#a small analysis by yours truly

[echoluvzcatz]

I was today years old when the realization that Sunday's stubbornness (Or determination, depending on how you want to look at it), shows beyond his own words and a part of the Sacerdos set, but also in his kit as a playable character.

Firstly, there's the fact that he uses the Harmonious Choir boss materials. That, in and of itself, is one of his biggest failures. (Although to him, any failure is probably a big failure...)

Yet using the mats from it to level his traces makes him stronger. It makes his buffs better.

It helps him uplift others easier, even if that failure has to stick with him for the ages.

And then we turn to the fact that his BiS set is the Sacerdos' Relived Ordeal set.

That is a reminder of every failure he has gone through across his whole life. One would assume a person would leave their old life behind, including outfit (Especially with one as specific as Sunday's) to move forward. But not Sunday.

He cannot move on from the past. He actively refuses to.

He may be branching out, he may be getting better, but he will never fully let go of what he's done wrong. He will forever keep that guilt with him, and use it for the betterment of others, even if it takes a toll on himself.

The description of each of the pieces is a memory. But none of them are fond.

All of them are a burden of some sort; a weight he has to carry.

Still, he continues forward.

Still, he continues to uplift others, even at the cost of himself.

A bird can shed their damaged feathers, but can the bird itself ever truly change?

~

I genuinely can't believe I didn't realize this sooner. It was RIGHT in my face in the description of the Sacerdos shoes. I saw it explain his determination and ideals, but I totally forgot to compare it to his actual playable kit...

"Only from the mire arise those who trudge and toil. I shall press forward, learning more from my stumbles than my triumphs."

Someone please tell me this makes sense, because it really does in my head. Maybe this is a stretch, but ufhghfh it's so depressing and I'm suing my brain for coming up w/ it

[squishy-min-mochi]

It’s important to recognise that Barbie (2023) criticises both the patriarchy AND the matriarchy. Yes, the Ken’s are just accessories to the Barbies. Yes, they don’t have any say in the government they live under. That’s the point, you’re supposed to feel awful, you’re supposed to want the Kens to have their own agency, you’re supposed to want equality. The Barbie movie explicitly states that the way Barbie treats Ken is wrong, so much so that once he finds a safe space for his masculinity and individual identity he’s so excited to share it with the other Kens.

But they go overboard and replace a matriarchy with a patriarchy and now the same issue exists but in reverse. That’s the POINT!! THATS THE POINT!!! Barbie is not anti-men it’s pro equality PLEASE understand this

13th Aug 2023 UPDATE:

Heeeeey howdy!!

Due to the IMMENSE comments and discussion on this post (thanks ya’ll!!) I’ve decided to update my post with my recent opinions and hopefully clearer explanations!!

First, my original post only considers a very small and very vague analysis of the film!!

Since making this I've read all your comments and learned quite a bit about the matriarchy as it appears in human civilisation. Originally, I was pitting the patriarchy and the matriarchy against each other as though the results of their implementation were equal in the film.

They were not!! Below is the definition of matriarchy I’ll be working off of.

Matriarchy Simple Definition;

Matriarchy is a social system in which women hold the primary power positions in roles of authority. In a broader sense it can also extend to moral authority, social privilege and control of property.

There's a lot to talk about in the Barbie film that would fit better in an essay, so I'll try and condense it into this;

To me, Barbie (2023) is a film about the female experience and the shared connection between women that persists through childhood and adulthood, support and harassment, suffering and joy, mother and daughter.

It uses Barbie as its figurehead because of the immense societal and political impact the doll has had on women, both good and bad (as explained in the film).

The male experience as seen in Barbie (2023) is not the sole focus of the film- rather, it's an accessory (as the Kens are) to Barbie's story, and a necessary aspect of exploration to truly highlight the importance of individualism and healthy personal exploration.

I want to make clear that I in no way think the treatment of the Kens was just as bad as the treatment of the Barbies. I also still agree that the matriarchy fostered by the Barbies wasn’t good for the Kens.

Additionally, I’m aware that this take on Barbie (2023) works strictly within the assumed heteronormative boundaries of gender. There is a lot of nuance in the Barbie film and I don’t think everything can be covered or explained in on Tumblr post— but I hope this clarification helps!!

I hope you're all coming to your own conclusions and analysis of the film in a way that makes sense to you. And for those of you engaging in online conversations and discourse about it, I hope you're keeping yourself and others happy and safe!!!

Much love to you all!! < 3

[pascals-doll]

aint ya’ girlfriend!

⋆ ˚ . * · analysis— in which ellie doesn’t know the meaning “commitment”, well she does but chooses to not stay loyal. you’re her roomate and unattainable—or so she thought. venturing into your own dating life causes her to spiral, she aint your girlfriend & neither are you. | WC: 1.5K

₊˚ପ ellie williams x reader | photo cover obvi from Pinterest!

₊˚ପ MEOWW IM BACK !! gotta run it back with some toxic ellie 😇!!

₊˚ପ description: MODERN ROOMATE AU! NO PHYSICAL FEMALE DESCRIPTION! ANGST & SMUT, PORN W PLOT! (lol), toxic!ellie, roomate!ellie, PLAYER! (coded) ellie, JEALOUS!ellie, no use of Y/N, the mention of commitment issues, MUTUAL PINING, blatant flirting, secret crushing, heavy yearning, very small reader x dina, heated arguement, mention of ellie sleeping with multiple women, POWERPLAY, mix of dom!reader & dom!ellie, sub!ellie partly & sub!reader, pent-up sex (😇), teasing, HIGHKEY MAKEUP SEX (👅), possessive!ellie, finger-fucking ( E receiving), face riding (E receiving), 69, praising, pussy eating (both receiving), slight biting (both), slight choking (both), use of pet names ( baby, mama)

90% percent of things in this world are easily accomplished and achieved, being Ellie Williams roommate wasn’t one of them.

Since the day you met through a roommate finder site, after a few phone conversations getting to know each other t’ill the moment you arranged your meeting. Ellie's been enamored, secretly, nonetheless.

You would lie if you said that from the moment; she came to help you move out t’ill now—dealing with sleepless nights because of her lack of sexual resistance—that her consistent affection didn't sway you.

it's been exactly six months since you've moved in with Ellie and you could recount her daily routine like it was your skincare.

You weren't sure, if you genuinely thought Ellie was sure you were dumb or straight-up shameless.

At dark hours of the midnight, you might've been asleep but that didn’t stop her by the agonizing moans that echoed through cheap plywood walls. You groaned as you muffled your entire face and ears with your pillow, praying for them to shut the fuck up or stop.

Three days, twice a week.

Ellie had to have some type of sex problem. You thought to yourself. You're never one to hate someone's game-but living with the player is absolute fucking hell.

Every morning, you’re an early bird as Ellie is not, due to her nightly ventures.

You felt bad for the women who left disheveled, sneaking through the apartment at 7 AM to leave while you step out your bedroom; an empathetic smile shot their way before hurrying into the bathroom.

Your morning routine consists of cleaning yourself up before stepping out to cook early breakfast.

By the time, Ellie awoke and stepped out cockily, "Thank you, beautiful. You didn't have to cook me breakfast." She coaxed happily, pouring her cup of coffee at 12 PM. You sat on the couch reading your book, legs crossed and rested onto your coffee table.

You chuckled, "That shit's cold by now, I made it when tonight's booty-call left." Unphased and focused on your book. You could hear her footsteps begin to lead towards the living room area, closer, and closer to the couch you relaxed on.

You would never admit it. Although, her lack of respect for your peace—doesn't mean she should starve.

She joined you on the couch, empty space right beside. Ellie's presence tensing your muscles for some reason. She somewhat annoyed you but when you got to talk to her, it went so well. You guys actually had so much in common.

It felt serene to connect with her on many levels besides her surface actions, she was a timid person throughout the small cocky remarks. She was a great listener along as a storyteller over everything.

It was truly remarkable the balance she carried, also interesting. Something you couldn't quite wrap your head around still. You were willingly delusional, but it was clearly evident, you soaked in every moment with this person.

You lowered your book while she asked, "Hmph-touchè, you got any plans for today?" Calling your attention. Eyes sulked, the forest she carried within her eyes; it wasn't hard to comprehend why these women want a chance with her.

Ellie’s eyes were impossible not to get lost in, like compulsion. You never held eye contact too long, taking moments to break away, and retain from fluttering to the brown kissed freckles along her face to the shape of her soft lips.

You squint, a small smirk creeping through "Wouldn't you like to know what I'm up too." Your tone teases before going back to reading.

"I know what you been up too," Ellie tries to push further, reaching forward to delicately grasp your legs that rested on the coffee table. Your legs laid into her lap, sprawling across, and hanging off.

Another thing that consists of her routine the most? Spending the rest of the hours, days, and weeks flirting with you.

Ellie loved physical touch—as if she wasn't physical enough. She loved her hands on you.

Watching herself caress the exposed skin of your legs, massaging down t’ill your ankle high-socks. Wether it was platonic or flirtatious, affection was key with you.

Once again, you lower your book to meet her eyes.

Ellie’s hands worked their way down, her fingers pressuring skillfully onto your heel and tingling the palm of your foot. She continues watching you read, "Oh yeah? What am I going to do today?" You question her, disregarding your book.

Sinking herself into the couch, her hands moving up from your legs to your thighs. Softly squeezing on of them, goosebumping your skin.

Ellie smiles confidently, "Cuddle with me and watch movies." Her eyes shimmering. You gaze at the big grin she spoke with, unsure if she was ever genuine.

You sat-up and leaned closer towards her till met face-level, "I'm sorry Els, someone else booked my time for today! I'm sure you will find a way to entertain yourself, hm?" You patted her shoulder with a smile as you got up.

"Wait, What the fuck do you mean?"

"Oh Williams! I've got a date, gotta' get ready."

It was insane, truly.

Ellie thought she was going crazy; she couldn't ever date you.

You're too good for her, representing everything she should want but isn't ready for. She was aware of how clearly toxic and intoxicated she was off, and with you.

No. Fuck no.

Ellie repeated to herself mentally, alongside questioning her existence—had she really been so caught up on trying to get a reaction out of you to see your time focused on someone else? —Yes, she was.

It wasn't as bad as the delusions Ellie's paranoia was creating in her mind. You had hung out with your friends where you happened to meet Dina. She was a mutual friend that you were introduced too.

Ever since then, you've been flattered, and hoped for a dinner date with her. For you, it felt like an escape of emotional dread that came after every touch, sentence, and epithet that left Ellie's lips.

You hated the way you loved how affectionate she was, catching yourself vulnerable every time she touched you. Always dwelling the feeling of her soft warmth that soaked into your own invisible bliss, never allowing yourself to look too pleased; Yet, never pulling away.

Ellie headed down the hallway to your room. She was desperate to get you to stay, creating small and stupid conversation to slow you as she loved hearing her nickname fall from your lips even though she was practically seeping jealousy.

Ellie was her own ticking time-bomb, her patience melting, and mustering “Who's the lucky girl?" She bugged, trying her hardest to conceal that greened tone.

You swirl your chair around, now completely facing her as you couldn’t help your jaw fall agape. You examine her demeanor while speaking up, “I don't ask about your daily rendezvouses." You were quick to quirk back, feeling uncalled for.

Ellie's brows knitted together, "We-well—are you gonna' bring them back? I deserve to know that." She stumbled but spit back.

It was clear, now, you offended her. It was true. You never asked about the women she brought into your shared apartment. The women she brought to make you jealous.

The laugh you let out was priceless, "I don't get a say on who you bring home, why would you?" You called her out.

Ellie stepped closer to your chair. She looked into your mirror, leaving you no choice but to face her as your swirled around, her eyes gandered through your vanity mirror.

Your facial expressions were clearer as she continued to push, "It's different, you know that." She tries to prove.

You wanted peace and relaxation, something Ellie makes a sure mission of that you never fucking receive.

"You can't go out," Ellie began.

"Who's gonna stop me? Are you serious?' You thought she must've been fucking with you; you weren't going to hear another word of it.

"Just get out, get out now." Standing up from you chair, holding it open as she walks out, and slamming the door behind her.

You had left and most of all, you had left Ellie feeling like complete shit.

She couldn't believe you did this, did this to her. It felt like you had shot right through her heart, torturing her with her own distasteful antics, and leaving a sour tang to her soul.

In her mind, she thought you were utterly selfish. She couldn't see past the fact that, you, didn't owe her anything.

Ellie wanted you, beyond pleasure, more than anything. You became insatiable to her.

She didn’t allow herself to soak in tangled feelings she felt for you, knew she had, even if it ate her alive at night. You would come to visit her in her sleep or while she mindlessly fucked some girl—sometimes, even pretending it was you.

You are treasure to her, too valuable to touch, but always curious with growing desperation to obtain and protect.

Ellie's peace was founded in you, a safe place she loves calling home. Unknown to your knowledge and you disrupted it.

As she disrupts your peace by being with anyone, but you.

Ellie finally understood what you meant by those backhanded insults.

She sat there with her hands palmed to her face, fingers running, and scratching through her short soft locks. Messing her own hair up, contemplating on how she could turn such a deep pattern.

This entire time she had been failing and failed to see that.

Out of everything, she thought blowing up your phone was the answer.

When you finally opened your phone, you saw your notification inbox full.

ⓘ Els ❕50+ messages

ⓘ Els ❕50 missed calls

You excused yourself to the restroom at fhe table with Dina, "I'm sorry, is it okay if run to the restroom really quick?" You requested through a thick forced tone and hidden irritation.

Your date had been going amazing. You may not have a lot in common with Dina, but she's a cheerful person who brings a refreshening energy. It was nice being in her presence.

It wasn't enough though.

You found yourself comparing your conversations to the conversations you have with Ellie, who is just your fucking roommate.

Dina was picture perfect, absolutely stunning, and she respected you more than you imagined Ellie ever could. That was the thing; even if talking to Dina tonight was full of laughter.

Everything you wanted wasn't her.

Never able to shake the anticipation of her touches, and the absence of her presence. Which make you crave it. Crave her. She was pure risk and you never wanted her to change.

You had a crush on your roommate, and you were fucked.

You were in the restroom ringing Ellie's phone. Hearing the beat of your heart thumps.

"You better say something good." You wanted to scream out as the line connects. You had every right to be, never once have you blown up her phone.

"Where are you? Let me come get you." She hurried through her words, hearing her surroundings of cars driving with a swish of wind.

You paced around, shocked and even more angry, "Are you out? Where are you?" You throw her own question back at her, whisper-yelling in a stall.

Ellie was so desperate to find where you were out like a girlfriend gone rogue.

"On my way to come get you, now tell me, where." She states blatantly and impatiently.

"You fucking wish! what happened? your hookup ain't text ya' back?" Your tone was laced with pure spite. It was silent for a small moment over the phone.

"Tell me where you are or come home." You could hear the desperation through her roughed-up tone.

Not a word was said. Your mood had been completely killed and you were hanging on by a thread. Repeating herself, “Come home or tell me where you are, please."

For the first time, you heard Ellie beg. She was pleading for you to come home, and you hated to admit it; yet, again.

But it worked.

When you finally saw her, you didn’t bring yourself to look or speak while you walked completely past her.

The silence was piercing the whole way. You could hear a pin drop.

“No side piece tonight?” your tone, only bashful. You were exhausted and enraged.

Ellie's white wife-beater was roughed up and you could smell the stench of marijuana roam off her neck. She looked sullen, her eyes low, bagged, and her jaw seeming clenched; her hair staticy.

You observed her body language, scanning her lean figure. Her sweatpants hung loosely onto her hips as her gaze shifted between you and her own feet.

Huffing, "Just why." you state, disassociating yourself by looking at the ground. It was continued silence for a moment.

"You came back for a reason, though." Ellie finally spoke and it just made everything worse.

"You know what? I did. I came back because I actually care for you. I thought you were in trouble or something, so I thought, hey, maybe I should go back—" You began, your voice shrieking as it raised louder.

"Something you never fucking think to do, too busy fucking to show me an ounce of respect!" You yelled. Weight had been lifted.

It was like screaming a keyword at Ellie, budging from looking at ground to look at you "What are you talking about!?" Ellie's eyes widen, her eyebrows raising as she retorts.

"You don't fucking get it!" you didn't say anything as she raised her hand angrily into the air, then running in through her hair.

"It is so fucking hard trying to resist you." Ellie's eyes were piercing into yours, her steps stalking closer.

"No matter how many women, they are never you. You are all I think about." You could hear her voice grow lower and lower as you froze.

You were at a loss for words, lips parted as you try to focus on your breathing.

"I want you. I need you." Ellie continues, whispering. Feeling her warm breath feather your lips. Ellie closed any space between you both, pulling you into her.

You opened your mouth to speak—only for her to bring a finger up to shush your lips, "I can't stand the thought of you with someone else." Ellie continued, leaning in closer and slowly removing her finger.

So many parts of you wanted to scream rejection, but as you feel her warmth, and her words you’ve dreamed. You could feel your blood rush and heat you up, feeling Ellie's body haze you, your mouth desperate and shaky.

"Kiss me, then." you tut.

Your lips met passionately, an automatic fight for dominance as the pace got hot. The thirst shared was unquenchable.

The personal echoes of each other's kisses smack as your hands got lost in her hair. Your fingers slightly tug onto her loose locks. Ellie's hands greedily rapturing you further into her body—till she couldn't; craving to feel every part of you.

You were lost into the feeling of Ellie's lips, her tongue swiping at your bottom lip as she's desperate to explore more of you.

Your bodies fiend for each other, one of your hands tugging on her muscle tank, and the other lowering from her hair. Ellie's hands roam from your waist, trilling at the feeling of you grazing her neck. She passes your hips till she reached thigh, and hiking it up onto her hip.

Ellie's grasps and grips onto the thick of your thigh, slowly dipping to cup the cheek of your ass. She sneaked a firm squeeze on your ass causing you to shriek, allowing her tongue to explore every crevice of your mouth.

Ellie giggled into the kiss at your muffled moans, amused by how she's effecting you. You push her off slightly, catching your breath. You were both left breathless while she kept eyes on each part of you.

Taking a step closer, reaching your hand out to caress her cheek. Indulged by the freckles painted into her as your thumb brushes her soft cheek. Slowly traveling your hand to her nape before coming around full circle, choking her, and pulling her chest to chest.

You smirk at the way her pupils dilatated. Ellie's mouth was agape, leaning in to lick a teasing swipe along her bottom and top lip. "I'm not your girlfriend." you state.

A soft quick squeeze on her neck causing a weak whine to fall from her lips. Oh, this was better than you imagined.

Ellie gripped your arm, pulling you around and into her chest. Walking you back, you felt your back eventually hit against her door with a hasty thud. Her tongue explored you, intertwining with your own as you sucked softly.

Each grope and wet lick electrified a craving in your stomach, pulsing into your arousal. She struggles with the doorknob, jiggling it open as her other hand held you. Ellie would never admit how soaked you get her.

Your needy grinds contra the pleasure dripping through her briefs as her lips learned every secret love spot within your precious body. You both tumbled onto her bed, not a care in the world besides this fervid momentum shared between you both.

Ellie toppled you, slowly lowering closer. Taking a chance to catch her by suprise, pulling her down with your leg hooked, and flipping her over. Now, you were on top.

Your lips quickly find their way to her clavicle, pecking, and licking alongside her neck. Almost ripping off her wife-beater while leaving open-mouthed kisses onto her shoulder. Continuing kissing down and around her exposed tits.

Your eyes switched watching her face and the way the cool air perked up her nipples. Ellie's back arched as you teased your teeth onto the plush above her tits, right above her sensitive erect nipples. you leave an array of hickeys, enjoying each squirm let out from under you.

This was your sweet revenge, her punishment for every time; she could've been with you, but wasn't.

You didn't stop tricking her with your tongue. Maneuvering down from fondling one of her tits, twiddling your finger around her nipple, and sliding into her loose sweats.

Your hand hasty as you reach the warmth of her panties, middle, and ring finger curve into the soaked patch that leaked through her panty. Thumb pushing up on her clit softly while Ellie turns her head laying head on the bed, watching you tease her; growing embarrassingly wet.

It was primal instinct, playing, and pushing for her weaknesses. You studied every small moan and squirm left form her body. Your fingers continuously circle her clit through her panties. She was quick to spread her legs for you, allowing you access.

Ellie's tits perked and red by your teeth and feverish sucking. You kept finger firm, pressing down onto her covered clit as the fabric of her soppy panty rubbed into her, pulling her panty to the side, coating your two fingers with her slick.

Ellie's chest heaves with a loud moan as her thighs tremble. You watch her struggle to reach up and stop your arm. She was on the border of giving in and still anxious for control.

She grips onto your wrist, slimed finger following down to her vulnerable entrance, toying with her, torturously. You kiss and lick your way back up, meeting her berried lips.

Your middle finger pushes into her, curving upward, and enticing her walls which immediately knocked a desperate strangled moan out of Ellie, throwing her head back.

The sound of her slick swirl and smack within gliding in and out of her whetted pussy brought you a gluttonous satisfaction. Her addictive cries encouraged another finger to join your soaked middle, stretching her out completely. Ellie’s grown in nail tips dug into your incensed flicking wrist.

Ellie on a frenzy of choked whines and unstable string of moans, "Gah-fuck me!".

You admire the work you've sucked onto her body. A fleeced giggle leaves your lips as you plant feathered kisses onto her cheeks, "Already am, baby" You murmured.

The pace you fucked her with was exquisite, your fingertips fluttering against her g-spot as they plunge deeper. Quickening your thrusts with every squelch given by Ellie’s gushed pussy. She held her mouth agape, allowing yourself to dive your tongue in, swallowing her lewd noises.

Ellie clenches around you, her pussy guzzling every inch of your thickened fingers. You could feel and hear her heartbeat pound against your smushed chests, "Ya'like it? like how it feels, honey?" Your question was coy, sliding your fingers fourth, pressing your tips verse her walls.

"Ah! yes, fuck, fuck yes!—I'm gonna'—" Lecherous shrieks fell from her lips as you help ride out her orgasm. Your fingers relentless in her pussy, juicing itself around your fingers; coating your fingers.

"Let it out, Els", You start to praise into her ear, "I know you've been dying too."

Your coo finishes her off with a loud grunt as you pull out your lustered up fingers. Without looking or a second thought, your free hand grabbed Ellie's jaw and attempted to focus her dazed vision to watch you.

Both of your eye's leer into each other as you plop your fingers into your mouth, coming sucking off her cum with a pop.

Ellie's eyes turned dark, her lids hazed, and hooded.

Slowly lifting yourself and shifting your hips below her stomach, Ellie was quick with her movements, flipping you over, and trapped under her. The feeling of her hands running up and down your clothed body, leaning down your ear, “Time, I took all this off…” She weakly whispers as she hovers over you.

Your body was completely sprawled onto her navy-blue sheeted bed with your arms raised above your head, and her knee pushing into your clothed heat. Mimicking your exact position, each sloppy kiss was followed by a piece of clothing being thrown off.

Seconds. How quick it was for you to be in nothing but your panties. Ellie’s kisses were precise and every nonverbal praise by the unconscious grind of your hips and bit-back whines.

She flows herself between your legs, pulling each one onto her shoulders as her lips pecked from your thighs till, she met your damped panty. "You had your fun," She started muttering into you.

"Only fair if I have mine, right mama?" Ellie cocks her head to the side, meeting your eyes before biting your panty-lining and proceeding to hike down your panties with her teeth.

Your eyes peered into her, watching the way she intently focused every part of you. She kissed every beauty mark that was blessed up your body. The feeling of her breath inching closer to your dewed pussy-lips; arching your back in temptation.

You thread your fingers throughout her hair, tugging slightly. You were no longer challenging her, giving complete submission to Ellie.

She watches the way arousal drips from your slit; her hands massaged the goosebumps perking the hairs on you. Ellie couldn't believe she was granted with such a divine privilege, drooling at the thought.

Ellie kitten-licked the delicious nectar that trickled, her tongue dragging flat against your pussy, and licking up your pulpy clit. Indulging in every moment spent between your legs with every keen lick trailed across your heat.

An inflamed jolt seeds through your spine, your entire body to thrash further into the bed as you cry out, "Ah!—Fucking god!" Your pleasure enthralling you to your ankles.

The wet smacking from her saliva coated sucks mixed with your core's elation. A train of vulgar slob laps your pussy while she gets lost in between your furred lips and swallowing you up, “It ain’t god, baby.” Smirking at your sensual vulnerability.

The tone she used was condescendingly sweet. Trembling your legs and jerking your hips which pushed Ellie’s head further into your pussy as the heel of your foot digs into her shoulder, and hands wrestling through her brunette locks.

Your head was thrown back in tempestuous joy, “Mmph! Ellie!—so fucking good!” Ellie’s tongue danced on your clit before making her way towards your soppy entrance.

Pure ecstasy marauded its way up and through your internal, tightening your abdomen. Every strike of her tongue inched closer to cumming all over her. You felt your hips cramp as you try to push Ellie off, backing away desperately.

You struggled, meekly crying out, "F-fuck! stop! stop!" Ellie immediately pulled away with wide eyes. She looked up at you alarmed, "Did I hurt you?!" her tone sincere and worried as she got up, standing above you.

Trying to catch your breath, sweat glistening your naked body. You lean up on your elbows to look at her, "Get on the bed..." your voice was breathless and clear. Ellie walks over slowly, hovering next to you on the empty side of the bed while licking the corners of her lips deviously.

Ellie leans over, her hand threading through your messy hair as she kissed you ferociously. Tasting yourself on her tongue as your own greedily twirled around her mouth. Both of your tongues swirl around each other as your arms find their way around Ellie's body.

You pull away from her lips, "Put your pussy on me." you sulk, regaining your strength.

"Aren't you charming." She jokes out sarcastically and smirking, "Oh, just sit on my face." you huff with a fun grin.

Just like that, Ellie turns around, holding herself up onto your thighs. Your hands run through the back on her thighs till you made your way to her ass, fondling, and squeezing her plush flesh. Mouth’s salivating at each other.

Ellie lets out a gratifying groan as your tongue swipes her sensitive slits, twirling around her hole and thumb circling her clit. Arching herself down onto you more while leveling herself in-between your thighs, leaving sloppy opened kisses on your pussy.

Your stomach bubbles up lewdly, chasing after her swirling tongue within the impatient trial to get her to cum all over your face. The mix of each other's nibbles and starved slurps, propelling bodies together as your legs convulsed and her own thighs shook with inched erotica.

You feel your orgasm coarse and itch closer as Ellie continues to drag between your slits. Starting to move faster, hips grinding against your face. Ellie is soon following close behind, both of you moaning and panting while reaching each other’s simultaneous climax.

A string of choked out moans bouncing off her white walls, “Don-Don’t stop!” you gasp out before closing your mouth around her clit.

Continuous harmony between both of your moans as you both cum all over each other, creaming your faces.

You and Ellie lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow. Eyes dozed, sweaty bodies entwined, and sharing a first tender moment of silence.

You lifted your nuzzled head from the crook of her neck, breaking the silence.

“I don't want you to touch anyone besides me.” Voice hoarse and clearer than ever.

“I dont want to ever see anyone besides you.”

