#do not tell them they have to break the mold or be something different than who or what they are

[northwest-cryptid]

Long hair enbies exist, I understand you’re talking more mainstream media and the like where enbies are never really portrayed hardly at all, but the problem isn’t that long hair can’t be enbie/gender neutral. it’s that people associate androgyny with nonbinary. That’s now how it works. I am nonbinary, I have a very good friend who’s nonbinary; I look very much masculine and they look very much feminine. If you ask either of us what the most troublesome aspect of our identity is, it’s literally even other LGBT individuals who use the words “androgynous” and “nonbinary” interchangeably and practically demand we adhere to their standards of what an enbie needs to look like in order to be respected. I have finally come to terms with how I look, and some days I even think I actually look good; and you know the only reason I often strive to be more androgynous at all? It’s because I just want to be respected, because I am tired of being told I “don’t look enbie” or that I’m “too masculine to pass”

Until people understand that “nonbinary” or “enbie” doesn’t have to look a certain way this sort of thing is always going to happen. While I don’t know when this post was made, I will say that there are plenty of long haired men and women in media, if you pay attention they’re out there. Truth is, having a post say “give me long haired enbies” feels like one of those cases of meaning well but accidentally demanding someone fit your desires. I know it was very likely not meant to read that way but as an enbie who has been told how to dress, how to do my hair, how to act, etc. since I had come out as nonbinary it’s a situation where my only real comment is this:

You want long haired enbies? Cool, that’s fantastic; do it then. Do it yourself. Be the change. People make enough demands of us as it is. Design your own characters, make it happen. However please never tell me how I need to look or be in order to appease other people.

start normalizing long hair as androgynous. long hair can be gender-neutral too.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝓊𝓈𝓉 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.1k wc. ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ step-brother!yuta ﾉ stepcest ﾉ dubcon (via alcohol) ﾉ hand job ﾉ mentions of blow jobs

when your mother remarries and yuta comes into your life to fill the role of step-brother, you aren’t exactly sure what to expect.

you’ve never had a brother before, no one to threaten boys in an attempt to discourage them from breaking your heart or annoy you when you have friends over for the night. and you anticipate that he’ll fit the mold, fall into the standard that’s been set by your friends. as unfamiliar as you are with siblings of the male variety—you don’t consider yuta’s behavior as brotherly.

he’s kind, and you suppose that’s a trait that can be attached to brothers—but not in the way yuta is nice. there’s something… different about the way he smiles at you, like he’s thinking about things other than what you’re talking about, like there's something else on his mind that you aren’t privy to. it’s a pretty smile, you acknowledge every time you see, but it makes you a bit uneasy.

the things he does for you feel more like acts boyfriends take on—opening doors for you, zipping up your coat, offering to take your makeup off after a long day. it’s hard to turn him away or tell him no, especially when he insists on helping you out. how can you deny him when he wears a pout that’s practically begging for your permission to lend a hand? and, as he says, he’s your brother, after all.

you’re close, but not in the way siblings should be. he tells you a lot, things that he shouldn’t feel comfortable telling his sister, things about his relationships that you have no business knowing, that make your cheeks warm up and your teeth bite down on your lip. he asks about yours, too, curious to know whether or not the boys you bring around are satisfying you, “the way they should be,” he likes to say. you’re never quite sure how to answer him or just why he’s so interested in parts of your life that are meant to be private.

things have gotten even stranger since the two of you moved out of your parent’s home, relocating to live on your own and start lives outside of your family unit. yuta still makes an effort to visit you often, going out of his way to make sure the apartment you end up renting isn't too far from his. you’re sure that if it were up to him, he’d have you living in his spare room.

he’s over your place now with the intention of “catching up” despite seeing you only a week ago. his presence in your home has become a normal one, so much so that you’ve gone out of your way to get him his own pair of slippers and even make sure that your fridge is always stocked with enough food for two.

neither of you has paid the dinner you made much mind, you focusing on your wine and yuta focusing on you. you’ve almost gotten used to being the subject of his dark stare, but you’ll admit that meeting it is a little easier with alcohol in your system. another sip of the beverage is enough for you to find your voice. “so, how’s that girl you’ve been seeing?”

whether it’s because your living room is dimly lit or because you’re starting to feel the effects of the wine, you swear you see yuta deflate with your question. the lighting isn’t tricking you—his shoulders do slump a bit upon hearing your query. he knows he’s forthcoming with information regarding his relationships but he thought he made the fact clear; that all of these girls are simply placeholders for the one he truly wants. you don’t seem to have caught on. “i’m not seeing her anymore.”

you snort, swirling your wine in its glass. “what was it about this one?”

yuta’s turnover rate with girlfriends is something to gawk at—you don’t think you could count the number of women he’s wooed over the years even if you tried… not that you’ve ever found yourself keeping track. it should be a glaring red flag, how quickly he moves on from one to the next without batting an eye, but you merely chalk it up to him being a bit of a player. and that much should mean nothing to you. guys who sleep around aren’t your type and even if you didn’t mind the lifestyle, yuta is off-limits.

not that you’ve ever thought of him in that way.

yuta shrugs. “she just wasn’t right for me.”

“is anyone?” a giggle bubbles up from your chest and it makes yuta’s heart jump, bang against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape and make its way into your hands. he’s met with a sick thought, a little voice in the back of his head whispering that your hands are where his heart belongs. “you know, you’re super picky.”

he grins at your claim. it wouldn’t be untrue to say that he has acquired a specific taste, a fixed hunger, over the past few years. “picky” isn’t quite the right word—he prefers “particular”. “i’m not, i just know what i want.”

you nod, bringing your glass to your lips. “and what’s that?”

“you.”

the little bit of wine that made it into your mouth is sputtered back into the glass as yuta’s confession wafts through the air. you’re too busy trying to compose yourself to see the way the corners of yuta’s mouth twitch at your reaction—how his gaze falls to your lips to watch how you lick them to clean up the mess of wine.

 you’ve always thought that he’s treated you like someone other than a sister but you never imagined he’d come right out and say it, and so shamelessly, at that. your cheeks heat up as the single word hangs in the air, the warmth spreading up to the tips of your ears and some other place that you try not to acknowledge.

what’s worse, the admission doesn’t make your stomach churn in disgust. it doesn’t urge you to stand up and kick him out—tell him not to come back and leave you alone for good. because as much as you like to deny it, to push those sickening feelings down into the deepest, darkest depths of you, there’s a piece of you that feels the same.

“you’ve thought about it, too, haven’t you?” yuta’s voice cuts through the thick, suffocating air surrounding you. there’s an edge to his tone that you haven’t heard before that has you dragging your bashful gaze up to his.

“it’s okay.  there’s nothing wrong with it,” he reassures you as if he can hear the doubts swimming in your head like angry piranhas. his hand finds yours and you jump at the contact but you don’t pull away. the pad of his thumb runs over your knuckles, calloused skin comforting you in a way it shouldn’t as he continues. “we’re not actually related—only by title.”

“yeah but… what would people think?” it’s taboo, you know that much—it’s why you’ve been so hellbent on suppressing those nagging feelings of attraction throughout the years. though, with his confession now out in the open, those very feelings are trying to crawl their way up from the depths of your chest—they’re surfacing.

“no one has to know.” yuta lightly shakes his head to emphasize his point. the eyes staring you down are glistening with desire, like your question has given the man hope for a long sought-after fantasy. “we can keep it between us… our little secret.”

you chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder over his suggestion. the rational part of you is screaming to snatch your hand away and point him to the door but the part of you led by longing and lust urges you to stay put, to see this through. the two thoughts are like a floating angel and devil on each of your shoulders, both of them whispering in your ear, playing tug-of-war to see which side will win your favor. 

the push you need to make a decision comes in the form of yuta himself, the man lifting your hand from your lap to his lips. a light kiss brushes your knuckles before he guides your palm to the tent between his legs. you suck in a surprised gasp at the contact your hand makes with the hard bulge.

 “see what you do to me?” yuta breathes out, light and airy, “only you can do this to me.” 

a twisted sense of pride sprouts in your chest upon hearing his declaration. yuta has never hidden the fact that you’re special to him but you never imagined just how special that was. the statement gives you the confidence to touch him of your own will, hand tentatively rubbing over his clothed erection.

yuta lets out a shattered breath and the sound has your hand stilling and your gaze darting up to his—like a bunny spooked by unexpected commotion. his free hand makes its way up to cradle the side of your face, thumb running up and down your cheek. “keep going, baby.”

you swallow and nod your head, hand picking up where it left off in its exploration over his jeans. as pretty as the quiet moans yuta releases into the air are, you can’t help but think it would feel better—for the both of you—if there wasn’t a denim barrier between the two of you.

your fingers reluctantly reach for his belt before pausing in their path. you look up at him through your eyelashes. “c-can i?”

yuta didn’t think it was possible for him to get even more turned on—not after your initial acceptance, not after he finally felt your touch, but your questions has his pants growing uncomfortably tighter. you’ve always been cute in his eyes but your asking for permission gives him all the more reason to find you absolutely adorable. “please.”

dark eyes follow your fingers as they fumble to unbuckle the man’s belt. you’re not sure whether your shaky hands are due to nerves or excitement but the trembling doesn’t go unnoticed by yuta and when you get his pants and boxers down his hips, he places a steady hand on your quivering one.

it’s warm and big around yours and you don’t question his action, only let him take your hand, guide it to the cock you’ve just pulled out. you’re no longer afraid to admit that you’ve thought about it before—what yuta’s cock looked like. it’s different seeing the real thing and you find your mouth drying with the sight, lips parted as yuta continues to steer your hand.

both of you gasp when your palm meets his skin, dragging beads of precum down yuta’s shaft with his guidance. beyond your mingled breaths, the lewd squelching that accompanies each assisted stroke of yuta’s cock sounds in the otherwise quiet air.

yuta grunts as he helps you jerk his cock, a pleasure he’s never felt before washing over him. “f-fuck—” he chokes out, “i knew you’d feel this good.”

your hand alone is better than any mouth or pussy he’s been in—it fits like a glove, fingers grazing every vein just right, brushing over his slit, squeezing his shaft. god—if your hand feels this good, yuta can only imagine what it’ll be like to have your lips wrapped around him, to be buried in the warmth of your cunt. he wonders if you know just what effect you have on him, if you’re aware of how much of a mess the mere thought of you turns him into. 

the moment you look up at him with those doe-ish eyes of yours, he can’t hold out any longer.

and with a series of strangled moans, yuta comes, ropes of warm cum shooting over your joined hands. you can feel him soften in your hand as you stroke his cock through his high, his musical whimpers meeting your ears.

when he finds his voice, yuta speaks up. “made me come so good.”

his hand finally lifts from yours and you’d complain about the cold, empty feeling if it wasn’t relocated beneath your chin. yuta tips your head up, leaning down to steal a kiss. his lips are pillowy and soft as they dance with yours and you moan into his mouth when his tongue seeks yours. it’s a messy, wet kiss, but one that has you yearning for more—more of his lips, more of his cock, more of him.

you let out a muffled squeal when you feel yourself reclining, yuta’s weight and imposing presence hovering above you as you come to lie back on the couch. you suck in a breath after yuta pulls away. he presses his forehead against yours, meeting your widened gaze.

“let me take care of you, baby.”

heyooo ! this is my first time writing a solo piece for yuta — it was fun! hope you enjoyed and if you did, consider reblogging and offering some feedback :3

[lawsvalentine]

@yuhhvalentine I just thought I another scenario that would be fun when you have the time though. Can I please request NSFW Law x Chef 👩‍🍳 Female reader. With the reader making some sex inducing rice balls as a favor for Ikkaku. But Law steals one without knowing. In the end reader figures it out.

Cee’s note: No way! I was thinking about doing a Law aphrodisiac fic for a minute now, it’s like you read my mind lol. But sure thing love 💓

Tags 🤍: @sanjisblackasswife (🫶🏽 your aphrodisiac series is the best) @3strapstyle @uchihabbynic @pinkcrystal-rose @nympheclipse (my fellow Law girlies and gents ) @roronoaswifey (ily bae) @usopps-devotee (you highkey inspired the mirror sex part)

Consuming an Aphrodisiac Food • Law x Fem!reader • (18+)

CW: Accidental Consumption of Aphrodisiac food, smut (dry humping, fingering, mirror sex, shower sex, praise, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, multiple creampies), a very horny Law, slight aftercare at the end

*MDNI*

“I’m telling you, the sex is supposed to be MIND BLOWING!”

You chuckled at Ikakku’s words as your hands molded the rice balls into shape. This wasn’t the first time a crew member had requested for you to make them special meals, with you being the ship’s cook and all. However, this was the first time someone requested for you to make sex induced food for them.

But Ikakku was your dear friend. You two were the only women in Law’s crew, so naturally you two became very close. You were more than happy to do this favor for her.

“I still can’t believe you and Penguin are a thing”, you said with a shake of your head. “And please spare me the details about y’alls sex life.”

Ikakku feigned offense with a scoff and a hand to her chest. “Hey! I don’t judge your relationship with our Captain”, she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Your cheeks burned at the mention of your lover. Even though you and Law have been together for a while now, the thought of him still made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s different! Me and Law are more…private,” you said shyly.

“More like BO-RING!”

“IKKAKU!” You gasped, ready to throw the rice ball at her.

She giggled, holding her hands up in defense, “Look, all I’m saying is maybe you two should spice things up a bit. Wouldn’t hurt for our uptight captain to loosen up.”

With that, Ikakku exited the kitchen, leaving you to your thoughts.

Were we…boring?

Law was a busy man and you a busy woman, with him and his medical studies and you having the responsibility of preparing meals for the entire crew throughout the day. So to balance responsibilities and your relationship, you guys had a schedule for your…alone time.

