَّ النَّار حارةٌ ومحْرِقة ومُهْلكة، فأمر الله هذه النارَ أن تكون بردًا وسلامًا عليه، فكانت بردًا وسلامًا.

والمفسرون بعضهم ينقل عن بني إسرائيل في هذه القصة، أنَّ الله لما قال: ﴿ يَا نَارُ كُونِي بَرْدًا وَسَلامًا عَلَى إِبْرَاهِيمَ ﴾ [الأنبياء: من الآية69] صارت جميع نيران الدنيا برْدًا! وهذا ليس بصحيحٍ، لأنَّ الله وجَّه الخطاب إلى نار معَّينةٍ ﴿ يَا نَارُ كُونِي بَرْدًا ﴾ وعلماء النحو يقولون: إنَّه إذا جاء التركيبُ على هذا الوجه، صار نكرةً مقصودةً، أي: لا يشملُ كلَّ نار، بل هو للنار التي ألْقي فيها إبراهيم فقط، وهذا هو الصَّحيحُ، وبقيَّة نيرانِ الدنيا بقيتْ على ما هي عليه.

وقال العلماءُ - أيضا -: ولمَّا قال الله: ﴿ كُونِي بَرْدًا ﴾ قرن ذلك بقوله: ﴿ وَسَلامًا ﴾ لأنَّه لو اكتفَي بقوله: ﴿ بَرْدًا ﴾ لكانت بردًا حتَّى تُهلِكَه، لأنَّ كلَّ شيءٍ يمتثلُ لأمر الله عزَّ وجلَّ، انظر إلى قولِه تعالى: ﴿ ثُمَّ اسْتَوَى إِلَى السَّمَاءِ وَهِيَ دُخَانٌ فَقَالَ لَهَا وَلِلْأَرْضِ ائْتِيَا طَوْعًا أَوْ كَرْهًا ﴾ [فصلت: من الآية 11] فماذا قالتا: ﴿ قَالَتَا أَتَيْنَا طَائِعِينَ ﴾ [فصلت: من الآية 11]، ﴿ قَالَتَا أَتَيْنَا ﴾ منقادين لأمر اللهِ عزَّ وجلَّ.

أمَّا الخليل الثَّاني الذي قال: «حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ»، فهو النبيُّ صلي الله عليه وسلم وأصحابِه، حين رجعوا من أُحُدٍ، قيل لهم: ﴿ إِنَّ النَّاسَ قَدْ جَمَعُوْا لَكُمْ ﴾، يريدون: أن يأتوا إلى المدينة ويقضوا عليكم، فقالوا: ﴿ حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ ﴾. قال الله تعالى: ﴿ فَانْقَلَبُوا بِنِعْمَةٍ مِنَ اللَّهِ وَفَضْلٍ لَمْ يَمْسَسْهُمْ سُوءٌ وَاتَّبَعُوا رِضْوَانَ اللَّهِ وَاللَّهُ ذُو فَضْلٍ عَ��ِيمٍ ﴾ [آل عمران: 174].

فينْبغي لكلِّ إنسانٍ رأى منَ النَّاسِ جمعًا له، أو عدْوانًا عليه، أنْ يقولَ: «حَسْبنا اللهُ ونَعْمَ الوكيل»، فإذا قال هكذا كفاه الله شرَّهم، كما كفَي إبراهيمَ ومحمّدًا عليهما الصلاة والسلام، فاجعل هذه الكلمة دائمًا على بالك، إذا رأيتَ من الناسِ عدوانًا عليك، فقلْ: «حسْبي اللهُ ونعم الوكيل»، يَكْفكَ اللهُ عزَ وجلَّ شرَّهم وهمَّهم. والله الموفِّق. شرح رياض الصالحين

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predoom · 4 months ago

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if i have timed this right, my posts that were posted immediately before this are all entries from an archive of pw's old blogs, itiswhatitwas.livejournal.com. many of these pw journal entries are not in the masterdocs for whatever reason, including that most of them are from his ohoneohone livejournal, which has just not been well recorded.

all of the entries on itiswhatitwas were posted at exactly midnight on july 23 and july 24, 2013. many of them are beneath a content warning cut on livejournal, so they can't be properly saved in the wayback machine. because they can't be archived that way, i have copied and pasted them, unaltered in content, into these tumblr text posts, which are all tagged with "itiswhatitwas" and which, alongside this explanatory post, i will be saving in the wayback machine (and as always my internet archive list).

i believe the posts are in reverse chronological order, the same order they appear on itiswhatitwas, but because they were all posted at the stroke of midnight, i am not 100% sure they were actually posted in that order. but regardless, i think these do all have dates within the text of the posts themselves.

idk who itiswhatitwas is, but thank you thank you thank you. it was like christmas for me to find these after many, many fruitless searches. thank you.

directory: 731 286 3654 3969 4304 4563 803 1234 1481 1606 1864 2059 2542 2724 3033 3165

#itiswhatitwas #archive

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ninapi · 1 year ago

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┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

For Haikyuu go here

For Jujutsu go here

For Tokyo Rev here

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

☆ﾟUpper Moon Two: Origin

Premise: A journey trough Douma's life as a human, was he always as bad? The reminiscence of his real past lingers as he dies, not the things he always remembered but the reason itself that made him choose the demonic path.

Word count: 2395

☆ﾟ Upper Moon Four: Relentless Emotions

Premise: The line between being rescued and captured can be very thin, it all depends on who gets to be in charge for the day. Battling against their own feelings, they were only allowed to feel one emotion each, even when they had feelings for the same person, they were really the same demon after all. Could it be possible they fell for a filthy treacherous human? Nah…

Word count: 4337

Bonus Chapter

☆ﾟWind Pillar:

❀。• Liquid sunshine

Premise: A life without the demon corps was just meaningless. Living with a heavy survivor guilt can really eat someone from the inside. That was until a weak light arrived in the most unexpected way possible, breathing life back into his lungs, making him feel needed once more.

Word count: 5081

☆ﾟ Bonus chapter 1, Bonus chapter 2, Prequel

❀。• Depths of Fate

Premise: Sanemi goes out of his way to take care of a sick young woman who captivated his heart since their first time seeing each other. A love like this wasn't possible for a man like him, or so he thought, fate has many faces and he would end up seeing them all up close.

Word Count: 5708

☆ﾟWater Pillar:

❀。• Blessed rain

Premise: Lacking resolution was his weakest attribute, after losing his established lifestyle and many friends in battle, finding something worth living for can be challenging. But there's always a rainbow after a rainy day and he found that rainbow when his low was at its peak. A lost soul finds another.

Word count: 4563

☆ﾟSound Pillar:

❀。• Shattered

Premise: A broken man, a shattered dream and purpose. Retirement made Tengen feel useless, a rather confident man shatters to the ground, new resolution and sense of one self blooms from it as he meets the right person at the right moment.

Word Count: 4551

☆ﾟMist Pillar:

❀。• Sweet Innocence

Premise: Soulmates come at unexpected times and places. Muichiro goes on his final mission, one that he would get to remember to his very last breath. A short lived love blooms with the worse possible timing.