A/N: I FEEL BEYOND GRATEFUL FOR REACHING 1k WHILE I WAS GONE 🥹 i thought it was about time i post cus i finally feel like ? confident ? i spent most of my time if it wasn’t personal life duty, id be writing a bunch of self indulgent fictions (THIS WAS ONE OF THEM LOL) and practicing and differentiating my writing style to my liking.

THANK YOU SO MUCH GENUINELY IT MEANS THE WORLD! i cant wait to continue :)

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updated taglist link here! (other was corrupted)

[interstellarrisa]

Some subconscious fun

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You might've heard people saying that are our brain is amazing and capable of astounding things and well they're not wrong. Your brain is the most complex organ in the body with billions of neurons that have trillions of connections called synapses that makes it able to communicate, with this information how can we say that it's not amazing?

Our consciousness is thought to sit at the cerebral cortex and is said to have three levels to it. The conscious, subconscious and unconscious. They're all tasked with different things. I'll explain them all...

The conscious: This is the part that we have control over, our thoughts, feelings, decisions and acknowledgement are all made here. It's what you're using right now to read this post and also where the awareness of you reading this post is. Basically thoughts, feelings and awareness.

The subconscious: It's not in the current focus of our awareness hence called the subconscious mind. It's a barrier that's put up by our mind so that we don't become overwhelmed by all the information that we get when we interact with this world. For example our nose in the center of our vision, the feeling of our clothes or our tongue resting on the roof of our mouth. Because of this barrier we're allowed to focus our awareness on more important decision making and cognitive tasks without getting overwhelmed. This can be noticed when we decide (conscious) to pick up a new skill which can be hard to learn and do before we become a natural at it which then makes it an automatic (subconscious) skill.

The unconscious: It's perhaps the most mysterious form of consciousness since it's not available for introspection or analysis. We do know that it's a hoard of feelings, thoughts and memories lost from our conscious mind, it contains the painful past that we might simply want to forget about. Some people say that we never forget and that it just get's buried deep down within our mind and with the right signals we can recover the forgotten memories.

Now to the fun part. It's a small "experiment" that you can do every night just to see how amazing your subconscious mind truly is. Firstly I haven't found any article's stating that this is your subconscious minds doing, some say it might be your circadian rhythm (internal body clock) but I personally assume that it's your subconscious and if you know loa let's just go with it.

The experiment is you controlling when you wake up. You might go "really, that's it?" but when you first do it and it works it'll feel a bit 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, anyways here's what to do.

Go to bed. Doesn't need to be nighttime you just need to go to sleep for this.

While falling asleep tell yourself that you'll wake up in xxx hours/minutes. For example you go to bed at 00:00 and want to wake up in 8 hours, naturally that would be 08:00 so just affirm "I will wake up in 8 hours." or "I will wake up at 08:00"

Drift off to sleep~

Wake up and check the time and it should be the designated time.

This is actually a technique used a lot in lucid dreaming method's and could also be used in shifting/manifesting/void method's. Since the brain is just like a sponge when you wake up it absorbs any kind of information presented it with and sometimes induces "hallucinations". I'd recommend shorting the time you sleep if you're gonna use it as a method though. It's also pretty similar if not the same to SATS.

This has worked for me on multiple occasions and if you wake up and the time doesn't match when you wanted to wake up it might be because you already woke up earlier and just went back to sleep and forgot about it later, happened with me a few times but because of signals I remembered. I even got rid of my alarm for school because of this and I still woke up in time for school.

warning: if this post does NOT resonate with you or your beliefs feel free to ignore it, you don't need to send hate or make posts on how stupid this is or that it's wrong. some might misunderstand this post (like the last one) and make misguided comments, please think a little before you open your mouth :). yapping session is cause i'm really interested in this topic lol.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.

warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl

word count; +3.5k

a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me

“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”

You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.

“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”

You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.

“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”

You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”

“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”

Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.

“What about you?”

His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”

He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”

You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.

“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”

You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.

“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”

You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”

“Three-?”

“What about you?” You interrupt.

You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.

You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.

“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”

Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.

“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”

You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”

“I don’t know!”

His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.

“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”

Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.

The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.

“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.

It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.

You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.

You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.

They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.

On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.

When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.

Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.

“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.

“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”

You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.

“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”

“Stiles!”

You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.

“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.

“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.

“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.

“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”

Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.

“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.

Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.

“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”

Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.

“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.

“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.

His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.

“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.

Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.

Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.

It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.

His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.

Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.

You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.

“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”

“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”

His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.

“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”

“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.

“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”

“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”

The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.

You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.

He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.

You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.

The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.

“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”

“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”

He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.

“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”

“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.

“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.

“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, “Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”

“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.

A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.

“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”

His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.

“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”

Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.

[gothic-thoughts]

Clearing Up Confusion

(sry its so long, i got a lil down bad i love him sm 😭)

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, AsylumPatient!Michael, Nurse!Reader, Forbidden Love, Virgin!Michael

Part 1: Right Here

Part 2: Right Here

Part 3: Right Here

CW: Confused Michael lol, afab parts mentioned, groping/palming, ✋🏾job, riding

TW: quick murder mention

Word Count: 2229 (give or take)

Michael didn't get it.

After months of knowing her, he still couldn't understand why (Y/n)'s body was always so... animated. Her hanging earrings bounced when she walked and her box braids swayed when she shook her head— on top of that, she was jiggly. Top, middle...bottom. 

He didn't understand and it made him mad.

She walks into the cafeteria, those plump, dark thighs wiggling under her white nurse dress— as usual. (Y/n) glances over with a small wave but he doesn’t respond despite his attraction to her, he only squints behind that orange mask as she disappears between the kitchen doors. A couple minutes later, the nurse walks back out, still unaware of her slightly bouncing ass and thighs as she sipped from a small paper cup.

“See ya tomorrow, Mikey!”

Cold blue eyes follow her until she vanishes from them when stepping through the open cafeteria doors. Michael turns to look over his left shoulder and then his right, noting the two security guards standing behind him with tight grips on his chains. He knows that they’ll either try to stop him or go with him if he leaves— he just wants to talk to her in peace. He resets his position before gazing back down at his cold, untouched food. 

The killer then slowly stands up, his almost 7-foot form casting an imposing shadow over the guards as he turns to face them. The guards immediately recoil and reach for their tasers but as soon as they do both of Michael’s hands grab their necks and simultaneously break them before dropping them to the floor with thuds, disregarding the cameras. He then turns to look at the exit.

Michael followed his nurse’s footsteps down the hall until he found her in the next, still drinking her water— still jiggling, unaware that one of the most violent and murderous patients escaped. Before he could grab her, another nurse turned the corner at the other end of the hall and gasped, stammering incoherently. (Y/n)’s steps slow down from her confusion, unknowingly making it easier for him.

“The hell is your problem— Mmh!?”

Michael’s hand suddenly covers her mouth, muffling her screams as he walks her back to his room. He shuts the door with a loud slam before turning and walking over to her.

“Hey, hey!” She called, eyebrows furrowed at him.

The Shape freezes.

“What did I say about the manhandling?”

His body tenses knowingly. He was so eager to see her, that he completely disregarded their agreement.

“Didn’t I say that if you wanna touch me, you gotta be gentle?”

He takes another step then gently places his fingers on her cheek, delicately stroking her cheek to show her understood— to show he was sorry. The gesture made her laugh a little, the sound, in turn, soothing his nerves as he continued to pet her like he would his masks. He didn’t like when she was disappointed in him; he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if she was ever mad at him.

“It’s alright, you just scared the shit outta me. Now, why’d you need me so bad?”

He just stares down at her for a second, head tilting as he examines the unusual stillness of her body.

“Mikey...?” (Y/n) called, reaching out to rub his arm, “Michael, what’s the matter?”

Michael wordlessly spun the nurse around by her shoulders then guided her forward until her breasts and stomach were pressed against the wall next to his door, pinning her between him and the cement as gently as he could. He crouches down behind her so he can begin his analysis, starting with the jiggle in her thighs right as they stop. He got it: it was her movement; it had everything to do with why she was so jiggly. He gently swats the left one to truly confirm his observation.

“Wha— hey!” She squirms, “What are you— hey! Michael! Where is this coming from?”

Keeping one large hand pressed against her lower back, Michael uses the other finger to curiously poke and prod at (Y/n)’s left thigh. He then swats the right, making her tense then chuckle uncomfortably at his cluelessness but it was cut short with a sharp gasp when Michael squeezes the left thigh just under her ass, watching the smooth, dark flesh rise like bread between his spread fingers.

“Okay, okay, I get it: you like my thighs. Is that really why you pulled me in here?”

He didn’t even grunt out a response. He was damn near ignoring her with every poke and caress he gave her thighs. He wasn’t even aware of how perverted he was being, he was just so immersed, a contrast to how angry his confusion made him earlier. His cold, inexperienced hand slowly slid up the back of her thigh until it rested on her butt, the boldness making her gasp sharply.

“Hey!”

(Y/n) reached back to swat it away, making him look up at her with a head tilt.

“You can’t touch me there, Michael, I’m your nurse!”

He was confused again. Why would she say that to him? He knows that.

He brushes it off and focuses back on her ass, treating it the same way he did her thighs: with experimental pokes, squishes, and smacks, but it eventually gave him a result he wasn’t expecting: a soft hum. He stops, head tilting again. Michael smacks her ass again, granting more jiggling and another hum from her.

“Alright, that’s enough. I know you’re curious but...” She shivers at the next smack, gulping thickly, “I'm your nurse, you can’t feel me up like this.”

More confusion: why does she keep saying that like he doesn’t know? 

He stands up behind her, instantly towering as he gently grabs her hips and pulls her back his cold body until his pelvis is pressed firmly against her lower back. She tilts her head back and looks up at that orange mask, waiting for him to move away, continue groping, anything but he remains still, seemingly done but when (Y/n) tries to move he holds her against him with a soft grunt. Little did she know, Michael was looking down at her with some kind of desire— a desire he felt before.

He was lost again, but this time it was combined with worry. Something about how she was looking up at him, how warm she was, how jiggly she was made his desire to kill grow... but he didn’t want to kill her. He knew he didn’t, the thought of hurting her made him mad at himself. In the end, he began groping her furiously hoping the feeling would go away.

“Mmh, Michael—”

He tunes her out, trying to focus on the warmth of her body as his big, rough, inexperienced hands roam up and down her curves, but it is torment: calming him down while still riling up his bloodlust. His hands reach around, worshipping her breasts, grasping at her tummy, caressing her thighs, and squishing her butt, all of which made more gasps and hums come out of her. He grabbed the inside of her thighs and that made her thighs part a little more as a soft moan of his name slipped out. Michael’s hands pause as he finally acknowledges the stiffness that pressing against her soft butt and making his sweats tighter.

“Oh god...” (Y/n) breathes out, palming the wall, “Did you make yourself hard?”

He tilts his head.

“Hard, y’know, horny? You never felt that before?”

He adjusts his head, hands refusing to leave your sides as he processes the fact that he isn’t feeling bloodlust, just the regular kind.

“Ugh, okay, lemme think... Does it hurt?”

A subtle nod.

“Of course it does.” She sighs shakily, trying to ignore the size of him against her crack, “Um, fuck, I’ll have to help you, won’t I? Dammit, I’ll lose my job.”

Michael’s hands tighten on her sides, lowering to her hips to pull her back again.

“Wait... they can’t really fire me, can they? They need me, right? This is the calmest you’ve ever been thanks to me.”

He hunches over (Y/n) and buries his mask in the side of her neck as he hugs her— something she’s only recently taught him how to do. She chuckles at the gesture but it’s replaced with a soft hum when he starts humping his aching erection against her ass, his hips gradually moving faster the closer he pulls her back to him. She lets out a shaky breath.

“Okay, okay, okay; I’ll help you, but you gotta be gentle and listen to everything I say, alright?”

Michael nods into her neck, the papier-mâché mask scratching between her chin and shoulder.

“It might get a little hot, you sure you wanna keep your mask on?”

Another nod.

“First, go lay back on your bed.”

His heavy body practically disappeared from the nurse’s back and when she turned she found him already laid back on his shitty mattress with his large cock twitching and trying to stand in his pants. She gulped as she made her way over, kicking off her heels and mentally preparing herself for everything: her explanation if her boss caught them, the ridicule if anyone else caught them... the fat cock practically dying to be let out. (Y/n) takes a breath as she pulls down his pants and underwear, letting all 9 inches spring free which earned a soft sigh from behind that mask.

“Holy fuck...” She whispers, her mouth-watering before she composes herself, “I mean, um, better?”

Another subtle nod. The nurse hesitantly dropped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them before climbing on the bed and straddling the behemoth’s muscular thighs, the action making her dress hiked up over her ass as she stared down at the throbbing dick standing before her pelvis. (Y/n) takes a breath and wraps her hand around the pole, stroking from the wide base to the tip, making it leak effortlessly.

“Good god, where were you hiding this shit?”

Michael tilts his head back into his pillow with a huff every time her hand passed over the leaky, sensitive tip that he was grinding against her butt, his eyes closing at the new sensation.

 

“You like that? Feels better?”

He nods, hair disheveled all over his pillow. His nurse watches his chest rise and fall with every stroke over his pulsing veins, the sight making her drip onto him as she began humping him to get her own pleasure. Michael suddenly grabs her wrist with a huff, trying to convey the message of wanting it faster but his nurse thought he was being needy and carefully moved a little higher on his body with her palms planted firmly on his clothed chest.

“Be gentle, okay?”

He was confused again but remained still to see what she was going to do since she held his cock upright. The killer’s body tensed slightly when she started to lower her cunt on him with groans through every inch until her jiggly form was somewhat seated on his lap. His eyes were wide behind the mask, watching her breasts rise and fall to the beat of her shaky breath as her tight, wet channel slid down his shaft. (Y/n) tenses, gripping his shoulders tightly to which he sits up abruptly and grabs her hips to steady her on his lap.

"Yup, like that. You're gonna just hold my hips, okay?"

He grunts lowly behind the mask and guides her the rest of the way down until her cheeks are squished against his thighs. She looked up at him, already weak from the delicious feeling of his cockhead pressing on her cervix and his pulse throbbing against her g-spot. (Y/n) shivers in an attempt to control herself enough to tell him what was next but she was caught off guard by him abruptly sitting up, and dragging her up and down his fat cock by her hips.

“Wha- how d-do you... know how to...” Her mind trails off from her body already seeking an orgasm, “Oh my god, Mike... right there...”

Hearing praise from his favorite nurse always made Michael’s heart skip a beat regardless of him never showing it but now he made sure (Y/n) could feel just how much he loved hearing her approval even if it came in the form of moans and grunts. Her whimpers and groans were suddenly accompanied by a shaky hand that reached between them and pressed to his pelvis, trying to slow his thrusts while wet, squelching echoed off the cement walls of his room.

“M-Mikey, wait, big guy. Gimme a...” She trails off, eyes rolling back, “Gimme a fuckin’ minute, didn’t expect you to be so... ugh, my god~”

The Boogeyman stopped moving her for a moment only to grab her wrists as gently as he could and hold them behind her back with one hand while the other gripped her hip firmly before both hands worked together to resume her bounces her on his lap. She gasps out, throwing her head back and arching her back as she cums hard, her pussy spasming around him as he continues to wordlessly bounce her on his lap and fuck her through her intense, eye-crossing orgasm.

"Michael... Mikey, you're doing amazing, b-baby~"

She looks up at him, amazed and already dizzy from how steady and sure he was moving her, every drop followed by barely a huff. Not every lift from exertion, every fucking drop. He wasn't tired. Hell, he was never tired. (Y/n) clenched her fists behind her back tightly and moaned loudly with how delicious each stroke against her g-spot and hit against her cervix felt, glad she didn't have to teach him a goddamn thing.

But in the back of her mind she got the feeling that she might need to teach the Boogeyman was how to stop.

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(a/n): I cut it short tbh, but lmk if yall want it longer 🫰🏾

[kaisacobra]

A Step Into the Future - Sam Carpenter

Summary: A cuddly morning with your girlfriend Sam turns into a conversation about your future.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff.

Word Count: 1.8k

You were never particularly religious, but in moments like these, when everything was calm and you were in the arms of the person you loved most in the world, you truly felt like you were in heaven.

Soft snores reaching your ears and a warm, slow breath on your neck had become your favorite alarm clock. It was worth waking up earlier just to have the sight of your girlfriend peacefully sleeping beside you, in one of those rare moments when her expression wasn't burdened with worries and a sense of alertness.

Moving slowly to avoid waking her up, you raised your arm to her sculpted face and brushed some strands of hair aside, wanting to get a complete view of Sam's face. The way the sunlight seeped through a crack in the curtain illuminated Sam perfectly, giving you a breathtaking sight.

Samantha Carpenter was the greatest work of art you had ever seen. A face like a Botticelli painting, a body like a Michelangelo sculpture, a voice like a siren's song, and a heart kept like a precious jewel.

Your thoughts spoke louder, and you allowed yourself to gently slide a finger over the soft skin of the bridge of the woman's nose, finding it adorable when she involuntarily wrinkled her nose in response. You enjoyed being able to take pride in recognizing Sam's subtle signs, having carefully studied her reactions throughout the early stages of your relationship. This allowed you to notice certain things, like the change in the rhythm of her breathing, even if she pretended to still be asleep.

"Darling?" You whispered as softly as you could, just in case you had misread your analysis and your girlfriend was actually asleep.

But soon your theory was proven correct when Sam let out a husky grunt and hugged your torso with both arms, trapping you in a grip that honestly didn't bother you at all. She shifted in bed until she rested her head on your chest, releasing a sigh of contentment when satisfied with the proximity.

You gave a small smile and began playing with her hair without thinking too much. Some time ago, at the beginning of the relationship, you used to wonder if Sam would ever let you get close for real. Now, you knew that no one who knew her would believe you if you said the older Carpenter was like a cuddly kitten that complained if she wasn't touching you at every possible minute.

The peaceful silence was interrupted for a moment by a loud complaint from Sam's stomach, who quickly moved to bury her face in the crook of your neck. "No," she spoke firmly but with a voice laden with playfulness and drowsiness.

"No, what?" You laughed, letting her get more comfortable beside you, even if it meant she was two steps away from being on top of you.

Sam lifted her head just enough for her voice not to be muffled. You couldn't see her face clearly due to the position, but you could identify her still-closed eyes. "You were going to suggest getting up for breakfast. My answer is no."

"But, darling..." You laughed again, amused at how a just-awakened Sam was practically a stubborn child. "You're hungry, aren't you? I can go make a quick breakfast and come back to be with you."

Your girlfriend made a protesting noise and held you tighter in her arms, as if you were planning to escape at any moment. Of course, you weren't going to complain, after all, there was no more perfect place in the world than Sam's arms. She shook her head slightly. "You're forbidden to leave. We'll cook something later, together."

"Forbidden?" You chuckled. "By whom, exactly?"

"By me, your amazing girlfriend."

You laughed a bit more and decided to gently stroke Sam's scalp, feeling the woman slowly soften under your touch again. That had to be one of your greatest achievements—the fact that Sam trusted you so much to allow herself to be vulnerable, even if it didn't come naturally to her anymore.

She shifted a bit more, this time wrapping her legs around yours. "I could do this for the rest of my life, you know?"

Vulnerability and even a hint of embarrassment shone through Sam's voice, and although you couldn't see her face completely, you could see a part of her cheek starting to turn red. Adorable, you would say.

"Hold onto me like a koala?" You teased, feeling her lightly pinch your arm in retaliation. She muttered a curse in Spanish, and the warm breath from her mouth hit a sensitive area of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Sam seemed too sleepy to notice your reactions and tease you back. Instead, she spoke again slowly, as if sharing a huge secret. "No, idiot. This. Waking up with you by my side, every day."

"Oh." You responded with great eloquence, feeling your entire body heat up and butterflies flutter in your stomach as if you were the protagonist of a teenage romance. Sam wasn't one to express love with words much, but when she did, you could barely contain yourself from looking like a smitten fool. "I could do that forever too. Truly become your family."

Your trembling voice betrayed how much you had wanted to have this kind of conversation for a while, even if you were leaving the actual meaning implicit. Still, you knew Sam would understand what you were trying to say.

"You already are family. We don't need to get married for that." She spoke, but soon realizing how her words sounded a bit harsh, she moved back a bit and locked eyes with you, your faces just a few inches apart. "Not that I don't want to get married! I do. Someday. But you don't have to wait until then to feel like part of the family."

Once again, a small party seemed to settle inside you with Sam's words and the sight of her in front of you, her face flushed with shyness and the admission that she envisions a future with you. Taking advantage of the closeness, you cupped her face with one hand. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

You're welcome. The words hung implicitly in the air as she turned her face just enough to kiss the palm of your hand. Sam's brown eyes were still small due to sleepiness, but they already sparkled like the most beautiful jewel you had ever seen. You felt very lucky.

Seizing the opportunity, you decided to delve a bit further into the subject. "Would you like to expand this family with me? In the future, of course."

Sam squirmed a bit, and you knew she was reluctant to think about that answer. You started to gently stroke her jaw with your thumb, trying to calm her and convey the message that you would be okay with whatever answer she gave.

"I kinda already have three kids, you know?" She said with humor, and you opened a smile in response. It was true that Sam was very protective of her sister, Tara, and the two twins, Mindy and Chad. You could see how much she cared for them and how hard she worked to make sure she could provide some of the things they liked.

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" You replied still humorously, and you were ready to let the subject drop there, not wanting to pressure your girlfriend into anything. However, Sam seemed not to have finished her train of thought.

She bit her lip, looking hesitant. "It's just that... I don't have the best history with my parents, as you know. And I don't have the best overall history, damn, I don't even have a degree, and..."

"Hey, hey. One step at a time, okay?" You reassured her, placing a kiss on her forehead that made her release a relieved sigh. "Firstly, you're not like your parents, no matter what you think. Secondly, it's not too late to start college if that's what you want."

"No, it's not possible." Sam shook her head, looking away to your collarbone with some shame. "I have to work to pay for the apartment rent and also support me and Tara. I don't have time for that."

You frowned and held the Carpenter's chin, making her look at you. Even embarrassed, Sam could still be intimidating enough, and her gaze gave you the same feeling of being struck by lightning, as if electricity ran through your veins every time your eyes met. "I could help you if you wanted."

"No. It's not your obli-"

"I'm not being forced to do anything." You cut her off, shaking your head and smiling to show that you were serious. "You know I have a well-paying internship. I could move here, share the bills and a room with you. It would be less burdensome, and you could work just one job and use the rest of the time to study. What do you think?"

Sam seemed to be in an internal battle, looking at you with admiration and trying to fight back the tears that were on the brink of her eyes. She reached out to caress your face. "You don't have to do this."

"I would like to." You reassured her, pulling her closer to envelop her waist in a hug. "Besides, I'd finally get rid of that small dorm and my weird roommate."

Sam scowled, her voice laden with jealousy. "You mean that flirt who's always hitting on you? You know, I'm starting to think it really is a good idea for you to move in, maybe now that bitch will understand that you're taken."

You laughed at Sam's indignation but didn't say anything to disagree. She was right, after all. At the end of the day, you were very well taken, and you were perfectly fine with that. The sunlight streaming into the room through the curtains seemed a bit brighter now, and although you didn't want to burst your bubble of happiness with Sam, you really needed to start preparing for the day ahead.

She seemed to read your mind, as she always did, given the connection between you two, and just nodded in agreement, a sign that she also agreed to get up and shake off the laziness.

In a last moment of calm, Sam approached you and spread small kisses over your chin, cheeks, and forehead, finally stopping at your mouth and kissing you with true love and affection, creating not only a physical connection but also a connection of souls. You embraced the contact, responding to the kiss with the same passion, forgetting about anything else but Sam's lips.

As she pulled away, Sam smiled contentedly. Her hair messy because of the bed, red puffy lips, and eyes with sleep residue didn't prevent you from seeing her as the most beautiful woman you had ever seen on Earth. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too." You whispered back, your voice laden with emotion.

You didn't know what to expect from the future, but one thing was certain. Whatever it was, you would have Sam Carpenter, and Sam Carpenter would have you.

[eevees-hobbies]

Just hear me out… you already having a baby w the bofurin and shishitoren boys (loml big dick Togame) and saying “our baby is so cute, i want another one” and they’re like “yeah? you want me to give you another baby?” And then boom they’re fucking another baby into you 🤭 (nobody look at me PLS)

Author’s Note: Part of the “Let That Man Breed You 2024” campaign! 

Content Warning: TW: Pregnancy. TW: Sexualization of the Pregnant Body. TW: Body Changes As a Result of Pregnancy. Heavy breeding kink, lactation fetish, Togame likes you dependent on him while you’re pregnant. He calls you mama. Getting your brains fucked out, mention of creampie. And as always, every pregnancy is different, and your mileage may vary! Minors Do Not Interact. 

Word Count: 1.2K

Babies can be fairly precarious things. They consume your life as soon as you conceive them, taking up real estate in your womb, wreaking havoc on your senses, and using your bladder as their personal trampoline. And when they’re born? You eat, sleep, and breathe “baby” because “baby” is your new way of life.

But do you know what else babies are good at? When they look at you with big, bright eyes, squeezing your finger in their small, delicate hand, and giving you a sweet giggle, they are remarkably good at convincing you that those sleepless nights weren’t so bad. Witching hour? More like party hour! Foul-smelling diapers? You don’t need your sense of smell anyway!

Beautiful black curls, chubby cheeks, and doe-sized emerald green eyes are to blame for the position you’re in–literally and figuratively speaking, of course.

You found yourself turning to Togame after putting your little one to sleep, your mouth already moving before your brain could truly comprehend the weight of your words: “He’s so cute, Jo. I want to make another one.”

Famous last words and all that.

And that’s why you’re now bent over, face-down, and ass perched as high as a back arch will allow in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom with Togame’s cock buried so deep inside your cunt that your eyes are watering.

“Mmm, you want me to put another baby in you, mama?”

You bite your lip, hiccuping through the intensity of him stirring your guts, and give him a nod. You can see his face in the reflection of the mirror—he’s brandishing his signature lazy, half-smile, but his eyes are as if in a trance as they sweep over your body, admiring the way your juicy cunt swallows his cock with each hard backshot he delivers. His cock-head is repeatedly bullying the spot that makes you cry out with each thrust, feeling so good that your thighs have been trembling since you both started and show no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“Y-yeah, baby! W-wanna girl this time!”

He grunts, his hand grabbing a fistful of your ass and not regretting being rough in the slightest as each plea, demand, whimper, grunt, and whine he elicits from you only makes him more entranced.

He loves how you ask—and beg—for him to breed you. Togame had always considered himself a simple man. Kinks? Eh, he had preferences, sure, and certain things got him more riled up than most, but he became a changed man as soon as you became pregnant with his son.

It makes him a different, less in-control being thinking about your belly growing round again, the cute waddle that you’ll develop because you can’t see your feet, and this is one of the more critical and selfish reasons, but he loves that you’ll need him for absolutely everything.

“Togame, help me stand up.”

“Ugh, Togame, please help me tie my shoe.”

“Togame, need yoooooou.”

And while none of those reasons may be sexual in nature–maybe the desire for your dependency on him might be, but that’s an analysis for a different day–there are sexual fantasies and kinks that he is able to live out while you’re carrying his child. 

He loves having you ride him, fully pregnant, as you bounce on his dick. At first, you were hesitant to do so, scared that the added weight of the additional human housed inside you would be too much, but he simply grabbed your hand and guided your wrist to his mouth, where he placed a trail of soft, languid kisses.