You weren’t complaining, the routine worked for you too. But now as you were rolling the sticky rice in your hands, you couldn’t shake Ikkaku’s words out of your head.

.

“There! All done”, you wiped your forehead with the back of your arm before reaching behind your back to loosen your apron. There in a metal dish were 6 rice balls sprinkled with the special garnish just as Ikkaku requested. You hung your apron on the rack before heading out the kitchen to fetch your friend to retrieve her “snack”.

After you had exited the kitchen, moments later, your tattooed boyfriend entered in hopes of finding you.

While working, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a short break just to fetch something to eat (mostly to see you). He frowned at the empty kitchen, he was sure you would be in here. His disappointment faded once he spotted the rice balls on the kitchen counter.

His lips curled in a smile, cheeks slightly tinted pink as he eyed the dish.

Were these for me?

Rice balls were his favorite snack and you would make it often for him when he would miss out on dinner, too consumed with work. It was one of the things Law most appreciated about you.

Law thought you must’ve known he would come in here for food and left these rice balls for him. He grabbed two of them to take with him back to his office. As he made his way back, he munched on one of them, humming contently at the taste.

It tasted slightly different than the ones you usually made but it was still delicious nonetheless. He made a mental note to “thank you” later for it.

.

After an hour, Law started feeling…strange.

Law’s forehead beaded with sweat droplets. He paused his writing to wipe his forehead with the back of his palm. He then stripped off his hoodie, his tank top sticking to his chest, drenched in sweat.

What the hell?

Law stripped the damp tank from his body leaving his chest bare. He started examining himself, concerned he was starting to catch a fever. After the diagnostic, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t sick but something was causing him to be all hot and bothered and it was frustrating the hell out of him.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, interrupting his thoughts. He yelled a “who is it?” and turned his attention to the door, to find you peeking your head in with a grin. His face softened at the sight of you.

“Hey babe, I have some time to kill before preparing dinner. Mind if I stay here?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

You were so cute, Law wanted to kiss that adorable pout off your face.

Law nodded, beckoning you inside with his hand. You beamed as you entered his office, shutting the door behind you. You went towards the book stand adjacent to Law, back facing him as you scoured the selection for a book to read.

Law couldn’t control his gaze from staring at your ass, admiring how nice it looked in those jeans you were wearing. He could feel his pants get tighter from his growing erection. He pressed a hand to his bulge, scrunching his forehead at his body’s reaction.

He didn’t know why he felt so horny all of a sudden but all he knew is that he needed you and needed you now.

You finally found a book to your liking and was about to sit on his desk but instead you were pulled on top of Law’s lap, straddling his pelvis. Your eyes widened when you felt how hard he was under you.

“L-Law?” A soft moan escaped your lips as Law started littering kisses and bites against the skin above your shirt collar.

“Mmm….wanna thank you for earlier” Law mumbled against your soft skin.

Thank me for earlier?

You had no clue what Law was referring to. You were about to question him more until you felt his lips against yours. His hands snaked around your lower back, squeezing your ass through your jeans. Your lips moved against each other so sensually, soft moans being swallowed by each others mouths.

He pulled away to only latch his mouth back against your neck. Your hands tossed his spotted hat to the side before entangling your fingers in his messy locks . He started bucking his hips up into you, adding pressure from his bulge to your clothed sex.

“You’re so good to me Y/N-ya”, Law said between peppered kisses he was leaving from your neck to your lips, “wanna show you how much I appreciate you”

You didn’t know what had gotten into your usually stoic boyfriend but you were definitely enjoying this side of him.

Your arousal started to build as you two continued grinding against each others fronts, grunts and pants escaping each others lips as you both chased your highs. Your moans became high pitched as you felt your orgasm hit you.

You felt Law groan against your neck as he came right behind you, making a mess inside his pants. Law lifted his head, his darkened eyes meeting your dazed ones.

“Looks like we made a bit of a mess” Law smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you knew it, you were being carried out of Law’s study room to the bathroom across. You were surprised by Law’s actions considering he was usually very keen about keeping your relationship private, with little to no PDA. You were loving this sudden spontaneous behavior from your boyfriend, making your core throb even more for him. Once the bathroom door closed between you two, you both couldn’t keep your hands or mouths off each other.

“Law what about dinner? Our schedule?”, you managed to get out between kisses.

“Fuck the schedule” Law prodded and pulled your jeans down your thighs. “Need you so bad right now”

That’s all you needed to hear, completely letting yourself go with him. You both stripped each other’s clothes from your bodies. Law turned you around, your back pressed against his chest as he lifted one of your legs up, your foot resting on the bathroom sink. You both were facing the mirror, your leaking pussy on full display.

Law’s arm wrapped around your front, his tatted “E” and “A” fingers infiltrating your wet hole. You mewl at the stretch of his long digits, as he continued to pump in and out of you.

“You look so hot like this babe, getting fucked by my fingers” he said, eyes strained on the mirror, watching the faces you’re making and the way your arms desperately grasp his arms as his fingers penetrate your cunt.

He swears he can cum alone just from the sight of you falling apart by just his fingers. Suddenly your body starts to writhe as you feel your stomach tightening.

“Law…I can’t it’s too much” You whimper, feeling his fingertips hit your sweet spot over and over again. Law takes his fingers out and starts rubbing your clit violently.

“Yes you can, take it” Law was not letting up, determined to get you to cum.

“Shit..Law…Law..Law”, you chant his name as your legs started to shake as your juices spray all over the mirror like a hose.

Law was mesmerized watching you make a mess all over his fingers and the bathroom sink and mirror.

Your vision was hazy and your chest was heaving as you came down from the most intense orgasm you ever had. You didn’t even realize your limp body was being carried into the shower until you felt the warm water spray down on both of you.

Law lowered you onto his cock, and started bucking his hips up into you. Law usually paced his strokes more thoroughly when you two usually had sex, but at this moment his thrusts were animalistic as he chased his high.

The sound of the shower water barely drowned out your cries and Laws groans alongside the slapping of skin against skin.

The way Law’s cock was hitting your g spot so fast and hard, had tears glossing your eyes. The pain of your overstimulated cunt mixed with pleasure was too much.

Law couldn’t get enough of you. He was drunk off the feeling of your sweet warm walls around him. He emptied his load not once, but twice more. He continued fucking himself into overstimulation. He had one more in him, pushing past his limit. His pace never letting up, determined to fill you up one last time.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes” Was the only word you could say as Law continued abusing your cunt. You had lost count of the amount of orgasms you had, each one more intense than the last.

“Fuck, babe, I love you” Law grunts, before spilling inside you one last time.

.

Your back was pressed against his tattooed chest as he lazily caressed the bar soap over your chest pressing a kiss to your forehead.

After you both calmed down, Law’s sexual drive finally wore off. He drew you two a bath to properly clean yourselves off from the mess you two made.

“That was…” Law paused unable to describe what had just happened.

“Mind blowing”, you finished, and suddenly a switch was flipped in your head and your eyes widened at your revelation.

“Babe, did you happen to eat rice balls that were in the kitchen?” You said, tilting your head back to look at him.

“Yes and they were delicious”, he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “I thought that was clear from my “thank you””, he said with a smirk.

Oh my god

You suddenly burst out laughing, and Law looked at you like you had lost your mind.

“What, Y/N-ya?”

How could you have not seen the signs. Suddenly your boyfriend’s behavior was starting to make s lot more sense.

“See, what had happened was….”

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Douma General Profile

Yandere! Douma x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non/dub-con, stalking, gore, breaking and entering, allusions to cannibalism/unknowing cannibalism, semi-graphic descriptions of an innocent animal being killed so fuck you Douma, mentions of physical and sexual harassment, physical violence towards reader, choking, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Stubborn

In general, Douma needs a darling who isn’t a pushover. He’s used to his followers blindly following his orders, nodding eagerly at his words and allowing him to do whatever he pleases with them. He’s used to lesser demons being petrified of his power, either entirely avoiding him or pleading for him to spare them, something that admittedly strokes his ego but grows boring at a certain point.

And so, while Douma is pleased that the people and creatures surrounding him so obviously understand his superiority, he yearns for something different – for something new, exciting, challenging. A darling that’s more stubborn and doesn’t blindly obey him would pique his interest, his mind reeling with all the possible ways he can get them to submit to him.

He’s giddy at the prospect of breaking down his darling, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet because oh, they’re just so very contrary to what he’s used to. He likes the idea of a darling who’s easy to fluster and embarrass, and a darling that will cling onto their beliefs and opinions presents Douma with an irresistible opportunity to slowly mold his darling into the perfect, responsive, sweet little human that he can tease and study, someone he can keep by his side like some sort of loyal pet.

(Though, as Douma’s obsession festers and only grows stronger and harder to control, he finds that he no longer thinks of his darling as some sort of glorified pet – they’re his, a possession, someone he feels strangely connected to, the barest hint of emotions dancing at the edge of his subconscious. The feeling is addictive, and with every denial of his charms and scoffed, irritated roll of their eyes, he only finds himself growing more desperate to be around them, fascination and intrigue and desire in more than a carnal way spurring him to spend every waking moment with them.)

Opinionated

Similarly, Douma enjoys a darling who has strong feelings. He understands the allure of a meeker woman – they’re easy to control and even easier to manipulate, making them the perfect follower and food supply. But for his darling, the woman he thinks he feels some sort of love for, they need to be someone with a little more backbone.

It excites him when his darling stands up to him – the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his shoulders tensing up and his breathing getting a bit heavy because yes, tell him again why he’s wrong – tell him again, now that he’s merely a foot away from you, close enough that you can feel his breath against the shell of your ear and his body – much stronger than you remember – is mere inches from yours.

He finds his darling to be an endless source of entertainment, and so they need to have strong opinions covering a wide variety of topics.

He likes surprising his darling with random questions: what are their thoughts on the afterlife and death? Should the weak have any sort of rights, and do they believe in nature’s power structure that puts demons unequivocally at the top?

Do they enjoy traditional human romantic customs, like kissing or holding hands?

Or do they prefer more intense displays of passion and devotion – would his darling enjoy it if he returned to them with the severed head of a man who’d spared them a passing glance, just as a show of how much he cares for them?

He wants to know the answers to each and every question, and one of the biggest aspects of him obsessing over his darling is the non-stop talking – always prompting them with a new question that’s almost as insane as the last, his eyes glittering and sparkling as he asks them what they think the most painful way to die is.

(If they were to answer being eaten alive, Douma would merely cock his head, blinking widely at them, before bursting into laughter, his eyes holding a glimmer of something that makes his darling freeze up in fear, a primitive instinct in them screaming to run away from this monster. Ah yes, I’d imagine it would be quite painful indeed, he’ll tell them, curling a sharp fingernail around their chin.)

Paranoid

This trait is less of a necessity and more of a perk – in general, Douma will absolutely destroy his darling. He cares for them in some twisted, strange way, but he’s not afraid to completely break his darling before rebuilding them just as he so desires.

Of course, he still wants the basic bones of their personality to remain intact, but having a darling with a propensity for anxiety and paranoia would make that job much, much simpler. He can instead divert his time and attention towards effectively corrupting them and slowly breaking them down rather than bothering with the initial stages of forcing them to doubt themselves.

The combination of his darling’s kidnapping and being held captive by a man-eating demon would force this character trait to become even more heightened, putting them in a position intensifying Douma’s poking and prodding and overwhelming them. And so, he can spend his time carefully choosing how he wants to approach them – which new insecurity should he prod at today?

He knows they’re a bit sensitive about their weight – something he doesn’t understand, really, because he absolutely loves their figure.

 He’ll lightly comment about their weight, making some remark with sugar-coated words and watching as his darling tenses up, their face twisting into that wonderful expression of hurt and sadness, the mere sight of their face changing because of him making a small, high sigh slip past his lips.

Once he thinks his darling has had enough, he’ll end the conversation with a small compliment, telling them that they’re too sensitive, we’re just having a bit of fun, aren’t we?

And really, watching the way his darling just shakily nods and tries to compose themselves leaves him feeling vindictive, satisfied, seen.

It’s selfish and horrible, but Douma is a selfish and horrible creature – so really, a paranoid darling would be absolutely perfect.

Talkative

However, despite Douma’s hobby of irritating his darling and embarrassing them, he still wants a darling who will actively engage with him. Of course, it’s very easy to force his darling into speaking with him, as just a flash of those nails, fangs, or a dismembered limb will often get them blubbering and frantically rambling and doing absolutely anything Douma requests of them.

But it’s different when his darling actively chooses to speak with him – perhaps it’s still out of fear, but at least this way Douma can indulge himself in the idea that they want to speak with him.

He can pretend that they actually enjoy hearing his voice, that they like the long, drawn-out conversations he frequently holds with them, that they actually like him – a concept that simultaneously displeases him and leaves something warm and scratchy and good settle in his chest.

Because really, while Douma’s feelings for his darling are questionable at best, he really does truly want them to like him – he craves a kind of connection that isn’t superficial and one-sided, and although it’s entirely new territory he wants them to fulfill this desire.

And so, while he annoys his darling and forces them into conversations because he likes to interact with them and study their reactions, there’s a deeper sense of desperation and neediness underlying his words and actions. A darling that is naturally more talkative will give him this desired connection, making it easier for him to feel wanted, needed, liked in a way that’s entirely foreign to him.

It’s just attractive, really, because while shy, quiet humans have their purposes, a life partner (as Douma thinks of his darling) needs to be someone who won’t shy away from his words, who will retain their voice around him. It’s just attractive, really – so please keep talking to him.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

In general, Douma is overwhelming. He’s chatty, touchy, and has absolutely no respect for your boundaries.

You’re his sweet little human – weak and naïve and perfect to play with, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t enjoy having you around. And enjoying you means teasing you, pushing your buttons, irritating you until your face twists up into that scowl or grimace that he absolutely loves to see.