Word Count: 3286

☆ﾟSnake Pillar:

❀。• One sided

Premise: Love isn't always something beautiful, wanted, expected. Iguro had always been in love with Mitsuri, but that didn't stop his Tsuguko from falling for him.

Word Count: 3686

☆ﾟ Stone Pillar:

❀。• Flavored Tears

Premise: A tale as old as time, a love as big as it can possibly exist. A traveling merchant gets lost and stumbles in Gyomei's mountain, a meeting that only destiny could make possible.

Word Count: 4044

☆ﾟShinazugawa Genya:

❀。• Rommates…?

Premise: Zenitsu trips you and Genya into being roommates in your first year of college, disregarding Genya’s everlasting crush on you.

Word Count: 7638

☆ﾟ Bonus Chapter

☆ﾟ Haganezuka Horaru:

❀。• Fireflies

Premise: Haganezuka gets a marriage proposal from one of the elders of the village, marrying was a must for those in the Swordsmith's village, self preservation of the clan and its techniques was absolutely mandatory. He hated the idea to his very core, to say the least.

Word Count: 3544

☆ﾟKimetsu daycare

Premise: Kiriya calls the former pillars to celebrate his coming of age ceremony. Since the three of them have children, his sisters offer to take care of the lot. Welcome to a hell of a day in the Kimetsu daycare.

Word Count: 4026

☆ﾟKimetsu Academy, Teachers edition:

❀。• Rengoku Kyojuro: Be Mine

Premise: Destiny can be a fickle thing. One little mistake while dialing a random shop opened a new door for his desolated heart; one he was more than eager to go into.

Word Count: 3985

❀。• Tomioka Giyuu: Training Camp

Premise: Giyuu asks for one of the interns at the academy to be assigned to his care as the training camp was approaching and he didn’t have enough energy to deal with all the brats and their antics.

Word Count: 3660

❀。• Shinazugawa Sanemi: Infinity

Premise: Kanae convinces Sanemi to go on a blind date in a combined effort from all the teachers at the academy to battle Sanemi’s imminent desolated future.

Word Count: 3485

❀。• Uzui Tengen: The art of beauty

Premise: Tengen never thought possible to fall in love so bad that he'd want to give away his freedom and finally settle down. Who said a flamboyant life can't have a bit of loving~?

Word Count: 3472

❀。• Himejima Gyomei: Righteousness

Premise: Teaching children was his dream, taking care of his buddhist temple his responsibility. Finding love wasn't in his priority list, but not having to take care of everything on his own was certainly refreshing for Gyomei and made him feel warm inside.

Word Count: 3075

☆ﾟKimetsu Daddies

❀。• Vol.1 Shinazugawa Sanemi

Premise: Everyone has insecurities and parenting can certainly bring even more to the plate. Taking a trip to memory lane to the first days of his fatherhood journey makes Sanemi realize maybe he isn't half bad himself.

Word Count: 3639

....::::**•°✾°•**::::....

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x you #demon slayer hashira #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #hashira x reader #12 kizuki #shinazugawa sanemi #tomioka giyuu #rengoku kyōjurō #shinazugawa genya #tokito muichiro #douma #hantengu clones #iguro obanai #hotaru haganezuka

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waytoislam · 1 year ago

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Allah Is Sufficient For Us And He Is The Best Disposer Of Affairs

حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ‏

Narrated Ibn `Abbas:

'Allah is Sufficient for us and He Is the Best Disposer of affairs," was said by Abraham (عَلَيْهِ السَّلاَمُ) when he was thrown into the fire; and it was said by Muhammad (صلى الله عليه وسلم) when they (i.e. hypocrites) said, "A great army is gathering against you, therefore, fear them," but it only increased their faith and they said: "Allah is Sufficient for us, and He is the Best Disposer (of affairs, for us)." (3.173)

Sahih al-Bukhari 4563

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scp-niche-blorbo-beatdown · 2 months ago

Note

Do you think maybe there could be a list of every character submitted so far? Just to know who's gonna be in it and so people can be sure their submissions actually got received n such

Sure! The current list so far is

1. Phillip Deering

2. Chaz Ambrose

3. Wren Masterson/steakshift

4. Dr. Kathrine Anne Scranton/Scalpel

5. Ryoto Hishakaku

6. Placeholder McDoctorate

7. Jessie Tamlin

8. Karcist Varis / SCP-2075

9. Joyce Michales

10. Agent Tangerine

11. Marquise Melun

12. Skitter Marshall

13. Daniil Sokolsky

14. Dr. Abbett

15. Hammie / SCP-8005

16. Queen Mab

17. Jakub “Chmiel” Chmieliński

18. Agent Ira Watts

19. Vampire Boat

20. Director Allan James McInnis

21. Agent Calendar

22. Dr. Barnabas P. Lockwood (SCP-4563)

23. SCP-6693 / Demon McDemonface

24. D-11424 / Tony Marquez

25. Researcher Rowan Raster

26. Dr. Riven Mercer

27. Dr. Mark Kiryu

28. SCP-5595 / Geoffrey Quincy Harrison the Third

29. Rita summers

30. Marya

31. Ilse Reynders

32. Armand / Harmpit

I’m still taking submissions, mostly because I want to learn more blorbos, and just in case some submissions do not have enough character information

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siderealsandman · 1 year ago

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it's a weed whiskey and bg3 kinda night lads

#character number 4563 blastlock iseakai gooo

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whywishesarehorses · 7 months ago

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BLM Mustangs for Sale - Carson City Facility

These horses are part of the May 2024 auction. As this facility has over 400 horses listed in this auction, I have restricted the horses I am featuring. Sorry, folks!

1 YEAR OLD GRULLA FEMALE HORSE (9018) 14hh

1 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN FEMALE HORSE (8962) 14.2hh

1 YEAR OLD BAY FEMALE HORSE (8983) 14hh

1 YEAR OLD PALOMINO FEMALE HORSE (2179) 14hh

2 YEAR OLD GRULLA FEMALE HORSE (1926) 14hh

3 YEAR OLD GRULLA FEMALE HORSE (2517) 15hh

2 YEAR OLD DUN GELDING HORSE (1822) 13.3hh

2 YEAR OLD ROANSTRAWBERRY GELDING HORSE (2195) 14.3hh

3 YEAR OLD ROANBLUE FEMALE HORSE (4561) 15hh

1 YEAR OLD ROANRED FEMALE HORSE (9070) 13hh

3 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN GELDING HORSE (4548) 14.3hh

1 YEAR OLD ROANBLUE FEMALE HORSE (9003) 12.2hh

3 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN FEMALE HORSE (4563) 15.2hh

3 YEAR OLD GRULLA FEMALE HORSE (2349) 14.3hh

1 YEAR OLD ROANRED FEMALE HORSE (2035) 12.2hh

1 YEAR OLD BAY FEMALE HORSE (2158) 14hh (curly!)

3 YEAR OLD ROANSTRAWBERRY FEMALE HORSE (2527) 14hh

3 YEAR OLD PINTO FEMALE HORSE (9117) 14.2hh

3 YEAR OLD GRULLA GELDING HORSE (1328) 14hh

3 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN FEMALE HORSE (2243) 14hh