“You don’t need to worry about any of that. Now, ride me, pretty girl.”

And when you finally got out of your own head? Trivial thoughts about your new body vanished because how can anyone focus with 9 inches of cock buried inside of them? Definitely not you!

Togame looked up at you and swore that if he died at that moment, he might not be too upset about it. His hands cupping your already swollen and heavy breasts as you grip and grind at his cock is the closest he’s ever felt to cumming inside of you faster than he ever thought possible.

“Baby,” he coos, “you’re doing so good bouncin’ on my dick, but say the word, and I’ll take over.”

He loves how wide your hips have gotten after carrying and birthing your first child, his hands always somehow finding a way to squeeze you there, even in public. People have to look away because when he does it, it feels so intimate and laced with a sexual undertone. 

He just can’t help it because, fuck, does motherhood look good on you. 

And Togame absolutely loses his mind when you come to him, wincing in pain because the baby didn’t drink enough of your milk, so now your breasts are rock-hard, and you need relief.

“Please help me, Togame,” you whimper, voice straining to fully verbalize what you need, so you raise your hands to your chest and gently motion to your breasts. 

And to Togame, the sight is glorious; your breasts struggling to fit in your shirt and nipples managing to leak breast milk even through your padded bra? If only you knew the unholy thoughts that flow in this man’s head when you come to him in such a vulnerable state.

He’d rest his head in your lap, looking up at your darkened nipples, surrounded by a puffy areola, the tip now flowing with droplets of thick, fresh breast milk. He’ll latch his mouth around the sensitive bud, sucking in mouthfuls while his other hand squeezes the other neglected nipple, streams of milk squirting out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, baby, that feels so good.” 

And he loves the way people ogle your big belly in public as they can’t help but stare because even in the womb, Togame gives you big babies. He loves knowing that they’re thinking about him stuffing you full of his seed, creampieing you an insurmountable amount of times to get you so round, so big, so sexy. 

“Don’t worry, mama. I got ya’ I know exactly what you need.”

He delivers hard smacks to your ass, making the fat of it ripple and bounce against him as he presses his palm on your shoulder and pushes you down, your cheek now buried in the plush rug on your floor as Togame bends a long leg at your side to give him better leverage.

As your mind goes blank, and a sliver of drool escapes the corner of your mouth because god, he’s so deep, and even as you try and shift under him, the hand on your shoulder is unwavering.

“Now, now, mama. This is what you wanted, right? What you asked for? Just relax for me, and I’ll do allllll the work.”

Everything about him is just so big, his frame, his 9 inches of thick cock, and his heavy balls. It’s just so much! But you have to take it all if you want him to give you another baby. 

And to Togame, you look so good like this—ethereal even—fucked out on his cock that’s drilling into you, heavy tits squished against the floor, and so willing to take everything he has to offer you.

“Mmm, here it comes, mama. Ya ready for your first load of the night?” 

“Gonna give you that baby girl I promised.” 

“You lookin’ at yourself in the mirror, baby? Get a good look cuz you’ll be knocked up and swollen in a few months.”

@taytebby Delivery!

[saturncoyote]

After much work i have finally written down my analysis on the fictional character Creek from hit children's movie Trolls 2016, open Read More on your own discretion because this shit is about to get long

Alright let's start with a small summary for the folks that have never watched a Trolls movie and don't really know anything about Creek outside of the plethora of art i've made about him

Creek is one of the movie's side characters and secondary villain, he is Poppy's (the main character) friend and acts as a short-of twist villain (i'll explain that 'short-of' later,). Although shown to be a stereotypical nature-loving hippie he later betrays his friends and everyone he's ever known as he sells out the location of their village to Bergens, a race who 20 years ago used to keep the pop trolls in a large cage and would eat them once a year during a holiday called Trollstice.

He is first introduced when Branch (the movie's second protagonist) is confronting Poppy about her decision to throw a party, arguing that this could attract the attention of the Bergens, this is also where my first point about Creek's character begins First thing to notice is that, unlike what some people would like you to believe, Creek is NOT the only troll in Poppy's friend group (the Snack Pack) to be dismissive towards Branch, if anything Poppy herself is the only one in the group that seems to want to give him a chance ("i think everyone deserves to be happy"). Creek also shows up late to the conversation, only appearing once Branch escalates the situation by throwing Poppy's party invitation to the floor and stomping on it. You could easily argue that, in Creek's perspective, he is only doing what a good friend should do and protecting his friend from someone who is being cruel towards them, and although Branch has a GOOD reason to be upset and we later find out more about his backstory, there is no reason for us to believe that Creek or even the rest of the Snack Pack know anything about his situation, to THEM Branch is nothing but a party pooper who actively chooses to stay miserable ("some folks just don't want to be happy")

One point that i sometimes see that i would like to snip in the bud as soon as possible is that Creek doesn't truly care about his friends, especially Poppy, and is only using her to get something out of her (what exactly ? well we don't know, we could especulate that since she is the princess, he may want to use her for her status, possibly wanting to become royalty himself, but we're not here for that), the reason i bring this up now is because of the scene that follows the interaction with Branch, where Creek is the first one to notice that Poppy is still upset about the results of the conversation, not only that but he doesn't seem too happy about it himself

It would have been extremelly easy to animate him smiling or looking smug after Branch storms off, but that doesn't happen, he even glances down at the ground before looking towards Poppy, which is when he attempts to cheer her up. This small scene ALONE already leads me to believe that he truly does care, and although his attempts at cheering her up aren't exactly the best nor the most productive ("tune out his negative vibrations Poppy, they're toxic") he is still trying.

However we do not get enough time to find out more about his relationship with Poppy outside of this very moment as the next scene in the movie is the party and their imminent capture by the Chef Bergen, this is where i'd like to remind you that i called him only a "short-of" twist villain. For a twist villain to truly work we first need to understand why this character is considered to be a "good guy", and their relationship with the protagonist, so that the incoming reveal of them being the antagonist has a impact, not only on the other characters, but the audience themselves. The thing about Creek is that we don't GET that insight into his relationship with Poppy, they interact TWICE before the reveal, and one of those interactions is Poppy attempting to save him from being carried away by a Bergen, therefore the "twist" itself falls flat... but what if i told you that was done on purpose by Dreamworks ?

Before the existence of Creek there was another character who was meant to take his place in the storyline, and her name was Miss Guffin

According to concept art, Miss Guffin was originally going to be Poppy's mentor, and be captured by the Chef Bergen, and much like Creek she would sell out the other trolls as an attempt to save herself. Now that would have had a much bigger impact, not only on the audience as they realise that the respectful elderly character was a selfish coward at heart, but for Poppy as she would have had a much closer relationship with Guffin as her mentor. So why was she changed ? It's simple really, she was just too likeable.

Creek, by design, was created to be unlikeable, not only so that his reveal wouldn't upset the audience, but so that you wouldn't feel pity about his eventual demise. THIS is what i mean when i refer to him as a character "doomed by the narrative", he only exists because a much more appealing character had to be turned down for the sole reason of not upsetting those who watch the movie, he would never have been allowed to have a closer relationship with Poppy, because that would have given the viewer a emotional attachment to him, and we can't have that. Creek is a tragic character in the sense that he was destined to be the traitor, not only a traitor but a unredeemable one, and i understand why that is, there was never going to be enough time in the movie to give him a satisfying redemption, and it would have thrown off the entire flow of the story, killing him off was a much easier choice than trying to squeeze an awkward redemption at the very end, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that there WAS more. His fate feels unfair to me, as his only crime is being kind of a dickhead, and it's hard to blame him for his decision to sell out Pop Village when his only other option wasn't much better, so let's talk about that next.

In the next scene where we see Creek, him and the rest of the Snack Pack have been put in a cage by the Chef, this is where i'd like to point out that his first reaction to this predicament is to try and get everyone else to stay calm ("Woah, woah ! Everyone, we must all remain calm") This scene leads directly to the one where he gets nearly eaten by King Gristle, and when i say nearly i mean it, he is shoved INTO his mouth and assumed dead by everyone except for Poppy, who is only holding out hope that he is still alive. Of course we later find out that he is indeed, not dead, but that is only because he clung to Gristle's uvula causing him to choke and spit him out. The way we find out that he is alive is through Gristle himself, who reveals to Bridget that he has him locked inside his cape's clasp

Notice how little space he has in there, i'd say barely any to move let alone breathe, as he lets out a desperate gasp just as the clasp is opened. We do not know how much time has passed since he escaped being nearly eaten alive, but we can estimate it has to have been at least a few hours, as quite a few events happen between the formerly mentioned scene and this one. We do NOT get to see what happens between him, Gristle and the Chef during that time, which means we can only ESPECULATE why he was put in there in the first place, so allow me to do just that:

- Firstly, we do not know if Creek agreed right away to the Chef's request to reveal the location of the village, for all we know he might have declined to do so, and putting him into a small claustrophobic space was a way to give him that final push. - However this could have also been a way to stop him from escaping and telling the other trolls of the Bergen's plan, but i fail to see why they would have had to resort to such a, let's be honest here, barbaric method of keeping him put, when a normal cage would have done the job just as well, perhaps the Chef wanted to make sure he wouldn't change his mind. - Thirdly, this could have been a way to have someone keep an eye on him as the Chef busied herself with other things, essentially making Gristle the guard to Creek's prison No matter what option you decide makes the most sense, one thing is clear: Creek was tortured

At last we finally reach the moment he reveals to Poppy, Branch and the rest of the Snack Pack that he plans on betraying all of them and selling out the location of the village, this is the scene that is supposed to make you despise him, for being so cowardly and selfish that he'd rather let everyone he's ever known die horribly than.... give up his own life ? Hold up did i read that right, oh... hm Creek is a character who finds himself in a situation out of his control and is forced to make a decision between two truly awful options, he can either let himself be eaten or everyone else goes, there is NOT a correct answer here, and in the end his sense of self preservation wins. A decision probably influenced by the fact that before this moment, he had spent hours trapped in a small space with barely enough oxygen. There was NEVER going to be another way, as the Chef states herself:

Especially bringing attention to how he acts in this scene, to me it comes across less like he's finally showing his true colors as a manipulative person, and more like he's desperately trying to justify his actions not only to Poppy but to himself ("At least you get to die with a clear conscience")

And it seems like he's successful in doing so, for him at least, what other options does he have ? It's either give up your own life, or convince yourself that what you're about to do isn't truly that bad, he chooses to look at it with a positive outlook, ignoring the very obviously bleak reality he finds himself in ("So in a way... You could say... I'm doing this for you")

Another thing about this scene is that we don't really get to see his true feelings on the situation, as during this conversation the Chef Bergen is actively sharpening knifes in the background, even if he did want to come up with a escape plan or air out how he feels about this predicament they find themselves in, he would be unable to do so, as the person who could easily just snatch him up and kill him right then and there stands in the very same room. And that is a recurring thing when it comes to Creek, we don't get to SEE much of him, we don't see the events leading up to his betrayal, we don't really get to see his relationship with Poppy or even the rest of the Snack Pack for that matter, we don't SEE how he feels about being trapped inside Gristle's cape clasp or having to choose between himself or his friends, and honestly we probably never will. For a secondary villain he barely gets any screen time at all, and the screen time he does get is spent in near constant live-threatening danger.

And finally, his story comes to an end, the Bergens discover true happyness, Chef Bergen is defeated, and the last time we see Creek he's getting swallowed up by a mountain sized creature, the very thing he tried so hard to save himself from, to the point that he would give up everyone he's ever loved, happens regardless of his choice, was he even given a choice in the first place ? When both options led him to the same fate ? I would say it's almost tragically poetic if it didn't feel like salt to the wound.

Of course, Trolls: The Beat Goes On exists, but it's not even close to being a good continuation of his character let alone a satisfying redemption, his introduction is incredibly rushed, characters who have no reason to forgive him for his actions immediatelly welcome him back with open arms, and the one person who doesn't do so is shown to be in the wrong even though his reaction and suspicion make complete sense.

Besides, TBGO is it's own can of worms and opening it now would only make this post longer than it needs to be, so i'll spare you from that.

My final point is that Creek is a much more complex and interesting character than the story would like you to believe, and it CAN be quite frustating seeing people brush him off as just a selfish fraud who never truly cared about anyone but himself when there's really so much more under the surface. Of course i'm not saying that you should love him, hell you don't even need to like him, he has a lot of flaws and has made terrible decisions, but that's also exactly the reason why i am so keen on giving him a better ending. He shouldn't need to be perfect to deserve a nicer fate, to be given an actual choice for once, one that isn't going to blow up in his face in the end, the ability to be better and do better. You don't deserve to be tossed aside just because you have a big ego or some other personal flaw, you don't deserve to be considered unredeemable because you were put in a situation out of your control, making a bad decision shouldn't define your existence for the rest of your life.

I've come to accept that Creek is a very important character to me, he's a character who NEEDS to be selfish for the story to work the way it does, one who's the narrative is actively trying to make as unlikeable as possible at all times, but it's attempts had an opposite effect on me, and the more i dug only solidified him as my favorite in the entire franchise. I love him because of his unused potential, potential that'll most likely never get a true chance to shine due to Dreamworks not seeming to really care about him as a character, so i have taken upon myself to do what canon failed to. If i had to pick ONE THING for folks that read this post to get out of it, is that you should never be embarassed of your enjoyment for a fictional character, no matter how unlikeable or one-dimensional they seem to be, analyse every frame they show up in, write that fanfic, draw that art, create that self indulgent AU, find meaning where no one else did

[paraphwrites]

dbda & the consequences of your actions

tragic mick is the epitome of "be careful what you wish for." mick made a wish and he got what he wanted it's just not what he actually wanted. and there's no undoing it. he made a choice and it sucks and oh well, now he has to do what he can with what he's got left. and with what he's got, he chooses to be kind and help these silly little kids

simon is the epitome of "what goes around comes around." simon sent a dude to hell and then was sent to hell. he felt a feeling (homosexuality and guilt about that) and did a thing (bullied edwin) and now is suffering the repercussions (hell). and instead of learning from this mistake, simon is drowning in guilt and his own sadness. he cannot move on and he cannot be happy even when the victim of his hatred is holding his hand out and offering forgiveness

jenny goes along with niko's date idea and then nearly dies. on the one hand 'haha break from the analysis for a joke' but on the OTHER hand, this is an example of one small action having unforseen, huge ramifications. life is random!! shit just happens sometimes!! it sucks!! people get hurt!! and there is nothing you can do about it except hug each other and try to move on and be ok. like, that's it. jenny is the epitome of "karma isn't a bitch god just hates me."

the sprites is what happens if forgiveness is forced upon you. they just wanted to blow up this random bitch and suddenly they are in a jar. they are not killed, their "owner" is too kind. and holy shit are they pissed about it. same energy as spike in season 4 of buffy. they did shit & they stand by it but god said no sit in the corner

crystal's whole arc (especially what would have happened in season 2) is about redemption and dealing with the consequences of your actions. her entire character asks the question, what makes us bad people, nature or nurture, is it inherent or what we do? they come to the conclusion through her amnesia that it is very much nurture dependent, and while some meanness is habit (like how crystal is kind of mean when she first looses her memories, but soon is truly kind).

monty represents the cycle of abuse in a way slightly different to crystal. while crystal is removed from the cycle, monty is trapped in it. monty is manipulated and he manipulates other people. the people he betrays in turn are unable to help him and he is sucked back into the cycle and is now a crow again. still, he helps out the gang again, so, he is trying his best. monty is both good and bad and mostly he is a crow

edwin uses magic on a cat and then the same magic spell is used on him. action -> consequence. see this could be very obvious, nothing to take note of, EXCEPT i think it's something of note that edwin is willing to do not kind things for a greater good. the night nurse follows the same philosophy and then she is eaten by a giant fish, so clearly, if edwin had carried on this path, he would have been eaten by a giant fish, too

charles' biggest moment of reckoning is after he kills the night nurse. the others are worried or scared or both, and charles faces the consequences of his actions - he has an emotional breakdown. and instead of being scolded or told off further, the gang attempt to comfort him. and they don't really succeed but they try. they give him no punishment because the grief he feels is enough. charles is the epitome of "no one can punish you worse than yourself."

in conclusion, this is a half-analysis, because almost everyone's arc was still in progress. so i did my best.

[vettelsvee]

CLIFFORD AND EMILY | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

ferrari sebastian vettel x race engineer girlfriend!reader

word count: 3195

summary: y/n tells seb that it would be a great present for his birthday to adopt a puppy, and they find the perfect one

warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff. dad ferrari!seb as i can't get rid of him. based on 2018 season and narrated on seb's pov

a/n: once again, this is part of history series (coming soon as is being heavily edited) and translated by cele! changed my layout to my comfort people so are you like it? also, as always, i'll be waiting for your feedback, as well as comments and chats on that anon button please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated guys! tysm <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Normally, I didn't have trouble getting up in the mornings, especially during Grand Prix weekends, but today it had been incredibly hard to leave Y/N and Emily sleeping.

Maybe the problem was that today was my birthday, and, in part, we couldn't spend it like a normal family. I didn't mind working on such a special day, but it did bother me when I thought it was my first birthday with Emily.

Very reluctantly, I decided to start my day, trying not to let my bad mood consume me. As soon as I set foot on the floor, I adjusted the sheets to cover my girlfriend, taking the utmost care not to wake her. Nights with our daughter were exasperating, and I didn't know how Y/N managed to be at one hundred percent during team meetings, press conferences, free practice sessions, qualifying and the race, and especially the briefings and all the data analysis her job entailed.

I trained with Eddie for just an hour and a half. According to him, my birthday present was a less strict training session; even so, we ran a lap around the block where the hotel was located, and then we went straight to the gym.

At half-past seven in the morning, to my good fortune, he told me I could go back to my room to get ready for that Friday.

I entered as quickly as I could, being very careful because it was still quite early, and I assumed my girls would be resting. Deep down, I knew that wasn't going to be the case, so I wasn't surprised to see Y/N, still in her pyjamas, walking back and forth while breastfeeding Emily and trying to eat a piece of toast.

“God!” She quickly swallowed the bite and pretended she hadn't been eating. I couldn't help but laugh at how cute the scene seemed to me. “I'm so sorry, Seb. I had ordered breakfast to be brought up and ready for when you came, but I was so hungry and wasn't sure when Eddie would let you go today…”

I shook my head and approached her. I left a short kiss on her lips and then placed another on my daughter's forehead.

“Happy birthday, sunshine,” she said, wrapping her free arm around me. “How many birthdays have we spent together now? Eight?”

“Seven,” I corrected her, remembering we didn’t get to spend the 2008 one together. “And I hope there will be more because I'm not going to let you get rid of me anytime soon.”

“Do you really think I'm going to get rid of you so soon? In case you don't remember, we not only work together: we also share a house, a cat, a daughter, and we're going to have a dog…”

After that last part, Y/N let out a small scream and covered her mouth with her hand.

If I was the one who could keep secrets perfectly, Y/N Y/L/N was the complete opposite.

“What do you mean by a dog, Y/N?”

“Oh, well, I don't know… I must have mixed up some conversation I had with Aristella about Cherry,” her nerves were quite noticeable. “I got confused, and…”

“Y/N, I know you perfectly, and I know when you're lying to me. What did you mean by we’re going to have a dog?”

Given my insistence and, why not say it, the poker face I probably had, my girlfriend sighed. She placed Emily in the crib next to our bed and, while asking me to sit down and start having breakfast, took her mobile phone and immersed herself in it.

“Well, you see…” she began, sitting in front of me and taking a strawberry in her hands. “Since you adopted Vanilla as a surprise for me, I've been thinking that I would like to do the same for you, but between the chaotic 2013 we had and Emily's birth, I found it a bit impossible. It's also true that it's something I would like to discuss before doing it because it's a matter that depends not only on me but also on you,” she clarified.

“And that means…?”

“Forget it, Seb. It doesn't matter. I haven't told you anything, okay? Forget it.”

It bothered me to see her so indecisive, though it didn’t stop me from finding her idea quite endearing deep down. I knew she was nervous; the constant fiddling with the napkin and her flushed cheeks were proof of that.

“Do you want to adopt a dog?” I asked her, loud and clear.

“It’s not that I want to adopt a dog. Well, I do, but…” she sighed, stopped eating breakfast, and looked at me directly. “The thing is, I know you’d like to have a dog, and you’ve had that idea in your head for quite some time, so I thought that, only if you want, we could adopt one,” she finally explained.

“Do you want to wait until we get back home? If you want, we can talk to Michael and have him recommend…”

“No, no, not at all! I’ve already talked to Lewis about it, and he’s informed me,” she hastened to clarify. “Since I wanted to do all this, if possible, today, I asked him where he adopted Roscoe and Coco. I thought today was the perfect day for the adoption because it’s your birthday,” she repeated.

I nodded as I got up and headed towards Emily’s crib, who had started crying once more.

“I mean, all this is only if you want, of course,” Y/N spoke again. Before I could respond, she interrupted me once more. “But if you want, we can do it when we get back home. I don’t mind, except I wouldn’t have another birthday present to give you…”

Still holding the baby in my arms, I approached her and silenced her with a long, slow kiss, one I took my time with but received no complaints about, quite the opposite.

Y/N always went out of her way with gifts, even during times when her finances weren't the best. I much preferred her giving me something symbolic over an expensive whim.

So, the fact that she wanted to adopt a dog today, as my birthday present, made this thing I had wanted for so long even more special. Plus, thinking that Emily would grow up with the new member of the family made it a thousand times better.

“If my girl says it’s happening today, then we should follow her lead,” I finished saying. “What time do you think we’ll be done with everything we have to do today?”

[...]

“I hope there aren’t too many people, because if Britta finds out we’re doing all this without telling her…”

“Y/N, relax. If there’s any problem or anything, I’ll handle the press. Besides, it’s not like they don’t know me: remember I adopted Roscoe and Coco there, so they know me quite well.”

Lewis had decided to come with us to, according to him, ensure his friends received proper treatment. Deep down, I knew it was because he didn’t want to see Aristella, Britta’s niece and Y/N's best friend, hanging around Rosberg even while they were in the middle of their divorce process.

Hamilton’s concern for the girl wasn’t just something a friend would have, and I knew he was fully aware of that.

“Do you have something in mind, Seb?”

Lewis’s voice snapped me out of my trance.

“Sorry, what?”

“If you’ve thought of a name for the dog,” the dark-haired man spoke again. “I hope it’s something different from the usual. You know, the world has too many Tobys and all those common dog name variants.”

“If we’re talking about giving common names to pets, Seb is your guy,” Y/N spoke now, almost shouting. “When he adopted Vanilla just to get me to move in with him, he told me Garfield was a better name. Garfield, like the cartoon cat! If that’s not common…”

“What do you want to call an orange cat, Y/N? Vanilla? I remind you that you wanted to name her Cheeto…”

“Because she looked like a Cheeto and I thought it was a male!” she retorted. “Later, when I realised she was female and not so orange, I named her Vanilla.”

“Vanilla, I like it. It’s an… interesting name,” Lewis intervened. “Can I ask why you named her like that?”

“Y/N's favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. That, and if you add the fact that cats are her favourite animal…” I answered in her place.

I saw Y/N's lips curve slightly in the rear-view mirror.

Then, she turned around and put a hand on my leg, stroking it.

“I hope you find the perfect name for the new family member, love. Even if it’s the same as every other dog in the world,” she said ironically.

After those words, I realised we had arrived at the shelter Lewis Hamilton seemed to admire so much.

The Brit, as he guided us towards what appeared to be the entrance, commented that we should be careful with Emily, not because the furry ones were aggressive, but because they got very excited when they had visitors, especially if they were children.

A dark-skinned woman with completely dark hair was at the door, as if she had been waiting for us for a while. Lewis gave her a hug and immediately introduced us.

“These are Sebastian Vettel, his girlfriend Y/N, and their daughter, Emily.”

She gave us a smile, and I saw she intended to shake our hands until she saw our little one. She approached to dote on her as soon as Y/N gave her permission with a glance. Emily’s laughter began to fill the room, and she started to move cheerfully in Y/N's arms.

“I’m so sorry for my lack of manners, but when I see such a beautiful baby like this little one…” the woman began to say, still playing with the child. Then, she cleared her throat and looked at both of us. “Nice to meet you, couple,” she finally shook our hands. “I’m Jade, and well, I’ve been a volunteer at this shelter since time immemorial, back in the prehistoric times.”

“Don’t say that, Jade! You look wonderful,” Lewis told her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be so flattering, young man,” she chided him. “I appreciate all kinds of compliments for my age, but that’s not why we’re here. Well, tell me: if I’m not mistaken, and as your friend here has told me, you want to expand your family, right?”

Now she was looking intently at both of us. I nodded in response; at the same time, and by inertia, my right arm wrapped around my girlfriend’s waist, which made Emily start reaching out her little arms to come to me.

“Today is Seb’s birthday, and he’s been wanting to adopt a dog for quite some time,” my girlfriend explained.

“Oh, the adoption is a birthday gift!” Jade exclaimed, beginning to clap and approaching me quickly to give me a hug that I gladly accepted. “Happy birthday, dear! How old are you now?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Oh, dear. If I could be that age again…”

I smiled at her response as Y/N handed me Emily, who had started babbling to come to me.

“A daddy’s girl, I see, huh?” Jade chimed in. Y/N was about to answer, but before she could even do so, the woman was already speaking again. “Well, since it’s your birthday, I think I have the perfect gift for you.”

Without saying anything more, the woman gestured for us to follow her, and we did. We passed through several areas with dogs of different ages roaming freely, who approached us to sniff and perhaps convince us to adopt them.

Lewis mentioned that some of them were related to Coco. I laughed at the supposed joke, which stopped being a joke when Jade confirmed it. Y/N lagged behind a few times because she stopped to play with the dogs that approached her, which were quite a few. Emily and I, however, kept a brisk pace, possibly eager to find out what the woman was talking about and why she was being so mysterious.

Finally, we arrived at a kind of room with less light than I expected and, to my surprise, full of what seemed to be soft little beds. On top of them, not only was there a dog lying down that seemed quite tired, but there were also several puppies nursing from her.

Jade indicated before we entered that we should remain silent.

“One of our dogs gave birth last night,” she told us. “I don’t want to give all her puppies up for adoption since I’d like at least one to stay with her, but considering that the puppies and you share a birthday, I’d be delighted if you adopted one of them.”

I opened my eyes wide and couldn’t say anything. Next to me, Y/N seemed to have reacted the same way I did.

Saying we were surprised would be an understatement.

“But… are you serious?” my girlfriend commented, still in surprise.

“Of course, dears!” the woman responded cheerfully. “The only issue, so to speak, though it’s not really a problem, is that it’ll take about a month and a half before you can take him home. You know, the separation process from the mother is crucial.”

“No problem, really. We’ll wait as long as it takes,” I finally spoke. “Besides, I think we have a break around that time, right?”

“Yes, about a month,” Lewis replied.

“We’ve already got our vacation destination, sunshine,” Y/N said to me, apparently much more excited than I was.

“Now, I need you to tell me something important: which one of them do you want to be your little girl’s new brother?”

Still holding Emily, Y/N and I carefully approached the puppies.

To our eyes, they all looked exactly the same. We couldn’t see their eyes, but I was almost convinced they would be similar to the colour of their fur, a light brown skin similar to beach sand. They were huddled together and didn’t seem to be doing anything other than trying to nurse for as long as possible.