He’s always doing things just to see your reaction – he’ll place things on shelves you can’t reach just to watch you bite your lip and contemplate whether you want to ask him for help, internally swooning because aw, aren’t you just the cutest when you’re embarrassed?

He’ll make you say ‘please’ in order to eat the food he’s offering you, a smirk sitting on his lips as he tells that he didn’t quite hear that, could you say that again please?

(Of course, the food isn’t the food you think it is – it’s edible, sure, and it’s high quality, but as time passes Douma finds himself toying with the idea of turning you into a demon, knowing he could probably persuade Muzan into doing this because it makes the Upper Rank Two more productive. And so, while he’d fed you mostly animal meat when he’d initially stolen you away, he very slowly begins integrating less common meats, opting to mix the smallest amount of human flesh in with the beef he serves you, just a hair of a finger or a small bit of thigh. Just to get you familiar with the taste – and to watch your face freeze up and hear you gag as he tells that you’d just eaten the man who brought you afternoon tea yesterday. He loves the way you look at him with your eyes wide and your jaw dropped, shock and disgust and fear swimming in those pretty eyes of yours and making shivers erupt over his whole body, the sight absolutely delicious.)

He’ll lay his hand on your shoulder at random times, seeing your whole body jerk and jump as you whip your head back, surprise written all over your face because you hadn’t heard him enter the room.

(Silently, he’ll marvel at the warmth of your skin through your clothing – you feel soft, too, and Douma idly wonders if the rest of you is this warm and soft. If everything is this lovely, or if certain parts of you are warmer, more sensitive, wetter -)

His favorite way to bug you, however, is to fluster you. Douma is aware that by human standards he’s very attractive – perfectly clear skin, wavy and thick hair, a sharp jawline and a smile that makes most human women – and men – crumble instantly. And while you seem to be largely immune to his charms (much to his delight and chagrin), Douma makes it his mission to get you flustered at nearly every opportunity he can. There’s something about the way your face crinkles up, your brows growing taut and your eyes looking everywhere except him that makes him only want to push further, to say more provocative things, to get closer, to hear your sharp intake of breath again and again.

He’ll have you sit near him, your thighs just barely brushing, his inhuman hearing able to pick up your slightly increased heartbeat, his own heart racing in his chest as it does every time you get so close to him. He’ll be telling you something inconsequential, narrating what he’d done that day, and nonchalantly let his hand rest on the expanse of your thigh, not even pausing his words to acknowledge his action.

And hearing your heart begin beating even faster and smell the distinct smell of fear and even just the slightest, smallest twinge of arousal gets his nostrils flaring, excitement bleeding into his voice because oh, you like this, do you?

And he’ll capitalize on your well-hidden attraction – scotting closer to you so that you can smell him better (he’d tried a new cologne that morning – one he’d seen you eyeing in a shop many months before), increasing the pressure of his fingers so that he’s gripping your thigh (and trying not to lose his composure at just how squishy you are, your human flesh so pliable and pretty and the perfect thing to feel under the pads of his fingers), and asking you with the same tease in his voice (though it’s just a tad huskier, not even intentionally) if you’re enjoying yourself, hmm? If you tell me you like this I can give you more, you know.

He’ll lean in closely to your ear, tongue lolling out to lick up the shell while he finishes with a whispered I’m no stranger to the human female body…

He’ll listen for your breath to hitch, feeling your muscles tense underneath his grip, the audible rush of blood through your veins, letting the tension build and build before laughing and leaning back. He’ll take his hand off your thigh and shoot you that same smile that his followers gush over, telling you that you’re so cute when you’re flustered, bunny, you should’ve seen your face! He likes how you try to hide your face, your fists clenched as embarrassment eats you alive because god, he’s infuriating, and god, you hate that you’d almost wanted to take him up on his offer.

And really, that’s the way Douma will slowly break you down – he’s fascinated with you, like you’re some sort of pet project of his that he wants to study and understand, and as a result he needs to spend as much time around you as possible. You’ll hardly ever get a moment to yourself as his darling – he’s always lurking, invading your personal space and inserting himself into situations where he’s not wanted.

He’ll slip under the covers of the futon right beside you, those strangely colored eyes wide and bright as he tells you that you just looked too cute for him to not want to join you – and of course he has to be laying close enough to be sharing breaths. The futon’s not that big, so what did you expect? He’ll trail behind you as you walk into the restroom, smiling brightly at you as you ask him to leave so you can bathe in peace. He has the audacity to tilt his head to the side, that same smile on his face but seeming a little wider now as he asks you why should I do that? You can shower just fine with me right here, can’t you?

(He often joins you on your trips to relieve yourself, too, standing beside you and holding full conversations with you as you hesitantly seat yourself onto the toilet, trying to avoid the eye contact he’s very, very eager to maintain. It’s quality time, he says when you bring up how uncomfortable it makes you, and you’re really just too weak and irresponsible to be trusted alone in the bathroom – what if you slip and fall? What if you accidentally rub your skin raw with your towel? Douma wouldn’t want you to be hurt, now would he? The condescending tone of his voice will often leave you angry enough to not further the conversation, making Douma smug and giddy because oh, aren’t you adorable when you’re angry!)

He’s just needy, really, because the sick, twisted version of love that he feels for you is rooted in fascination, in wanting to see how you react to the things he does to you. He wants to see every emotion you’re capable of, and he wants to be the reason for all of them. Really, he just wants you to be looking at him, paying him attention, reacting to him and the things he does – just keep your eyes on him, and let him bother you every moment of every day.

Eventually you’ll grow to tolerate the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on your body, the embarrassment that eats you alive nearly every time you interact with him. It’ll get easier, really – or perhaps you’ll just grow more complacent, and Douma will seem less like a thorn in your side and more like the only other person you ever interact with.

Just how he wants it.

Dependent

Douma is a creature that has lived for a very long time and has known only total and utter control – serving Muzan and letting everyone else serve him. He’s used to being the one in control, needing to feel the power and sense of total dominance over others in order to function correctly, to feel good.

And in most ways this applies to his obsession with you, too – he’s very aware that he’s stronger than you. He’s both physically and mentally stronger, smarter, faster, more capable, more powerful, just generally more. And in the beginning of his obsession, noticing this obvious difference in your strength and having you blatantly ignore it was enough to pique his interest.

Too many decades had passed by with humans cowering in fear and kneeling before him (as it should be), but it’s left him bored, aching for more, wanting something new and entertaining. And so once he meets you and sees that you aren’t one to submit quite as easily, Douma is immediately hooked, wanting to push you as far as he can just to see how much you can take before you crack.

And really, this is how the majority of his infatuation is presented to you – he’s an annoying, terrifying creature who metaphorically clings onto your every word and action, those colorful eyes of his always watching and staring and wanting.

You think he wants to kill you, really, and you’ll be left constantly on edge around him, terrified that he’ll hurt you or your loved ones for even a single step out of line. And in the beginning, Douma does nothing to dissolve this perception you have of him simply because it’s true. He doesn’t know if he wants to hurt you or not, if he wants to kill you, what he wants with you. You’re an enigma to him, and he’d kept you around because you intrigued him.

With every passing day, this interest and intrigue only seems to grow deeper, stronger, more difficult to disentangle himself out of. But his pride and staunch view that he’s better than all humans bars him from really realizing this early into his infatuation, firmly telling himself that it’s just curiosity that compels him to not sink his teeth into the fleshy expanse of your thigh. It’s just innocent fun that’s stopping him from ripping you apart limb by limb, feasting on what he’s absolutely sure is soft, supple flesh that would have the sweetest taste.

Though, as time passes, even Douma must admit that his feelings for his darling begin venturing into unknown, dangerous territory – no longer is it simply amusement, entertainment, and mild physical attraction that draws him to you. Instead, there’s something more – he’s desperate to see you at all times, growing addicted to having your attention, his body yearning for you in a way that simply fucking another female follower can’t satisfy.

He needs you – he’s grown too charmed by your stubbornness, your continued resistance to simply appeasing him making him more desperate to crush you and have you under his thumb. No longer is his obsession simply a desire to have you around to mess with and satisfy his boredom – no, now it’s about you and your place at his side. You’re certainly not his equal, but he sees you as a companion, a partner not in equalness but in terms of needing you.

Because really, as soon as Douma realizes that he’s toeing the line between mild interest and honest desperation, he panics a bit. This is totally new – something unknown and scary and something he can’t control, so he tries to pull back, forcing himself to give you distance because he simply can’t be allowing you to have such control over him.

You plague his every thought – when you’re apart, he’s imagining what you’re doing. Are you relaxing, enjoying the serenity that being away from your kidnapper brings you?

Are you lonely, wishing he was there to keep you company, even if the way he touches you makes your skin crawl?

Are you sleeping, hopefully dreaming about people with his face and eyes and hair?

Or perhaps you’re eating, maybe even finding yourself wishing that Douma was there to sit beside you, that sick grin on his face while he lifts the chopsticks, tells you to say ‘ah’ and places the sushi delicately on your tongue, something dark in his expression as he tells you to chew and swallow, don’t let it go to waste.

He’d only fed you once, and you’d fought it the whole time, trying to squirm away from him and being thoroughly difficult. It’d entertained Douma in the moment, the way you were so desperate to get away from him, but now, thinking back on it as he patiently waits for Gyokko to get to the meeting site for the joint mission Muzan had assigned them, he’s starting to wonder if perhaps the experience would be even more enjoyable if you obediently let him feed you, looking at him with those pretty eyes of yours and even thanking him, telling him how delicious the food is, how nice his company is, how you’re so very glad that he’s returned to you…

It’s sappy and stupid and ridiculous, and it makes Douma scowl to know that you’ve managed to snag such a hold on him, but every time he considers killing you, something sharp wedges its way into his heart and he finds himself dismissing the thought.

Because really, as pathetic as being obsessed with a weak human female like you is, the alternative is worse – returning to a life of monotony and apathy, seeking his thrills through the momentary high of a slaughter, desperately chasing after more power and more entertainment, trying to fill in the empty void in his chest where his heart should be.

You fix all of that – and so he decides to embrace these new feelings, deciding that if he feels so strongly for you, then he must keep you by his side. You aren’t allowed to ever leave – he would be a shell of a demon if you did, every ounce of joy and happiness stolen from him, and he’s simply too selfish to allow that to happen.

So you’d better prepare for Douma’s constant attention, the frantic way he looks to you, the way his fingers always grip onto you, his voice ringing in your ears over and over and over. He’s overwhelming you, his presence and the constant demands of your attention draining you and leaving you attached to him in a way that makes him sick, but Douma frankly doesn’t care.

How can he? Every moment he spends with you not only quells the constant ache to be around you and feel your eyes on him, but it also deepens your dependence on him, too. Because really, Douma is the only person you ever see with any real consistency – he’s incredibly strict on allowing his followers to come into contact with you, only allowing a small handful of his most devoted servants to drop off meals or change your bath water when he can’t be there to do it himself.

(Both of these activities he loathes missing, if only because you’re so cute when you’re eating, and bathing you? God, Douma likes to think he has decent self-control, but the way he pounces at you and bares his teeth, his eyes darkening and his voice getting noticeably deeper makes it obvious that his hold on himself is slipping, the sight of your nude body with water only barely covering your nipples and below your torso making him genuinely feral.)

 It’s in moments like these that Douma can only laugh at himself, embarrassed for having allowed himself to fall so strongly for a weak, pathetic thing like you. And yet, as time passes he finds himself not caring – after all, when he forces you to turn into a demon, some of that self-loathing will disappear, and then he can be as rough as he wants with you – an idea that makes him literally tremble with anticipation.

Possessive

Unlike his fellow demons, Douma is actually a bit sneaky with this aspect of his obsession – at least, in the beginning.

He’s not obviously possessive or territorial of you, or at least not more so than you’d expect. Frankly, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s kidnapped you and flirts with you just to fluster you, you’d have no idea that Douma is interested in you romantically. He’s touchy and pushy, sure, but he never showcases any traits of the traditional jealous partner. He doesn’t rant and rave about how you’re his, nor does he leave possessive bites or marks along your body to physically mark you as his.

He’s not that uncivilized – at least, he likes to think so. He’s not that terribly obsessed with you, he likes to believe, and by not being verbally territorial over your time, space, and attention, he feels that he’s maintaining this boundary between you where you can’t see just how truly dependent on you he’s become.

But the issue, really, is that while Douma thinks he isn’t easily jealous or possessive over you, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Really, he absolutely needs you to be looking at him and only him – he’s used to being revered and worshipped, both by his followers and many of his fellow demons, but there’s just something different about your attention.

There’s something warmer, something better, something that makes his fingers twitch and his neck feel hot because god, you look good when you’re looking at him, and when you say his name with that slight tremble of fear in your voice he wants to press you so tightly against him that you can’t breath.

You’re just different, really, and so Douma struggles with this internal dilemma. Particularly in the beginning of his obsession and your captivity, he doesn’t allow any signs of his true feelings to be seen – sure he’s flirting with you and teasing you just to see you squirm and get all embarrassed, but it’s just for fun. It’s all a big game, of course – you’re just so weak and endearing and strangely cute that Douma can’t help but belittle you and see that flustered, embarrassed expression on that pretty face of yours.

But then he notices you smiling and laughing at something else one day – something small, something stupid.

A small squirrel had managed to weasel its through the high window into the room he keeps you locked away in, the little brown animal curiously staring at you. On its hind legs, dark, beady eyes fixed on you while you lightly giggle and marvel at the bushiness of its tail, the liveliness of its presence – suddenly not feeling so horribly, horribly lonely.

And Douma’s immediately seeing red – your pretty face is all twisted up in a smile and your eyes are fucking sparkling – why the hell don’t you look like that when he’s talking to you? You’ve never looked this happy with him even once – you flustered and embarrassed is great, but this?