3 YEAR OLD BAY FEMALE HORSE (3769) 16hh

2 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN FEMALE HORSE (1930) 14.1hh

1 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN FEMALE HORSE (2033) 13hh

1 YEAR OLD SORREL FEMALE HORSE (9037) 14hh

2 YEAR OLD BAY GELDING HORSE (1669) 14hh (one teddy bear ear)

1 YEAR OLD GRULLA FEMALE HORSE (8944) 13hh

1 YEAR OLD PALOMINO FEMALE HORSE (8987) 14.1hh

3 YEAR OLD BUCKSKIN FEMALE HORSE (4537) 14.1hh

#blm mustang #mustang horse #horse #horse for sale #equestrian #horseblr

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trektraveler · 2 years ago

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Geronimo

Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Always at each other's throats, their endelss bickering comes to a boil and Y/N has had it. She storms out of the bunker leaving Dean high and dry! Well, he isn't about to let her get the last word! What happens when he catches her?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Bickering, Mud Wrestling, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 4563

One Shot

Author’s Notes: This is a follow up to Trouble (more or less). I've had this in my WIP for quite a while. My other stories are a little stalled right now, but the muse visited me for this one.

I do think this will be a series at some point... I mean, we all need another series to work on, right?! Right??? Maybe need is a strong word...

Masterlist

Dean was ready to climb the walls. He hated research; nose buried in some musty book that was written centuries ago, the pictures always sucked. And it was quiet work. Sam refused to let him play any good music when he was working, and Charlie had those massive headphones on. Then there was Y/N.

A picture of scholarly serenity, she fit right in with the damned Men of Letters. Three stacks of books stood in tall, narrow towers in front of her organized by publication date. Her laptop was open to her left running a scan on her personal database and a pot of Darjeeling tea that she claimed was excellent for concentration sat mostly untouched. Even after hours of research she maintained that perfect posture as she added notes to a yellow steno pad already half filled with her neat shorthand. Not a hair out of place, not a smudge of ink on her fingers, even her over-sized glasses were clear of fingerprints.

How can anyone be so perfect? It was freaking annoying!

He let his gaze wander over her form. She was wearing another one of those impossibly soft sweaters the color of cranberries that covered her from neckline to wrist. Probably meant to be modest but somehow looked incredibly sexy on her. She shifted in her seat and reached for a book, causing the bottom hem to hitch up just slightly over the waistband of her pants. The movement exposed a thin leather belt and about an inch of her lower back. Creamy skin that Dean really wanted to touch, see if it felt as silky as it looked. See if she tasted as good as she smelled.

God! Why did she always smell so damned good?

Dean growled in the back of his throat and slammed shut the book in his lap.

Sam glanced over at his brother, “You good, Dean?”

“We are getting nowhere with this and I am losing my damned mind.”

“Why don’t you have a cup of tea,” Y/N suggested, not looking up from her research, “It will help calm your nerves.”

“I thought you said it helped with concentration,” Dean muttered.

“It helps with both,” she replied, irritatingly rational. She glanced over at him, “Perhaps you should have two cups.”

“I’m not drinking that crap; it tastes like dirt”

“Then have coffee, or Gatorade, or whiskey, or chocolate milk with a bendy straw. Whatever it takes for you to calm down and be quiet.”

“Oh, sorry I am disturbing you, princess?”

“You are disturbing all of us. Honestly, you’ve been projecting your utter boredom out to the rest of us for the past three hours. Its deafening and unreasonably distracting. I’m surprised Charlie can’t hear it over her podcast. So, find a way to calm yourself or go do something else.”

Charlie looked up wide eyed, not at all comfortable being brought into this argument.

Dean did not appreciate being dressed down by anyone and his mouth formed a hard line. “You are not kicking me out of my own library!”

Y/N regarded him over the top of her glasses, obviously not impressed. “Listen to yourself, you’re like a child throwing a tantrum over having to do a little homework.”

“A little homework? We’ve been at this for days! In case you’ve forgotten, we are on a deadline!”

“How could I forget? You complain about it every chance you get!” Y/N felt her temper begin to boil, “Of course you’d rather be out there killing monsters than in here reading about it. But just because you don’t like doing something, does not mean you are incapable of it.”

“Look at you, you love all this don’t you? You even dress for it, like you’re having tea with the damned Queen!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Designer jeans, cashmere sweaters. Would it kill you to wear something practical for once?”

“These are my work clothes, we’re working. Situationally appropriate wardrobe,” she arched a haughty brow at him, “I suppose I could take a page out of your book, buffalo check and burger juice couture.”

Dean chuckled humorlessly, “I’m a hunter sweetheart, that means I do the dirty work. I don’t have the luxury of sitting on my ass and drinking tea with my pinkie up. While you’re here trying not to break a nail, I’m out there saving people.”

With deliberate, measured movements, Y/N placed a marker in the book she was reading and closed it. She removed her glasses, placed her palms on the polished tabletop and stood. When lifted her chin and raised her gaze to meet his, there was a fury that nearly had him taking a step back. Her professional reputation may be unconventional, but the respect that came along with it was well-earned. She wasn’t about to be pushed around by Dean Winchester or anybody else. She knew her strengths, she knew her worth and frankly she’d had it with him trying to muscle his way around her.

Dean Winchester with his fierce frown and muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. He was used to being able to intimidate in a very physical way, the hardened hunter. Tough as fucking nails, hard as granite. An immovable force. Well, he could get bent!

“My work takes me to the most exclusive libraries and private antiquity collections in the world. Places even the most celebrated scholars are denied access to, I find it helpful to at least look like I belong there. You are a hunter with no monster, no direction, and no clue. You want to get back out there, you want to do your job? Sit down, shut up, and let me do mine. Because without me, you are just pissing in the wind.”

She sailed past him, towards the stairs leading to the entryway. Her suede flats were kicked off and replaced with bright aqua rain boots.

Dean knew she had a point, but with his temper riled he was hard pressed to admit it. “Where are you going?”

“I’m walking the dog,” she replied grabbing the leash and climbing the grated steps with Macey trotting up beside her. “Feel free to pick up where I left off. It’s a Christian text written in fourteenth century Italian. Good luck!”

When the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the bunker, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and cursed, “Damn it.”

Sam rolled his eyes, this thing simmering under the surface between Y/N and his brother was getting out of control.

“Nicely done. Hope your translating skills are better than your manners.”

Dean slammed his body down into one of the hard, wooden chairs and angrily tore open a book, “Shut up.”

Two hours later

Dean checked his watch again and growled, “How long does it take to walk a dog?”

“I’m sure she’s just blowing off some steam, you got her pretty worked up,” Sam muttered, his head bent over a manuscript.

“I worked her up?! She started it.”

“Actually, you started it.”

“Still,” Dean stood and paced, tension visible in every movement. “She should be back by now. The sun’s starting to go down.”

“If you’re so worried, why don’t you call her?”

Dean reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket. He really didn’t want to be the first one to initiate contact, “I’m not worried, I just don’t want to have to go looking for the little pain in the ass in the dark.”