“Do you know what breed or mix they are?” Y/N asked the lady with that characteristic curiosity of hers.

“If I remember correctly, their mother is a golden retriever and their father, a big labrador.”

My girlfriend thanked her, turning towards her and leaving Emily by herself for a moment. At that point, seemingly unaware that her mother wasn't watching her every move, the little one began to crawl towards the puppies. Instinctively, I quickly scooped her up in my arms to prevent her from doing so. However, she didn't seem to give up: she started kicking until, just like that, I brought her a little closer to the furry animals.

While Y/N and Lewis chatted with Jade, I remained seated on the floor next to my daughter, who seemed to have settled on a particular puppy. I tried shifting her gaze from side to side, attempting to get her to notice the rest of them, but it seemed the one farthest from its mother had caught her attention the most.

“I think Emily has chosen who’s going to be her adopted sibling, hasn’t she?” I remarked.

As soon as I said that, the three of them turned towards me, crouching down to my level. Emily was still engrossed with that little one and seemed to continue being so until we left.

“Have you chosen for Daddy, Emi?” Y/N asked, almost lying on the floor to join the game that Emily was playing with the one who seemed to be our new child. “Do you want this to be your new little brother? Or sister, of course.”

“He's a boy, actually,” Jade intervened. “And, if I’m honest and don't recall incorrectly, he’s the oldest of the whole litter.”

“Do you want to adopt this little one then, sunshine? Honestly, if you’re not convinced we can wait a bit…” Y/N whispered as if wanting it to be a secret between us.

“Clifford,” I suddenly blurted out.

They looked at me as if they had seen a ghost. Of course, I would act the same if someone dropped a name out of nowhere in a situation like this.

“I want to name him Clifford,” I clarified. “Remember the series about that big red dog you told me you watched with your sisters when they were little?” I asked my girlfriend, who nodded. “Well, if I remember correctly, you told me that the main character of the series, who was also the owner of the dog, was named Emily.”

“What’s that got to do with it, love?” she asked, curious. Did she really not know why I had suggested that name?

“Well, it just so happens that your daughter is named Emily and she seems to have chosen for us.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up and widened exaggeratedly. I swear I saw them get a little misty when she finally seemed to understand what I meant. Immediately, she stood up, took the baby in her arms, and began to talk to her while they played as if they were the only ones in the room.

“I guess I already have a birthday present, right?” I asked the redhead, standing beside her and giving her a kiss on the forehead and another to our daughter.

“Emily and Clifford…” she murmured. “I like it. I love it, actually.”

“Well, I hope that when we have the next baby, I can nail it in the same way.”

Jade, after the last sentence that I had just said, was left dumbfounded. Lewis, for his part, tried to turn a deaf ear and, instead, told me that they would be waiting for us at the entrance to do all the necessary paperwork, not without whispering to me in the least blatant way possible that he hoped that this would be my other birthday present.

Obviously, he deserved a well-deserved punch from Y/N.

“Are you already thinking about the next baby, love? Emily hasn’t even turned one yet!”

“I always think about the second baby, to be honest,” I replied. I was convinced, and I knew as well as she did that we had barely laid the foundations of our family. “A puppy brother for Emily is fine, but a human one would be a thousand times better. Don’t you think so?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned away, heading towards the shelter entrance. I quickly caught up with her, and her laughter filled my ears.

“If you're already thinking about our second baby, then we'll have to listen to Lewis and start practising tonight before dinner with my parents,” she suggested.

Her mischievous look infected me, and I couldn’t help but return it.

“As the birthday boy, I vote for squeezing in a free practice session before dinner with my parents tonight. How does that sound?”

“Whatever you wish, birthday boy,” she replied. “But I hope you come up with a good enough excuse for them not to suspect anything when we arrive late, and also when you ask if they can keep Emily overnight.”

[12thhouse-sun]

Axioms of heavenly bodies; an intimate analysis of systems unknown and the pleasures contained therein

Gale x f!Tav

6.8k words

Explicit

Ao3 link

Tags: named Tav, modern era au, pwp, mostly smut, mystra mentions, blowjobs, cunilingus, penis in vagina sex, science puns

banner from @firefly-graphics

Gale can’t believe she’s here in his kitchen.

He lives in a perfectly serviceable post-divorce apartment with a small and if he’s honest too small kitchen. But it’s his and she is here, sitting on prime countertop space but her dress shows off her legs and she’s drinking his wine and thus Poppy is probably the finest addition to his kitchen possible. Occasionally he’ll feel a brush against the back of his leg and he’ll turn and find her bare foot swinging away, her eyes observing his every movement over her glass of wine with a teasing look in her eye.

The talk never stops as he works, and whenever he has a few minutes to let something sit on the stove he steps in between her legs with his hands on her knees, his thumbs rubbing her soft skin as he hangs on her every word.

A few kisses are shared and all are lingering, them only having shared their first kiss but a few days ago. As such, every brush of their lips against one another feels loaded with anticipation. They also are incredibly distracting, Gale almost burning the meat on the stove when he became too enraptured with how she moaned into his mouth and he wanted to figure out how to make her make that sound again.

When he decided to “get back out there” he had intended on taking things slow with whomever he met. But his attraction to Poppy is well and truly beyond anything he could have anticipated and her obviously reciprocated attraction only amplifies his own even more. The wine helps but only to a point, Gale having to pass up a refill so he can actually finish their dinner instead of turning all the burners off and carrying her to his bedroom. Poppy does nothing to deter this, or rather she does everything to tempt him. After slicing up some cherry tomatoes he picks up a half and offers it to her, bringing it up to her mouth. Her lips sensually wrap around the juicy fruit without breaking eye contact and Gale is half-mast in no time at all.

She makes him nervous, of all things. Her mere presence is enough to soothe him and simultaneously drive him wild. His need to impress is ever-present, still not quite sure how he attracted such a vibrant woman and he is trying his best to keep her. She has this grounded nature that Mystra, who kept him at arm’s length for the entirety of their courtship and marriage, never had. Poppy may love to tease him but she doesn’t toy with him like that, she gives freely; all touches, all words, everything. Even just a look from her is enough for Gale to know that she wants to be here with him, in any capacity. He’s forgotten what it feels like to be desired, to not have to constantly chase in the hopes of receiving crumbs in return.

Even just a few nights ago at the end of their previous date, Gale found himself snogging her against her car, all hot breath and frantic hands, in public. Mystra would have never, even when their relationship was finally out in the open, even when they were long-married. He’s barely known Poppy a month and she’s shown him more affection than Mystra had in their 15 year-long relationship. He told her as much, feeling awfully raw and vulnerable after being so thoroughly kissed by her and she replied with a resolute, “Then clearly you need to make up for lost time,” before kissing him once more.

“Can you bring our wine to the table, my heart? Dinner will be ready in a moment.”

“Your heart?” she asks wryly, jumping off the counter nimbly. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you,” he emphasizes. “I’m sorry to say you have replaced that all-important organ, I hope you understand. Terribly sorry.”

“I can think of much worse fates,” she murmurs, bridging the distance between them with half a step and kissing him on the cheek. Gale can’t help but stare at her and warm at her closeness, at how her pupils are dilated slightly and how her mouth is pink and swollen from the wine and the kisses. Grasping her by the waist, he pulls her in for a quick kiss, earning him a most delightful giggle, before letting her continue on her way.

Despite how quiet her feet are on his hardwood floors, he hears her stop and effuse a quiet, “Oh hey there, pretty lady.”

Gale looks behind him and sees that Poppy has crouched on the floor and is looking at Tara who has decided to emerge from one of her hiding spots. His mottled Maine Coon and oldest friend rubs her cheek up against the corner of the wall and stares at Poppy, taking her in from a safe distance.

“Ah, apologies if she doesn’t seem interested, she’s quite particular and doesn’t get overly familiar with new people.”

“That’s fine,” Poppy replies, keeping her voice soft and low. “I’m willing to put in the work. Whatever pace she wants, I’ll follow.”

No food in danger of burning any longer, Gale begins to plate while stealing distracted glances over at Poppy, who has reached out a hand for Tara to smell. Tara, old stubborn girl that she is, takes her time making her way closer and at first seems to be wholly uninterested in Poppy, giving their guest her best cold shoulder. But it’s when Gale looks away that he catches the slightest gasp that has him whip his head around to find Tara primly sniffing Poppy’s outstretched hand, Poppy not giving any excitement away except in her eyes, not wanting to startle Tara. 

But it’s the next thing that’s even more surprising—instead of sniffing Poppy and walking away, Tara instead tucks her head and pushes her cheek into Poppy’s hand, asking for pets. Poppy’s mouth is agape in awe and triumph, and dutifully begins scratching at the spot behind her ear that Tara has requested.

Gale is dumbfounded, not having seen Tara treat a guest like that in…well quite some time. He wracks his brain to remember all the times this has not happened and it occurs to him that any houseguest she has met has been a friend of Mystra’s, Tara never taking kindly to his ex either now that he thinks about it. It’s as he’s wrapped in his own thoughts that he doesn’t register that Poppy now fully sits on the floor and Tara crawls into her lap, batting her paw at Poppy’s other hand, asking for even more attention. Just like with him, Poppy gives her affections freely, scratching Tara behind both ears and singing her name over and over again with a different intonation each time, as if she’s tasting a new food and trying to get a sense of it. 

He can’t help it. Without thinking about it, Gale pulls out his phone and swipes over to the camera app, aiming it across the tiny kitchen to where Poppy sits with Tara in her lap, smugly accepting pets from her new thrall. Poppy hasn’t stopped singing Tara’s name, adding in some hums here and there clearly trying to fit something together and it’s after a few more mumbled words that something coherent quavers throughout the small apartment.

“Oh hey there Tara

What’s it like to be a kitty?

I’ve heard so much about you and 

Tonight you look so pretty, yes you do…”

She’s singing. About his cat. To his cat to the tune of…is that? “Is that the Plain White T’s?” he asks incredulously. “Did you change the lyrics of ‘Hey There Delilah’ to be about my cat?”

Poppy tears her attention away from Tara at his words without stopping her hand’s attentions upon her. “And so what if I have?” she asks with a grin.

Gale can’t stop the look of complete and utter adoration that possesses his face. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this happy. He imagines a similar image of Tara draped over Poppy’s lap like she is now but Poppy is dressed down, comfortably, and sitting on his couch next to him—no, laying against him while he reads. A lazy Sunday, just the three of them, something Gale now wants so very desperately. More than he’s wanted anything else in quite some time. 

The moment ends, however, Tara’s head shooting around to something only she can hear and she bolts away into the living room for some feline-related shenanigans. Poppy stands, stretching her back and making it pop before turning back to him. She’s smiling wide, in that irresistible dress, and covered in cat hair. Gale just might be falling in love.

“There’s a lint roller by the entryway if you need it,” he suggests, portioning out their dinner onto plates.

Poppy glances down at herself and the copious amount of cat fur that covers her front. “As rewarding as that was, I will take you up on that.” 

Dinner is served and anticipation thrums under his skin. Their conversation never stops, a boon to Gale as he has no idea what he would do if there were any silence between them. He still itches to apparate her to his bedroom and she continues to not help by tangling her feet with his own under the table. Does she like feet? He would give it a try, for her. 

Even dessert passes through smoothly, Gale’s galaktoboureko he slaved over yesterday going over well with the woman next to him. Poppy hums and moans over her first bite and Gale feels his pants tighten even more at the decadent sound.

Poppy almost gets one over on him and tries bringing dishes to the kitchen to clean them but he deftly brushes her off, stealing the plates right out of her hands and quickly loading the dishwasher. Only one more thing is on his mind tonight and he intends to follow through.

When he leaves the kitchen, he finds Poppy looking over his bookshelves by the hallway, taking in his collection. He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, planting soft kisses on her shoulder and slowly traveling up her neck. She melts into him, one of her hands coming up to weave into his hair, encouraging his attentions. 

Hungry, so very hungry for her, he spins her around and captures her lips in a fierce kiss, pulling her into him by her hips. They’re alone. Beautifully, gloriously, alone, and now he can do with her as he likes.

They stumble down the hallway, Poppy’s hands tugging at his clothes as they go. So lost in her, Gale doesn’t notice how effective she is until he feels a cold wall press against his bare back, his sweater and shirt discarded somewhere back down the hall. Her hands make quick work of his belt and quickly enough his now fully-hard length is in her warm hands. Poppy’s lips move from his lips to his jaw, to his neck, down his chest and stomach, until he opens his eyes in a haze to see her kneeling before him, pumping his cock in front of her face.

Suddenly overcome—this is now how this was supposed to go, she doesn’t need to do this—Gale cups her face and pulls her back so she looks at him. 

“Darling, he gasps, “You don’t need to do that. Let’s move onto the bedroom.”

She kneels there, eyes black as night and glazed over with unmistakable desire that contradicts everything Gale has ever known about this sort of encounter and her brow furrows just a bit as if something just occurs to her. “She never did this for you, did she?”

He has told Poppy only a little about Mystra. They had been seeing each other for such a short time thus far, and he didn’t want to inundate her with the details of that whole sordid affair. But clearly it was enough for her to be able to hit the nail right on the head of this particular situation. Mystra never did this for him, vocally revolted it in fact. And so seeing Poppy nuzzle against his arousal with obvious want short-circuits something in his brain.

“Never,” he utters, trying to make sense of this woman below him. 

Poppy leans back and reaches a hand up, taking one of his own in hers. This one act is so unbelievably grounding, Gale doesn’t realize he had felt unmoored until the feeling dissipates just by her touch.

He shakily removes his other hand from her hair and cups her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheekbone.

Poppy stands, pressing herself fully against him and still gripping his hand. “Well professor, if you’re so concerned about my enjoyment I have a proposition for you. An experiment, in fact.”

His mind buzzes with her using those words in this context and his curiosity is piqued.

Gale merely nods, signaling for her to continue.

Poppy takes the hand she holds and guides it under her dress, pulling aside her panties so that his fingers directly touch her arousal. They both moan, Poppy at the relief and Gale in shock at how wet she already is.

“You haven’t touched me yet, but this is all you,” she says breathlessly. “Aren’t you curious to see how much wetter I’ll be after I go down on you?”

“You’re this wet already?” he asks, awed. He slides his fingers through her slick and pushes a single finger into her, enjoying how her mouth hangs open in pleasure, reveling in how hot and wet and soft she is.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all evening, all day.” Poppy steps closer so that she speaks directly into his ear, “I think about you when I’m home in bed, imagining all the things you’ll do to me, imagining you fucking me, imagining sucking your cock until you come in my mouth.” She moans out the last few words and Gale feels her gush over his hand at just the mention of going down on him.

If he was unmoored before he’s lost to the wind now, but with Poppy at the helm, pulling him hard and fast down into heady arousal that completely and utterly overtakes his mind and all his senses. Cupping her sex, he thrusts his finger into her and grinds his palm against her clit, making Poppy cry out and sling her arms around his shoulders, hips rolling into his hand, begging for more.

She is intoxicating, Gale notes every move she makes, every sound. He has never experienced anything more glorious, more beautiful. He feels dumb, of all things, brain sluggish with how all his blood is rushing elsewhere. He feels her slip and so he wraps his other arm around her, keeping her from falling. Every breath of hers comes out as a gasping pant, so different from how she normally composes herself. He’s always liked the idea of being worshiped, of being adored. If she’s this worked up by just kisses and his hand, what will she be like when he has more of her? What will she be like if he listens to how much she wants to please him, and lets her?

“You really want to taste me? To get me off with your mouth?” Gale shudders as he keeps working her with his fingers.

Her “yes” comes breathlessly, ending on a whine, her tongue flashing out to lick her lips and Gale is entranced by the action. 

“Well I can’t have you kneeling on the hardwood floor, let’s get you undressed and in my bed, shall we?”

Gale removes his hand from her and as he guides her down the hall by the small of her back. He licks his fingers clean, groaning at her taste. He can’t wait to taste all of her.

Once in his bedroom, he closes the door for no Tara interruptions, and is upon her once more, kissing her and guiding her backwards to his bed. Her hands are busy, tugging on his pants and underwear until Gale stops to step out of them, now fully bare. But unlike him, she’s still fully dressed, this damnable woman.

He pushes her onto the bed, hands roving down her back to try and find the zipper while he kisses and licks at her neck. Poppy’s hands are everywhere, touching every inch of skin she can find. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she coos. 

“I’m just Gale,” he murmurs into the crook of her neck, “but I appreciate the affectation nevertheless.” His joke has her scoffing into the dark bedroom and it’s at that moment that Gale’s fingers finally grasp the tiny zipper pull and finally pull this dress away from her body. 

He backs away for a moment to switch on his bedside light as the dress pools on the floor between them. Looking back the dim yellow light casts a warm glow over her, alighting her body to him. She sits there, draped across his bed, looking utterly divine. 

Poppy still wears her bra and underwear but when he kneels on the bed to cage himself over her, she instead meets him and pulls him down so that he’s propped up against the pillows. Her mouth returns to his, kissing him eagerly, hands dancing over his chest. Gale has no time to feel self-conscious as she kisses and nips her way down his chest and stomach, he’s not sure he even has the brainpower. Her dark pink hair pours over his skin like water and he pulls it back with a hand so he can see her face.  

Finally reaching her quarry, Gale once again finds her face nuzzling against his impossibly hard member, and he moans at just a brush of her cheek against his sensitive skin. She finally raises her eyes to his and he can see her asking a silent question, if he still wants this. He nods, nervous but also so terribly excited.

She starts by mouthing at his cock, leaving open-mouthed kisses up and down his length. Gale can’t help but tremble under her touch and his hand in her hair flexes as he tries his best to not thrust into her face, especially when she hasn’t even put him in her mouth yet.

This is made difficult when her tongue finally makes an appearance, swirling circles into his skin while her mouth sucks along his sides. The whine he squeaks out would be embarrassing if it weren’t for how Poppy’s eyes flashed at him in triumph and lust in response to the noise. She continues her work, one hand grasping him at the root and pumping gently while she drools all over his cock.

Just when he feels like he can’t take it any longer, she swirls her tongue around his soft and sensitive head, closes her eyes, and begins to take him in her mouth. His eyes close involuntarily and the groan he unleashes ripples throughout his whole body along with the pleasure. Poppy is done teasing him now and gets to work, working more of his length into her mouth in consistent strokes while her hand gripping him pleasures what she cannot reach. Her head bobs up and down beneath his hand and while his other hand grips the duvet. If he had enough blood left in his brain, he’d be worried about how he’s coming first, about how she hasn’t been taken care of yet, that he should stop her before she finishes him. But he’s unable to think through all of that when her mouth feels incredible and her tongue is doing whatever maddening thing it’s doing whenever she slides down his length each time. 

So lost in it all, he doesn’t realize until it’s already happening that the head of his cock is hitting something and when he opens his eyes he sees that Poppy’s hand has been removed and her nose is almost pressed into his abdomen. Her eyes water and make her makeup run and drool pools over his balls and he has never seen anything more beautiful. He’d be concerned for her comfort if it weren’t for how she’s humming in pleasure around him, how her hands now grip his hips as if he were to float away, her thumbs rhythmically rubbing circles into his skin in time with her bobs.

It’s so overwhelming, all of it, and his end is fast approaching out of nowhere. 

“Poppy, I’m going to come,” he gasps. He doesn’t recognize his voice, how desperate and raw he sounds. His words embolden her and she works faster, backing off his length enough so that she’s no longer choking on him and giving room for one of her hands to return to its spot on his cock. She’s so good at this, taking him like this. Even any of the attempts at this pre-Mystra pale in comparison to how she’s pleasuring him now. Poppy keeps pace, pushing him farther, farther, until he cries out raw and vulnerable, shooting ropes and ropes of spend into her mouth.

It feels an age before his mind clears, the orgasm having rippled through him like a lightning bolt. Opening his eyes, he finds Poppy peering at him, looking quite pleased with herself. He opens his mouth to say something but stops short when she opens her mouth and he sees all of his seed pooled in her mouth and about to pour out before she shuts her mouth and visibly swallows, licking her lips afterwards.

Of one mind, he releases her hair and grabs her by the shoulders, hauling her up until she’s face to face with him. He kisses her like she’s the air he breathes, he kisses her so thoroughly that he tastes more of himself than he does her. Encompassing her with his arms, he turns them over so that their positions are switched, Poppy’s shoulders and head now propped up by the pillows.

She is still more clothed than him, a tragedy that must be resolved with due haste. Gale reaches behind her while he continues to explore her mouth, grasping at the hooks to her bra until it comes undone. Backing off to remove the garment, his eyes are arrested by two glittering bars piercing her nipples. 

A growl he didn’t know he could produce rumbles through him and he descends upon her, lavishing her breasts with his mouth and hands, his plan to continue undressing her temporarily forgotten. If her noises earlier when she was wrapped in his arms in the hallway, the mewls and keens she utters as he obsesses over her breasts are on another level. Both of her hands tangle their fingers in his hair and he feels how her hips roll into his stomach, aching for friction. 

Removing himself from one of her breasts with a pop, he looks up to her and sees her debauched, eyes heavy-lidded and lower lip quivering with every panting breath. Satisfied, he returns to his original plan and kisses down her front until he reaches her lace underthings, deftly removing the final barrier between them.

Fully bare to each other now, Gale pushes her legs back, exposing herself entirely to him, and dives in, all restraint gone. She is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, every drop ambrosia. Oh, how he wanted to take his time, oh how he wanted to tease her and build her up slowly. But fresh off of his own wild orgasm and tasting how wet she is for him after all that, he has become a man obsessed. 

She was right, she is impossibly wetter after pleasuring him, without a single touch from himself or one of her hands. Gale laps up every drop and begs for more, sliding his tongue up and down her folds, teasing her entrance for more. One of his hands comes up and presses atop her mound, pulling it back to expose her clit for him. Moving his lips up to kiss and suck on her clit has Poppy bucking against his face, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard. 

He hungers for her, all of her. Gale wants no, needs nothing but for her to fall apart on his tongue, to hear her scream his name. And with how she’s gasping his name as he ravishes her, he is very likely to get his wish. Gale Dekarios is very good at achieving whatever he sets his mind to, after all.

He desperately wishes he could spend all night between her legs, the weight of her thighs on his shoulders something that he finds simultaneously comforting and deeply riling. He just came a few minutes ago but his desire hasn’t abated in the slightest, if anything it has only increased, magnified, in the wake of all of her before him, under him, tasted by him. 

Poppy on the other hand hasn’t stopped trembling since he unveiled her breasts, every action enough to make her whimper and gasp. He’s heard her sing and she has one of the most beautiful singing voices he’s ever heard, but these noises are on another level and he has a deep-seated need to learn every way he can produce each of those sounds by pleasuring her.

Between how wet she is and his added fluids, there’s a puddle forming under where he works but he doesn’t give a damn. The sheets can be washed whenever, Poppy must be attended to now.

Despite the pace at which he started, Gale does not slow down. He ruthlessly devours her like she’s his last meal, like he just spent years in the desert without a drop of water, and she pays him back with her sweet, sweet, sounds.

“Gale,” she quavers. “I’m so close, I’m so close, fucking hell you’re so fucking good at this—”

The praise pours over him like hot water, rippling through him and straight to his core, his cock twitching in acknowledgement of all that is happening. He listens to her and doesn’t stop, his thumb on her clit and his tongue all over the rest of her, willing her to come.

It surprises him, her hips thrust forward once harder than they have been and then she’s shaking, crying out his name and working through her orgasm on his tongue just as he wished. Gale keeps working her until her hands are no longer tugging but pushing his head, and he reluctantly extricates himself from her legs, his face completely drenched in her.

Poppy has turned to a literal puddle before him, a sheen of sweat over her skin and her limbs laying almost lifelessly upon his bed. Her breaths come in shudders as she regains herself, coming out of the haze of ecstasy. He takes her in from where he kneels before her, spotting tattoos normally covered by clothing he has yet to admire and he realizes that he has yet to take in all of her like he originally intended to for this evening.

He doesn’t realize that he was lost in thought over this, over her, until movement catches his eye: her hand raising up to beckon him closer. Poppy’s eyes are now open and they are full of awe and something Gale cannot place. Gale comes as he’s called, kneeling over her and kissing her collarbone and neck, feeling her overstimulation shakes from his attentions. 

“You’ve been keeping that trick up your sleeve this whole time?” Poppy jests, her voice hoarse.

“Now, to reduce that to a trick I find belittling of the art of cunnilingus and as for sleeves,” he raises one arm, “none here to be seen.” This earns him a trill of giggles from the beauty beneath him. He can’t help it, he leans down to kiss her and she hums into his mouth, cupping his face with her hands. He’s certainly getting her arousal all over her face but that does not stop her from kissing him deeply, lingering every time they pull away slightly.

Loath to break the kiss, but with a new goal at the forefront of his mind, Gale sits up and drags his hands down the front of her chest. “Pardon me, I must now take my time with you after being so effectively swept up by your wiles,” he drawls. This earns him yet another giggle and he sets his focus to the rest of her, leaning down to kiss her sternum.

Gale lingers over every inch of her, attempting to dedicate all of her to memory. Poppy is perfection, whether beneath his gaze, under his fingers, or teased by his mouth, to the point of obsession. She is impossible yet so very real and grounded and here with him. He takes mental notes of every freckle, every scar, every line of every tattoo; where she is ticklish, where she tenses under his touch, where she hums and blooms under him. She is delightfully responsive, a novelty to him. Mystra had seemed to be, at first, but as the years went on her enthusiasm had waned, making him want to try harder. But this? How a brush of his beard against her breasts makes her shiver? Unheard of. He needs more of it, of her.

“Why do I feel as though I’m under one of your microscopes?”

His trance is broken then, and he looks up at her from her abdomen where he is inspecting a particularly rougher looking scar there, likely from the removal of her appendix. Her gray eyes are alight with amusement and now he feels as though the tables are turned and he is under her microscope and not the other way around.

“Forgive me, I am merely familiarizing myself with my most remarkable discovery to date. Surely you’ll understand I must commit a not insignificant amount of time into admiring you, enjoying you. Taking note of every lovely bit of you–my yield thus far is 100% by the way,” he ends with a wink.

She scoffs at his bad joke but she’s still smiling that ever-brilliant smile. “With your already busy schedule? How ever will you find the time?”

“I would quit my job and spend the entirety of my days obsessing over you,” he declares easily.

She laughs, “You like the stars too much, you couldn’t give them up for long.”

“On the contrary, as I would have this heavenly body to become my muse,” he breathes, roving his hands over her sides.

“I can’t wait to find your papers about me on Google Scholar.”

“Oh, not just papers. Poems, essays, hell I would write novels upon novels for and about you,” he says, kissing down her chest.

“Mmmm—all I’m seeing is a lot of talk and not a lot of writing.”

Gale leans forward, pressing his chest into hers and his now-hard cock against her folds. The resultant gasp that escapes her mouth could only possibly be described in song or even dance. He would learn, of course. Would learn and do anything for her. “Oh really? You’d like me to grab pen and paper this very instant to get started? There’s no other action you’d like me to take?” he says, rolling his hips into hers.

Poppy rolls her hips back into his and he can’t hold back the groan that slips past his lips. Her eyes flash teasingly at him, beginning to glaze over with lust once more. “I never said that…but clearly you’re interested in some more immediate research. To further explore these systems unknown.”