His hands are shaking, an ugly snarl ripping across his face, blond hair bristling as he sprints to grab the squirrel. Everything happens too fast for you to really comprehend – the squirrel is a few feet away from you one second, squeezed between his pale finger the next, something maniacal and scary and horrifying flicking through those rainbow eyes of his as he stares down at the small creature.

You’re immediately scrambling to your feet, begging him to not hurt the animal, and his head snaps to yours almost robotically, that look morphing into some deranged excuse of a smile as he tells you that you’re not allowed to be making friends, remember? I told you what would happen if you did. Do you remember what I told you?

And as you start sobbing, begging him to not kill the animal, Douma will only sigh wistfully, deciding that although he wants to see you smiling and laughing and loving him like the way you loved this squirrel, this is nice too. You, with tears streaming down your cheeks, snot dribbling from your nose, your eyes all glassy and red – you’re cute like this, really, and it makes him smile gleefully, squeezing at the squirrel just a hair tighter and oh god –

You’re still crying when he has the follower on their hands and knees scrubbing the blood from the pretty white flooring, your body wrapped in Douma’s arms while he coos at you and plays with your hair.

It’s only then that you’ll really begin to see just how truly devoted Douma is to you – his hands are all over you, those eyes staring holes through you, arms tugging you closer and closer to him, not leaving an inch of space between your bodies. He’ll grab your chin and force you to look at him, that same sick smile on his face while he tells you that you’re very pretty, you know, I like when you look like this. Now won’t you smile for me? C’mon, I deserve a smile, don’t I?

If you don’t, his grip tightens, surely leaving bruises against your dainty skin, pressing tighter until you shakily quirk up your lips, the smile pained and strained and absolutely divine in his eyes. It’s then that the possessiveness will start to rear its ugly head – he’s telling you in that same sing-song, fake voice that you’re so much better when you’re smiling… Hey, you know to only smile at me, right? You know what’ll happen to anyone or anything else you smile at and talk to. I’m the only one you need to look at – I’ll slaughter anything that dares to steal your attention from me, do you understand?

Meanwhile, he’s stroking your cheek, unblinking as he stares, his breath ice cold and making you shiver. After that incident, Douma doesn’t hold back on making it absolutely clear that you are not to speak with anyone else in the compound – you’d already been studiously avoided by all his followers, only coming into contact with someone when they were forced to bring you food or attend to your washroom needs. But now, everyone was actively afraid of you – running at the sight of you, one poor girl even shaking and breathing so heavily as she heated your bathwater that it hurt just to look at her.

And you know it’s all Douma’s doing, too – you’ve heard him telling his followers that you’re strictly off-limits, that you’re something that isn’t to be touched or looked at, that you’re a sin, that to interact with you without just cause would be an irrevocable offense worthy of death. And there’s something about his voice when he says it that makes you bite your lip, fear dancing through your chest because you’ve never heard him be so serious before, the rumble of his words and the way you can practically see the dead-eyed, apathetic face making something in your gut twist.

From then on, he’s even more clingy – constantly demanding your attention, touching you seemingly without restraint, his voice constantly ringing in your head as he bothers you day and night, never letting you go more than a few minutes without his presence at your side and rudely commanding your attention and time.

Really, he’s just awfully needy – you’re his. His favorite human, toy, thing, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone – or any thing – take that away from him. He’s a powerful demon, and you’re nothing compared to him. So just accept your place as his personal whore, really – because there’s nothing you can do about it. He’s needy and jealous and will become the only person you’ll see with any sort of remote consistency, and it’s all by design.

You’re not to speak with, look at, or think of anyone else – you really, really wouldn’t to see anyone get hurt over that rule, now would you?

Because as much as he likes your positive attention, seeing you scream and cry and hate him is almost as good – delicious in a way that makes him lick his teeth and giggle because ah, you’re just so adorable.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, despite Douma’s more possessive feelings over you, he doesn’t get jealous that often.

This is mostly due to the fact that he severely limits who he allows to interact with you – all your attendants must be female, and ideally rather weak-willed and soft-spoken. He wants you to be interacting with the most mild people he can, just so that you don’t grow too attached to anyone.

He’ll keep the attendants rotating, just so that you don’t develop any sort of comradery with anyone, and so that no one becomes hopelessly enthralled by you or becomes inspired to set you free from your obvious captivity. It’s all selfish and very, very purposefully orchestrated, because while Douma may be occasionally relaxed and not as rigid with his followers, anything involving you is meticulously thought out, planned with such a degree of obsessiveness that it nearly drives him crazy.

And so, you hardly ever get the chance to interact with a man, much less glance at him – which is very, very good news for the people of the compound, because otherwise all of their blood would be spilled and he’d  be touching your sweet body over their corpses.

Douma simply doesn’t get the opportunity to become jealous often – and even before all of his obsession has fully festered and established itself, this stands true. He kidnaps you very early on, and fully with the intention of killing you once his interest in you dries up.

As a result, there’s simply not much time between the formation of his obsession and your eventual relocation to his temple, seriously limiting his opportunities to grow jealous over you. And this pleases Douma – once he decides that he wants to keep you, the thought of you being unable to interact with anyone significant aside from himself is calming, a sense of possessiveness and ownership over you swimming through him that makes his smile almost real.

And so, for the first few weeks of your captivity, you’ll genuinely think that Douma won’t grow jealous over you, simply because the very, very few people you meet are nearly silent, only interacting with you when absolutely necessary and practically running out of the room before you even finish talking.

 But of course, not everything goes to plan – it only takes a single encounter for you to realize that your previous assumptions about him not growing jealous were painfully mistaken.

The new attendant is more talkative than the previous one. The last one had been mousy, a quiet little creature of a girl who couldn’t be older than fourteen, setting down your meal tray and immediately darting out of the room, the lock clicking loudly behind her. You hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak with her, let alone ask her name or details about your location.

But this newer girl was a little bolder. Her gaze, while still averted, would occasionally dart back to you. And while the pity in her eyes made something ugly simmer in your chest, the acknowledgement of your poor situation by anyone other than him was still welcome.

She was still rather quiet, but you noticed that she stayed just a hair longer, and would even manage to crack the smallest of smiles in your presence.

But during one sunny afternoon, while Douma longues on your bed with an arm propped under his head and those eyes of his stuck on your figure, she comes by to drop off the food.

It’s a familiar knock at your door, and you perk up at the sound, something that Douma notices with a slight twitch of his eyebrow.

Come in, you call, watching as the locks click and the wooden door creaks open. The girl is there, and you watch as her eyes meet yours and she gives you a small nod of recognition. You smile ever so slightly back, on edge with Douma’s hawk eyes monitoring the entire interaction.

The girl sets the tray onto the ground before shuffling away, glancing up one more time only to suddenly notice Douma’s presence on the bed. She gasps, eyes blowing wide, before bowing her head against the ground, stuttering out a M-Master Douma!

He’s quiet, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly, before an easy smile settles onto his lips. Slowly he gets up, steps light and airy as he approaches the doorway. You’re still standing on the other side of the room, watching the interaction with every hair on your body standing at attention. There’s something about the way he feels, the predatory sense of dread hanging in the air that makes your every muscle desperate to run away, to get out before something terrible happens.

He squats down to her kneeling height once he reaches her, his eyes closing as he keeps up that smile. Do you know her?

The girl shakes her head quickly, her voice merely a whisper as she tells him no, I only serve her meals occasionally.

He nods, humming. So why are you looking at her then?

The girl parts her lips slightly, gaze wide as she stares at him. I – um, I don’t what you mean, Master. I’m sorry.

His eyes open, lids closing half-way and pupils fixed on her. Why are you staring at her so familiarly? Did I not explicitly tell you to avoid looking at what’s mine?

She gulps, her hands starting to shake. I – I’m  terribly sorry, I did not mean to –

Douma sighs, but his shoulders stay tight and tensed, the muscles in his arm visibly flexing underneath his shirt as he clenches his fist. Ah-ah-ah, don’t you know? I don’t care what you have to say. No one is to look at or speak to her. You knew this. And yet you went and did it anyways. Do you know what that makes you?

She’s crying now, tears slipping down her cheeks and her lip wobbling. You’re too frozen with fear to move, but you can hardly breath.

Douma smiles, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. He leans in closer, bunch hunched in a way that doesn’t look human.

Dead. He breathes out.

It happens too quickly for you to follow – his fist is plunging into her chest, her scream cut short by him ripping his hand back out, something red and wet and moving clutched in his palm. The sight makes you sick, bile rising up in the back of your throat and making you heave, forcing you to the ground.

Her body goes limp and slumps to the side, blood pouring around her body and leaving the pretty, wooden floors stained red.

Douma’s giggling, you hear, as he squeezes at her dismembered heart, clutching down tighter and tighter and tighter – until it explodes in a spray of red, getting all over his face and chest, staining the floor even more and making a fresh wave of nausea pass through you.

Your entire body is shaking, gaze unable to stop staring at her lifeless body, terror coursing through you and making it impossible to breath, to move, to think.

All too soon Douma’s standing up, wiping the blood staining his hand onto the already ruined white fabric of his pants, gaze settling on you and sighing once more. What a mess, he laments, but your gaze is still stuck on the girl.

He pouts at that, moving forward and physically blocking your view, getting close enough to you that you can smell the blood on him, see the little bits of tissue and muscle decorating the tight fabric of his shirt.

He’s smiling again, and you flinch as he clasps a strand of your hair between two fingers, rubbing it between them and smearing red all over.

Did you like that? His question makes your lips part, your gaze slowly moving to meet his, something in your gut screaming at you to hurt him, to hurt this creature that so cruelly ruins and steals the lives of others.

But as Douma presses in further, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as his eyes get wider, his voice a bit higher, excitement oozing off of him in waves, he only asks again did you like seeing that? Doesn’t it feel good to see her get what she deserves?

You have nothing to say to that, so you only stare, your own tears pooling down your cheeks.

Douma’s eyes sparkle at that, and he leans forward, tongue lolling out and licking a long strike up your cheek, the salty taste making him shiver.

He rests his forehead against yours, licking his lips and pressing wet, bloody hands against your arms. Hey, let’s go to bed. You’ll be good for me, right? You wouldn’t want to anger me, you know.

And really, what other choice do you have but to say yes, to let him drag you to the mattress and hold you, all the while you stare at the girl’s body? There’s blood staining every inch of your skin and smearing across the sheets, but you try to ignore the now cold, viscous feeling.

And does it make you a bad person for being grateful that it’s not you laying lifeless on the cold, hard ground?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

It’s inevitable, and it happens fast. Douma is simply a stranger to you at first – a friend of yours had been converted into the Paradise Cult, and at Douma’s urging, each follower had been required to drag in a new member.

You weren’t especially receptive to the idea, but your friend had tricked you into visiting the compound by telling you it was simply an alternative living community, leaving you unsure and suspicious but not wanting to doubt the friend who’d suddenly re-emerged into your life.

And after stepping foot into the compound, you immediately had a sense of what was happening – something was very, very wrong, and your friend seemed entirely dismissive and unaware of it. You’d stayed out of politeness (and your friend’s very thinly veiled threats of what would happen if you were to run), promising to meet the Master as your friend had begged, and upon meeting Douma (alongside a large group of people who seemed to be in varying states of fear and confusion, like yourself), you’d immediately wanted to turn-tail and leave.

He’d gone through each individual recruit, shaking their hand and whispering sweet words to them, and when he’d approached you, expecting the same kindness and reverence that all the other recruits were told to exhibit, he was sorely mistaken. After grabbing your hands (his hands were ice cold, freezing, and perfectly smooth), you’d smiled at him, trying to mirror the expression on his face.

Welcome to Paradise, won’t you join us? His voice had been smooth, calming, and layered with a sense of confidence that had your smile turning sour.

No, thank you, I’ll be leaving now. You’d ripped your hands out of his grasp and promptly turned on your heel, not sparing Douma a glance as he gaped at you, genuinely too stunned to make a move and follow you.

He’d meant to follow after you, anger at your disrespect making his eye twitch, but the other recruits had to be brought in before he could bother with a single disgruntled woman. You’d managed to leave the compound, ignoring your friend’s hysteria and desperate pleas to apologize to the Master, instead storming all the way back to your own home and vowing to never set foot on that property again. There was just something unnerving about the place, and that man – he’d made some primal sense of fear edge up into your throat, your body feeling feather light and your reflexes heightened.

But as you tried to adjust back into your life and essentially mourn the loss of your friend, Douma hadn’t forgotten about you. He’d tried to – you were inconsequential, a dirty, lowly human woman, utterly nothing. And yet, the days began to blend together, images of your naively brave face dancing behind his eyelids, thinking of the absolute gall you had to blatantly disrespect what your body could clearly sense was an apex predator.

(He’d been able to smell the fear wafting off of you in waves, hear the rapid pounding of your heart, see the tremor of your hands. You’d been petrified, truly, and yet you’d still been stupid enough to run away. It would be impressive, if it didn’t leave such a sour taste in his mouth.)

The anger prompted him to call in your friend, asking with a sickly sweet smile what your name was, where you lived, and to tell him a bit about you. Your friend was more than happy to oblige his request, apologizing profusely on your behalf and spilling every detail about you that they could. Douma had nodded at the end, flashing them one last smile before slicing their head off, licking a bloody finger afterwards and humming.

Immediately heading off towards the location of your home, Douma ran through all the possible ways he could punish you for your blatant disrespect – perhaps rip your toes and fingers off one by one, then devour you, or maybe even slice open your belly and let you suffer before death?