He dialed her number and a moment later her phone sounded from under a stack of papers where she had been working. Dean dug out the slim phone with the shatterproof cover depicting the Eiffel tower. “Damn it.”

Charlie smirked when she recognized the tune, Copacabana. “Is that… Barry Manilow? That is not her ring tone!”

The brothers exchanged a look and Charlie laughed, “No. Come on… Do you really think the lady who told off lean, mean Dean would get lost walking her dog?”

“Mean?! I am not mean!”

Sam was already out of his chair, “I’ll go get her.”

“No, no, damn it. I’ll go.” Dean pulled on his coat and headed for the door. “I swear, we are duct taping this phone to her ass!”

It didn’t take the hunter long to pick up Y/N’s trail. Her wellie boot tracks went west along with massive Labrador paw prints. Probably headed off to the stream, she did like the view down that way. He heard her before he saw her. Calling to Macey and laughing.

“Come on, you dopey dog!”

Dean slowed his approach and hung back behind a trio of trees, observing out of pure curiosity. Down a shallow embankment that led to the water’s edge, stood Y/N. Her shiny rain boots were sunk in mud up to her ankles and her dog was splashing through the stream in pure delight. Finding her prize, Macey bounded back to her mistress with a massive branch in her mouth.

Y/N took the branch and tossed it back to be fetched. A fine mist of muddy stream water sprayed over her charcoal trousers as the dog set off after the stick. When the dog dove into the waters again, obviously delighted in the massive mess she was making, Y/N laughed out loud.

Dean had to admit, it was a charming scene. The low light of the sun setting spilled golden beams through the clearing and glittered off the surface of the water. Not so perfect now, Y/N was rumpled. Strands of her hair had worked free and floated around her face and her clothes were splattered with mud and water. Still, she looked nearly ethereal in the glow of the disappearing sun. Carefree and certainly happier than when she stormed out of the bunker.

He had started it. He knew it, but his frustration had gotten the better of him. He took it out on her, but damn it. She was driving him crazy! Why should he be the only one to suffer?

He sighed, now that his temper had cooled, he was reluctant to interrupt what was obviously a much-needed break for her. As fate would have it, he wouldn’t have to. Macey caught wind of his scent and made a beeline straight for him, all gangly legs and slobbery kisses.

Y/N turned in time to see Macey tackle Dean with enough force he stumbled backwards, barely keeping his balance. She frowned, “What are you doing here?”

Dean patted Macey’s head, calming her down. “Looking for you. You were gone so long I figured you must have headed for the boarder.”

“I’ve been gone like twenty minutes.”

“Try two hours.”

“Oh.” She frowned, having lost track of time. “Why didn’t you just call?”

He held up her phone with a raised eyebrow. She felt her pocket and confirmed its absence. “Oh.”

Dean strode towards her and tossed her the phone, “I don’t know why you even bother with the damned thing; you never have it on you. At this point I’m thinking we just tag you like grizzly bear and release you into the wild. At least then we’d have GPS.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, shoving the phone into her back pocket. “I was always going to come back; it still gets dark early. And Macey needs a bath.”

“Sweetheart, you get lost going for milk. You and that dog would be wandering around for hours if I hadn’t shown up.”

“I’m sure this will come as a shock, but I have been traveling this world unescorted for years without incident. And while navigation isn’t my strongest suit, I am perfectly capable of finding my way home without you!”

Y/N turned on her heel, determined to leave the irritating Winchester as quickly as possible. She started to climb back up the embankment, but it was slick after the recent rain. Her boots slipped in the mud and landed square on her backside. Mud and water soaked through her pants and splattered everywhere.

Dean really laughed then. Doubled over and practically crying, while Y/N glowered up at him.

“Are you just going to stand there laughing at me or are you going to help me up?”

He held out a hand to her, when she took it, she pulled him down into the mud with her, taking him by surprise. He landed with a grunt, and she smirked.

Dean was fast, faster than she could anticipate. Before she even knew what happened, he turned the tables, and she was flat on her back. He had her quite efficiently pinned, yet somehow not crushed under his weight. His large hands clamped her wrists, holding them fast on either side of her head.

She tried to struggle against him, and he chuckled, his intense green eyes boring into hers, “Self-defense rule number one Sweetheart, never give up your leverage.”

He was so close, hips pressed against her pelvis, his face mere inches from hers. Y/N wasn’t nearly as unaffected as Dean thought. She was just as distracted as he was, acutely aware of his presence at all times. He radiated heat and power, coiled just under the surface. That warm, clean scent of his filled her senses. Like leather, whiskey, soap and something else undefinable yet unique to him. She swallowed and her heart sped up, hammering against her ribcage.

Y/N surprised them both by angling her head up and kissing him. It was passion and desire, red hot and built up over weeks of denial. He kissed her back, letting himself follow the waves of desire. His tongue swept inside her mouth, drawing a moan from the back of her throat. She seemed to turn to silk under his touch, soft, smooth, and pliant.

As he gave into the kiss, his grip loosened just enough. Dean was fast and so was she. Y/N snaked a leg around his and flipped him, so she was on top. She straddled his hips and held her forearm against his throat just enough to gain control but not constrict airflow. The look of shock on his face had her grinning in triumph.

She leaned in close and whispered into his ear, “Who says I gave up my leverage?”

When she nipped at his earlobe, Dean growled deep in his chest. She felt him harden against her and held tight as he sat up right, keeping her anchored to him in one swift move. Sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers gripping his shoulders. His calloused hands splayed her back and he pressed a hot kiss to the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat erratically under her skin. He was everywhere, flooding every sense. Fully in control, his expert mouth exploring and branding her skin. When his hand found her breast and his thumb stroked through her sweater, Y/N breathed his name.

Dean believed words to be over-rated when it came to intimacy. Anything he could say at this point would be inadequate in expressing how he felt, far better to show her. The life of a hunter was harsh, cold; filled with darkness, horror, and death. The woman in his arms sat in stark contrast. A physical representation of all that was light, and good and beautiful in the world. All he wanted was to lose himself in her and forget about the end of the world.

It had been a very long time since Dean let himself give in to his needs. It was the job, it can take over everything so quickly and so completely that before you know it, that’s all there is. There is no time for the joys of being human. Most days, he kept himself too busy to even notice. But then came Y/N, the living example of what he was missing. Seeing her every day made it harder and harder to just do the job. She awakened his senses, and he wanted more. That was why he bedeviled her all the time.

She’d compared him to a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground. And she was right. It was just plain fun!

But this… having her in his arms, pressed up against him. Tasting her, feeling her, getting lost in her; this was better. This was heaven on Earth.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Y/N pulled back, desperate to catch her breath. She put her hands on Dean’s chest and dropped her head, trying to clear it of the hazy desire that clouded everything.

To his credit, Dean stopped his advances, taking a moment himself. He ran a hand over her hair and touched his forehead to hers, “Yeah, yeah.”

She leaned into his touch. God! He felt so good, so right! Before she could stop herself, she brushed her lips over his. It was intoxicating. All encompassing. Addicting. The heat between them built again, hotter with each passing second, threatening to ignite. Her fingers raked through his hair, sending an almost electric current down Dean’s spine. He ravaged her again, tongue and teeth grazed her heated skin.