“Experiments must be duplicated thrice to ensure accuracy of course. We’ve completed our first one, but we have two more to go. Is my lovely assistant and object of my study ready for such an endeavor?” 

“R-ready whenever you are,” she shudders.

“Then let’s begin, shall we?”

His fingers slide easily through her slick folds, down towards her slit. He dances around her opening, watching her face to take in all of her gorgeous expressions. Her mouth falls open with a soundless “o”, her hips trembling beneath his touch. After ensuring his finger is suitably lubricated, he slides it inside her slowly, taking in every inch of her. Crooking his finger up, he finds that soft spongy spot and begins petting it with the pad of his finger, taking his time, teasing her with what’s to come. Gale had intended on continuing this motion but deepening it, only to find that in his hand’s current position, his palm almost fully cups her mound and presses against her and at just a brush of the flat of his hand against her lips Poppy’s hips are grinding against him, chasing her pleasure. He presses back, not one to miss out on a new discovery 

Her breasts bounce with her efforts and Gale takes his free hand to capture one of them, kneading the soft flesh and flicking her pierced nipple, making her keen at his touch. He files away the observation that her breasts are incredibly sensitive for experimentation at a later date.

Pressing his free hand flat on top of her mound, his thumb sliding down just past her lips to graze her clit. Simultaneously, he slides two fingers of his other hand inside her and begins a relentless rhythm. When his fingers thrust out his palm presses against her lips and the back and forth drives her crazy, making Poppy babble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me Gale—oh my gods—you’re so hot whatthefuck.” He preens under her words but doesn’t let that deter him, his eyes locked on her half-lidded ones intent on feeling her come on his hands.

One of her hands grips his bedsheets and the other is locked on his thigh, unmoving while the rest of her writhes beneath his hands. Pumping in and out, pushing her farther and farther, he coos to her, “Look at you. You’ve come once already and you’re so eager for another. Are you going to come for me again? I know you’ve got it in you, love.” Her eyes grow wide and before she can answer him her walls clench around him erratically and she swears, coming and gushing all over his hand.

Gale feels as though his body is glowing under the pride of making her come a second time, just as delicious as the first time. He cleans his hands once more with his mouth, not tiring of her sweet, sweet taste. 

Poppy recovers faster than the first orgasm, pulling him on top of her and reaching for his cock between them.

“Slow down, beautiful, slow down,” he soothes, kissing up and down her neck. “We have all the time in the world.”

“I think I’m addicted to you,” she breathes. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“I’ll be sure to include that in the abstract.”

She swats him on the shoulder, without any heat to it, and just giggles once more.

“I think I know the answer, but I would be remiss to not ask it, do you want this?”

“Of course I do—”

“With a condom?”

“I have my implant now please come inside me.”

“As you wish,” he hums, his body thrilling at her words.

Sitting up, he grasps his cock, pumping a few times and groaning at how sensitive he is, how he’s come once already tonight and he’s ready to burst again. In front of him lies this glorious, wanting woman and he cannot deny her. One of her hands shoots out towards him and he takes it, holding it while his other hand guides his cock into her. Her legs spread wider as he pushes and even with just his head in the sensations are overwhelming. She is so unbelievably tight and hot and wet and—gods he can’t help the whimper that falls from his lips.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, “I don’t think I’ll be able to last very long.” He’s ready for the rejection, the snappy retort to not bother, that he should take care of himself.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she winks, breathless, perfect, so perfect. He has never felt more seen, more appreciated, more adored, more desired than with her. He has never felt more whole than when he’s with her. He knew Mystra appreciated his intelligence but even that often felt inadequate, but he never finds himself lacking when with Poppy. He instinctually reaches for that feeling but does not find those supposed gaps and instead finds himself, not quite as she sees him but enough. And when compared to the absence of, even a little feels like a bounty.

I love you. It appears, fully formed in his mind and his body warms in waves at the thought.

I love you, I love you, I love you. It’s too soon, it’s far too soon but oh how he’s so far gone for her. He’d do anything for her. Without question, without hesitation. He realizes that he’s stopped moving and, shaking his head, flexes his hand in hers.

Trying to focus on his breathing, he keeps pushing until he bottoms out, his hips flush against her. If just his tip inside of her was overwhelming this is somehow even more so, Gale’s mind swimming with the effort to not come right this very moment. He feels as though he’s in the ocean, choppy and windy, like he could be ripped away at any moment by a stray current. But he breathes, he holds, and once his mind settles enough, he pulls out slowly, all the way, until just his tip is inside her where he thrusts back in, a little harder this time. Gale feels how her hips reach up to meet him and he stares at her in awe, in awe of her desire for him so apparent and raw. He wants her too. So very much. And that’s where his resolve begins to break, his hand that had been on his cock planting on the bed next to her head while the other still grasps hers and he pumps into her faster and faster as words of adoration pour out of his mouth.

“God, you’re incredible.” 

I love you. 

���Perfect, you’re perfect.” 

I love you. 

“Stay with me, stay with me now.”

I love you.

The obscene sounds of their coupling fill the room, the bed rocking and squeaking under their efforts. Poppy meets every thrust, wrapping an arm around his neck to give her leverage. She babbles as well but her own words are less coherent, mostly swears and different intonations of his own name. “Fuck, Gale you fuck me so good—ohmygod, shit, just like that gorgeo—ah!.”

He seems to have caught an angle that she loves and so he adjusts. Gale knows he’s got it right when all her words fail her, now all her noises consist of gasps and pants and he continues to fuck her.

He thought he’d last longer having come once already but he’s been thinking about this all day, and even longer before that if he’s honest with himself, and his newfound feelings only make his desire even more heady, even more amplified. To the point where he’s now losing control, he can’t hold back any longer.

“Poppy, I’m so close. I’m so close,” he whines, peppering her face with kisses. 

She snakes a hand between them to touch herself and the other cups his cheek, her eyes boring into his. “Come for me,” she begs. “Come for me, fill me, I want to feel you come.”

His jaw slackens, mouth agape at her words. Gale’s thrusts become erratic as his resolve snaps completely and he’s coming, thrusting through it all in hopes that she comes one more time. 

Just as he finishes, Poppy falls apart, her walls fluttering around his length now beginning to feel oversensitive and her hips slapping against his own.

Gale collapses, aiming for the side of her so as to not crush her, his softening prick slipping out of her. His skin tingles all over with goosebumps as the sweat on his skin begins to cool. 

Their heavy breaths fill the room, both taking their time to come back to this moment and not wanting to break it. Tiredness begins to creep across his mind when her voice cuts through it with words he doesn’t expect: “I love you, too.”

His eyes snap open and meet hers, full of what he now sees is love but his face heats at the realization. 

“Oh, don’t tell me I was saying that out loud. Please don’t feel pressured to say it back, I—”

“I do mean it, I love you. You’re quite easy to love, in fact.” She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, Gale notching his mouth over hers for a short but sweet kiss. 

“Now, let me go clean up and when I can get back we can discuss your findings. I hope you took notes.”

It’s now Gale’s turn to laugh, more comfortable and loved than he’s felt in ages, pulling her in for another kiss before she goes.

@dr-demi-bee @lanafofana @spooky-lil-bee @feedthepheasants @waterdeep-weavemoss @crimson-and-lavender

[generalsdiary]

Dr. Ratio w/ Kavetham parents (x Aventurine)

warnings: none

word count: 5.7k

a/n: after the intro (one or two paragraphs) it switches to Ratio’s pov dw (beginning with the first line of dialogue), also if you don’t like the Aventio ship- it is only mentioned after half of the writing. and in case you’re only here for Aventio- it begins halfway. tho I do recommend reading the full work for the best experience ^^

description: let's talk about Ratio's parents. I have been going on and leaving comments/hiding in hashtags here and there about how much I like the theory/fanon of Alhaitham and Kaveh being his parents (fluff, nostalgia)

now let us take into consideration that Teyvat does exist in the canon of Star Rail- and (if you've read/watched a few analysis) you might know that the planet on the loading screen is literally Teyvat- and now if you're questioning how is it separated from everything (read; not getting checked by the IPC) and similar- well.. it is locked off of any access. I'm truly not the right person to dwell into this, so do explore more about that if it has piqued your interest, and without further ado, these are my thoughts on our favorite canon couple in Genshin being Ratio's parents.

I can see Veritas coming back home (by some means) and his dads being just over the moon delighted to see him.

Kaveh would most likely ask him to sculpt something with him. Veritas, as it is portrayed, he sculpts mostly himself, and (in Kaveh’s voice lines he says sculpting is his hobby) Kaveh enjoys that as well. so, it makes perfect sense that Kaveh taught him that, just a little Veritas wobbling around and putting his hands into the grayish looking water, little hands shaping the sculpture- Kaveh giggling at the sight, gods Kaveh would look so beautiful in that setting, Alhaitham smiling fondly- he won’t touch the water or the statue- the texture ain’t right. so, when adult Veritas comes back home for a longer visit, of course Kaveh insists on his son sculpting something with him.

“how have you been, Veritas? it has been quiet without you rambling with yourself in the middle of the night about the problems of the world” Kaveh snickers and pours fresh ground coffee.

“I do hope you have been taking care of yourself, you shouldn’t let your job rule over your private life.” Alhaitham adds.

“I- I have been fine, and no my job isn’t suffocating me, dad.” He answers in that annoyed voice reminding his fathers of a teenager. “I never said suffocating.” Alhaitham quietly adds, his son revealing himself in his word choice. He doesn’t comment any further. The obvious is clear to all three men.

he goes to his room, fresh, clean as if he never left. his walls covered in sheets of paper with math equations, sketches of various buildings (even an attempt to sketch his father’s beautiful work of the palace of Alcazarzaray), quotes from those close to him in case memory ever betrayed him. the warm sunlight dripping into his room, the scent of spices, fresh coffee, herbal tea and warm cotton letting him know that he is home. nostalgia isn’t something he allows to rule over him, but in this moment, he is weak to it and indulges in the safety of his room. the rough texture of the sheets soothes him and all the puzzle pieces seem to fall in their place. he needed this. his dads, this vacation. he falls asleep with a small smile on his face that night, there’s perhaps no better place to be than home.

little kid Veritas was truly born into the right family with his intellect. perfect parents to take care of all of his “quirks”, and hunger for knowledge. and, Alhaitham and Kaveh are so proud of the man he grew up to be, “you know that love for math and numbers, is all you.” Alhaitham comments, not raising his gaze from the book in his hand, the early morning sun just barely grazing the room. Kaveh smiles and walks over to his partner, his lips leaving a soft kiss on the top of the younger man’s head, “he is equally you and me, Alhaitham.” both men smile for the next minute, Alhaitham’s free arm moving around Kaveh’s waist since he stood right next to where he sat. “except the hair, that he takes after his uncle.” Kaveh laughs melodically at that remark, “well, he crafted the hair genome-altering potion himself because we allowed him to ask Tighnari too many questions which he was all too happy to answer.” Alhaitham nods, “it fits him. the indigo. can’t even remember what it was before if I’m being honest.” Kaveh all but shrieks, turning his voice to a whisper to not wake their son, “that’s because he did it when he was 4.”

speaking of his ‘uncle’, Wanderer is someone Veritas was very fond of. or rather, is still very fond of. such a genius mind, a clever being with a puppet body, snarky, sarcastic- Veritas felt confused why he didn’t hang out even more often with his dads; they seemed like the perfect match of personalities and intellect. nonetheless, he did come over occasionally, and was always met with, something he now knows to cherish; the soft smile, the gentle voice and the cozy embrace of his uncle who likes tolerates children. and especially since he didn’t come over often, teenage Veritas would run away take a walk to go see him, he always looked young so that made him seem even more approachable to the young boy. he’d seek knowledge, and intelligent conversations- not that his fathers or his other uncles didn’t provide that. he simply needed someone outside of that roster. an outsider. well… half of an outsider, who can keep secrets. not that he’d have many secrets to share, Wanderer would gladly amuse the kid, happy with the respect the child gave him and intrigued by the questions he'd hear.

“alright kid, it is late, off you go.”

“it’s dark yes, you won’t see me off?”

“you can walk, can’t you? now go.” Wanderer zooms off into the shadows. Veritas developed confidence in his late night walks home and bravery, not knowing- until maybe in his adult life, that Wanderer always flew above him on his way home. making sure that he was safe. and every time, maybe out of respect, maybe out of a sense of duty, or perhaps… even… companionship? friendship? he’d slip a note under the door ‘the kid was with me, W’

“is uncle Wanderer still in Sumeru?” Veritas indulged between bites of pita pockets. he just did a workout session with Alhaitham, his dad is where he picked up the healthy habit of working out and staying active.

“he should be. I mean he didn’t move out to a different region if that’s what you mean” Kaveh answered with a nod in Alhaitham’s direction, to confirm or debunk what he said in case he had different information. Alhaitham shook his head, he didn’t know anything else, “he should be in Sumeru city.”

Veritas makes his way on the incline of the Divine Tree, last step, and, “ah well if it isn’t my favorite nephew?” the voice said sarcastically. a whoosh of wind and the short man with a large hat- obscuring anyone’s view, flew down.

Veritas smiled, “uncle. it has been very long. and the years have… treated you well” he chuckled, attempting to tease the older man.

Wanderer scoffed, “is that some poor attempt at a joke? perhaps, you should spend more time with the general on this vacation. brush up your…” vague gesture, “comedy.” he hovered and sat down on the stone wall.

“I doubt comedy is something I’m fit to pursue.”

they talked for hours that day. catching up and Veritas dumping, if at all possible, even more questions onto his uncle about life and existentialism. the sun started setting and Wanderer got up, ending their conversation as always before it got too late in the night. he gestured to Veritas to come closer, to which he bent lower- the height difference was painfully obvious, “you really grew so big.” Wanderer softly commented, Veritas could see the same kindness and endearment in his eyes that he saw as a child. Veritas always meant much more to Wanderer than he ever let on. to be called uncle, considered a family member, and not be asked to change himself. Wanderer appreciated Alhaitham and Kaveh, and his nephew is someone he’d die for. he pinched his cheek, “you take care of yourself, young man.” Wanderer smiled for a second and flew up out of sight. and, just like all those years ago, he flew above him out of sight, making sure he got safely home… after all, Veritas isn’t a vision carrier.

“puppets- puppets can’t cry, stop this” he’d mumble to himself as a few more teardrops fell on the parchment paper he pushed under the door.

‘the kid was with me’

second night he dreamed. Nahida smiled in this dream and waved “welcome home, Veritas”, once awake he sat up immediately out of breath.

stepping into the kitchen and there she sat.

“oh Veritas, it is so good to see you” she chirps, jumping off of her chair and walking over, he bends over to pick her up so she may properly hug him.

“auntie Nahida- I- I seem to have forgotten you knew the exact moment I laid my head on the pillow two nights ago that I got back home” Veritas would mumble, he didn’t realize that he would be this happy to see her.

“oh- Lesser lord Kusanali, you didn’t use the door- um- would you like some tea?”

“Lesser lord Kusanali, good morning, I’ll fetch the tea.” Alhaitham would add, making Kaveh sit down so he doesn’t stumble over something, his husband is always jittery when the archon comes to visit.

being close to Wanderer meant Nahida heard of him, and of course, she knew about Alhaitham’s and Kaveh’s son, hence upon visiting the kid often she became the auntie Nahida. Veritas grew up knowing the full truth, his dads aren’t the type to sugarcoat it or lie.

so in this embrace, Veritas realized how many questions he had for the tiny god in his arms. the god of wisdom. although, that might be impolite… he was silent for a bit.

Nahida giggled, “ask,” her legs swaying on the chair, “I know you must have so many more things you wish to know. especially with your age, doctor~” she giggled even more. and therefore it became a discussion, Veritas carefully forming his words, his dads listening to the conversation until they had to leave to lunch with friends. “come if you have time, your uncles Tighnari and Cyno will be there. they would be happy to see you.” Alhaitham adds as they leave the house.

on his way to the tavern he hears a woman yell his name, frozen in his step he turns and sees her running towards him. “Collei!” Veritas smiles, opening his arms and she jumps at him. he gives her a spin and tightly embraces her, “how have you been- you’re still amusingly short-“ he laughs, and she playfully punches him,

“is that how you greet your favorite cousin?”

“you mean my only cousin?”

“don’t get snarky with me- I got better at communication and will use sarcasm to my advantage!” Collei laughed happily as she answered. in his mind, she has always communicated well with him. he never saw any issues, only fondness for his older cousin.

they catch up on the street, his cousin is someone he cared about a lot in his youth. a peer who he didn’t shoo off, who didn’t dislike him, and who was and still is an amazing, accepting, intelligent person. one stayed and the other one moved away, yet their communication never failed, never changed, and the love always there for one another.

Cyno and Tighnari basically tackle him with love and affection. Cyno wraps him up in a blanket of dad jokes (not literal), while Veritas shares stories of foxians on the Xianzhou Luofu. it is a pleasant lunch filled with stories, and the tallest man at the table getting babied and treated as if he is fifteen years old again. somewhat bittersweet. Cyno insists they play a round of TCG, Veritas winning easily, “it is pure strategy, uncle Cyno” he tries to hide his smirk as he answers to a frowning general; Alhaitham adds quietly, “that’s my boy. well done.”

His uncle Cyno was the one to teach him Genius invocation TCG, during their trips to the desert they spent their evenings playing cards. “this is hardly fair, uncle. I keep losing” the small boy frowned.

“Veritas, when you are old enough, and more experienced you will, maybe, come close to winning.” Cyno answers, not showing mercy to the kid- he must learn the rules of the game properly, as he is teaching him survival in the desert. which, over the years of many trips, resulted in Veritas growing well acclimated to the weather conditions and scorching sun there, a good life skill to have.

on the other hand, he also grew accustomed to the moisture-heavy air and high heat of the rainforest. going on many camping trips with his uncle Tighnari. learning of different plants and creatures, gaining proficiency in biology before he even got to go to school. nights in the Gandharva Ville were also something he remembers fondly, his cousin, someone he holds in high regard, was always nice to him, pleasant, no matter his attitude and ‘adapting’ behavior. Collei never judged, they were, in a way, both patient with each other and led intellectually stimulating conversations for both parties. Veritas wouldn’t be the same man he is today if it weren’t for his peer.

Madam Faruzan is someone he didn’t expect to see in the house of Daena. he found her… interesting in his youth, but he moved past the interest when the well of knowledge for him dried up. on the other hand, Faruzan adored the little boy who was respectful and smart. they chatted for a few minutes and he quickly excused himself, otherwise, he’d have to put the bust on and the people of Sumeru have spent years not seeing such strange behavior and he knew it would attract even more attention. his younger dad’s voice would echo in his head, “it never matters if it makes others around you uncomfortable- you take care of yourself. if it helps you, if you feel better, then wear it.” and the scene of his dad placing the kid sized plaster head on his head played in Veritas’ mind. he feels incredibly lucky to have such amazing parents.

“how’s the traveler?”

“oh them? they found their sibling and I’m afraid I haven’t seen them in a bit. but they always come around, you know how they are. unpredictable~” Kaveh chuckles, and fondly recalls his friend with gold hair.

“or perhaps they changed bodies and personalities and embody someone you know outside of Teyvat.”

“daaad.” Veritas exhaled, “your attempts at humor get more annoying with years” he rolled his eyes at Alhaitham.

in a suggestive voice he joked a bit more, “maybe now they are less polite, maybe they even have- gray hair like I do.”

for a second the image of the Trailblazer flashed before his eyes but he dismissed it, “daad please can you contain yourself. I would appreciate it. those books on comedy did you no good,” his head turned to Kaveh, “dad why did you buy him that?”

“for pure shits and giggles, my dear boy.” Kaveh answered with a grin.

one can be as put together as they want and as old as they can be, but once one is home… we all turn back into children.

there was a knock on the door, Kaveh got up to open it, “good morning, yes?”

“ah hello, is doctor Ratio here- his device seems to not be working on Teyvat it seems so err…”

“Veritas it’s for you!” he said louder and turned back to face the man in front of him, “and you are?”

“dad-“ he gently pushed Kaveh aside, “you’re too flashy- get inside Aventurine!” he hissed in a hushed tone.

Veritas stands with his hand on his forehead, shaking his head gently. Kaveh seems amused with a smile on his face and sits down on the couch, next to the sofa armchair where Alhaitham made himself sit in no time. Kaveh can tell by the look in his husband’s eyes that he is entertained.

the young man, which their son addressed as a translucent quartz… Aventurine took a step towards Veritas. “hey- doc- I didn’t mean to- maybe I should’ve read some stuff about the planet before jumping-“

“maybe?” the tone of voice was obviously a displeased one, even raising in tone with a sharp glare. Veritas inhaled and exhaled. like a child doing a play he turned to face his parents, “dads, this is Kakavasha,” Aventurine did a small wave, “he is an occasional work partner of mine and I suppose that is why he came here.” he turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“well, yes, your phone- I mean device wasn’t working- actually nothing came up- I grew worried,” his voice turned into a whisper, “you know with this planet being so gatekept and outside of the IPC’s or the Aeons’ control so…”

“worried?” Veritas asked. Kaveh and Alhaitham were only missing popcorn, this has been the most entertaining thing they have watched in years. going all the way back to when they visited Fontaine and saw a wonderful drama performance.

“yes,” the blond man answered.

“let’s-“ Kaveh cleared his throat, “I’m Kaveh, Veritas’ father, this is my husband Alhaitham. why don’t you stay a bit- no need to rush off to… wherever you zapped from, hm?” he smiled.

“this, being the isolated area you claim, surely two travels in one day are not good, hm? stay the night. we will make room.” Alhaitham nodded.

and oh, Aventurine could read them in a second, street smarts this guy. he saw every single detail of the two men and how it translated into Veritas. “I’d hate to be a bother- but I’m clever enough to know you two would insist.” Aventurine smiles. Alhaitham and Kaveh hold back any laughs bubbling up their throats from giddiness. for them two, a pinning couple such as themselves, something as this short interaction between Aventurine and Veritas was as obvious as Cyno being the general Mahamatra. visible from the top of the Divine Tree. the only question was, where do they stand together?

“I. you’re right, but I don’t think it is necessary-“ Veritas begins only to be cut off by Kaveh.

“you’re forgetting yourself- didn’t you say he was flashy? you practically dragged him inside.”

Veritas cursed himself mentally, this was truly not what he had in plan. “fine. follow along, dear gambler.” he walked down the hallway and Aventurine followed quickly along.

Kaveh looked at Alhaitham with wide eyes and held back the urge to bite down on a pillow. “I will fucking scream, our son, OUR SON, got bitches?”  “was that real? that just happened, yes?”

Alhaitham was speechless in any verbal form, but his facial expression was priceless. “dear. Archons. thank you lesser lord Kusanali for blessing our boy.” Alhaitham hoped their son would never be lonely… and over the years it truly did turn him to even hope for the archons to show mercy upon him. “he also isn’t an idiot” Alhaitham continued.

“mhm, quite a beautifully well-mannered young man along with that,” Kaveh added.

inside his room, “why- this was truly unnecessary- my dads will now-“

“doc, calm down your parents are great- is this where I’ll stay?”

“this is my room!” he narrowed his eyes, Aventurine nodded and stayed quiet, “yes… this is where you’ll stay. don’t get… cocky about it”

“oh please doc, it isn’t the first time we share a bed.”

“change into something Sumeru appropriate if you wish to leave this house at any time during your stay.” Veritas ponders for a moment, “my clothes are too big and so are any of my dads- uncle Cyno is shorter than you so that’s a no, uncle Tighnari has a tail so that’s also a no, uncle Wanderer wears Inazuma-Sumeru styled clothes and also too small- I will have to buy.” he sighs after his short analysis.

“money is never the problem- credits are something I have a lot of and you know that- why?”

“they use mora here, not credits.”

Aventurine falls quiet, a world with no credits… a land of opportunity! he shall gain mora!

“no. don’t you gamble- the rules here are different-“ knock, knock.

“Veritas, will you go buy Kakavasha clothes or shall I sew something of some old pieces?” Kaveh asked against the closed door.

“I- dad can you go buy- we need to talk- I can’t at this moment.”

“yeah, I’ll go.” silence, he didn’t move away yet. “I’ll take your father with me.”

a distant muffled voice answered, “I don’t like shopping for clothes, Kaveh.” “Shush Alhaitham we are going.”

“I doubt your worry was justified- you knew you couldn’t contact me here”

“your parents seem nice. and now I’m here, so let us not dwell on would’ve, could’ve, should’ve hm?”

Veritas sighs. they exchange a few more words and he leaves for dinner with Collei previously arranged.

the sun is setting when he gets back, Aventurine got nicely acquainted with his parents and… well, Veritas is standing frozen at the entrance door. Aventurine is wearing white Sumeru style clothes, with pretty gold accents and splashes of purple and cyan. there has never been a lovelier man than him, your beauty leaves me speechless. He clears his throat, “now that you look appropriate, allow me to take you on a walk, yes?” to which the blond man obliges and they leave the house.

absentmindedly he talks of the architecture and how people live in Sumeru city. they arrive at a point that oversees the vast area towards Port Ormos and they stand there in silence for a few moments.

“the clothes are very comfortable, I hope I’m wearing them well,” Aventurine says with a big smile.

“you look…” beautiful, ravishing, heavenly, out of this world, take my hand in marriage, “…you wear them well, yes” Veritas cuts his thoughts off.

“c’mon doc, we are on your home planet, in your city. no one knows us here- at least not as the cornerstone of the Aeon of preservation and the member of the Intelligentsia guild. we can relax.”

Veritas rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath. “you’re right. … you look… beautiful. I… I bought you something- it was meant to be a gift when I got back but… here” he hands him a small blue velvet box. Veritas doubts Aventurine ever enjoys wearing jewelry, not with the way he quickly strips himself off of his rings, the watch, and necklace the moment he gets home. Aventurine opens the box and tilts his head in thought, “this is…?”

“a hairpiece. sort of like mine. a pin. I’m sure you understand.” Veritas nods to himself. Aventurine hands him the pin, a dark blue-golden piece displaying a certain mushroom. “put it on me.” Veritas’ eyes shift to the shorter man, if he wasn’t such a calm person his hands would shake in this moment. his fingers gently grip the pin and place it on the soft blond hair.

“good?”

“perfect. I chose well.” Veritas cannot hide how flustered he is at that moment despite his cold demeanor when his cheeks show a shade of pink.

“Doctor… Veritas. I would like to enjoy this vacation- with you. us, together, no one to say anything, may we… relax?” Aventurine says softly, his hand shyly coming to hold Veritas’ making him look at the man. “the view is beautiful from here, the sunset, colors, everything in warm colors, look.” he says, Aventurine shifts his gaze and Veritas keeps looking at him. he raises their joined hands and kisses his knuckles, “you mean everything to me” he whispers.

Aventurine smiles, returning his gaze to him. Veritas continues in a soft voice, “you wear the clothes well. it is… such a vision to see you in the clothing of my world. to see you standing next to me on the streets I grew up on, to see you meet my parents… also I have planned to stay for quite a while so expect to be here for at least a month or travel back to the ship.”

“I think I might stay for a few days. I like the sight of you here, you seem much more relaxed than you usually are, Doc. it’s like you feel safer here. and given how many dangerous specimens are on this planet I am surprised by that fact.” Aventurine gives his hand a small squeeze. “I’d like to get to know your family.” there’s an underlying sadness he sees in the shorter man’s eyes, perhaps the yearning for a safe family of his own.