Deeply pondering, he’d stopped outside your home, staring into the windows and feeling his eyes brighten at the sight of you simply seated in your living area, reading out of a book. You were nothing special, truly – no particularly beautiful features, nothing that would catch his eye out of the hundreds of humans he’s met and devoured. You were utterly unremarkable, and weak, too; unable to fight, unable to defend yourself, just utterly, utterly pathetic.

And as he slips into your home, internally scoffing at how you don’t even notice his presence, Douma suddenly stops. You’re looking at him now, panic eating away at your features as you cling to the wall behind you, your voice shaking and rather thin as you scream at him that you’ll hurt you, don’t – don’t come any closer!

And really, it almost makes him laugh when you grab at the candlestick on the nearby table, pointing the stubby, wax bar at him with eyes wide enough to make him giggle.

It’s quiet for a long moment, before Douma’s lips quirk up into something vaguely resembling a smile, something in his eyes growing brighter as he realizes that oh, you might be a bit of fun.

And as he moves forward and has a hand striking against the pressure point in your neck before you can even blink, Douma finds himself nonchalantly leaning down to smell along the curve of your jaw.

You’re not wholly unappealing, now that he looks at you up close. You smell nice enough – a bit floral, a bit earthy, and he can hear the beating of your heart from this close. That same twisted smile sits on his lips as he brings you back to the compound, rainbow eyes dull as he unceremoniously drops you onto the rackety, spare mattress of a fellow cult member, ignoring their questions as he slices at their throat and hums.

You could be entertaining enough, at least for a day or two – it’s not often that people resist him, and he wants to know how long it’ll take before you break.

Despite Douma’s rather spontaneous kidnapping of you, it doesn’t take him long to fall into a rhythm with you. What he feels for you at first is slow-going and barely even there, but it’s something – and as time passes and he becomes aware that you’re inspiring an unknown emotion – any emotion, aside from a dull pleasure in seeing others suffering - inside of his chest, he becomes more and more attached.

And this is obvious in the way that he treats you – he’s absolutely suffocating, choosing to take up your every moment of the day because absolutely nothing compares to the sight of you scowling at him, or the way you flinch and scramble to get away from him every time he reaches out to touch you. It’s cute, even, the way you ardently try to escape him when you’re both painfully aware that it isn’t possible. It’s endearing, but even with your stubborn nature, you’ll eventually grow complacent in the lifestyle he’s forced upon you.

You’re kept in a set of bedchambers that very clearly belonged to another person before you – the bed is larger than you’d expected, with crisp white sheets and red silks hanging from the frame on all sides. The dark, mahogany wood is engraved with all sorts of geometric and floral patterns, and during the rare stretches of solitude that you’re afforded, you find yourself running your fingers over the shapes and committing them to memory.

The bed had actually not belonged to the room’s previous occupant – instead, the bed had been the one Douma designated as his own, before your arrival. It’d been the bed he’d lounge about in during the day, bedding nearly every woman and man in the compound between those very sheets. He’d had it moved into the room he keeps you in a week or so after your arrival, deciding that if he was to spend so much time in your space, he might as well be comfortable while doing so.

(And though it hadn’t been his intention, there’s something oddly pleasing about seeing the way you visibly sink into the mattress most evenings, your constant fearful expression and scowl slowly melting away at the sheer luxury of the bed. Pleasing, and satisfying, really, because something that almost resembles pride eats away at him when he thinks of how he’s the one providing you with such comforts, and is thus the reason for your joy.)

The room itself is rather small, with four plain white walls and a few decorations and trinkets left behind by the previous occupant. A select few photographs and letters had been left behind, and you’d placed them all in a small corner of the room, taking care to not damage them but unable to look at them without feeling ill.

You hardly ever leave the room – Douma doesn’t allow you to freely roam the compound, and you are strictly forbidden from having any visitors aside from himself and a select few trust cultists that he keeps very, very careful tabs on.

(There’s the small, ever-present sense of worry that you’ll find comradery or friendship among one of the attendees, so he’s careful to keep them uncomfortably aware of their purpose, of how they aren’t to speak to you unless absolutely necessary, how they aren’t to spend any time at all in your space unless ordered by Douma himself, how your life is much, much more precious than theirs.)

But truth be told, you’ll be grateful for any and every attendant that spends even a few seconds with you – because Douma will be an always present, unwavering presence in your life once you’re stolen away. He finds you fascinating, and there’s something addicting about the responses you give to him. It’s addictive enough that he finds himself by your side every moment he can spare, always staring at you with that odd, small smile that never seems to reach his eyes, his voice always chipper and cheery even as he tells you the most gut-wrenching, revolting things.

And as time passes, Douma becomes not only clingy, but touchy. His hands are freezing cold when they touch you, skin like ice as he cups your cheek or grasps your wrist or places his hand on the small of your back.

He has no concept of personal space; his breath (cold just like his fingers) fans against your skin as he stands behind you, your back pressed snugly against his chest as he murmurs in your ear that you’re shaking, are you afraid? Probably a good choice, considering how weak you are.

He’s making you sit in his lap as he forces you to tell him about your old life, listening to the shaky intake and exhale of your breath and tut-tutting at you, telling you to stop lying, pretty thing, I can hear your heartbeat soaring. We wouldn’t want poor Mimiko outside to pay for your deceptions, would we?

And once he begins getting truly needy for your time and attention, Douma is absolutely not afraid to escalate your relationship to something more physical, something more intimate. He absolutely will force himself onto you, that same devoid smile on his lips while his eyes shine with something that you can’t – and won’t – put a finger on.

He views you as his personal play thing, his personal human, and his clinginess and inability to leave you alone for more than an hour at a time is proof of it. And as he grows more and more attached, the desperation to be around you starting to cloud his mind and make him angry, irritable, enraged when something keeps him away from you, he’ll only become more suffocating, more desperate for your every thought, look, and feeling to revolve solely around him him him.

It’s the least you could do, really, considering he’s been kind enough to spare you.

(Though there’s always the lingering question of how sweet your blood tastes, if you’re as soft and tender as he expects, if when he sinks those teeth of his down into the sensitive flesh of your thigh you’d squeal his name like he hopes you would…)

PUNISHMENTS:

If you don’t count his constant, overwhelming presence, Douma doesn’t really punish you. He’s actually fairly lenient – he certainly doesn’t allow you to roam around the compound on your own, nor does he allow you to speak with anyone aside from himself, but you’re allowed to choose what clothing you wear, how you style your hair, when you wake up and when you go to bed.

And really, Douma likes to point out just how much freedom he gives you – when you’ve got an attitude, anger and irritation welling up in your chest and bubbling over, Douma will simply pout at you, telling you that you don’t get to be mean, you got breakfast this morning. And while he doesn’t explicitly say it, the tone of his voice and the way he’s looking at you are reminders that yes, he’s keeping you here against your wall, but he’s oh so generous and feeding you well. He’s giving you food, shelter, and attention from a being much superior to yourself – and frankly, you’re a spoiled little brat for not realizing exactly what a gift he’s giving you.

He’s not the biggest fan of actually saying those words to you though, if only because he likes to keep up the charade of being a happy-go-lucky man, wanting you to feel and acknowledge that yes, he's powerful, but he also treats you with kindness and a level of care and adoration that you should really be beyond grateful to be receiving.

It’s a matter of pride, more than anything else – and your ‘punishments’ are also a matter of pride. It takes quite a bit to anger Douma. This is because he lives for your responses – he’s teasing you and pushing you right to the edge on a constant basis, loving the way you grit your teeth or yell at him or try to ignore him. Though, he admittedly likes that last option significantly less. It’s entertaining for the first few minutes watching you clench your jaw and pretend like he’s not poking your stomach or kissing over the shell of your ear or threatening your family members, but if you hold out and remain silent and unresponsive, he’ll eventually just pout and give up, sighing dramatically and telling you fine, have it your way.

You won’t ever actually get your way, of course, but Douma will manage to finagle some variation of your request with his own touch to it.

You’re asking for your freedom? Absolutely not, but he will get you a pretty pair of binoculars so you can see outside the laughably small, iron-barred window in your room!

You want supplies for your hobbies because you’re going insane with boredom? A bit harsh considering he’s always keeping you company, but he’ll buy you whatever your little heart desires, no matter how expensive or difficult to find. You just have to teach him how to use them, okay? You’ll do your little hobbies with him, or not at all.

And so, Douma doesn’t automatically see you lashing out or being rude as a negative. Instead, it often only endears him more to you, enjoying the way you’re so very human in your inability to control your emotions.

But while he doesn’t respond negatively to your bad behavior, there are two things which truly do upset him.

The first upset is predictable – your attempts at escape. You talking about running away is one thing; lofty plans and ideals you talk about in front of him while he nods along and coos at you, pointing out each and every flaw in your thinking and explaining in detail the many ways he could stop you.

It’s mildly amusing when you’re just putting on a face and acting like you want to leave, but the moment you actually attempt it, that amusement is shifting to irritation, his eye twitching slightly because oh, how stupid could you really be? You obviously don’t realize that you’re stuck square in the center of a rather large compound filled with people who would absolutely kill for Douma, and would do anything he so desired even if it meant ignoring your screams and cries to return you back to their leader.

It’s frustrating to him, if only because it’s a mess he has to clean up, and there’s always the repercussions of having to figure out who helped you orchestrate the whole endeavor, because he knows you can’t escape out of this room on your own. And while killing the sympathizer is fun and leaves him stained in blood and shivering in delight, it’s precious time that he could be spending with you.

But really, the one thing that truly upsets him is when you hurt yourself. He can hurt you – he can drag his nails down your pretty skin and leave beads of blood in their wake. He can pull at your hair until you’re tearing up, the look on your face pained and sending blood directly between his legs, your expression delicious and oh so arousing. He can even bend you over and smack his hand against the smell of your ass over and over and over until your bruised, welts decorating the pretty skin and your eyes barely open.

He can do all that, but why the fuck do you think you can? You’re his toy – his. You aren’t your own person anymore; you’re his plaything, and as a result your body belongs to him. Injuring yourself is equivalent to damaging his personal property, and if there’s one thing Douma can’t stand, it’s others taking what’s his.

And so, to truly see him mad, you must purposefully injure yourself in some capacity – though you have to get creative, considering how little time you have for yourself.

It's late at night when you decide to do it. It’s one of the rare evenings where Douma isn’t caging you in his arms while he commands you to sleep, eyes wide open and staring straight at you as he patiently waits for you to fall into unconsciousness. He’d said he had business to attend to tonight – whatever that meant, though you had a good feeling you’d rather not know.

It’s strange without him, even as loathed as you are to admit it. The room – not your room, never your room – is oddly quiet without him, missing the ominous, overwhelming presence that he brings with him with every visit. Some part of you almost finds it lonely, though you can’t exactly say that you miss him. Just the contact with another person – if you can even call him that.

Shaking your head from the thoughts, you stand up and slowly pad your way over to the window. It’s high, too high for you to reach just on your own. Grabbing the chair sitting at the small, never-used desk in the corner of the room, you’re quick to place it under the window and climb up.

The view isn’t anything particularly special – just looking out onto the courtyard in what you’re guessing is the center of the complex, the array of traditional style houses sitting in even, neat rows along the sides. It’s pretty, in a suburban, monotonous way, and it makes you frown. This place feels like death, and the sight only resolves your desire to escape.

Sitting outside the hole cut into the wall as the window are iron bars, surely placed there to limit anything from coming inside. And, of course, to limit anything from going outside, too. With a small breath, you reached up and carefully clasped your fingers around the bar second from the right.

You’d noticed the last time you’d done this that the metal was incredibly loose – wiggling in its joint easily, and likely unsecure enough to complete pull off of its hinges. Biting your lip, you slowly increased shaking the metal, trying to dislodge it and create a space large enough for you to squeeze through.

You paused every so often, worried that the slight clanging noise would draw attention to your room and alert anyone outside of what you were doing. That wouldn’t do – this escape plan hinged entirely on your ability to get out undetected, as you had no doubts every follower would immediately report to Douma and you could kiss your chances of escape goodbye.

It’s difficult to hold back the small exclamation of relief when you finally feel the iron break free, the weight of it in your hand making you swallow thickly. Okay, now to just push myself through…

The opening looked just big enough, but it would still be a tight fit.

Pushing off with one leg, you manage to get your knee on the sill. Scrunching your brows, you shift your weight to push off the back leg, wobbling slightly as you find your balance on both knees. Now, for the difficult part.

Come on, you murmur as you inch forward, gingerly pushing your head through the opening and glancing around, eyes squinting in the darkness but not seeing anyone outside. With a deep breath, you pushed further, one hand coming up to reach through the railing, managing to get your shoulder outside, pushing yourself forward and letting the smallest smile grace your lips because oh god, you might actually make it-

You barely feel the cold hand wrapping around your ankle until it’s yanking you back. Harshly.

You fly backwards with a small scream, the iron of the next bar over scratching at your arm and warm, wet blood immediately trickling down your forearm. Your back hits the mattress and knocks the air out of you, making your vision dizzy for a moment before you see it. Him.

Normally Douma sports a small, rather nonchalant smile around you. It’s chilling because there’s so little emotion in his eyes, almost looking like two pretty voids in the center of his face. It’s disturbing, but if you don’t look at it it’s not too terrible.

This, though? The way he’s looking at you right now? It’s enough to have you scrambling to the back of the mattress, your lips parting and closing like a fish, fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins so quickly that it hurts.

He’s not smiling. No, instead his lips are completely, utterly flat – a straight line that has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He doesn’t even look angry, really – just utterly emotionless, not a shred of anything on his face for you to read.

What are you doing? Even his voice is eerily neutral, completely monotone.

I-I was just – I – um, you can’t even think of a plausible excuse, the situation and Douma’s reaction leaving you too fried and afraid to form a coherent thought.

He’s not having that, though. He walks closer to the bed, each step sounding like a clap of thunder. His expression is still that same flat line, even as he crawls onto the bed, that hand once again wrapping around your ankle.