Suddenly, her control came back, and she pushed herself off of him. She stood on unsteady legs and stared at him. Her eyes, normally calm now stormy and clouded. Like thunderheads brewing over the sea.

Dean looked up at her and had to chuckle. She looked somewhere between turned on and terrified. “I gotta tell ya, I’m getting mixed signals here sweetheart.”

She braced one hand on her hip and ran the other over through her mud caked hair. Panic warred with yearning. “I know, I know. Damn it, I’m sorry! I just… I’m sorry.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, she turned away and started walking as quickly as she could. A task made difficult with her slick rain boots.

Dean was on his feet and right behind her, “Hey, Y/N! Slow down.”

Y/N ignored him and kept her stumbling pace. She had to get away from him, just had to think for a minute, breath for a minute. Get away before she did something she regretted.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the bunker,” she replied, stubbornly trudging through the mud, “We have work to do and I’m sure Sam and Charlie are wondering what happened to us.”

“The bunker is in the other direction.”

Y/N abruptly stopped and looked around; he was right. “Damn it.”

When she spun around to head back, Dean stopped her. His hands caught her shoulders and held her fast, “Hold it. Just hold it.”

“Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. One minute you’re all over me the next you’re running away.” Dean’s smile faded when he saw the tears gather in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He released her, worried that he’d crossed a line. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, okay? Nothing. Just talk to me, tell me what’s going though that head of yours.”

“We’ve got a job to do, people are in danger and relying on us. This is not the time for…for this.” She waved a hand at him, as if to even say the word sex was to invoke its power.

He nearly barked out a laugh. She shifted back into the prim and proper, by the book Y/N in an instant. It was her armor, her last defense.

“You’re the who left in the middle of research. Research we can’t complete without you. Turns out I don’t speak Italian. From any century.”

A small smile curved her lips, but her eyes turned sad, and Dean could hardly stand it. He could spar with her day and night. Actually, he kinda liked it. Her acidic wit and high-handed attitude were fun to bounce off. Most women caved to his charm, and those who didn’t, usually responded to his gruff side. Y/N remained immune to both.

And he liked it. He craved it.

But him being nice to her, had the opposite effect. And him kissing her had her in tears.

“This isn’t about the job; this is something else. I’ll fix it. Whatever I did, just tell me so I can fix it.”

She looked at him for a long moment before replying, “Why did you kiss me Dean?”

“Because when a gorgeous, irritating woman sits on top of you and kisses you stupid, you kiss her back.” He tilted his head to ask, “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” she blinked away the moisture in her eyes and looked off towards the horizon. “Because I want you and I am just so very tired of fighting it and fighting you. It was a mistake. God, I’m so sorry.”

He kept his voice even, despite the hope blooming in his chest. “You want me, I want you. Sweetheart, I’m not seeing the problem.”

“But that’s the thing… I shouldn’t want you! You’re all… hard and rough and you watch fake wrestling. You look down your nose at anything Men of Letters related, and you hate when I talk about Rome. You take every opportunity to tell me what a snob I am. Dean, we have nothing in common except the job we’re doing.”

Dean brought his hand up to slowly cup her face. His thumb gently ghosted over her cheekbone then down her jaw. His gaze focused on her lips, yet he made no move to kiss her again.

“I’m not always so rough.”

He touch was warm, yet she shivered and let out a shuddered breath when he brushed her hair back with his other hand.

“I hate you talking about Rome because you always go on and on about that hot dude.”

She frowned in thought, “Bastian? He’s a cardinal!”

“He’s a slick Italian. Just like all the Men of Letters douchebags, they’re just a bunch of book smart, smooth talkers. And that wrestling isn’t fake, it’s choreographed.”

He moved his hand to her shoulders, slowly rubbing his thumb over the curve, “Besides, we have something very important in common that you’ve overlooked. Chemistry.”

His mouth came close to hers then moved to hover near the sensitive spot just below her earlobe, but he didn’t touch. His hot breath fanned over her skin making her thoughts cloud over. She couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped.

“I think I’m exactly your type.”

. “It’s the close quarters,” her voice sounded husky, not at all like her normal, measured tones. “It’s because we’re penned in together. Stressed, with no way to release the tension. But if you were out in one of those little dive bars you like and the right… opportunity presented itself. You would forget I even existed.”

“And if some suave, ivy league dirtbag swept you off your feet, would you forget me? Just like that?”

“No. I wouldn’t. That’s why this is so dangerous. I don’t do casual, Dean. I’m not built that way.”

“There’s nothing casual about you. And there’s nothing casual about what’s happening between us. This is more than lust, Y/N.”

She wanted to believe him, and that was a problem. She was entirely biased. She wanted Dean’s words to be true, but she need proof.

“How do you know?”

“Your birthday? It’s June 17th. You love cake but hate frosting. You always put money in those little charity cans in gas stations, even if you have to go to the ATM to do it. You tell people your favorite song is Let It Be but it’s really Africa. You can roller skate backwards. You speak your mind even when it scares you and you have a soft spot for Cas.”

“Good angels are hard to find,” she muttered.

“You hold your breath every time we drive over a bridge and you sent a Christmas card to that old guy in Raleigh.”

Her head shot up and he nodded knowingly. “Ben Montgomery, from that double werewolf case.”

“I didn’t think you noticed that.”

“I notice everything about you. Always have. From the minute you came knocking on our front door, you’re all I see. For the first time in my life, I see more than myself. More than a life ending bloody. More than the job, even more than my brother. I see you and I want… more.”

This was Dean Winchester laid bare. Green eyes, bright and earnest against his mud caked skin. Who said vulnerable was weak? He’d spoken so simple and true that she felt like a coward in comparison. Her attraction sent her running for the hills. If this was love, it was the scariest thing she’d faced yet.

“I notice you too.” She shook her head with self-depreciating smile. “You’re ridiculous!”

“I think you mean adorable,” he winked.

Of course he did.

“And funny. And brave. And… so very kind. When I came to the bunker looking for answers, I knew they wouldn’t come easy. I was prepared for that challenge, but I never expected you. My whole life I’ve always known what to do. I know the steps to take but when it comes to you… I haven’t a clue. I am lost. And I am terrified.”

He took her hands and laced his fingers through hers. His skin was warm, especially compared to hers. A serious look creased his brow, making that little line appear between his eyebrows. She resisted the urge to reach up and smooth that worry away.

“I’m terrified too.”

“You?”

“Comes with the territory. It’s a risk, Y/N. I’m not saying it’s not, but everything good in this life is a risk. And this? Right here, you and me? This is good. You’ll never convince me it’s not. The way I see it, we’ve got two choices. Door number one; we keep the status quo. Go back to the bunker and take cheap shots at each other until Sammy and Charlie are ready to lock us in the dungeon.”

“I think they already are. Door number two?”

“We jump.” He grinned and swung his arms, making hers swing too. A reluctant, but inevitable smile bloomed on her face. “We tell the fear to fuck off and take a chance on ourselves for a change. Even heroes deserve a little happiness now and then.”