“I have a big family, uncles, and aunts, a cousin… I’d be happy to introduce you.”

“friends? you didn’t say friends.”

“ah… those. family is what I have here. and you.” Veritas pushes the thoughts of his childhood away, friends… not something he had a big privilege of experiencing. He always preferred his uncles, aunts, truly the only real friend he ever had was Collei. perhaps the other kids weren’t even worth it.

the walk ends with them gazing at the sunset, holding hands.

at night they share his bed, his childhood bed. in the privacy of his home he feels safe enough to lean his face closer and gently kiss him. his lips pressing onto Aventurine’s with a mumble of good night. It feels surreal… his partner with him, in his arms, in his home. Aventurine that night dreams of a small white-haired person who welcomes him to Sumeru and says she is happy to meet him. in the morning when he shares the dream, between kisses Veritas lays along his jawline, the doctor stops to inform him that that was the Dendro archon, which results in a gasping Aventurine and a longer time in bed explaining the function of gods and deities in this world.

Veritas walks into the kitchen, following the scent of Sabz meat stew. his parents are in the study so he freely wraps his arms around Aventurine and lowers his head into the crook of his neck. “smells good.”

“mhm, your dad gave me the recipe- I thought I’d try it out. taste it!” Aventurine turns a bit in his arms, lips pursed blowing on the wooden spoon. it tastes good, melts on the tongue, his eyes widen and it is all the confirmation Aventurine needs. Veritas kisses his temple, “I’m so happy you’re here, Kakavasha.”

steps on the wooden floor knock him out of his bubble, his cheeks blush- being physical with his partner isn’t something he wants his parents to see. he puts the plaster head on and sits down. luckily in this household, it is perfectly normal to self-regulate in such a way. he can count on both hands just how many times he saw his dad without the noise-canceling pieces he uses. half of those were when he was sleeping, he remembers as a kid when he’d run to their bedroom, in tears from a nightmare- in mere seconds he’d have the devices on his head- be it Kaveh putting them on or he himself getting them on. after which they would both turn to comfort the small boy. any other time, was his dads quietly chatting on the sofa, and upon his arrival his younger dad would waste no time to put them on. two voices being too much. Alhaitham reassured him plenty of times so he doesn’t feel hurt by it, especially now, that he is old enough to understand; the only person he can tolerate, he enjoys listening fully to (not all the time tho) is Kaveh. to prove the case further, as a teenager he found out that his dad’s device has a mode which makes sure that his older dad’s voice always pushes through noise cancellation. true love at its finest. and what a hopeless romantic his dad is to do so and feel like that. the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. he does wear his bust much less when he is around Kakavasha.

and now not even the plaster head can hide it when he tilts his head on his hand and stares at the blond man. Alhaitham smirks, he sees through it oh so easily, “do you need any help, Kakavasha? if not, Kaveh and I are leaving to go to the Akademiya, update our retirement plans and so on. although, I’m sure my son can help out if the need arises.”

“I am doing fine so far, thank you sir”

“no need for sir, Alhaitham is fine.”

“I’d feel impolite to address my partner’s parents like that,” he speaks out loud before thinking. he stops stirring the food, when did he- how- when did he start feeling so safe that he stopped overthinking as much? Alhaitham nods with a barely noticeable smile and turns to leave the kitchen. “don’t burn the house down, you two.”

Veritas plants his face into his palms, covering the plaster head even more. Kakavasha turns around to face him when the doors close. “hah, um… sorry?”

Veritas gently takes his plaster head off with a small sigh, his cheeks are colored a light shade of pink, and eyes looking elsewhere, “it happens. I’d love to think my dad took your ‘partner’ in a business terminology, but… nobody in this household is that idiotic. and… I doubt we were any less than obvious, especially to a special case such as my parents.”

“special case?” Kakavasha hangs onto his words.

“some other time I’ll tell you about their situation- or perhaps you may ask them yourself. watch the food, dear.” Veritas gestures with his chin to the cooking pot.

Kakavasha does that indeed, chatting along with Alhaitham and Kaveh, the men more than happy to share their story- and get to know their son’s partner.

“I was told I might find you here,” he says in a soft voice, sitting next to the tall man.

Veritas raises his head from his notes. he is sitting at a large table in the house of Daena, surrounded by books, papers and a few pens. “who told you? I wasn’t avoiding you- my dad told me they added a few books and borrowed some from the Temple of silence, I couldn’t resist reading through it all.”

“your dads. am I bothering you, doc? I’m sure there are some books I can entertain myself with” Kakavasha gazes around.

“with no offense, doubtful. it is usually highly dry material, unworthy of your time and energy. I am willing to take a break, may I tempt you with a walk, dear?”

“yes, you may.” Kakavasha smiles at the flirty question.

saying goodbye is never easy. when being home is nice, pleasant- it makes it much harder. Aventurine left a week or so ago, and went back in the outer orbit of the planet. Veritas spent more time with his close family, having more shared meals and spending his early mornings in the Akademiya’s library, even going so far to visit the actual Temple of silence.

Kaveh’s arms are holding him tightly in an embrace, his voice slightly shaky, but he is trying not to let it show, “I will miss you so much, my dear boy. please stay safe, don’t get into unnecessary trouble, eat a lot, take care of yourself and you can always come home if it gets tiring. or just- one day come home to retire, maybe? and bring that boy with you, your father and I like him, he is welcome any time.”

Alhaitham’s strong arms hug him with a few pats on the back, in a monotone voice, which Veritas recognizes as warmth, he softly speaks, “I stand behind everything your dad already said. do take care of yourself, we will miss you a lot.”

“I don’t want to cry.” Veritas whispers, standing in front of his parents, Kaveh inhales sharply holding back his own tears, Alhaitham tightly holds his hand, his jaw clenched as he also tries not to grow too upset. “we shouldn’t cry,” the retired scribe says, “it isn’t good to say goodbye in tears, we will see each other again. we are immensely happy you came to see us, Veritas. I love you- we both love you, and safe travels.” he ends it with a nod, Kaveh nods as well.

“I love you too” Veritas whispers back, he jumps into both of them, hugging them one more time. he steps back, waves and, with the usage of technology unnatural to Teyvat, he is gone. Zapped away into the orbit.

“I miss him already.” Kaveh doesn’t cry as much as he thought he would when their son leaves.

“Veritas is out there doing the best he can for himself, and he isn’t alone. we both know how much it matters that he isn’t alone.” Alhaitham’s eyes appear sad despite his words. the men sit on the couch cuddled in each other’s arms. “you’re right… he isn’t alone.”

Ratio, back on the ship, eyes filled with tears threatening to drop meet the watercolor ones of his partner. “I- I… I miss them already, Kakavasha.” Aventurine walks over to hug him, his hand moving in circles on his back. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

after a few minutes, Aventurine quietly says, “we will visit them again. we can come over for my birthday? I… really enjoyed being surrounded by family. maybe you’d let me meet more of them this time, yes?”

Veritas smiles, tears dried up, he really has a way of bringing his mood up. “of course, we will visit for your birthday then.”

“I look forward to calling them my family like you do,” Aventurine adds with an all-too-familiar smile.

“is that-“ Ratio tilts his head, “is that some backward way of proposing?”

Aventurine chuckles, shaking his hands, “nope. not yet. there’s time for us to do… that”

Ratio smirks, with an exhale he leans his head on the shorter man’s shoulder, “thank you… for coming along. I’m glad you met them.”

Aventurine silently smiles and kisses his cheek. perhaps the next time they come around they will make certain vows.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Chrollo Lucilfer Yandere Analysis.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW (both non-con and dub-con), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, forced tattooing, Chrollo having a god complex but that's nothing new lol, Stockholm Syndrome, stalking, parallels to religion (mainly Judeo-Christianity), implied body transformation (using Chrollo’s book), masturbation, manipulation, and violence/gore.

Word Count: 13k.

credits to @ddarker-dreams for the yandere MBTI and like everything she writes for this creepy greaseball (check her out if you haven’t already!!) <33333

another thanks to @depravitycentral for the inspiration! check them out too!!!! their general profile and nsfw profile for mr. chrollo specifically BUT everything they write is pretty good! <33333

one last thanks to @phasmophobia-territory for the ultimate yandere types list and @blughxreader for the yandere personality meme. both have inspired the unique qualities part of this analysis, so please be sure to check them out! <333

also, for quotes i tried to do something like genshin impact/honkai: star rail voicelines so i apologize if they aren’t good (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

*~*~*~*

I look forward to living life with you from here on out. However, just know that there will be many different roads we will walk together on. Their lengths will depend on you, for better or for worse. As time goes on, however, I know that they will all end eventually.

→ Introduction.

The very definition of an empty shell, Chrollo has had his humanity stripped of him from a very young age. The only people who have ever made him feel something are all members of the Troupe or are buried underground, burning in hell or soaring above the clouds as angels, either one a much better existence than the life they all spent in Meteor City. So, when he sees you, someone who has been able to make him feel something without interacting with him at all, without the use of Nen, without even brushing your shoulder against him while running to your train in a hurry, he does not know what to do.

He feels like he is back to being a small child, roaming the streets and looking through dumpsters for anything of value trying to ignore the pain of the cuts and infections all over his body. You bring up a feeling he has not felt in years; fear. Despite this situation being far, far different from those times, his brain thinks otherwise. It sends him a fight or flight response every time he sees you, as much as he hides it, much like he hides himself among the crowds and crowds of people as he follows you home. You have resurrected a beast thought to be long dead, something innate, animal, almost carnal, without even lifting a finger.

Is this who he is, he wonders? He finally feels something, for once, a sense of belonging and identity and… humanity.

It fills him with a sense of euphoria, while you view it with dread every time his Zetsu slips for just a moment. You always look over your shoulder during those times and start walking faster, but definitely not enough to deter him, and it will never be enough.

→ Darling Character Analysis.

Creative.

Chrollo has a deep curiosity about the world and appreciates a darling who shares this thirst for knowledge and intellectual growth. The form of expression doesn't matter to him, whether it's through writing, music, or eloquent speech. What truly matters to Chrollo is that his darling can communicate uniquely and authentically.

In a concerning manner, Chrollo imitates his darling’s behaviors to an extreme degree, devouring everything they do with an insatiable appetite. It doesn't matter how his darling presents their interests to him, whether it's straightforward or not. For instance, if his darling mentions their love for playing the violin after spending days alone with only Chrollo for company, the next day a brand new violin will mysteriously appear on the table beside their side of the bed. Chrollo will secretly learn to play the violin himself, the one he purchased as well as the one he gifted to his darling, practicing when they are not paying attention or are fast asleep.

As a result, his darling may find themselves obligated to reciprocate this behavior by learning Chrollo's favorite musical pieces.

He will experience immense joy, perhaps so much that he will hold them down on the bed and shower their face with kisses while they squirm and kick. Even when they eventually stop, he will continue, disregarding their pleas for him to stop.

As always, his strength is overpowering, leaving you with no action to do other than to say no.

At least there is some form of care after it is all over and done with, although it always somehow involves blending with whatever activity preceded it. For instance, if it was playing the violin, he would play you with both your favorite pieces on the gramophone he put near the bathtub while giving you a massage and preparing a relaxing bath for both of you.

It is painful, more so than the usual ache between your legs, because he pays attention to your desires and exploits them, even when he appears to be gentle. The pain lingers, no matter how hard you try to disconnect from everything happening around you.

He gives you everything you want, and it hurts because you always know why.

Bold.

A darling who never hides their intentions and just goes for it would spark some sort of admiration in Chrollo, especially if they use their boldness on him as a manipulation tactic.

He finds it entertaining most of all, but also there is a small part of him that is grateful for it because it makes his darling seem more human to him and not just something to own.

Boldness is quite a human trait, one that he so adores, especially with those he holds close like fellow members of the Troupe. It is also quite a trait that can easily be manipulated.

If you attempt to flirt to lower his guard, he will flirt back twice as hard. 

When everything is over and done with, he will admit he knows exactly what you are doing as he kisses you again, you not kissing him back this time, as good as your acting was, much to your horror.

Resourceful.

Chrollo sees himself above the rest of man, a God in his way, so a darling who is quite similar to him he would adore.

That is not to say he could not fall for someone the complete opposite of him, someone who is impulsive and wears their heart on their sleeve and everything else he does not and cannot do, but the probability is low compared to a darling that plans everything and keeps their cards close, much as he does.

That makes escape attempts though, quite common, considering how resourceful his darling can be, like using a file to saw the metal in one of his safes or the iron on their leg keeping them in his penthouse. But he loves it, it is one of his favorite things about them.

It is endless entertainment to him, a sort of fight against himself, albeit he is much, much stronger when it comes to wits most likely. You can think on your feet as much as you want, but so will he.

He will mirror their actions until the end.

Independent.

Much like his beloved's cleverness, he derives amusement from their self-reliance. He takes pleasure in dismantling their barriers bit by bit until they have no choice but to rely on him completely.

Indeed, Chrollo views his beloved as simultaneously superior and inferior to him.

There is no equality between them, only a shifting power dynamic that his beloved will soon discover. They will never be certain if his actions, like retrieving their favorite snack from the top shelf of the pantry, are expressions of love or gestures of mockery.

At times, it may be both. At times, it may be neither.

His thoughts remain inscrutable, and he revels in it.

Cunning.

Chrollo loves it when your eyebrows furrow, when you’re deep in focus, especially when you are trying to come up with an escape plan and not noticing him right behind you, because of that expression on your face.

It’s unholy, the way he worships you with sacrifices both living and not. He wants to ruin you, yet keep you as you are. So, after a long time of pondering, he concludes. He will remake your shape, not enough to completely alter it, but just enough for your walls to tumble down and let him in. That is why while he will let you try and try again to escape, he will still attempt to get into your head. He is like a poison, a parasite, imprisoning you in your fears, insecurities, and plans that are doomed to fail sooner or later. It is what he wants to be, but he also wants to be more. 

More and more he will be, and more and more he will take from you. It is only natural to want more than what is given, correct? 

It is how Chrollo and the other Troupe members survived so long in Meteor City. They take and take, not caring who they hurt because it is human instinct to want and seize. He will argue as such whenever you try to guilt him because you will soon know that he holds no shame in whatever he does. He is selfish, and he wants to stay that way. He wants you to do the same, so he loves it when you fight him or try to run away because he knows it is only nature. Nature will run its course regardless of who wants it to not. Nature does not care, so why should he? Why should you?

But he also wants you to not be as selfish as him, despite him knowing that it most likely will not be unless you are broken down enough. But that is fine, Chrollo tells himself because that time will eventually arise.

Mature.

Maturity is an elusive quality that characterizes Chrollo, yet eludes him as well. It ebbs and flows like a breeze, carrying seeds to unknown destinations, beyond the perception of onlookers. Unfortunately, you, the observer, are an unwilling participant in the multitude of games he plays and the various disguises he dons. Occasionally, Chrollo can act impulsively, adopting yet another facade acquired from others in the interludes of his life. However, there are moments when he patiently waits for the opportune time to strike, akin to a cunning serpent. But this outcome relies on your level of vigilance or innocence. Perhaps, one day, you'll find it best to surrender to his will. Chrollo eagerly anticipates that day.

Hardworking.

Chrollo feels a mix of jealousy and a desire for control when he sees someone truly dedicated to their pursuits. He wants to replicate their passion and adopt a similar persona. At the same time, he is intrigued by their determination and ambition, as he wants to understand every aspect of their character. This admiration creates a thrilling challenge for him, as he seeks to imitate their drive while also appreciating it. He wants to both admire and exploit this trait to engage in a game of cat and mouse until they submit. Perhaps it would be good to do just that, to prevent yourself from getting hurt again.

Observant.

Chrollo finds great pleasure in the thrill of the hunt, especially when his keen-eyed darling begins to notice subtle indications of being watched. These signs, carefully planted by Chrollo himself, make his darling increasingly cautious. For Chrollo, taking risks brings great rewards. Although these signs are intentional, they still hold, don't they? A lingering footstep behind them. A faint smile on a stranger's face, an unfamiliar figure lurking in an alley near his companion's residence. These signals confirm that they are being stalked, and Chrollo is entertained by the fact that their sharp instincts assure them that this is no mere coincidence or misunderstanding.

Logical.

Chrollo's beloved should possess some semblance of logic, even if it deviates from conventional understanding. The key lies in their thought process, rather than adherence to reason. This cognitive approach, be it driven by emotions or rationality, captivates Chrollo. They meticulously evaluate facts, evidence, and outcomes, exercising caution in moments of perceived advantage, as well as during bouts of insecurity and danger, where they must think quickly on their feet. This mental calculus can either serve them well or inadvertently lead to their downfall. They carefully weigh the pros and cons, thus fueling Chrollo's insatiable desire for the fun of the chase, which hinges upon ultimately catching his beloved in the act.

A Leader.

If you hold a position of leadership, whether at work or among friends, this situation will be even more perplexing and distressing for you. In an instant, you were no longer in charge, forcibly removed from your familiar surroundings and confined. Your authority, influence, and status, which held great significance, have been stripped away. You may experience a profound sense of helplessness and powerlessness as if all your hard work has been unjustly taken from you. Chrollo, as your captor, will seek to exert even more control over you if you possess the characteristic of leadership. He finds it ironic that you are now compelled to follow him, forever robbed of the opportunity to lead while you remain in captivity.

Confident Outside, Insecure Inside.

Chrollo takes great pleasure in this particular attribute, as a mere few words, be they soothing or otherwise, have the power to manipulate you effortlessly.

You find yourself compelled to dance and sing, controlled by invisible strings or some intangible force, as there seems to be no other recourse in this predicament. After enduring prolonged isolation, you will unquestioningly revere Chrollo's words, no matter how distorted they may be, treating them as a testament to be praised. And Chrollo eagerly anticipates the arrival of that day.

It instills fear in you, as both of you are aware that such a day will inevitably arrive.

With a few choice words, Chrollo can elicit tears or smiles from you, a feat that few others have managed to accomplish.

You despise it, while Chrollo utterly loves it. Intelligent.

Intelligence encompasses a wide range of abilities, making it possible for Chrollo to be drawn to various types. However, what truly captivates him is a darling who possesses either linguistic or interpersonal intelligence, or even better, both. He desires someone who can effortlessly decipher people's intentions, using words that ignite a fire within him, even if those words are aimed at him or others.

The type or types of intelligence his darling possesses greatly influences their relationship. How he presents himself in public, whether as a kind gentleman or someone who keeps his distance, depends on their emotional intelligence and intuition. Additionally, Chrollo finds it incredibly appealing when his darling shares a specific interest that is completely new to him. This not only allows him to learn something new but also adds another mask to his ever-expanding collection.

Someone who is emotionally intelligent, like his beloved, would pose a challenge for him to manipulate. They possess the ability to understand him better than most, making it all the more satisfying for Chrollo when they succumb to his desires. After all, as Chrollo often says, the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

→ Yandere MBTI: CAMS. (Cruel, Aware, Manipulative, Strict)

Chrollo possesses great skill in dismantling individuals but lacks the necessary expertise to reconstruct them according to his vision. Unfortunately, you have become an unwilling participant in his experiments. Share with him your deepest anguish and vulnerabilities. Chrollo also portrays himself as a universal remedy, claiming that he holds the power to alleviate all your suffering and resolve your troubles, provided you heed his advice.

However, he waits until he has captured you, and your defenses have crumbled. In that moment of vulnerability, when you are cut off from the world, consumed by sorrow, unable to eat or speak, he reveals himself as a deity. He extends his hand to you, leading you along a path he meticulously constructed. This path is filled with suffering, a never-ending cycle of waiting for both of you. But at the end of this dark tunnel lies Chrollo's ultimate desire: your affection.

What is your ultimate pain, what is your ultimate wish? I can provide anything and everything for you, beloved if you do not stray away from the light.

If you happen to encounter him in public before he abducts you, it is because he willingly allows you to do so, aiming to create a favorable impression that will prevent you from suspecting his true intentions. However, if you do find yourself growing suspicious, it is not without justification. Nevertheless, he will persist in attempting to dispel your doubts by showering you with more gifts and displaying gentlemanly behavior such as pulling out your chair and kissing your hand or inner wrist. Yet, everything appears excessively flawless, to the extent of inducing nausea. Everything is so… flawless all of the time, but only when you are around him and him alone. Ironically, despite Chrollo's desire to dissuade your wariness towards him, his tender and kind gestures only evoke fear.

Chrollo effortlessly switches between portraying himself as a divine figure and a malevolent force, adapting to the circumstances at hand. On one hand, he displays an uncanny perfection, never making a mistake and seemingly possessing an understanding of your thoughts and emotions even before you do. On the other hand, he reveals his true nature as pure evil by casually initiating a bet to see who can consume the most alcohol, leaving you as an unwilling participant in this game of his. As soon as you become intoxicated, he unveils himself as the embodiment of wickedness, groaning as your clothes rip off and you cry his mouth is on yours and he keeps murmuring things into your ear that are so much more terrifying than sweet and-

Panaceas are eternal, refusing to fade away, regardless of your preferences. And so is this situation with me, my dearest.

Chrollo often repeats the phrase that he would sacrifice his life for you. However, there is doubt as to whether he truly means it. His actions, whether they be subtle or overt, inflict daily harm upon you, both mentally and physically. He disguises his hurtful behavior as casual conversation, a serious one, and everything in between. Chrollo's self-centered nature raises the question of why he would make such a claim.

You remain unaware of his true intentions, as Chrollo holds the knowledge of what is genuine and what is fabricated close to his chest. He perpetuates this ambiguity, ensuring that you will never uncover the truth. Once again, Chrollo finds himself in a position of guilt, but the specific charges remain unknown. As an impartial judge, you can't discern between deceit and honesty when you have never been taught the difference. Chrollo, determined to maintain this state of uncertainty, ensures that the truth remains elusive, no matter what lengths he has to go to to make sure it stays that way.

Chrollo possesses the ability to assume various roles. He can portray himself as a reliable partner rather than a deceitful captor, a compassionate individual rather than a mass murderer, a savior rather than someone in need of rescue... The possibilities are endless. This charade is not merely a game to him, but a necessity to maintain his façade. Even if he desired to, he could never remove these disguises, as he is oblivious to his true identity, because who is he without his lies? Nothing? It is a sorrowful predicament for both me and him, you will think someday, one that may prompt you to ponder whether it is Stockholm Syndrome or your inherent empathy for others.

At some point, you will allow him to take what he desires, whether it be when he reaches a breaking point and loses control, or when you become desperate for any form of human interaction.

Whenever you are in need, call out my name. I will be there to provide whatever cure you desire for the ailment at hand.

→ Unique Qualities.

Yandere Type: 

Possessive.

Chrollo in one word would be selfish, and he himself would not deny that it suits him quite well.

Whatever he touches turns to gold in the most metaphorical sense. Whenever he sees something he wants, he will take it. Everything Chrollo takes either has rhyme and reason to it or none at all. He turns them into gold as a sign of who owns them. Even if you have fallen or will eventually fall prey to this touch. The golden touch immobilizes you so you never ever leave him. 

Like King Midas, he is selfish, and he takes pride in it. He is never humble in anything he does. That much is certain. He holds you in his arms at night like he knows your weight in gold, that he could never lose you as he lost himself all those years ago. His kisses are gentle when he wants them to be, or they can be as aggressive as he wants them to be. You’ll come to learn that it does not matter what you want, what matters is what Chrollo wants. Does not having a say in your hell hurt? Or does not having a choice help you justify to yourself that you must escape this?

Monitoring. (Watches From Afar / Direct Contact)

Really, it is Shalnark that does most of the work here, but it is still worth mentioning, especially since what Chrollo cannot get through traditional stalking alone, he asks a very teasing Shalnark to get for him. Though, if Shalnark fails, Feitan is put to the task, much to Feitan’s quite less than subtle annoyance, not that he would ever voice it. Through this trio, the work is separated into three strategies.

Chrollo’s way of finding information is as classic as it comes. Either he is observing you go about your usual day, to that coffee shop you visit before going to work, to the library you frequent on the weekends, to a park you like walking in to see the birds and to get a change of scenery while you read, or he is inside your home, looking through drawers, sampling some leftovers even from your fridge, and making a literal list of things to buy you either later or in the present moment and things to take with him when he inevitably steals you away. Shalnark’s way comes through the internet, through placing cameras in your home and showing Chrollo the footage day in and day out, and perhaps even making an online friend of you if you are that social with other people. To him, it’s all child’s play, especially with finding family members and friends of yours for later, to perhaps ask them questions under the guise of a fellow friend of yours even. But the information that neither Shalnark nor Chrollo can get from stalking alone relies on Feitan, which is where all the finding people you know and love trickle down and puddle at the bottom of this sort of vial of differing plans. This is a last resort, sort of, because there are better things that Feitan can be doing, really, but he is nothing less than loyal to Chrollo and the other Spiders, so he’ll find people who may know the answers his boss was looking for.

He does not blame Chrollo, because if the information was something even Shalnark could not find, it is something so secretive that it could metaphorically be so beneath the waves that it is on the bottom of the ocean floor.

Feitan takes on the role of the more experienced diver because he wants to make Chrollo happy.

Thankfully for most of those you know, only a maximum of perhaps five people are flicked off before you are brought to whatever penthouse Chrollo has bought for the next month or so. The rest can continue with their lives as it was, not that Feitan cares or Shalnark cares or Chrollo cares, except for poor, poor you.

Removing Nuisances. (Murder Likelihood: 8/10)

Similarly to gathering information about you, dealing with rivals follows a similar sort of hierarchy. Chrollo follows them, albeit with far less care and perhaps even stealing a few things along the way, if the rivals are rich enough, though that is quite rare to happen. Instead, he would try to threaten them through anonymous emails or letters, perhaps even with a photo of them sleeping thrown into the mix. But if that does not work, Shalnark is up next, digging up past searches and buyings that the rival perhaps regrets or wants to remain hidden. It could be anything, really, and soon this information will start to spread like a flame until the rival’s reputation is utterly ruined. If the rival is still stubborn about wanting to be romantically involved with you, Feitan is last, burying a corpse underground that looks far from the human it once was by the end of it all, and Feitan, unsurprisingly, likes this sort of business rather than simply lying in wait for a friend of yours to unfortunately cross his path.

Perhaps even Chrollo will join Feitan in this session or sessions. It sometimes happens, when Chrollo is too pent up or feeling especially angry, although he hides it well with a smile that is a bit too wide, at this rival in particular. By the end of it, when both he and Feitan look like they took a bath in blood with their clothes on, Chrollo laughs, and Feitan snickers. He feels good, both of them do. Maybe this is why Chrollo is so taken with you, Feitan wonders. The power and control that comes with you… it’s utterly addicting, isn’t it?

Adam and Eve. (Absolute Isolation) (Kidnapping Likelihood: 10/10)

Before he takes you away, Chrollo makes sure that whatever he cannot replace he takes with him. This includes memorabilia, photos, family heirlooms if you have any, and even annotated novels you have on your bookshelf with notes sticking out of them like sore thumbs. He manages to take it all away easily, just like he does with you. Chrollo, despite how selfish he is, still wants in some capacity to make you happy. In your “adapting stage”, you may be able to hide away from him in the bathroom and lock the door, but at least you will have the choice to continue whatever hobbies you had before that Chrollo allows you to do while you are self-isolating. 