What are you doing? Say it, or I’ll slit your throat.

And you believe him – enough to start stuttering out apologies and slurred, panicked admissions of trying to escape. Your voice is raising an octave, fear palpable in the air, but it doesn’t slow Douma down as he drags your body closer to him by the ankle, seeming to have absolutely no difficult even as you claw at the sheets and writhe in his grasp.

Please, ‘m sorry, I just want to go home, I can’t – You’re scaring me Douma, please stop – You’re babbling, and apparently he’s decided he’s had enough as his grip moves from your ankle to your neck faster than you can see.

You’re pressed against the wall before you know it, strong, cold fingers pressing against your windpipe as he stares at you. He’s uncomfortably close, his body only an inch or so away from yours, those damn eyes of his the only thing you can see. He’s still expressionless, even as you gasp for air and claw at his fingers. He doesn’t budge though, seeming to not even notice your attempts at escape.

You must think I’m stupid, he starts, those eyes never looking away from yours. They don’t even seem to blink, even as you wheeze out his name.

You must think I’m an imbecile if you think you can escape me. I’m insulted.

His grip tightens.

You will never escape me. There is nowhere that you can go that I cannot follow.

His grip moves higher up, cutting off even more air.

There is nowhere that you can hide that I cannot find you.

Now the left side of his lip quirks up, ever so slightly.

There is no one who can help you that I cannot kill.

Suddenly he’s leaning in, head traveling down to your right arm, his inhale audible even though you can’t see his face.

Something wet and cold pokes at the still fresh scratch on your arm, and it makes you wince. You can’t feel much of anything now, though, as small dark spots in your vision form, desperation truly starting to take over.

Something akin to a groan fills your ears as Douma’s lips latch onto your skin, tongue poking and prodding at the cut, nudging its way inside and making the last bit of your air rush out of your throat as a scream, the pain starting to register even as the dots fill your entire vision, unconsciousness taking a hold of you as you go limp under his hand.

Douma pauses at the feeling of you passing out, eyes slowly looking up to your face, before removing his hand and letting you fall to the hard floor. Your body hits the ground with a deciding slump, and Douma pokes at your shin with the tip of his shoe.

Humming, he licks the remaining blood off of your lips. You’d been stupid, really, to think that he didn’t know about this escape plan of yours. You’re not nearly as good at pretending as you think you are, nor are you as subtle at glancing at the window as you seem to think. All those nights spent with you on his chest or spooned against him, the smell of your hair filling his nostrils again and again as he rutted against your ass, his breath tickling your neck, and you still thought he couldn’t tell that you kept glancing to the window, obviously wishing to crawl out and never return.

His fists clench, and he kicks, hard. Narrowly avoiding your leg and instead decimating the wooden nightstand next to it.

Stupid human, he growls out, swallowing the last bit of your blood.

And the next morning, when you awake with a splitting headache and bruises blossoming along your neck, Douma will be right there waiting for you. That fake, plastered-on smile sits on his lips again, and the hand he rests of your arm grows tighter.

Good morning, he starts, voice the usual chipper, overly saccharine tone. Thank me for not killing you. Go on.

And as you look towards the window – with fresh, gridlocking bars newly placed on both the inside and outside, you can only feel your eyes water, lips parting into the shape of thank you.

Douma’s smile grows for just a moment, something dancing behind his eyes.

Ah, there you go.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

As Douma’s darling, your biggest concern is really to keep Douma entertained and appeased. His obsession hinges on his amusement surrounding you, and although something that resembles the closest thing to love he can manage does form for you, there’s something deeply wrong with him.

He views you as an object – something he can possess and own, and the idea of having you all completely to himself is something that makes him giddy, eyes closing and something settling in the base of his gut because god, he wants you.

Your time with him will be characterized by his constant presence, those eyes of his always locked on you and you only. He can’t be away from you for long periods of time – he grows restless, his knee bouncing and his fingers fidgeting as he idly thinks of seeing you, missing the way you always look so sour when he pulls on your hair, how your eyes get all big and wide when he compliments you, the bashfulness obvious on your face even as you try to hide it. You’re endearing, really, a pet project of his that he slowly begins to feel more for, a creature that he finds himself holding in disturbingly high regard, despite your lowly status as a mere human.

But really, what makes Douma so dangerous is the fact that he is so detached from normal love and affection. This leads to him having no qualms about kidnapping you, isolating you, toying with you, and even hurting you when he sees fit.

Your existence becomes solely dictated by his whims – you’ll be what he wants you to be, and if you don’t, he doesn’t mind pushes and molding you into what he wants. Even if it means breaking a few bones, biting off a few chunks of flesh, or even turning you into a blood-thirsty demon, if he so desires.

Your life is no longer yours – it’s his, and the sooner you learn that, the better. After all, Douma can be almost sweet when he’s trying – so really, just let yourself be deluded into believing that this is what’s best for you.

It’ll be better for you that way, and who knows – maybe one day you’ll even find yourself grateful for his company, just as he so ardently reminds you. Just as he so frequently demands you to be.

[wolf-among-mechs]

I think something has to be said about mech-techs because they come in different breeds just as mechwarriors and mechs themselves.

You got your rank and file army mech-techs. They typically work with stock models and pre-arranged configurations for omnis. Practising and drilling it in until they can do it in their sleep while under and on fire without missing a beat. The same goes for a repair. They know where everything goes in the hunk of junk and can service with precision. Most of the lower rungs are people who can barely remember to breathe but can lift and hold things. Typically, you get some senior techs that have brains and can give recommendations of field refits. The dread variant is the ones who know they are too competent to be fired and leverage that against mechwarriors and senior officers.

Mercenary mech-techs are space wizards in that they usually care for and manage highly specialised machines that only sometimes resemble the original mech. Cables and ammofeed systems have been rerouted, assembled, moved, and re-used for another system. A melange of disparate systems that have all the cooperative abilities of fussy babies past naptime. That somehow, against all odds in a way barely they comprehend, works. So, of course, they will be a bit upset if you lose the machine. Or blow it up or... you know. All the things a mercenary can mess up a mech with. Dumbest thing I heard was leaving it overnight in a bar and having the darn thing stolen by some space hicks. Also if something is stupid or does not work with a mech design you had in mind. They are going to hit you with clipboards.

Clan technicians are made to serve without question, and they are good at it. Good at repairing, realigning omnis, and working really hard, they seem able to work more than twenty-four hours a day. They will do whatever you tell them to without hesitation. Even if you mutter something from a fever pitched dream of a Wimber Tolf, a mad cat with the rocket pods in the arms and the lasers in the shoulders. They will do it. The only thing they will say something about is a tonnage mismatch. Terrific at maintaining equipment and weapons. But also, they will not do something unless you order them first. Often working on whatever the highest ranking warrior told them to do last.

Then you have the periphery mech-techs. People who own welders and plasma cutters and a bit of elbow grease and a resume so filled with lies it may just qualify as a politician's speech. They can bolt anything to a mech. Heck they will bolt anything to mech. Weld it there. The rust bucket mechs they get in the periphery are usually hardy enough that they can hold up to their creativity. Leading to maddening makeshift designs at times. The ones who figure out mechs at least a bit graduate and begin to staple them together. Creating franken mechs. Things that moves that should not. Piles of ferro-metal slabs of armour and myomer that shamble in open defiance of logic. Still you got to admire that somebody thought to string things together. And make it work.

Of course, you have a bundle of mechtechs that break out of these molds and find their own way. As people do. But they are less seen behind the moneymakers, the flash, and the glamour of the mechwarriors. But in the end, it does not really matter what kind of mechtech you are or if you are a mechwarrior. We are all happy deep down when we get back the mechbay alive. Ideally, with a mech, but sometimes you might not. In those moments, just remember it is a whole lot easier to rebuild a mech than it is to rebuild a life.

[littleplantfreak]

Run my hands through - Umemiya Hajime

Made a post about how much i loved Ume with his hair down yesterday and ended up writing something entirely self indulgent //gestures at this official art too

-SFW (but almost wasn't I almost got super carried away but deleted it cause I leave smut to the professionals) so uhhh marking/hickeys, hair pulling, makin' out with Umemiya and slightly possessive behavior on readers part but in a silly way if that makes sense just in case anyone has problems with that stuff.

You're looking at him more than usual. Umemiya can feel your eyes boring into the back of his head while he's re-potting plants on the roof. He asked you about it before but all you do is hum and say you think you're staring a normal amount. Of course he doesn't mind, but it feels like he's under a microscope. When he asked Kotoha if she knew why you were acting weird, she shrugged and said you'd were looking at some old pictures at the children's home so maybe you'd just been noting how different he looked in his childhood pictures. She ended it with a look and tone that conveyed you'd already asked her to keep something secret.

-----

It's his hair again. The hair that's always gelled back in a slight wave keeping it out of his face completely. It's not hard to break it free from the glassy prison he molds it into though. There have been plenty of times strands fell forward from sweating, working or fighting, but you've never seen it fully down in person. That's why, when you saw a semi-recent picture of him with his siblings, long hair falling in his face, trimmed neatly with ends blunt, you started to feel a certain way about it. You innocently asked Kotoha if she had any more pictures of Ume like that.

"Like what?"

"Like with his hair down."

"Oho you have a thing for his hair now?" She teases and although you know she won't tell him if you ask her not to, you're still embarrassed at being found out so easily.

"He's my boyfriend! I have a thing for nearly everything about him."

"But anyone can tell you're kinda obsessed with it with how much you fix and touch it throughout the day. Just ask him to wear it down for you."

It's not that you hadn't thought about it, but the more you thought, the more you started getting frustrated. Why didn't he wear it down more often? It seems like he did in old pictures. If he hated it now you didn't wanna force him to change it

Your self control was pretty good, but once you'd started really looking it was impossible to stop. His most recent fight with Shishitoren had haphazard strands in his face dislodged by sweat and aggressive movement. Of course you were concerned with the wounds spanning across his face and body, but another part of you wanted to eat him alive with how good he looked. You're not quite sure you'd be able to stop yourself from jumping him if you saw him with his hair fully down. Sitting in a chair on the roof, you watch him and think about the feeling of running your fingers through his white locks unhindered by that damn tough gel he puts in.

"Pumpkin can you hand me the small pruning sheers to your left?" he calls over without looking over at you.

"Mhmmm," you barely reply still stuck in a daze.

Pruning sheers...

Right!

You snap out of the daydreams that'd been haunting you to stand and grab them. Just as you're about to hand them over, Umemiya grasps the wrist with the sheers and pulls gently but firmly to drag you down on the ground with him. He sets the sheers down before taking both your hands in his.

"Something on my face? You've been starin' an awful lot."

"Ahh dirt, if I had to guess," a halfhearted excuse while your brain continued to process things slower than usual.

"Sweetheart baby love of mine," he is all dramatics now stringing pet names together in a silly amalgamation. Once he starts making direct eye contact it's hard to look anywhere else, "you have got to tell me whats going on in that beautiful head of yours. I love the attention but if something's bothering you-"

"It's your hair!" You spit out in a panic, drawing your hands away to cover your face in embarrassment. You can tell he's a little worried and it makes you feel even worse for making a big deal about it.

"My hair bothers you?" He's confused. Of course he is. It isn't something you've brought up in the past after all. He thought you liked his hair since you were always fixing it for him and you do. Your voice is muffled by your hands but he can still understand to a point.

"It looks great and I love it, but I reaaallly wanna see it down," you can hear yourself whining the words instead of saying them normally. "You always have it up when you're at school," taking a deep breath as your hands come off your face to speak more clearly. "I was looking at pictures with Kotoha and they're pretty much all of you with your hair down." Taking a second you twirl one of his loose strands around your finger in lieu of staring again, sincerely embarrassed you let it get to you this bad. He finally puts the pieces together from his conversation with Kotoha earlier.

"Our date night's tomorrow right? I'll wear it down then," he says, letting you mess with his hair. He can see a jolt go through you at his words and you lock eyes with him immediately.

"Really? Really really?" You're just about vibrating in place, grabbing his face with both hands and squishing his cheeks.

"Rweawy rweawy rweawy!" His breath is coming out of his nose in amused puffs due to the quick shift in enthusiasm and your hold on his face.

"I'VE GOTTA GO PICK MY OUTFIT OUT OH MY GOD ILOVEYOUBYE!" A small peck on the nose and you're gone like the wind throwing open the door and running past Sugishita who was on his way up the stairs. The long haired boy looks back at Umemiya with wide, questioning eyes before letting the moment pass, his head dips in the usual greeting before he walks over to do the daily gardening tasks.

_____

“I changed my mind we can’t go out tonight.”

“Babe you’re all dressed up and you were so excited to check out that new restaurant near the park,” Hajime sighs exasperated. You’re in the foyer of his home, hands on both sides of the door frame blocking his escape.

“Not looking like that you aren’t! Do you want every girl in a 20 mile radius to fall for you? The men too? I’ll have to fight every single one of them and of course I’d win but imagine the casualties! The collateral damage!” you cry hanging your head in fake hysterics. Both Kotoha and their other siblings have been watching this two-part comedy special for about 10 minutes now, two minutes of which you just STARED at him. Then you began circling like a hawk looking at him from any and all angles as if to commit it to memory. Then you started laying on the compliments and pick up lines but he could tell you meant every one of them. “Who is this absolute knock out in front of me? Is my boyfriend a model now? Did it hurt when you fell because I’m staring at an angel.”

Which brought you both to the current scene and while you were (for the most part) joking, you also…weren’t. You could and probably are just extremely biased but GOD you think no one could pull off that hair quite so well. Usually it takes a lot to make Umemiya blush, but his face is currently stained red by how brazen you are at the moment. He’s smiling and trying to take it in stride but even Kotoha can tell he’s affected by your display and she's relishing it.