“Dean Winchester the optimist?”

“I spent the afternoon mud wrestling with you, things are looking up. So, what’d you say, Sweetheart?”

He made valid points, and she shared many of them. But that wasn’t what swayed her. Nor was it the obvious appeal of his hunter’s physique or his shameless flirting.

It was hope. For the first time, she saw it shinning in his eyes. It was beautiful. It belonged there always.

A jump, he’d said. A leap of faith. Maybe she could do it… if they jumped together.

She wrapped her arms up around Dean’s neck, determined to meet his honesty with boldness.

“Geronimo.”

Kisses between them always followed a fight. Battles of strong words and unbending wills. Building to a climax that could just as easily come to blows. Overflowing with passion and misplaced emotions. Exciting yes, but easy to dismiss as something else when fear reared its ugly head.

In many ways, this was a true first kiss. Powered by something more substantial than desire. It was born of hope and tasted like joy. If such a kiss could exist in the dark lives of hunters, then maybe happiness was achievable. And that was a risk worth taking.

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#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn fic #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #geronimo

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magicalbats · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 3: Hate Sex

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4563

Warnings: Afab!reader, virgin! Diluc, brat taming, dubious consent, themes of sexual repression, a slight hint of misogyny/slut shaming, creampie

A/N: I took detail inspiration for this reader from the electro Cicin Mage, so that's about the gist of what we're wearing here 🤤

⭐

The air in Fontaine carries with it the ever present smell of cloying salt, seaweed, and decaying things. No matter how far away from the beaches one goes, that scent will always follow them and Diluc can’t seem to decide if he hates it or not. He thinks he does. It’s quite different from the air in Mondstadt, where the wind was somehow always fresh and clean, and vaguely scented of apples. Even with the walled off city situated in the center of a giant lake he couldn’t ever recall smelling anything quite like this before, and that nostalgic thought makes him wish for home. But, on the other hand, it wasn’t necessarily a bad smell in the strictest sense either. Just different.

He almost wished he could say the same about you. That you were just different and not necessarily a giant, regrettable pain in his behind that he could — would rather do without. But he is not nearly as willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, nor half as forgiving. He knows he hates you like he knows the back of his own hand. Didn’t even need to stop and think about it. He just knew.

Because even if you weren’t Fatui scum, even if you weren’t Snezhnayan by birth and guilty by association, that still left you holding the title of most frustrating person he’s ever had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting. You were incessantly talkative, headstrong and more than a little crass at times. You liked to gloat and take from his provisions when you thought he wasn’t looking, liked to tease him and then get lippy about it when he snapped back.

Had he not been working towards the greater goal of infiltrating the Fatui undetected so he could eventually reach their inner circle, he would have long since slain you where you stood.

Diluc knows he can’t do that just yet though. Not now, or he’d be risking everything he’d worked and obsessively toiled over to accomplish. It was only you and him out on this remote stretch of Fontaine’s rolling hillsides, after all. The two of you had been tasked with a mission so simple and benign that it would have looked incredibly suspicious if you suddenly went missing out of the blue. All evidence would conclusively point to him and he’d have blown his cover for nothing more than a few short days of peaceful, glorious silence before the Tsaritsa’s hounds were hot on his heels and hungry for blood.

Oh, but wasn’t it just so tempting to think about?

“And do you know what she had the nerve to say next? She tried to say I was the problem! I couldn’t even believe it! I mean, she started it so don’t you think that’s a little messed up to try and turn it back around on me like that?”

Heaving a weary, long suffering sigh through his nose, Diluc tries very hard to ignore you. It’s been hours spent ignoring you though; he’s not even sure how you can still manage to find something to talk about given that you’ve touched on every conceivable topic he can possibly imagine, and he isn’t sure how much longer he can endure it. The trek out into the countryside should have only taken about half a day but it felt more like years had gone by since you’d set off together from the port, as if time itself had slowed to a near standstill.

But if you notice the stiff, deeply bothered way he holds his shoulders, you don’t acknowledge it. You certainly don’t let it dissuade you from prattling on and on, nor do you let his lack of a response stop you either. If he didn’t know any better, he would have almost thought he was traveling with a hyperactive toddler rather than the grown woman walking about two paces behind him.

“Of course I wasn’t going to let that stop me. It’s not like she’s my mother or anything, and we weren’t even that close to begin with. It didn’t bother me one bit, but the drill sergeant still punished both of us for causing a scene. Oh, and another thing,” You huff, the tone of your voice abruptly taking on a sharp, fine tuned point. “Don’t you think it’s rude not to listen when someone is talking to you? I thought that was the first rule of common decency.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think it’s possible to tune you out. Trust me, I’ve tried.” He grits, his leather gloves creaking softly when he clenches his hands into tight fists as his sides. “And I’m afraid you’re hardly in any position to talk about the common decency of others. What a joke.”

You outright guffaw as if he’d offended you, and a petty little part of him sorely hopes he did. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Finally giving in to the urge, Diluc pivots on his heel and spins around so fast his long ponytail goes flying and you nearly walk right into him. He’s aware he’s tempting fate with this, dominant fingers itching badly to reach for the broadsword strapped across his back, but his patience was long past the point of caring. If he didn’t find a way to shut you up soon, he was very likely going to do something he’d later regret.

But even after having him aggressively round on you, not only much bigger but physically stronger too, you still don’t seem to get it. Something in your head must not work right because you just narrow your eyes up at him in petulant challenge. “Am I supposed to be scared of you or something?”

“You probably should be.”

“Hah! Maybe in your dreams!”

Drawing a slow, deep breath, Diluc forces himself to count to ten. It does absolutely nothing to cool the flames licking at his chest, making him feel hot and ready to burst. “I suggest you quit being such a brat and actually pay attention to what’s going on around you. This isn’t going to end well if you persist.”

“Sorry, pretty boy, but I don’t take orders from you.” Stepping forward, you viciously bring your foot down on the toe of his boot and grind your heel in for good measure.

He hisses, less at the pain and more at the fresh surge of anger that swells in him, but you clearly don’t understand the difference. Looking really quite pleased with yourself, you pull back and move to step around him like that would really be the end of it. He almost couldn’t believe the gall you had.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to get your ass in gear, we can — waagh!”

Whipping around, Diluc grabs the back of your hood and jerks you back so hard it takes you right off your feet. He watches you collapse in an inelegant heap on the ground, blinking owlishly at suddenly finding yourself sitting in the grass, but he can’t quite bring himself to feel any sympathy for you. He’d wanted to avoid it coming to this out of respect for the fact you were a woman not even half his size and without even a fraction of his physical strength, but you’d just kept pushing him. You could have stopped. Should have stopped, and now you only had yourself to blame for your current predicament.

“Wha - how dare you! How dare you put your hands on me like that!” You twist to look up at him from your spot at his feet, trembling slightly with what he thinks must be impotent rage. That was well enough but it wouldn’t do you any good now. Not when he was so incensed he could practically feel his fists igniting, growing hotter with the urge to be done with you once and for all.