He sees this small reason for you not to hate him entirely as a win. A triumph followed by many others to come.

Collector’s Habit. (Comfortable Imprisonment / Chains + Cages)

Chrollo’s penthouse is lined with things both of significance to him and you. Almost all of it is stuff that he has stolen, however, not that he cares. The paintings lined up in the dining room, the many pretty dresses put in your closet and you are forced to wear, the jewelry that he clasps onto your neck and fingers and wrists like chains, all of them are stolen in some capacity or another. 

The things that he had stolen from your home all look like they belong there, almost. Your favorite pink beret placed next to a porcelain plate of macaroons and fruit a note telling you to get ready for a date later in the evening, an old photo of you placed in a frame that ought to be at least three hours worth of your salary, your most cherished books all lined up next to Chrollo’s own, all the covers and sizes somewhat similar to one another that it almost drives you mad. It brings Chrollo comfort, while it brings you ire. 

Possibly, you’ll read one of his Dostoevsky pieces when you think he is gone, or you’ll try on one of his many fur coats when it gets too chilly or when you are curious. But curiosity always finds a way to kill the cat, because when you think you are not going to be caught, Chrollo finds a way to sneak up behind you and simply observe, smirking, even when you see him.

Attention-Seeking.

Chrollo has always been one to utterly enjoy being in the limelight. He loves acting parts, playing parts as classy as a Prince Charming to a part as scheming as a villain that has locked the princess in a tower. You get both, the unlucky person you are. He gives you roses and proclaims poems and confessions of absolute love and undying loyalty, but you then remember that he is the one that trapped you here, to begin with.

This life that was forced upon you is a fairytale very close to cracking and falling apart, but never does.

You are forced to be a helpless maiden waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her, but unfortunately for you, that knight is also the very evildoer in this story. So, you try to be your own knight, your own prince, but it will never be as close or as real as an actual hero. So, your attempts fail, regardless of how long they were in the making. You are not strong enough, not fast enough, and you simply cannot write your own ending in this whimsical tale if Chrollo is always aware of them.

But you come up with a plan that takes weeks upon weeks and months upon months for it to bear fruit. 

You'll comply with his desires and make your getaway when he least anticipates it. Thus, you're compelled to dance with Chrollo, flawlessly and without objection, to safeguard your plan. However, with each movement, it feels as though nails are penetrating your foot, for you're uncertain if Chrollo is aware of your actions, and it fills you with immense fear.

But it is too late to back out of this, so you keep on doing this waltz.

Eliminating Rivals. 

The basement, as always, is filled with dust and dirt with insects both alive and dead scattered on the floor next to Feitan’s equipment. Chrollo does not mind it, though, despite him still wearing the suit he wore when he was following you to the train station, the route you usually took to get back from your best friend’s house to your place. He does not like her, but he decides to let her still do whatever with her life as she pleases, unlike the person currently zip-tied to one of the rusty chairs with broken legs. As long as she does not try to seek to be more than friends with you, she’ll be safe from harm. Even though Chrollo’s gut is telling him that she will try, that she will kiss you, say “I love you” to you and maybe go on top of you in bed and-

He tries not to think about it, he is already behind schedule enough as it is, though he could just make Feitan do the work by himself. He tries not to think about it because he has to start preparing his penthouse for your arrival soon to come. He has already purchased some new comforter sets for the bedroom, along with some of the skincare products he knows you use in the bathroom. He’s busy, too busy to involve himself with something other than torturing this man and getting back on track. He focuses on the scene ahead, trying not to think about that friend of yours or the barista who always looks at you for a tad bit too long. If he let his emotions and not logic control him, he would have murdered half this town already and left love notes on their headstones.

He looks at the man, covered in his own blood, his own vomit, his own feces from being confined there for days before Chrollo arrived, deathly thin from starvation and dehydration. From what Feitan told him, Feitan gouged out one eye one day and the other eye the next day, leaving him blind and weeping, his vocal cords far-reaching past their limit, crying out gibberish like some sort of animal, something not too conscious enough of its surroundings to be anything considered even near human.

“Fei, do you hear that?”

“...I do.”

Sexual Drive: 5/10.

Chrollo knows most of what there is to know about sex, but not for his own pleasure. He uses this knowledge mainly in intelligence gathering, when Shalnark, Feitan, and even Pakunoda are not able to get the information the Troupe needs for their next heist. He holds sex with little to no emotional value because of this, since his love for the other Troupe members is high above what little admiration he could possibly hold for those people that he subtly interrogates while fucking them as gently or as hard as they want him to, whispering in their ear when they are feeling their most euphoric, asking them what dons are trading with each other and with what, asking them how the president of this company makes so much when the value of their imports and exports don’t exactly match up, asking them how exactly many secret passageways this mansion has… it’s endless, really, how much information he can get out of them. The human body is so vulnerable, especially when pain mixes with pleasure or pleasure mixes with pain or pain is alone or please is alone. Chrollo is grateful for it.

But when it comes to sex with you, Chrollo then finally sees the emotional side of this spectrum. Your bodies bond and become one, melting into one another as you both moan out each other’s name, lovingly yours and lovingly his.

This development does not surprise him because he does want an emotional bond with you in some sense of the word, he wants you to worship him just as much as he does with you.

Let us go, shall we? Before you could answer, his hand grabs your wrist, his grip making it impossible for someone like you to break away. We… have plenty to talk about and do, correct?

Violence Towards Darling: 3/10.

Don’t take this as a sign that he will not use violence on you at all. Believing that Chrollo's violent tendencies towards you are limited to slapping or ignoring you is a naive assumption. You soon realize that attempting to strike him is futile due to his lightning-fast reflexes. Fighting back against Chrollo will not resolve anything. Instead, you come to understand that he wants you to be like a pet, constantly performing tricks and obediently following his commands.

You wonder if he would also display you like a trophy. Uncertain, you contemplate whether or not you want to find out. Eventually, a few nights later, you dream of a life without Chrollo's constant control, where he does not touch you possessively and parade you around expensive events. You recognize that you are nothing more than his lapdog, his pet, his trophy.

However, Chrollo claims to see something more in you. Is he being genuine in his belief? Do you really desire to uncover the truth?

Violence Towards Others: 8/10.

In his search for you, he maintains his usual calm demeanor, though his eyes reveal his inner turmoil. Anger fills his vision, overshadowing any light. Surely, you couldn't have gone too far. He frantically scans the penthouse until he finds you on the balcony... in the company of someone else.

“Feeling intrusive, are we?”

He pays no mind to the identity of this person, although it's likely they are a former lover or at the very least, a love interest. Your declarations of love and reciprocated kisses leave no room for doubt. How they managed to reach this height is irrelevant to him.

Without uttering a single word, he opens his book, channeling an unseen force from his hands to your ill-fated companion, causing them to plummet to the ground amidst screams from both of you.

After a few moments of tears, mumbled apologies, and the utterance of their name, he informs you that a serious discussion will take place later. With that, you silently follow him back inside. He will contact Shizuku to handle the cleanup of the body in due time.

Vanilla / Kinky

Favorite Kinks:

Begging.

Both inside and outside the bedroom, Chrollo likes having you beg, from you begging him to let you orgasm to you begging him to get you that new book in that series you were quite interested in before you got stolen away. It’s a power dynamic no doubt, it makes him feel wanted by you, needed by you, loved by you. That’s all he wants, really, your love and devotion and for you to promise to be his sun and moon and stars, for you to say he is bigger and more important to me than the sky, for you to hold him, for him to hold you.

No matter how much time passes, how many different places you both stay in and leave, how many countries you visit for leisure or for Chrollo's next big scheme, he refuses to break this unhealthy pattern, even for your sake. He enjoys this routine, so why would he alter it? He will occasionally tease you for being rather selfish, even as you both grow older and wiser and your hairs both white and your skin wrinkly. He will even say it to you when your corpse is resting peacefully in its coffin, as he sheds tears for the first time in many years.

Every time please, Chrollo, please, I… comes out of your mouth, it sounds like to him, the most beautiful martial vow. 

He locks each and every one into the deepest crevices of his heart like unwilling prisoners, despite how small and cold and dead his said heart is, at least to you. They don’t want to stay, but they have to because I want them there in remembrance. Just like you. Poetic, is it not?

Voyeurism. 

The screen in front of him showed you coming out of the shower, your body dripping with soapy water with a towel on your body that barely covered anything and a smaller towel covering your hair that was put up in a clip. Shalnark placing cameras all around your place made things much easier to know things about you that he could not find out through traditional stalking alone. He is grateful for him.

Slowly, as he smiled, one of his hands went into his pants, then his boxers as he caressed the half-hard thing beneath them both. He kept groaning as it got harder and harder, his breathing getting faster and faster. He is not sure how much time had gone by, but he knows that there was now liquid, slow and warm, running down his legs and is all over his hand, and as always, you were none the wiser.

Oral. (Receiving)

Your knees are on the floor, having been there so long it hurts. Your neck is curved backward and your mouth is in pain from his large manhood in there like an unwanted intruder, as you desperately gag and choke and cry. The only reason you have not successfully gotten away is because one of his hands is grabbing the back of your head and pulling you every time you pull, hopelessly still trying to fight.

Your hands are tied behind your back with silk to not damage the skin of your wrists, while you desperately try to claw your way out of them.

You’re in the clothing that he wants you to wear, as usual, though calling it clothing would be an overstatement as it hardly covers anything. A black thong with a short skirt, along with a low-cut bralette. As always, you have no say in the matter, and even though you are unable to utter a word, he showers you with affectionate words, as fake as they seem.

Favorite Parts:

Your Thighs.

It is more of a comfort thing than anything else, really. The way that it is one of the softest parts of you, one of the meatiest parts of you, and, most of all, the easiest parts of you to grab and hold and kiss and press hickeys into and fuck.

It’s only natural for a thief to want to keep their prized possessions close to them, is it not, my darling? 

While Chrollo still places you all of his mementos and diamonds and paintings among the many, many other things he has hidden away in his current penthouse, seeing you as better than all of those things combined, he still sees you, in some ways, as something to be sanctioned, whether it be for your own safety or just his pure, unadulterated selfishness, or perhaps both.

So, he holds onto your thighs at all times pretty much, squeezing the flesh for either attention or just because he needs some security that you are still there with him, no matter how close you physically are to him.

He will occasionally rest his head on your lap, reciting his book aloud while you are obliged to listen. He never dozes off because he is too cautious for that, although he yearns for it. His desire to lie down and have you run your fingers through his hair as he gradually drifts to sleep almost surpasses all his other needs. It may sound like a fantasy for him, no pun intended.

However, it would be a nightmare for you, whether he falls asleep or not. But as always, Chrollo hardly cares. If you dare to object, your longer skirts, shorts, and one pair of sweatpants will vanish for approximately a month, only to be replaced by outrageously short clothes that barely qualify as attire.

They’re soft, just like your lips, your voice, just everything else about you, you, you. It’s the parts that most perfectly describe you, he’ll say, forcing you to tolerate all his touches because his hand is not going anywhere, just like the rest of me, sweetling.

Just stay still and let me see how plush you are just for me, alright?

If he ignores all the goosebumps and the shivers, he can assume that this is what heaven feels like. It must be, right, dearest?

Your Collarbone.

Despite everything else about him, Chrollo can be a sort of traditionalist when he wants to be. This applies quite rarely though, only really affecting the relationship he has with you, both inside and outside of the bedroom.

He likes how the bones stick out, the crevices just so perfect for him to slide the tip of his fingers across, just so perfect for him to kiss and bite, just so perfect to hang necklaces from so they are on a sort of diagonal and reflect the light, making them shine and making them highlight the hickeys that have been pressed into them, right below them, and right above them…

He forces you to wear all kinds of accessories and low-cut shirts that he can find, not caring how much money it would cost, just to see some diamond-encrusted choker on your neck. He says in the calmest voice he can muster that it is no big deal, darling, just trust me and I got this for you and you alone, now why don’t you be a sweetheart and put it on? You might think that a choker and a collar are essentially the same, as they both tightly grip the neck like a suffocating hold. However, Chrollo pays no mind to this, as owners don't concern themselves with their pets realizing they're wearing such a sign of possession.

Your Feet.

Chrollo appreciates art in his own unique way, specifically when it comes to sculpting and realism. He finds your feet to be truly exquisite, along with the rest of you. Despite your attempts to ignore it or cover them up, he has a clear fondness for your feet. Your toes are round, your heels are perfectly shaped, and your soles fit perfectly in his hands when he places heeled shoes on them. In secret, he also enjoys the scent of your feet, although he would never admit it. He would rather die than confess. 

Your feet are cute and can become sweaty and sticky, making them easy to hold onto, just like your thighs. 

Those traits really remind him after you orgasm, with you of course begging repeatedly for it a few moments before he lets you.

It's a hidden pleasure for him, even if you were to discover it, he would keep it to himself. You won't be able to get any information from him. If you do happen to find out, don't be surprised when a substantial portion of your jewelry drawer is filled with anklets.

His Fingers.

Chrollo admires his hands more than most other parts of his body. He trims his fingernails every two weeks, putting hand cream every time he steps out of the bath, never skipping this routine of his. The reason he admires his hands so much is that despite all the bloodshed and other dirty acts he does with them, they remain on the outside clean. It boosts his ego, in a way.

There are just so many uses for them, he loves flipping the pages of his favorite novels with them, he loves cutting food for both you and himself with them, he loves squeezing your thigh as either a warning or a sign of love… there are just endless possibilities, at least from his perspective.

But his new favorite thing is to fuck your clit with them, and yours alone.

Is it a privilege, then, that only yours can bring him such joy? Whether you believe it to be so or not, it holds no significance, for Chrollo finds pleasure in this, and only his satisfaction matters, given that he is the one who has taken you captive.

Please, Chrollo, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I can’t take this anymore I-

His movements are flawlessly executed, almost unfairly so. They are deliberate yet unhurried, demanding your submission. However, he will only grant you this pleasure if you plead for it. The act of begging will consume several minutes, perhaps even a minimum of two, leaving you in a state of desperation. Meanwhile, he will revel in your discomfort, relishing the power he holds over you. This perverse satisfaction is what he adores the most.

As you wish.

Inevitably, you will find yourself succumbing to your desires, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he provides. Despite your stubbornness, your willpower will eventually crumble under the weight of his expertise.

He derives immense pleasure from knowing that he alone possesses the ability to bring you such ecstasy. This knowledge fuels his ego, heightening his sense of self-importance.

His Words.

Chrollo has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but he also derives great pleasure from imparting knowledge and amusingly embarrassing others. And when it comes to you, he takes it to another level.

He constantly showers you with compliments, comparing you to famous heroines like Juliet and Ophelia from classic literature. He insists that you possess the same beauty as any damsel in distress from those timeless tales. To prove his point, he even offers to acquire paintings of these fictional princesses and damsels for you to admire and compare yourself to.

Wanting a break from his constant attention, you agree to his proposal. Besides, you get the bonus of owning some exquisite artwork. What could go wrong, right?

Well, it turns out to be a colossal mistake.

Upon waking up, you find yourself surrounded by what feels like an entire museum filled with paintings of fictional damsels, duchesses, princesses, and queens. The overwhelming presence of these artworks threatens to suffocate you. And to make matters worse, Chrollo insists on meticulously going through each painting one by one, forcing you to endure this ordeal that could very well last for days.

Your legs resemble hers, your lips resemble hers, your feet resemble hers... every aspect of your physique and the muse's physique that he remarks upon, leaves you feeling incredibly exposed, more so than ever before.

The duration of this process is absolutely exasperating. It leaves you feeling as defenseless as a lamb anticipating its fate in the hands of a butcher.

His Knowledge.

Chrollo truly treasures his knowledge, viewing it as divine nectar from the heavens, if indeed it exists. This belief is so strong that he occasionally overestimates it, taking every opportunity to display it in a way that impresses you more than anything else he does, both inside and outside of the bedroom. Whether intentionally or not, he will state the obvious, like pointing out that the creature you're observing in the rose garden during your “date” is not a slug, but a snail. 

It frustrates you, but you acknowledge that it could be worse–he could forbid you from venturing outdoors altogether. 

Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it? 

…Doesn’t it?

Fantasies. (Consent / Non-Con) (Coercion / Brute Force)

If one were to make a comparison, they would compare you to a piece of art so beautiful, that it is instinct to witness, praise, and worship until their bodies all turn to mere dust, in which they will be swept away by those alive who do not want your refinement to be stained by those who have passed on. For what is a beauty without a beholder? Chrollo will gladly take up that role, as he is the only one worthy of seeing such a piece. You, leaning on the pillows, legs crossed, hair put up in a neat bun, wearing makeup that he has said he likes on you before, looking up at him like he has come to bless you with a mere glimpse of the divine power he holds, wearing the black lingerie he chose for you to wear this evening, made of lace with patterns of roses scattered about.

This is his welcome home gift, from both himself and you. He may have requested that you could partake in this, but since you are doing it without any complaint but instead loving doing the task at hand, he could consider him soon becoming one with your body for the evening to be an award from you for all the work he has done for the Troupe these past few days.

If such a prize is laid before him, ripe for the taking, why wouldn’t he? So, without so much as uttering another word, he starts to undress as you watch, a mix of genuine joy and interest laid out on your face. He hasn’t even touched you yet, and with this simple act, you are bound to him with the invisible thread of lust.

When his boxers are all the way down, he approaches, and you don’t blink, wanting to take it all in. Shall the fun start? When your lips meet, all reservations that you once had dissolve, as few as they are now.

(But don’t think Chrollo respects your boundaries completely when it comes to sex; if you deny him enough, over the course of months and months, he will break his composure and show you where you belong; underneath him.)

→ Strengths.

Realities. (Your Own, His Avow) (Patient / Impatient)

The being that is above you in this bed is unlike any human you have ever met before. His looks and personality are all artificially crafted, like some automaton made to resemble actual living things, but do not stray far from their roots, what they were made for, and what they were made of. I’m real, you think, I’m real. Chrollo is not.

He’s aware of everything you do. Every step you take. Every word you say.

He is aware. He possesses knowledge of all things, much like the god he feigns to be. His understanding of emotions is as keen as his logical reasoning, resulting in a situation of dread that pertains solely to you.

It instills fear within you because he holds the key to all knowledge, while you remain in not-so-blissful ignorance.

→ Weaknesses.

Lotus Eater. (Dreamy Idleness)

Chrollo, despite his attempts to appear superior to others, is not without his flaws. If those around him stroke his ego, he becomes overly confident. Yet, if one were to try the opposite approach, it would have the same effect as boosting his ego. He is cursed with arrogance, always believing he is superior to others, even some members of the Troupe. Perhaps you can use this knowledge to your advantage. Faking affection could lower his guard and further inflate his narcissism. It is a strategic move, preferable to engaging in a physical fight that you cannot possibly win. 

Therefore, when you believe you have the opportunity to escape when his guard seems lowered enough that he won't immediately pursue you, you run. At that moment, his facade will crack, his eyes will grow emptier, and the hollow husk chasing after you will not resemble the Chrollo you once knew.

→ Daily Life.

Welcome. (Day One)

Chrollo remains a mystery begging to be left unsolved.

He rises at his usual hour each morning, and it's a rarity to witness him actually sleeping. His breakfast consistently consists of sausage and eggs, seasoned solely with salt and pepper, as he avoids other spices. He purchases fresh bread from whichever local bakery happens to be closest for the week or a few days ahead. Occasionally, if you're fortunate, he may bring back something sweet while out and about, such as a chocolate-filled croissant or a cherry jam-filled danish. However, trust, whether in platonic or romantic relationships, is something that must be earned.

Interestingly, it appears that regardless of the circumstances, Chrollo seems to possess a certain level of trust that you won't make any foolish choices. On your initial day in this penthouse, he simply greeted you, patiently waiting until the effects of the drugs wore off, allowing you to cry on the bed until your tears ran dry. He comforted you, softly shushing you and gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

Yet, he never becomes too intimate.

Was that his motive? Is that why he opted to masquerade as a compassionate gentleman rather than a captor? Instead of asserting his authority, he chose to console you, demonstrating that such solace could be snatched away in an instant. You were oblivious to his true intentions. On that initial day, you wept more than any other day, the taste of mint on Chrollo's breath and the aroma of coffee still etched in your memory. He would inflict further harm, and for the sake of your sanity, you believe it is preferable for him to remain an enigma, shielding you from the repulsive monster lurking beneath his attractive facade.

What Could Be. (And What Is)

Strangely enough, there are still parts of your life after Chrollo has captured you that would still sort of count as normal enough that you could turn the other way and ignore all other cosmic horrors that are happening in the general vicinity. You could still decide what you want to eat and drink that day, what to watch, what to read, what time to wake up and what time to go to bed, what to write in your diary (that not-so-strangely has its lock missing now), listen to the morning birds or to the music that Chrollo allows you to listen to (which is most of it, shockingly)... the list really is endless, really, aside from a few things that you forget sometimes, much to future you’s horror.

But sometimes you forget on purpose, to divulge in the fantasy Chrollo has carefully crafted for both of you, either to fool him or your walls really are as broken down as he wants them to be.

He finds it nice when you ask him questions about whatever place he has rented for the two of you for the time being, the location at hand most likely being related to the Troupe’s plans to steal whatever is of value. He likes to show off, and to listen to him talk for hours requires the patience of a saint.

→ Punishments. (No Punishments / Tortuous Punishments)

Welcome Again. (Failed Departure)

The penthouse looked to be the same after you ran out the entrance door that you lockpicked. The fireplace was still lit. There was still a smell of peppermint in the air along with some scent of coffee, lattes maybe. Everything looks the same, just as it always has. It nearly scares you more, how calm and warm this place is, than the hand that has a grip on your wrist so tight that you feel like he will dislocate it in the very least.

But he does not look angry, but that smile is not good at all either.

He does not say anything as he closes the door behind him, turning the lock on the door so it will remain that way. He does not say anything as he continues to drag you, albeit a bit more tight in his grip now that you are within his grasp once again. Whatever you say goes in one ear and out the other, and you know better than to struggle and scream, because you do not want this day to result in yet another bloodbath, and it would be useless anyway, even if someone came to rescue you. That is why, like the sort of pet you were trained to be, you bite your tongue and obey. He seems to not be angry now, but who knows what awaits you once you are in the bedroom, where most talks and actions are the consequences of your supposed crimes. You can’t really breathe, but that is alright. Chrollo will help you every step of the way after all, as the dutiful owner he has come to be.

Perhaps a pet is all you will be.

He wants you to look up at him like some god, some deity that you worship with all your being. But you can’t, not yet, and Chrollo knows that. Perhaps some methods unknown to you but known to him can help, can’t it?

He hopes so for your sake, but what do you hope for, wish for? You don’t know, and maybe never will.

Venus Fly Trap. (Temptations of a Liar)

Chrollo is well aware of the diverse array of predatory flowers, each manifesting in its own unique way. Perhaps you too possess such characteristics, with your alluring fragrance and honeyed speech, deceiving him into a false sense of security before stripping it all away. However, there is one crucial detail you seem to have overlooked. What transpires when a venus fly trap ensnares a prey that surpasses its own size and devours its own kind and others, rather than the typical fly it ensnares?

Undoubtedly, they suffer. Yet it appears that this lesson has eluded you thus far, hasn't it?

You have displayed kindness, sweetness, and a willingness to comply, within certain limits. Undoubtedly, you possess some degree of skill, though not enough to deceive him, the enigmatic masked orchestrator of this theatrical production.

Therefore, it is without much remorse that he renders you motionless with delicate silk and persuasive words that possess the potential to sting, should you ever dare to push him too far.

However, deep down you are aware of the truth, just as he is aware too. If he doesn't take a firm stance, what other undesirable situations will you find yourself in? With a single hand, he flips open the book, while using the other to shush you.

“A shame,” He says, turning the pages. “A crying shame, really. The sky is so lovely tonight… Who knows when we will get this scenery again, hmm?”

You don’t know what he will do to you. 

…Does he?

→ Quotes.

Hello.

Greetings. It is truly an honor to meet you face to face like this at long last, [First]. There is no need to introduce yourself to me as I already know who you are. That, and… hmm. That, and I think you are not all there right now. Please, I recommend relaxing and listening to what I have to say. But just to make sure, try to speak to me… as expected.

Chat: Ballet.

All dancers must put themselves fully into whatever moves they do. I suppose that can be the same thing for you and me.

Chat: Athenaeum.

Libraries and archives are some of the places I enjoy going to the most. Maybe if you continue behaving, I’ll take you to one nearby.

Chat: Reimbursement. 

Quid pro quo, darling; I assume you know the best ways to compensate me for the broken locks?

When It Rains.

The rain is perfect for a day of staying inside. Though, hehe… you’ll be indoors no matter what, right? Good thing you have me as company today. …What do you mean? I leave sometimes, mainly to get you things might I add. I suggest being more grateful if you don’t want that koala plush to disappear.

After It Rains.

Sigh… the smell of morning dew and the sounds of birds chirping… simply marvelous. Let’s go dance on the balcony, but be sure not to get your new shoes wet and slip. I would hate to have to bring Machi again.

When Thunder Strikes.

Aw, are you going to cling to me so cutely whenever there is a storm? I wouldn’t mind that, I’ll even give you more blankets to hide in if you wish. …Wait, dearest, come back… sigh… of course she hid under the bed again.

When It Snows.

So cold out there, isn’t it? If you ask nicely, I’ll give you back your socks and slippers. Go on.

When the Sun Is Out.

Let’s go on a walk tonight when it’s not so hot out. The sunset’s beauty will only be second to your own.

Good Morning.

Good morning, love, I made coffee. Feel free to use one of the creamers I got you, and there is oat milk near them somewhere in the fridge… Hm? I have never really been a fan of sweet drinks, so black coffee tastes good to someone like me. 

Good Afternoon.

Sure, you can cook lunch. But allow me to cut the ingredients and heat sources. We know how you used them last time.

Good Evening.

It’s so quiet you can only hear the crickets chirping. It’s quite a romantic atmosphere, isn't it?

Good Night.

Ah ah ah. No bed for you yet. Give me a goodnight kiss first. No, you can’t sleep on the couch either. Or the floor. If you keep refusing, I’m going to ask you more questions than yesterday. …That’s better.

About Chrollo: Tattoos.

There is something comforting about them, I think. No matter what the person does to reject it, it will stay. The permanence of such an act should also be what you should be. Now, bite me again and you will sooner than later find yourself in a tattoo parlor. Am I understood?

About Chrollo: Lies.

Don’t say that, my love. I’m not lying to you, I’m just picking what parts of the truth to show and hide. There is no harm in that, I think. 

About Us: Home.

This place is much more human with you in it. Do with that as you wish.

About Us: Cull.

Life and death have a sort of agreement. A contract if you will. The more lives taken by your hands, the more your own life is put at risk. Quite poetic. Like everything else in life, there must be balance.

About Us: Matrimony.

Being bound by just a few words… The very idea is beautiful in my opinion. If you want, we can get married. It is not like anyone else is going to put that pretty ring finger of yours to good use, anyway.

About Us: Panoply.

Anything you want you shall receive. Just say the word. Unless it is already here, which is a possibility.

About You: Humanity.

The human psyche is truly fascinating, don’t you agree? All it takes is a few words or a few actions and it all comes crumbling down. Like you.