“No more arguing,” he picks you up by the waist and hoists you to him in a hug that leaves your face in his chest and feet off the floor. “We’re heading out now.” He sends a farewell back to your amused audience and the kids yell back a cacophony of teases and calls for their onee-san and onii-san to come back soon. You start muffling unrecognizable words into his shirt before he puts you down as he gets further down the street.

“It would’ve been one of the best ways to die if i’d stayed there a little longer,” you breathe and stumble back a bit.

“You are shameless today,” he laughs and goes to hold your hand. Anyone watching you both can tell you're grossly in love by the dreamy look on your face as you watch him while you walk down the street. You realize now that this is the first time in about two weeks you have him to yourself, which may be why you've been clingier than normal. Every time either of you tried to schedule date night with the other, someone or something came up and made you push date night back.

Going two weeks without any prolonged physical contact (save for hello and goodbye hugs or kisses) with your boyfriend has made you starved for him in every way your brain can fathom, which is why it isn't surprising that you end up dragging him through the park to an alcove you know isn't traveled to often. It also isn't surprising when you sit him down on the bench bracing a knee next to him, and pinning him loosely in place. He doesn't say a word, but tilts his head up slightly angled in favor of you closing the distance, daring you with those stormy grey eyes.

Your hands find their way easily to the soft ivory of his hair, delving deeper to twist and pull him in. Caught between a sigh and a moan, Umemiya Hajime is melting into you, lines blurring and nerves on fire. His hands fumble to grab the thigh closest to him as he moves you to straddle him. You haven't let up on your assault on his senses, fingers loosening their hold to rub small circles into his scalp.

Is this how you feel when he goes all out after stress starts to take it's toll on him? Now that he thinks about it he's always been the one to initiate this kind of thing, but god he would've asked you to take the lead sooner if he knew it felt this good. Heartbeat thrumming through his hands, he runs them in a soothing pattern from the top of your hip to you knee giving your legs the occasional extra squeeze.

A wave of calm shifts the clouds filling your head out as you have an idea. Parting from him briefly you start kissing and mouthing your way down to the collar of his shirt. He squeezes your thighs harder as your breath ghosts his neck and you give it a few experimental nips before cooling the spot with your tongue. He's trying to stifle a high pitched noise in the back his throat but once you hear it you latch on biting and sucking a single bright red mark. A soft breath over your work before you sit back to admire it. The mark peeks out just enough for you to see it right now but low enough that when he's wearing his furin jacket, he'll be able to hide it.

"That was-," you start, still breathless.

"Wow," he voice cracks at the same time. His eyes are a little wild but his hair is even wilder, sticking up in some directions and falling flat in others. Giving a small tap on his arm he releases the deathgrip he had on you before his eyes stick right to where he had been holding. Blue bruises are scattered over both legs where his fingers were, but they're just barely hidden once you fix your dress.

"Guess we're uh...even?" you're suddenly bashful at what was probably the same type of stare you've been giving him for a week straight now. Umemiya runs his own hands through his hair trying to catch his breath and make himself a little more presentable too.

"No way are we close to being even you little monster. After dinner I'm getting you back," and you can tell he's not bluffing.

"I'm shaking in my shoes Haji," you shot back feeling a bit more like yourself as you go to grab his hand. He moves towards you but you end up spun around and he picks you up for the second time that night, this time settled on carrying you bridal style.

"Put me down," you squeak in warning, the skirt of your dress no longer hiding the fresh bruises.

"This is part of your punishment sweetheart. Also, no one's coming after me if I carry you around like a princess right?" It was hard to argue with that logic and to be fair, despite your earlier boldness your legs ended up weak. He had probably seen the shaky steps you took towards him a second ago.

Both of you got to the restaurant in time despite the detour and the next day you were sporting a hoodie to hide the payback you took happily after.

[generalsdiary]

what if ratio breaks down and falls apart?

Dr. Ratio (x Aventurine at the end)

warnings: mental breakdown

word count: 1.9k

a/n: lots of ppl seemed to like this idea so here it is, not beta read, ffs come home aventurine

description: Dr. Ratio breaks down (angst), Aventurine mentioned/shows up at one point (fluff dare I say)

his hands shook immensely with the keys in his hand, the heavy doors open and close. he can feel it. he can no longer hold on. being a victim of routine, he manages to push on just a few moments longer, to put away his bag, lock the door, and take off his shoes. few steps through the hallway and it is over. his body trembling as his chest swells up with pain and sadness, so many emotions mixed up in one. filling up in his throat like a peach pit, choking him and making it harder to breathe. he falls to his knees, his breathing heavy, rapid, and irregular. in moments like these, he knows how to take care of himself, how to help himself, how to fix this. but it is too much. he can't. he also... why does everyone get to break down but not him? he can barely breathe in and breathe out, as many thoughts fill his mind.

eyes filling with hot tears except he cannot cry that much, he has always been incapable of actually crying and letting it all out.

like a water dam overflowing and drowning him along with it. the dam filling with water and using it in useful ways until the workers don’t show up, the tools get clogged, old, and broken. the dam overflows. nature always comes back to take its due, to pick up the price, especially human nature.

he isn't enough. he will never be enough. it is a fool's job, what he is trying to achieve. how could he ever spread knowledge everywhere, making it available to everyone? how is that being realistic? hopeful fool, he knows better than to hope. an idiot. a failure. why did he even think he could be capable of doing that? the aeons were right to not recognize him, he isn't worth their attention- he keeps failing. isn't it the definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? not enough. never enough. such expectations were put on him and he jumped to fulfill them- and when he didn't achieve the last one- to become a true genius, then he failed. failed the mold he was put in. failed the beliefs of everyone around him and their expectations. they were all wrong; everyone who said he could do something, become someone relevant, someone who matters and makes a significant change. and the things he did, well they were never perfect and always could have been done much better. for fuck's sake he fails his students, just how many get the actual knowledge, and how many give up? he isn't good enough, he should be better, and get the knowledge across in a way everyone would accept and know and learn. why is he not good enough? he keeps trying and it is never enough. not once has the universe said, ‘okay, you have done enough, you can rest now.’

why does he keep trying? and he is alone in all of it. who is there who cares for him- who puts his view of self aside, who can.. please.. who can please view him as a human.. a person.. just... as someone who doesn't need to be extraordinary- can he be loved in such a way, appreciated? who would care for him? when all that is said about him is that he is rude, when he only tells the truth and tries to help, he is told that he is insensitive, egotistical, and he is so far from it. why does everybody hate him? aeons, he hates himself. why was he born, created like this? it would've been so much easier to have been born an idiot, dumb, to work a normal job, and be happy.

he stares at an empty spot as these thoughts overtake him, and then he sobs as the next ones come... he wants to be held, oh so much. to be embraced, to be cared for, thought of in a positive way, for his name to be called with love. no one is enough, he isn't enough.

his thoughts keep spiraling in a whirlpool, almost like he is frozen in space. eyes fixed, hands shaking and the occasional warm tear falling down his cheeks, which are now red and hot.

his skin feels like it is burning, the clothes on him overwhelming him but he cannot move, it hurts, it all hurts. why does it hurt so much? this vicious cycle never ends. how could he stand up again when he is falling apart at the seams? is he worth it at all, the life he lives, if he cannot even help himself? he will never be enough. he wants to shout, to yell in frustration and anger- all swallowed in his throat while he continues to sit.. broken on the floor.

his thoughts become more incoherent, how could he.. why.. help.. not enough.. and so on. curses, hatred directed at himself, sorrow, and pity. his ears deaf at any sound, he is so lost in his mind, it is like he isn't even there.

this isn't the first time, but it was never this hard. he picked himself up before; standing, going automatically around his home to take care of his basic needs. but now he has no hope, no care for it, he cannot move. immobile and lost, so… so deep in this vortex.

the doors open and close. there's a voice, he doesn't even register it, “..tas?... home?”

the person makes a few more steps and sees Veritas, sitting on the ground. Veritas manages to register distant footsteps, rushed- it doesn't matter; he isn't even there. only his body is.

the person sits down in front of Veritas and hands him a glass of water. his eyes are unfocused, he appears still, hands on the floor with a slight tremor, cheeks shiny from the tears and a warm red color. instinctively he accepts the glass and drinks the water. the cool fluid makes him consciously blink and float back to the present moment. he registers the voice of the person in front of him.

“Veritas.. I'm here, good- the water is good for you- I'm here, alright?” his eyes focus on the blond man sitting in front of him. Aventurine's eyes are filled with worry and his hands cup Veritas' face, caressing slowly. his voice is calm, “you will be fine- I got you, okay?” Aventurine nods to himself more than to Ratio. his hand moves to the indigo hair, pulling his fingers through the soft locks in a comforting manner. Veritas' eyes are trained on him, full of pain and heartbreak, yet his face is neutral, so hurt.

“your head got to you again? I keep telling you- don't listen to it- it isn't right it only says mean things which aren't true. do you hear me?” the only thing he gets in response is a slow blink from the taller man. and it is enough.

“it tipped over, it isn't as bad as your head claims- don't listen to it, listen to me, focus on me. I’ve got you, I'm here-“ he pulls Veritas into his chest, cradling him in a way. “-and I'm not going anywhere”

fresh tears soak Aventurine's shirt. it hurts to be cared for, to be seen, and for that person to stay and not leave.. it feels undeserving and it just makes him cry harder. he sobs into Aventurine's shoulder, breaking down fully. his voice comes out high-pitched, breaking, “I... I.. it is so hard-” he sobs harder and tightly embraces Aventurine.

“I'm here, you will be okay, this will pass, I have you, don't- don't struggle against them, focus on me, please?” Aventurine pulls away to raise Veritas' chin and meet his eyes, those sunset eyes filled with tears. and he weakly nods.

“focus on me, my voice, Doc, focus on my voice. and I'm warm- you can feel it yes? my chest is warm and my hands- my scent- you can smell the perfume right? focus on me, ground with me. leave that dreadful place- it never did you any good.” he continues using safe words, repeating them, and when Veritas manages to get a grasp on reality once more; he feels empty, numb and Aventurine takes care of him. Aventurine helps him eat a proper meal, bathes with him where he holds him close against his chest, kissing his temple, and repeating that everything will be okay.

Aventurine holds him tightly in bed and whispers only the softest affirmations. before Veritas falls asleep, Aventurine mumbles kind words with his fingers in his hair.

he stays mostly awake that night, just in case Ratio wakes up in distress or from a nightmare. he doesn't mind it. he cares for him, if needed he'd pick his pieces up every day and help him put himself back together. Veritas is his, and he will always be there for him.

the morning turns out to be a slow one. Veritas would tiredly gaze at Aventurine, the blond man asleep into the late morning, and he wouldn't dare start his day- not yet, not now, not without him. Veritas' thoughts are slow this early in the day, they are quiet. he simply observes the younger man. finding some type of solace in it. he doesn't dare touch him as if the beautiful man was a statue made of glass and might break from a single touch.

when his eyes do open he hums and moves to press his face into Veritas' soft chest.

like it is the first time, Ratio is surprised, frozen for a few moments before he relaxes and embraces Aventurine.

“sleep well?”

he nods.

“I rescheduled my stuff, and I hope you will yours too-“, Veritas interrupts him, “..I did.” his voice quiet, monotone.

“today.. today will be easier, okay?” he raises his head, looking up. “I will be with you as long as you need and then some. please be kind to yourself. you need it” he whispers the last sentence and presses his lips into Ratio's cheek.

“I'll try... thank you.. for.. yesterday, dear gambler”

Aventurine nods, “I love you,” he says, easily, as if he didn't have to think those words through before he said them but it conveyed everything he wanted them to say. that he would be there for him, that he'd take care of him, that he would be his.

slight shock is obvious in Veritas’ eyes, that he would be loved gives him a stutter in his response. he feels so vulnerable, bare and naked in front of him. his emotions nude especially after being seen in the state he was in yesterday and despite that... or perhaps specifically because of it... Aventurine said that. with fear, felt on both sides, but also assurance that this is right, that it is a fact he softly says, “I... I love you too.”

beat. both staring into the other's eyes. Veritas cups his cheek. thumb drawing small circles, voice but a whisper, “please don't ever leave me” in that moment he is baren, vulnerable, his cards are on the table for the gambler to gamble off or hold tightly to his chest and fold.

Aventurine answers quickly with a small nervous smile, “the same goes for you too, Doc”

with all those emotions being so loud and scary, Veritas cannot keep up a coy act and even when he does Aventurine sees right through him.

“I promise” Veritas utters and seals it with a soft kiss.

[sassydefendorflower]

People love to compare Roy and Bradley or Ling and Wrath, but I think there is a special beauty in the narrative parallels between Riza and Winry.

Because these woman manage to break out of the Shounen mold in a way that reaches beyond the Strong Female Character trope and quickly secures itself as... good character writing. Period.

And they do so in a very clever way. Someone else on here once pointed out that Hughes/Mustang/Hawkeye are the trio that runs parallel to Ed/Al/Winry and while they aren't narrative foils to each other - at least not in the way many of the other characters are - they do present a similar function within the story. The three young people who went on an adventure. Only Hughes died and Riza and Roy were permanently altered - and Ed, Al, and Winry got a chance to save the world.

But especially when it comes to Riza and Winry there is something more to the comparison. Especially when it comes down to the choices they made.

But why are Riza and Winry more interesting?

Because when Roy recruits Ed and Al, Riza tells Winry that she followed Roy into the military because she had someone to protect - and this - in other stories - would clearly be a setup for Winry later following Ed and Al into the military to "protect" them. A direct parallel between the two "girls" in a Shounen trio. We've all seen it before.