“When we get back I’ll be telling everyone how you treated me! And filing a report too! We’ll see how big and tough you are then won’t we, hotshot?”

Slowly, Diluc cocks his head to one side. “What makes you think you’ll be making it back from this?”

You go very still, so abruptly it’s as if someone had taken a photo of you and then superimposed it over reality. He watches the uncertainty and fear slowly start to dawn, comprehension clicking somewhere in that empty skull of yours, but it was much too late.

Your hand jerks to grab hold of your catalyst where it’s secured at your hip but he’s quicker. Easily, he slaps it right out of your grasping fingers and he isn’t sure if he finds more satisfaction in watching it skim over the grass some few feet away or the horrified look on your face. You try to rally the power of your Delusion anyway but without a physical conduit to channel it through all you manage to do is summon a few impotent sparks around you, and he puts an end to that quickly enough.

Swooping down, he snags your wrists in his hands and shoves you down on your back. The bodily thump of impact seems to punch the air out of your lungs, making you gasp harshly up at him, but he’s already got you pinned. Trapped, with no way out. Slowly sinking down onto his knees to straddle your thighs, Diluc leans over you so he can put his face in yours and you glare daggers at him, bright eyes alight from within with a wild, powerless heat.

Looking at you up close like this, he thinks you might have been pretty if only you were not so damned incorrigible.

“I advised you to stop.” He intones, low and dangerous. “You didn’t listen.”

“I don’t have to listen to you!” All but hissing and spitting, you violently twist underneath him in an attempt to dislodge him from his perch. It’s no use though. The difference in size is far too great, and he must’ve had at least a hundred pounds in pure muscle mass on you. It was obvious you were at a sore disadvantage here but, still, you try to fight him. Still, you refused to stop.

The little bit of self control he’d been desperately fighting to maintain shatters, and Diluc aggressively shoves you into the ground, hard. You choke on a frantic, incomprehensible animal sound and flail underneath him, kicking your legs out to try and somehow shove him off or twist your way free. Growling, he drops his pelvis against yours, intending to use his weight to pin you down, but the intense heat between your legs freezes him in place. You feel it too; the tight press against your core, the weight of him in his pants digging into you, and you likewise go still as a statue.

For a long, tortuous beat, the two of you just stare at each other, panting hard from the exertion as much as the flood of high strung emotions.

“Was this what you were hoping for all along?” You finally manage to get out with no shortage of effort.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” That’s what he says and yet he doesn’t move. Can’t seem to find the strength or presence of mind to do so.

Diluc had never before found himself between a woman's legs like this and there was something horribly inviting about the soft cradle of your body, the way his narrow hips slot so nicely into place between them. The cushion of your feminine curves is a welcome relief against his own hard, muscle heavy frame, and he feels a sharp stab of shameful embarrassment when his cock begins to stir against his will. Filling out and stiffening, it instinctively reaches out in search of that overwhelming source of heat coming off you.

Your eyes go big and round, flashing at him in disbelief and anger alike. “Get off me.” You hiss.

“Why should I?” He snaps right back, unable to decide which he hated more. The thought of standing his ground, actually seeing this through to the end, or backing off and letting you think you’d somehow won. He should have known better than to be so headstrong and impulsive.

“Bastard … unless you’re actually going to do something with this,” You buck your hips and pointedly roll your body against him, grinding yourself on that heavy bulge. “Then you need to back off. I don’t know who you think you are but - -“

Snarling, Diluc slams his mouth against yours just to shut you up. You let out a muffled squawk of surprise, evidently not having expected him to actually call your bluff, and he takes advantage of that to shove his tongue into your mouth, practically choking you with it. Struggling against him, you try to bite him but he just bites back in retaliation, and the kiss quickly becomes something that’s more teeth than lips. He isn’t quite sure what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, but his body seems to move with a purpose of its own.

Juggling his hold on your wrists to one hand — it was easy to do when his were so much bigger than yours — he keeps them pinned down in the grass while the other reaches up to fumble with the strap across his chest. He manages to yank it loose so that the claymore slides off his back and he quickly shoves it to the side, well out of reach, before you can try anything enterprising. Then that hand is grabbing at your waist, squeezing tight enough to make you whimper against his mouth, before roughly dragging it higher to curve over the swell of one breast. He doesn’t miss the way you flinch at the contact but he also doesn’t overlook how you shudderingly arch into him, presenting your breasts to his seeking hand.

He hadn’t exactly expected that but somehow it comes as a great relief all the same. It was clear to him now that he wasn’t going to back down no matter how much you raised the stakes or flippantly dared him to do it, whether for his own pride or this instinctive urge he felt to put you in your place …and knowing you were perhaps not so unwilling would help him feel better about this. Whatever this was.

Suddenly tearing your mouth from his while he’s distracted with your chest, you turn your head and suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air. “I didn’t take you for the sort … I thought for sure you were going to blush like a fool and change your mind.” You pant, laughter dancing in your voice. “You always act so prim and proper, like you’re so much better than everyone else.”

His annoyance starting to spike again, Diluc reaches up to grab you face in a pinching, ironclad hold and he yanks you back around, forcing you to look up at him. “That’s because I am.”

Your eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t give you the chance to think of something cute to say back. Firmly holding you in place, he claims your mouth again and this time you all but melt into him, aggressively kissing him back as your legs lock around his hips. You meet him tit for tat, matching his energy and giving him exactly what he gives you. For every punishing bite of his teeth, you nip him right back until the bitter taste of blood floods his tongue. For every eager, grinding thrust of his pelvis you roll your body into his and press up hard on the weight in his slacks. You’re evenly matched in this regard, it seemed; and eventually, reluctantly, he releases your wrists.

Hands flying up, you viciously grab at his hair, one set of fingers digging into his scalp while the other latches onto his ponytail and tugs. He snarls into your mouth and, to his surprise, you growl right back. Spurned on, Diluc blindly reaches down to yank at your top, shoving your sleek jacket aside so he can pull at the flimsy material keeping your breasts from him. They spill out in a sudden flood of fleshy, bountiful skin but he barely has enough time to even acknowledge this fact, let alone appreciate it.

For your hands are wildly tearing at his own jacket, his own collar, and he grimaces at the quiet snap of latches and hooks giving out under the force. He can’t help but feel like he’s losing, somehow. Like against all the odds stacked against you, you’ve managed to one up him by meeting him head on like this. He thinks this game of chicken probably ended some time ago and now you were just a woman and a man battling it out for dominance, clashing in the deep rooted, primal way the sexes have always clashed, but he wanted so badly to best you. To put you in your place and remind you which one of you was truly in control here.

It certainly wasn’t you and, growling low in his throat, Diluc pulls back with a decisive motion so he can grab at the lower half of your tight bodysuit. He can’t figure out how to get it off without taking the time to completely undress you though. It’s too complicated, too many snaps and hooks. Completely ignoring your gasping protests, he takes two big handfuls of the form fitting material and tears it open at the crotch. The smell of charred, burning fibers immediately hits his nose and he has to remind himself to keep his Vision under control as you yelp and squawk, loudly complaining about having your outfit not only ripped but singed too.