About You: Epiphany. 

Not a man, not ten men, not a hundred men can ever provide me with the same joy you give me. You’re special, you know? You make me feel… alive.

Something to Share.

“Be glad as children, as birds in the sky.” A quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky. But… birds are constantly migrating to better places, so really, are they grateful and glad for the gift of life?

Interesting Things.

I see you are doing experiments with pH again. Just be sure to not use all of the vinegar, please. And no, vinegar cannot melt a door, for the final time. 

About Nobunaga.

He thinks more with his heart than his head. But he means well for the Troupe. Or himself when he makes someone call to order takeout for him. 

About Feitan.

I learned a lot of torture methods from him. He truly is the best at what he does. As for social skills… not so much. But everyone has their ups and downs, and that is Fei’s.

About Machi.

One of the most loyal people I have ever met. Also one of the most in tune with their wants and needs. If she thinks of something to say, she’ll say it without a doubt. She is very transparent when it comes to that kind of thing.

About Hisoka.

Hisoka… he is very… out there, isn’t he? But he is valuable to me, so I give him free rein to do whatever he wishes.

About Phinks.

One of the physically strongest. Though also one of the only ones to ever get a laugh out of me. Shizuku once asked him why he did not have any eyebrows, and the way he stopped talking and stared at the ceiling caused us all to snicker. Feitan did earn a blow to the head by the end of it because Phinks does not hit women… He is much more gentlemanly than he appears.

About Shalnark.

When it comes to computers and such, Shalnark is the person to do it. He was the one to convince me to get a newer phone model and taught me how it worked. He kept chuckling as he did, and every question I had asked earned a wide smile in response but no actual answer. He says I am an… “old man at heart…?”

About Franklin.

He is not the most talkative one out there, but if ever comes to games to decide matters, he is the one for the job. Once, Uvogin betted fifty thousand Jenny if he ever beat me in chess. Franklin managed to almost win in the end, but he gave up at the last moment. He said he couldn’t bear to do that to me.

About Shizuku.

At long last, she at least remembers my name. She is quite charming in her own way… I see why Franklin took on a sort of caretaker role for her.

About Pakunoda.

Paku… Paku is one of the sweetest people I know. Whenever I didn’t feel well, she was the first one to come and help me feel better. She even fed me her rations, regardless of the tough times we were put through. I should ask her to make me soup again, I have missed the taste of it…

About Bonolenov.

When he trusts you enough, he has quite a humorous and proud side. He is very proud of his culture, and as someone who did not have one as a child, I find it very admirable.

About Uvogin.

I swear he could drink enough beer to kill a whale and still not be satisfied. The same goes for fights. Any challenge goes, whether that is an eating or video game contest.

About Kortopi.

His copying ability is quite useful, and Nobunaga wanted to give him a haircut using his sword. He declined of course, much to Nobunaga’s disappointment. …Hm? A copy of you? No, you are priceless, and nothing can ever compare, even a version of you that does everything I ask. There is a charm to your disobedience. That, and Kortopi cannot make living copies.

More About Chrollo: I.

Come. I got you some books for us to read together. But before you touch them, I must tell you that you can only read them while on my lap. Isn’t that such a great deal, dearest?

More About Chrollo: II.

“Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven…” Yes, I can see the parallels between this line and myself. Is that why you decided to show me this? …Oh, you just wanted an excuse to call me Lucifer again. Do what you wish, I suppose. But please put that book back on the shelf where it came from when you are done. You know I hate it when you mess up the categories. …Hm? Don’t do that, or I won’t get you any more mochi. …You know my threats aren’t empty, my dear.

More About Chrollo: III.

…Do you need something from me, dearest? No? …Why am I asking? So you just happen to be pressing your chest against my arm for no apparent reason? …I see. Well, if you want my attention so badly, who am I to refuse?

More About Chrollo: IV.

Yes, that note is from me. That gift is also from me. Open it, please. …You should try wearing that set next time. Your thighs will stand out better. You were the one that was asking last night, not me. Ah, you are feeling rather adventurous these past few weeks, aren’t you? …Looking for something? Is this it? You know, I’m disappointed in you, to put it frankly. I thought you were coming around. You know what happens now, don’t you?

More About Chrollo: V.

Time has certainly sped by, hasn’t it? Let me give you a word of advice. No matter what happens, always remember those who have gotten you to where you are now. As a result, your situation can prove to be much less isolating that way. …Yes, that includes me. For when you are alone, my dear, your mind always finds a way to eat you whole.

Chrollo’s Hobbies.

Leading an orchestra and executing a grand theft operation share fundamental principles. It is imperative to maintain a commanding presence, ensuring that others adhere to your lead. Collaboration becomes the pivotal factor in achieving triumph during such endeavors.

Chrollo’s Troubles.

I find it perplexing how some individuals effortlessly navigate life with a serene demeanor, rooted in their unwavering sense of self. Maybe it stems from a twinge of envy, or perhaps there's another elusive element at play. But being envious is part of being human, is it not?

Favorite Food: Black Squid Ink Carbonara.

It is briny, and salty, like the sea. Quite refreshing as well, especially paired with homemade pasta. Only the best quality is allowed. …I am not being too picky. Do you know how many children in Meteor City have grown up never eating from a fast food place, much less a local restaurant? I simply am greedy because I can now. I couldn’t before, and that is why I do so as an adult.

Favorite Food: Opulence. 

As an adult, my current ability to indulge in greed is a newfound privilege that I couldn't have experienced previously. Hence, I find it impossible to resist the temptation of adding an extra serving of truffle or caviar to my plate.

Least Favorite Food: Canned Cabbage.

One of the very few foods I refused to eat unless absolutely necessary was canned cabbage. It was slimy and always came in watery vinegar with mostly moldy parts… I was desperate, but not desperate enough to eat that. Machi, Nobunaga, and Phinks all agreed. Feitan didn’t, much to everyone’s annoyance.

Least Favorite Food: Waste.

Paku, Machi, and Feitan had a sort of pact that they forced on the rest of us to never throw away things that were still edible. According to Shalnark and Uvogin, moldy food is still edible. Phinks and I disagreed but… we got outvoted. 

Receiving a Gift: I.

Indulging in scrumptious meals truly possesses the power to alleviate all worries. So, how can I express my gratitude?

Receiving a Gift: II.

Oh? Thank you, dearest. …For your own good, you better not have put salt instead of sugar this time.

Receiving a Gift: III.

Ah... considering you seem to have a moment to spare, would you be interested in sitting down and enjoying a shared reading session? The choice of material is entirely up to you, of course.

Chrollo’s Birthday.

You are such a prize, you know? You’re in an outfit worth its weight in gold, actually, now that I think about it, diamonds. Autumn has set in, the weather gets colder, and the food gets warmer. Perfect time for spending quality time with someone, wouldn’t you say so? Please, allow me to do this with you, [First]. I have never really cared for this day if I am being honest, but… now that you are here, I feel like new opportunities are around every corner.

Birthday.

Happy birthday, [First]. Within reason, I would like to treat you to whatever your heart desires. Food, art, wine; anything, just tell me, alright? I will see to it. …Heh. I’m afraid a fall from this penthouse will not be enough to kill me. …No, I am not going to put it to the test, since I am certain about it. Please think of something else. The world is your oyster, dearest. But… remember that I can always close it before you can get to the pearl.

Feelings About You: Ethereal.

This feeling… I haven’t felt something like this since… Hmm? Am I? Quite the observation.

Feelings About You: Euphonious. 

…I miss your voice, you know. I always like it when you get caught up in a topic that interests you, no matter what it is. …But last time I took the gag off and took you out, you behaved quite terribly… Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll take the gag off, and I’ll get you something related to your interests, and then we can talk about it. Does that sound good to you?

Feelings About You: Eternity.

We shall be together forever, bonded at the hip if we must be. I promise you. Do not worry about the details. It does not matter if you like it or not, because I will take care of whatever obstacles get in our way. Whether that obstacle is you or any… outsiders.

Feelings About You: Elision.

Do know that I do mean it when I say that I do want to make you happy. Yes, our relationship is less than ideal, but in the end, just know my feelings for you are indeed sincere. …I’m not exactly willing to take criticism, but I could try, perhaps. If you like to do so, I am willing to compromise, though.

→ Conclusion.

You never hear Chrollo in his movements, but you do in his actions when he wants you to.

He puts far more effort into the little things, the details than outright saying his feelings for you, or just telling you his threats. That mysterious gift that appeared on your bed while you were away at work, that just so happens to contain some of your favorite sweets? 

The bouquet on your kitchen table that was placed while you were asleep? The box of dozens if not at least a hundred pictures of you by your mailbox when you tried to file a police report? 

Chrollo is patient to a fault. You will never know what is happening, at its fullest, until it is far too late.

You can put as much blame on yourself as you want, and hate yourself as much as you want, for not realizing how dangerous this entire situation is. But this position under Chrollo’s thumb is so much more horrifying than you could ever imagine, so do not blame yourself for not noticing everything at once.

That is not to say Chrollo won’t try to degrade you into thinking this is all your fault.

Your walls will be as good as broken and crumbled down sooner than you think.

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[sixpennydame]

Make. Believe. ❖ Act 2

Actor!Levi x Fem!Reader

Levi has always kept his professional and private life separate…until you came along.

Warnings/Content: NSFW, Minors do not interact, vaginal sex, creampie, angst, mentions of AoT final season episodes

A/N: You know it wouldn't be me if I didn't add a little angst in there. ;-). This story will have a final, third part.

Act 1 | Act 3

“Levi! Levi! You’re needed in hair and makeup in 5 minutes.” His assistant knocked on the locked door of his trailer.

“Yeah…yeah..I’ll be right there. We’re just working on a script analysis.”

Levi currently has you hoisted up against the small kitchen counter, his pants down around his ankles as he’s pounding into you. You’re both sweaty and disheveled, and definitely not doing script analysis of any kind. 

“Don’t go, not yet..” you purr into his ear before nibbling on his earlobe. 

“God, I wish I didn’t have to.” He grabs the sides of your waist and starts thrusting even harder, his breathing becoming short and erratic. His climax comes intensely, even with a quickie like this. It’s just how his body reacts with you, he can’t explain it.

He lays his head on your shoulder. “You vixen, see what you do to me?” He looks down at his watch. “Shit, I’m gonna be late. Aaliyah is gonna kill me.”

He pulls on his pants, runs his hands through his hair, and gives you a quick kiss. “I’ll see you on set later.”

A sigh escapes his mouth as he leaves his trailer. What the hell is going on with him?

Levi had always prided himself on being a professional. He took his job seriously and others respected him for it.

He was sad that Attack on Titan was coming to a close; he’d met some of his dearest friends through the show and it allowed him to make a true living from acting. On the other hand, it had catapulted him into a spotlight he never truly wanted. The paparazzi, the tabloids, the constant prying into his personal life - it drove him mad sometimes.

The press was always trying to pair him with his female co-stars. If he was seen having dinner or even a coffee with any of them, suddenly they were a couple and the rumors would fly. Sure, he’d had some flings here and there, but nothing serious, and certainly nothing he wanted the public to know about.

Between filming Attack on Titan and his various other film projects throughout the year, Levi barely had time for romance or a relationship anyway.

And then he met you.

His first impression of you was that you were cute. But there was no shortage of pretty faces in this industry, and he wondered if you were just another one of those young actresses chosen more for their looks than skill.You fit the physicality and persona of the character of Anna well: you had a timeless, classic look about you that fit perfectly with the 1920’s time period and bright, beautiful eyes. In fact, it was your eyes that he first noticed, because he could see every emotion you were feeling through them. As time went on he’d get to know you better, and would learn how to read your emotions through your eyes. You were like an open book.

Any concern about your skill was quickly dismissed the first time he rehearsed with you. You were serious and hard-working, and you had done your homework on your character. Initially he’d offered to spend time with you because he wanted you to feel comfortable with him, but as the days passed he found that he just ‘clicked’ with you.

He’s not sure when he began to desire more. Maybe it was that first intimate scene when you threw him off guard by taking his fingers in your mouth. More than likely, it was in the quiet moments you two shared together - reading lines to each other, the way you would bite your bottom lip when you were concentrating. Or when you’d rehearse blocking, feeling your warm body against his, weaving your fingers together as your characters held hands.

When he felt himself get hard while shooting the sex scene, Levi knew he was in deep. It was the first time that he’d just allowed himself to lose control, for a brief moment. But seeing you there, your beautiful body displayed before him, your eyes wild and yearning, he couldn’t help himself. Even rubbing against you like that felt like a dream; and then you moaned his name in his ear…

God, he’d loved that. He’s not sure how he was even able to stay in character. Maybe he hadn’t. It was all starting to get mixed up.

——

Levi leaves his trailer to find Aaliyah, his assistant, waiting for him with her arms crossed and a to-go cup of tea in hand.

“Seriously, Levi?” she huffs, handing him his tea. “A locked door again?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. We just…needed privacy for the blocking.”

“I thought it was script analysis?” Her eyebrow raises.

They stop walking and stand in front of the makeup trailer. “Right..script analysis AND blocking. Thanks for the tea - is this English Breakfast?” He sips the drink, attempting to change the subject.

“Levi, it’s been four weeks of locked-door-script-analysis-blocking-whatever…I know what’s going on between you too.”

Aaliyah moves closer. “And it’s fine. You’re both adults, do whatever you want. But don’t get too distracted.” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “And people are starting to talk. I know you hate that.”

It’s true, the last four weeks he had been distracted. He just couldn’t get enough of you; or rather, you couldn’t get enough of each other. He loved kissing you, holding you, being between your legs. But he also just loved being with you: your loud laugh, your ability to make everything a dumb song, your kind and caring nature. Everything about you was just magic to him.

And he should have known people would start talking: the chemistry was undeniable between you two. The following week included shooting scenes of the two characters being hopelessly in love. There were montage shots of the both of you lying naked in a field, him brushing over your hip bones with flowers; next, it was swimming in the creek, your wet summer clothes clinging to your body as he teased you to jump from the rock; another yet was the two of you reading by firelight in his cabin, your legs propped on his lap as you both laughed at the story. Watching the two of you act together was like watching something intimate and special; even crew members that didn’t work that day would come and observe.

At the end of the day, one of you would end up in the other’s room, opting to be with each other rather than go out with any other cast and crew members. People probably were talking, but for the first time in a long time, Levi wasn’t thinking about what others thought - he was just doing what felt good and right in the moment. For a seasoned actor such as Levi, it was reckless and selfish…

…and very likely driving his assistant Aaliyah crazy.

“If this gets out, the rumors may overshadow the publicity events we have set up for Attack on Titan next week. Just..be cautious,” she warns with a concerned look on her face.

——

The following week, the film’s final, pivotal scenes were scheduled to be shot. Since these concentrated mainly on Anna and her husband, Levi had some free time that his publicist decided to fill with some promotions for Attack on Titan’s final season. Filming wrapped for the last episode months ago, but he and a few others were also called in for some last minute voice over work. Interviews, talk shows, and social media events were the least favorite part of the job for him, but he happily obliged to be able to see some of his closest friends again.

As he boarded the plane he thought about you, like he often did these days. Maybe he could bring you to some of the AoT premiers and introduce you to Erwin, Hange, and the others. It surprised him: he was planning a future with you after filming. He’d never done that with anyone before and it honestly scared him a little.

When Levi arrives at the studio where AoT is filmed and edited, he instantly feels like he’s at home. So many memories shared with such amazing actors. Only a few minutes pass before he sees a familiar face.

“Oh shit.”

“Levi fucking Ackerman.” Zeke steps out of the sound booth. “Look at you, still have a tea in your hand and a scowl on your face. I think you’re becoming more like your character every time I see you.”

“Well I drank it so much on set it just became a habit. But hating you might be the other thing I grew accustomed to.”

They both stare at each other intensely then break out into laughter. Levi reaches out to shake his hand. “Damn, I’ve missed sparring with you. How’ve you been?”

“Good, man. Can’t complain. You?”

“Not bad, not bad. Good to be back in the studio with you all. I’ve missed this.”

“But you missed me most of all, right?” Zeke puts an arm around Levi.

“I never get a chance to miss you, Zeke. They always put us in interviews together.” Levi laughs. “Did you see we’re doing the Vanity Fair one next month?”

Zeke nods as he walks down the hallway with Levi. “Yep. And then we have the WIRED one in a few weeks where we read the google searches about us. I wonder how many of mine will be monkey related.”

“I had to do one of those Tik Tok Challenges with the kids yesterday. God, I shouldn’t call them kids anymore, they’re all in their 20’s now. Anyway, it made me feel incredibly old.”

“Speaking of being old…” Zeke's eyes shine with mischief, “what’s a grandpa like you doing with that new, young co-star? Please tell me she’s single.”

“She wouldn’t be interested in you. She’s definitely not your type.” Levi found himself getting defensive. “And I’m not that old.”

And Zeke saw it immediately. “Ah, fuck. You’re into her.”

“Oh come on…” Levi tries to blow it off with a wave of his hand.

“No no - I’ve worked with you long enough to know that look. But good for you, man.” Zeke pats him on the back. “Press is gonna have a field day with it, though. I can speak from experience. And then there’s the constant juggling of schedules, trying to find time to see each other. You’re in your prime and she’s just starting out - who knows when you’ll ever have time for one another, especially with the schedule we’re about to have. It can strain a relationship.”

Levi’s schedule was packed the rest of the day with recording and media events, but Zeke’s words had planted a seed of doubt in his heart, and it had him troubled. He was right, dating another actor is difficult, especially if they’re both steadily working. Was getting in a relationship the best thing right now, even if it felt so right? Were you both rushing into something neither of you were prepared for?

____

Levi returned to set later that week, his mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and worries. It was late, but he’d texted you to say he was on his way so you were more than likely waiting up for him.

When he arrives to your room, you practically jump into his arms. “I missed you.”

“It was only a week,” He chuckles, then squeezes you a little tighter. “I missed you too.”

You grab his hand and lead him out of the foyer. There were candles lit and a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table.

“What’s all this?” he asks.

“I have big news.” Your face is beaming and you grab both his hands. “Remember that series I auditioned for before we started filming?” She pauses, building up the tension. “Well…I got it. I got the part!”

This was big. It was a huge HBO series that was already being talked about before casting had even started. Actors from all over were competing for roles, so the fact you got a part just solidified for Levi what he already knew:

Your star was rising.

“That’s amazing! I’m so, so proud of you. You deserve it.” He hugs you tightly.

You pour the wine and give Levi a glass. “I just can’t even believe it. First this role, and now the series? It’s happening all so fast.” You clink glasses with him and take a sip. “I’ll have like two weeks at home and then I fly out to London for costume fittings.”

Levi can feel the excitement radiating off you. “When does filming start?”

“In two months. It’s being filmed in Iceland, so I’ll be spending the rest of the year there, from the looks of it.”

His heart sank. He knows how the industry works, and he wasn’t naive enough to think that they could be together forever. He just wasn’t ready for this all to end yet.

“But I have some breaks in between, I think.” You’ve already got your phone out and are looking through your calendar and appointments. “You’ll probably be doing a lot of publicity for the final part of AoT, so maybe we can try to coordinate our breaks to be together?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave for Japan after we wrap here for the start of the publicity tour, then Europe and the U.S. once the final episode comes out. It’s gonna be difficult.” There’s a worried look in your eyes so he cups your cheek. “We can talk about it later. Right now, we have some celebrating to do!” He takes a drink of the wine and gives you a reassuring smile.

That night, he makes love to you softly and lovingly, kissing down your chest, your hips, your thighs. He wants to take in every part of you, treasure every moan and sigh. While you sleep in his arms, he runs his fingers through your hair. He wishes they could stay in this room forever, that the filming for this movie would never end. But the real world - and their careers - are waiting, and it’s not slowing down, for either of you.

It’s selfish of him to want you for himself. He knows that this film will bring a lot of attention for you and that will bring more and more jobs. To ask you to be with him, to make time for him, it isn’t fair to you.

Plus, he’s quite a bit older than you are. He can already hear the tabloids having a field day with that one. They would probably blame your rising celebrity on being with him. You don’t need that kind of negative attention.

He feels a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, fearing what is inevitable.

____

The final scene of the film is shot deep in the mountains, where Levi’s character has moved. In the script, he’s left the estate in order to escape his feelings for Anna, but in the end, she leaves her husband and seeks her lover, choosing to be with him.

It’s a beautiful moment. The sun is just rising over the mountains as you walk towards the cabin. Levi turns around and sees you, but neither of you say anything. The wind whips your hair across your face as you approach him, and he pushes it back, cupping your cheek and bringing you in for a kiss. All the crew watches in silence.

“And cut! That was perfect, you two.” The Director gets up to face the crew. “And that’s a wrap, everyone!”

There’s applause, then the crew starts taking apart equipment and loading it into trucks. You look at Levi and smile. “I guess that’s it then.”

Crew members start coming by to congratulate you both and to spread information about the wrap party later that night. Levi wants to get you alone, to talk with you privately, but you’ve already been whisked off by your assistant.

You ride together back to town in the same car, but since you’re not alone, Levi decides to text you:

Can we talk when we get back to the hotel?

Sure. <3, was your reply.

____

Levi’s palms are sweaty and his heart races as he waits for you in his room. When you knock, he opens the door to see your beautiful, smiling face. He can feel his heart breaking already.

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

“Ok,” you sit down next to him and he takes your hand, “what’s up?”

He knows he has to just say it, even though it’s hard. There’s no way to ease into it. “Now that filming has wrapped, I’m thinking we should cool things off.”

She pulls her hand away. “What do you mean, cool things off?”

“We had fun together, but once this is over we’ll be in two totally different parts of the world. It’ll be that way for a while.” He looks down. “You don’t need to worry about seeing me or being in a relationship.”

That makes her scowl at him. “Don’t put this on me, Levi. Because that is not what I want. I want to be with you,” she pauses, searching his face, “I thought you wanted that too.”

“I-“ he thinks carefully about what he should say next. “It’s not realistic.”

He looks into your eyes - those beautiful eyes he’s learned to read so well - and knows he’s hurt you deeply.

He cups your cheek. “You are such a talented actress. Working with you, getting to know you, has been the greatest experience the last few months. But you are about to do big things. You need to focus on your career, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“So this was just a fling for you? Something to pass the time?”

“Of course not.” Levi’s stomach is in knots. “I haven’t felt this way about someone since…God, I don’t know if I ever have. But I don't want to start a relationship I can’t give one hundred percent to. You deserve to be taken care of and treasured. I,” he struggles to say the words, “can’t give you that right now”

He sees a few tears running down your cheeks and he wipes them away with his thumb. Then he brings your forehead to his. If this is the right choice, why does it hurt so badly? He thinks to himself.

Levi expects you to yell or push him away, but you don’t. “What we had - it was good, wasn’t it?” you ask, sweetly and sadly.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, pushing down all the things he wants to say. “It was. Really good.”

He can still feel it - the pull you have on him. He tries to will himself to move, but he can’t, he doesn’t want to. You plant a soft kiss on his lips, then another. He opens his mouth and feels your soft tongue mingle with his, as the kisses grow more passionate.

Your leg moves across him and you now straddle his lap while Levi’s hands grab your ass, pulling you closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck as you both continue to kiss and Levi’s hands move under your shirt to cup your breasts.

You begin to grind on top of him and Levi adjusts himself on the sofa so that his hardening cock can rub you exactly where you want it. God, he can’t get enough of your body.

There’s a sudden stop in your movements and then you’re hiking up your skirt and pulling off your underwear. In answer to your actions, Levi undoes his pants and pulls out his cock right as you sit back on him. In one fluid motion he slides into you; you’re already so wet but tight, so he wants to take it slow, but you won’t allow it. You raise up your hips so that only his tip is inside you and then you sit back down, taking him in fully.

You undulate on top of him and he can feel you tightening around his cock as you move. Maybe this is your way of punishing him or just a way to use him, but he doesn’t care. If he can be with you, just one more time, then he’ll let you do whatever you want.

He grabs your hips as you move up and down, your pace turning fast and relentless. When he leans in to kiss your neck, you push him away, forcing his back against the sofa. Your hands on his shoulders, there’s not much Levi can do other than let you have your way.

Neither of you say anything, not even through moans, but your sad eyes stay fixed on him. You’re so warm and so wet, Levi can feel one of those intense climaxes coming again for him.

He cums inside you, and a deep guttural moan escapes his lips. Your movements switch to a deeper grinding motion as you pursue your own end.

You lay your head in the crook of his neck as he puts his arms around you. Minutes pass and neither of you say a word or move a muscle.

He’s a fool to give this up.

“Goodbye, Levi.”

You get up, quickly slip your underwear back on and leave without another word.

——

Levi reluctantly goes to the wrap party later that night, only planning to show his face then get out of there as soon as possible. Maybe if he only stays for a brief moment, he won’t have to see you.

But then you show up with a few other cast members. He can tell you’re already drunk because you're talking loudly and hugging everyone. Either you haven’t noticed he’s there or you refuse to acknowledge him, and both pain him. He has to get out of here, but before he can make his exit he’s grabbed by the Director.

“Everyone, let’s give a round of applause for our two leads…hey where is our Anna? Get over here!”

You walk out of the crowd and stand next to Levi. As the Director pushes you two together, you smile and take turns thanking the crew and supporting cast. Your smile is radiant as you speak, but Levi notices one difference:

Your eyes, once so easily readable, were now closed off to him.

You work your way around the room and Levi decides he shouldn’t leave the party yet, especially since he thought a guy from the supporting cast was flirting with you. Jealousy begins to build up in his heart as he watches you from afar; you laugh, placing a hand on the man’s arm then pulling it away. Levi’s own hand grips his whiskey tightly before downing it in one shot.

When you’re finally by yourself and ordering another drink at the bar, he can’t resist walking over to you.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he says with vitriol and a hint of inebriation in his voice.

You don’t look at him. “Yeah, that’s what you do at parties.”

“And you’re flirting with everyone here…is that what you do at parties too?” The words start falling out and he does nothing to stop them. “Looking for the next person you’ll fuck tonight?”

You turn your head at that last remark, as your eyes flash and shoot him a pained look. “You don’t get to judge who I talk to tonight,” you move closer to him, your voice lowered to a whisper as you speak, “or who I fuck.”

All he can do is watch as you turn your back to him and join your group at the table.

——

The next morning, Levi is awakened by a knock on his door.

“Levi! We need to leave in 30 minutes to catch the flight to Japan. I hope you’re packed in there,” Aaliyah says in an authoritative tone.

Levi rolls out of bed and grabs the water on his bed stand. He shouldn’t have drank so much last night, but it was the only way he could deal with seeing you. He’d refused to leave that party until he knew you went back to your room safely - and alone.

He opens the door to see Aaliyah waiting for him, tea in hand, as usual.

“Ugh, you look like shit. Please put these on.” She hands him her Rayban sunglasses.

As they walk down the hallway, Levi stops at your door and almost knocks. Maybe he can take back what he said last night; maybe they can make this work.

“She already left. A few hours ago.” Aaliyah puts a hand on his slumped shoulder. “Come on, we have a flight to catch.”

Levi sighs, then something shifts inside him. This is over. And he has work to do.

He puts on the sunglasses and prepares to face the growing crowd of fans that have heard he’s leaving the town today. “Right. Let’s go over my Japan schedule on the way to the airport.”

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