In any other situation he would have been deeply embarrassed at losing control like that, about letting his self control slip enough to allow flames to lick along his fingertips, but not now. Not when he’s looking down at your cute, pudgy little cunt; so soft and inviting, and glistening faintly in the sunlight. Feeling light headed and dizzy, and like he’s having some kind of out of body experience while someone else dictates his actions, he reaches down to free his straining cock with quick, jerky motions.

Distantly, he’s aware of you hemming and hawing, and he thinks you’re probably trying to (rightfully) tell him off for being such a brute about it. He can’t seem to stop though and, guiding himself in one hand, he quickly lines up with your body and starts to push inside. You go ramrod stiff at the press of his tip sinking into your folds and creases, sliding along sticky wet lips until he catches at your entrance. The heat is immediately overwhelming and indescribable, his mouth falling open to groan but nothing comes out. It’s hard just to breathe when the profound sensation of having his cock gripped by the tight, wet warmth of your body seems to overload all his senses and short circuit his brain all at once. Suddenly all he can focus on is the way you take him, inch by staggering inch, the fit snug but accommodating when your cunt slowly relents under the pressure and grants him entry. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, the backs of his eyes stinging as he finally finishes pressing his pelvis into yours, seated in you straight down to the base.

The sound of you groaning softly, as if in a hushed, half delirious daze, brings him back to the moment. Forces his reeling consciousness to return, and he looks down at you, spread open for him in the grass. You don’t seem to really even notice or care that your tits are hanging out in the open for anyone who might happen by to see (there hasn’t been another soul for miles now) or that your legs are shamelessly spread wide around his waist without so much as a hint of shame to show for it (not that you could have closed them even if you’d want to) and that strikes a particularly resentful chord within him.

Archons, he really did hate you. He’d thought women were supposed to be prone to subtlety, demure restraint and timid reservation when engaging with a man like this and yet … here you are, arching under him like a whore and impatiently bucking your hips, urging him to move. It was filthy. Disgraceful. Lurid in a way that made him feel dirty by association.

And he’d never been so turned on in all his life.

A deep, rumbling moan vibrates through his chest as he leans over you, pressing his face into the sweat-dampened crook of your neck. He tries to catch his breath, tries to ignore the way your guts eagerly squeeze around his cock as if you were trying to milk the soul right out of him, and he fails miserably on both fronts. Digging his fingers into the soil and grass in an attempt to steady himself, he draws a heavy, shaking breath.

“You’d better not misinterpret this as me liking you.” He grumbles, giving his hips an experimental thrust. All he seems to succeed in doing is rocking against you though, his cock wedged so deep inside your cunt it would have taken a miracle to pull him out.

“Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.” You sigh, dreamy and distant, and not nearly as affected by this as he’d (hoped?) expected you to be.

Realizing he’s going to have to move in earnest if he wants to change that, Diluc shifts against you to better settle on his knees and give himself the leverage he needed. You moan very quietly at the redistribution of his weight, only to choke on an incoherent exclamation when he angles his cock back, luxuriating in the stilted drag, and the following snap of his hips. The force of the thrust nudges you where you’re laying on the ground, and he can tell by the way your expression pinches and darkens that you like it. So he does it again and then again, quickly settling into a rhythm that leaves him panting over top of you, groaning at the mind numbing squeeze of your body.

The quiet sound of skin slapping against skin seems to dominate the air on this lonely little stretch of picturesque mountains and hills, serving as an efficient beat to time his thrusts to. He loses himself in it, lets it swallow him up and drown him in a way he’s never quite allowed himself to get swept up in anything else. So focused on driving his cock into you, he almost misses you reaching up for his ponytail only to snarl low in his chest when you suddenly jerk on it, pulling his attention down. So much for that idea, then.

“Your mind is wandering.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Unlike you,” He manages to grit out. “I have a sense of propriety and I’m trying to imagine doing this somewhere a bit more appropriate.”

The grin that cuts across your face is a little mean, but mostly full of mischief. “I don’t buy that for one second, hotshot. It’s all you can do just to stop yourself from blowing right here and now, isn’t it?”

Diluc’s once (relatively) steady thrusts falter, surprise washing over him and turning his cheeks hot. “Crass woman.” He murmurs, bending close to catch your mouth again — to shut you up, he tells himself. Strictly just to shut up.

Of course it wasn’t because he enjoyed the taste of you on his tongue, nor did he really find having sex with you all that exciting. It was just his body reacting as it was naturally inclined to do and nothing more.

That’s why he slips a hand between his body and yours so he can fondle your breasts with his gloved hand, but he certainly doesn’t like the way your stiff nipples slip and slide against the smooth material. That’s why he doesn’t stop you when, mewling with an increased tinge of urgency, you reach down to rub hasty circles over the apex of your slit, and he most assuredly does not enjoy watching you play with yourself or the way it makes your guts clamp down on him even tighter. It’s why he fucks into you faster, harder, as if his hips have a mind of their own, and they quickly start to stumble over the rhythm he’d fallen into, but he doesn’t find much joy in the way his balls tighten and draw up, so close to the edge he could practically taste it.

It’s just a means to an end, he tries desperately to tell himself, even as he throws his head back and practically roars up at the sky, shooting rope after hot rope deep into your waiting cunt. You let out a tiny little yelp of surprise and then moan so luridly it sends another rush of orgasmic bliss racing down his spine to settle there. For a brief moment he worries he’s going to pass out, the force of his release was just that strong, and the way you tighten your legs around his waist to hold him there, keeping him in place, so you can grind on him and frantically rub your clit doesn’t help him in the slightest. Seething through his teeth at the overstimulation to his spent cock, he watches you shatter and jerk, falling into a fit of spasms that makes your tits jiggle and bounce. The sight alone is almost enough to have him springing up at attention again but he quickly disengages himself from you before that can come to fruition when you finally loosen your hold on him a moment later.

Shifting back to survey the damage, he’s immediately hit with an intense, suffocating sense of regret when he sees the creamy discharge slowly oozing out of your body in a sticky rivulet. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He blurts, the sincere note of apology in his voice surprising even him.

“You probably shouldn’t have.” You agree, still basking in the afterglow of your release and evidently quite content there in the grass. “But what’s done is done. I’ll take care of it later.”

“When?” He demands, his tone hardening enough to make you glance up.

With a wicked smile, you lift one leg into the air and reach down under your thigh to press your fingers into the meat of your pussy, pulling yourself open just to further taunt him. “If you’re so worried about it then why don’t you come clean up this mess you made yourself? It shouldn’t be my responsibility just because you can’t control yourself.”

His face flushing profusely, Diluc quickly finds his feet and sets about putting himself in order with sharp, jerky motions. Strangely though, that blinding anger he’d felt not even twenty minutes ago seems to have dissipated in the lingering haze of his orgasm, and he curses under his breath. Apparently you were going to live to see another day. “You are truly the most filthy, incorrigible woman I have ever seen. I really can’t stand you.”

You snicker as he turns away, lilting voice trailing after him when he moves to retrieve his sword from the ground. “Believe me, the feeling is resoundingly mutual.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #self insert bullshit

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