And I think we see Winry play with that thought when she sticks around Central with them after her first apprenticeship in Rush Valley - she tries to be the third girl to Ed and Al's action duo… but it doesn't work out.

She - strong, clever, genius, confidant Winry Rockbell - suddenly feels weak. Because she can't punch danger away from Ed. She can't repair Al's scratches and dents. She can't kill Scar to save her friends and avenge her family. She can't learn how to shoot and kill just to protect her friends - no, that's not quite correct, is it? She won't. She won't learn how to kill.

And that sucks. Because Winry isn't used to feeling like that, so lost and insecure, at least not constantly. Yeah, when Ed and Al are away, she worries, and that's part of the reason why she tried to join in, but that is nothing compared to the powerlessness she's facing now. Maybe she would worry less if she could be there when they fight, if she could protect them like Riza does with Mustang… but that's just not who she is.

Her job isn't to protect Ed and Al - her job is to give people arms and legs and good costumer service. I really like that scene/episode (23, me thinks) where she gets a phone call from Rush Valley and all these people ask for her to come back. Because Yes, Ed telling her thanks for helping him is VERY important for her character… and yet I think this phone call is the moment Winry realizes that she's not Riza. That she won't take a gun into her hands and kill for Ed and Al.

She will never be Armstrong or Hawkeye or even Izumi… she will be Winry Rockbell, automail engineer and genius.

And that's the reason why only she could have pulled Scar on their side. Because she chose healing over killing - her telling Scar in Baschool that she'd save his life because her parents would want her to honor their choice? That was Winry following the deeper themes of the show, by adding positive energy to the flow of the universe.

Riza saving Scar? Wouldn't have worked (why would he listen to the woman with a gun in her hands?). Armstrong helping Scar? Wouldn't have happened (what reason would General Armstrong have at this point to spare a murderer?). Mei saving Scar? Would have ended with the Ed/Marcoh/Scar/Al alliance falling apart (it is so much easier to fall apart if no one has been forced to see past the horror yet).

And it's not because these characters were even a touch less well written than Winry - if anything it showcases how unique all of the female characters in FMA were/are.

In this we find Riza again - because Riza chose differently than Winry. She followed Roy into the military, she learned and perfected how to shoot and kill. Their narratives mirror each other - Ed carefully prying a gun out of Winry's hands so she doesn't kill, only to give Riza a bloody gun a few episodes later, knowing she will clean it and use it to kill.

When Riza tells us that she has lost the right to feel squeamish about killing because of often she'd pulled the trigger, she is Winry's foil - Winry who was stopped before she could make a similar choice.

And it's not just that, is it?

Riza let her hair grow because a young Winry Rockbell had long hair and seemed to like it - and Riza needed a change after coming back from Ishval.

Winry got her ears pierced because the strong Lieutenant visiting them had looked cool (and because she needed a place for all of Ed's little gifts) - and Winry needed something steadfast, now that her friends were growing up.

There's just something about the two of them, so similar, so loyal and stubborn and full of love, that fascinates me. Because at every turn they make a different choice, at each turn one walks deeper into hell and the other chooses healing - and yet, while they couldn't be more different, they also couldn't be any closer.

I can't imagine how glad Riza was, when she realized Winry hadn't followed Ed and Al into the military.

I can only guess how happy Winry was, when she saw Riza follow Mustang further if only to make sure the future actually changed.

A mirror doesn't have to be a perfect thing, and if anything I think that is on purpose.

[tiredfox64]

Hi Hi! I love you’re writings for Havik, it’s so hard to find any good Havik fics. Could you do Havik with an s/o who’s ex was abusive and they’re use to being bossed around and doing chores for their partner (like cooking, and cleaning for them and waiting for permission to do things)

You Have Freedom

Prior notes: Tbh using Havik is genius ngl. Make me wanna give him a kiss.

Pairing: Havik x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: Mention of abusive/ toxic relationships, mention of violence, angst with happy ending

Relationship after relationship. It’s amazing that you are still standing. Though mentally you may have gained some issues since people in this world can’t act right.

Some partners never got over their ex. Some partners never took care of their own health. Some partners were just sick in the head and liked to mess with you.

It wasn’t you, you just had some bad luck and ran in the arms of the wrong people. You found comfort in the chaos that you were so used to. It wasn’t your choice it’s just how your brain started to be molded into needing. Your heart wanted something better. You deserved better than this. Not being forced to make a man who barely looks at you to cook him a meal or discourage you from wearing the clothes you want. But how does one break out from the cycle without getting hurt? Well, you might need some outside help.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Another crumby date with your sleazebag of a boyfriend. He couldn’t even give you a decent date night. Going to the bar and ignoring you to talk to his buddies while flirting with other people in front of you is not a date. But he will gaslight you and tell you so many things.

“You’re crazy, that never happened.” “You’re so insecure this is why I don’t take you out.” “I was buying you drinks the whole time is that not enough attention for you.”

You don’t even like drinking let alone constantly having Jägerbombs which he took for himself. He just wanted an excuse to get drunk that’s why he called this a “date”. You hate when he’s drunk. He gets more irrational and occasionally violent. He’s currently going off about how you are ruining the vibe by sulking. Now he says the clothes that he approved are too slutty while a priest would beg to differ that you are extremely modest. You’re on the verge of crying when suddenly you both hear footsteps coming your way in the dark night. Only a quarter of the moon is showing which makes it harder to see who is coming. Closer and closer these heavy footsteps come your way until what little natural light could be shined shows a man. A very scary looking man.

He’s hunched over yet he still looks taller than you. You could see his head is not aimed towards your direction but your boyfriend’s. Your boyfriend in his drunken state starts yelling and cussing him out when he has done no wrong. You tried to make him stop but he pushed you off of him, almost making you fall while he begin to yell derogatory terms at you. This seemed to displease the other man who came closer and closer until he was right at your boyfriend’s face. When he stood up straight you saw that he was much bigger than your boyfriend. He was tall and seemingly stronger. The moon light finally showed some of his face when you saw the lower half was mangled. You were frozen, unsure of what to do.

Your boyfriend booked it out of there, not even looking back at you. He was horrified and knew he fucked up. You were left alone with this scary looking man.

“Heh, pathetic. I’ve never seen such a weak man before.” He spoke in a gravely voice.

You just stared without saying a word. He began to walk off and you kept looking at him. He sensed you were still staring and turn back.

“What, too afraid to move? Did I scare you that much?” He might have been teasing you but you’re not sure.

“I’m afraid to walk home alone.”

Well that was a shock. You weren’t scared of him but you were scared of being alone. He won’t lie that seemed kinda cute. Your prick of a boyfriend did leave you behind so he felt like you deserved to at least get home safety. He walked back to you, staring down at you with that mangled face, before gesturing you to follow him. You did so without hesitation.

The ball started to roll without you knowing. This was the start of something good. The start of something with a Seidan who calls himself Havik.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Letting Havik into your home after he walked you back was the best decision you’ve made in a while. Though at first you were scared by his scars and his violent attire that didn’t change the fact he was calm with you. That calmness never went away.

Yes, he isn’t the most stable person around. You’ve seen him rip his own arm off to smack someone but that person he was smacking was your ex so it’s okay.

He never told you to stop crying. Even on the walk home you bursted out crying from that whole night. Havik didn’t immediately comfort you but when you were almost done crying he lightly wiped your tears away with his clawed hand. The metal that grazed your face was slightly confronted. And then he proceeded to lick the tears off his hands but let’s just overlook that.

You have felt safe with him around. He’s like a scary guard dog that you see as a protective softie. But in the back of your mind you worried that he would turn on you just like all your other exes. It’s starts with caring about you, than they slowly start to get aggravated and aggressive, then the love bombing starts, and a new vicious cycle starts.

This time is different, I promise.

You first tested him when your friends invited you out. A new club opened and you are still young you just had to go. They thought you were single now so they said you could dress however you wanted. But your concern was if Havik would be okay with it.

When you walked up to him he was sharpening the blade he usually had on his left arm. You swallowed hard as you hoped this wouldn’t turn nasty. You had the clothes you wanted to wear in your hands.

“Havik, my friends asked me if I could go out with them tonight. Am I allowed to go.” You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to be yelled at.

“You don’t have to ask me. It’s up to you. Do you want to go?” He responded so quickly you wondered if he took in what you said.

“Yes, I want to go. And I want to wear this,” you showed him the outfit, “Am I allowed to wear this?”

“Wear what you are comfortable with. If you want to go out with your chest out go ahead, you should be allowed to do that without anyone holding you back.” He grumbled not because of you but that the fact that if you did go out with your chest out you would be shamed.

This wasn’t the usual response for you. Usually it’s a no, why do you need to go out, are you gonna hook up with other guys, stupid incriminating things like that. It’s not that Havik doesn’t care, it’s more like he doesn’t care what you want to do just as long as you are sure you want to do so.

“Did you need me to cook you something before leaving? Does something need to be cleaned?” You were sounding all panicky as if you were being tricked. Like there was a catch and you had to do certain things before you were allowed to leave.

Havik stopped what he was doing and looked at you. For a second you thought you messed up by asking too many things and you ended up annoying him. He got up from where he was sitting and slowly made his way towards you. You flinched but didn’t run since that usually got you into more trouble before. Once he was right in front of you his hand went up and started petting you at the top of your head. You were calm again. This man in front of you is not like the others in your past.

“Were you looking for an excuse not to go out or are you worried something bad will happen when coming home?” He asked.

“No I just…was making sure,” you seemed almost out of it, “I’m gonna get ready now.”

You walked off and did as you said. You got ready and let your friends know that you would be going out. They were more than happy to hear that news. You checked with Havik one more time if it was alright but just one look at him told you it was alright. Actually wait! He has something to say. He came up to you quickly and you thought this was the moment. Nope, he just ripped his arm off and tried to hand it to you.

“Carry this with you if anyone decides to bother you.” He advised.

“I can’t carry a severed arm around! Are you crazy?!”

Uh duh, he is a little coo coo in the head.

“It’s fine. You can just smack them with it and they’ll be out. You should try it, it’s liberating.” He’s still trying to make you take his arm.

“Havik, no, stop. I’ll go to jail.”

“I will break you out. It is your right to beat someone up if they are bothering you.”

He’s not getting it but the gesture is nice. No Havik, they won’t take the knife either. Clubs don’t allow that.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

This was a big change for you and it was a good change. Your friends saw how happier you were now. They thought it was the single life. No, it was because you started to see that you were finally in a healthy spot in life. You are with a man who lets you know that you have a choice.

The night ended and your friends brought you back home. The house was quiet. When you went all the way up to your bedroom you saw Havik seemingly sleeping in your bed. And of course he was taking up the whole bed.

You started to undress and put on your sleep wear before you heard him speak in a sleepy voice.

“Did you enjoy yourself? Did anyone bother you?” He asked.

“I enjoyed myself and no, no one bothered me luckily.” The tone in your voice portrayed how happy you were which was a nice change.

“I can’t go hunting for someone?” He asked

“You can’t go hunting for someone, no.” You replied

Havik is glad no one bothered you but he did want an excuse to go after someone. Oh well, he’ll just pick at random again.

You slipped into bed with the little space you had on your side. As you were about to ask Havik if he was fine with cuddling you he was already on it. He dragged you in, nuzzling his face against yours as an act of affection. He would give you a kiss but…ya know. But you can still give him a kiss!

You kissed him all over, even the exposed flesh since you didn’t fear it anymore. You were happy to have him in your life now. A man that many would fear but you see as the sweetest guy you have ever dated. Knowing how long it took for you to get this lucky made you cry. It was hard to tell if it was from joy or the fact that it took time before you gained something good. He licked your tears away before he rested his head on top of yours. He squeezed you tight to him, almost giving off a sort of comfort that a weighted blanket would give.

“One day, I will give you a world where you are free to do whatever you want. No one will tell you what to do or what you need to do. You will be free. I’ll set everyone who has been controlled free. If I can’t free everyone, at least I can free you.”

He knew exactly what to say to you. He knows what you’ve been through. Never again. As long as he lives and thrives he won’t let that happen. He opposes control. There is only freedom and love with that freedom. Do what you want, wear what you want, cook what you want, eat what you want, do you boo boo. He will support you. And you will support him with whatever he wants to do.

There is no insecurities, denials, cheating, lies, and manipulation. There is only freedom and love between you and Havik.

Now rest, you’ve had a long eventful day. Your new beginning has started and you are excited to see what will come of this.

Though I advise you keep a towel near your bed. Havik drools in his sleep. Like a lot. Don’t be surprised when you wake up with wet hair, that was him. Sorry, I don’t make the mangled man’s rules.

After notes: Truly I hope no one ever goes through shit like this. It’s not even something like a you should have this experience once type of thing. I hope none of y’all experience what I’ve experienced in past relationships cause it is no joke. But I hope something like this can bring others comfort. Adiós!

[armandclocksitall]

Object of Your Pursuit (Chapter 1)

Armand x gn! Reader (no y/n used)

Warnings: descriptions of death, suicide ideation

Armand strode into the bar. He knew he would gain nothing from being here. No human food or drink could ever quench him, but he chose to be here to escape his own thoughts of what went down just a few days prior. A 77 year long relationship torn apart in a matter of days by the first person who ever saw him for who he was. The 500 year old vampire had never been found out so fast, had never been found out ever even by himself. Louis was right, Daniel Molloy truly was as fascinating as he made him out to be.

Daniel, his fledgling. Armand never intended to make another vampire, but Daniel was different. And now he was being tracked down by him.

He sat in the corner of the crowded room as he thought about how things would play out. Maybe he’d just let Daniel kill him; 500 years was a long enough life. He never found anyone who had any interest in sticking around so why wait around any longer?

Armand was there for hours watching the people pile in and out of the building, the chatter never dying down. A rowdy bachelor party that would grow to regret their decision to drink so much the night before, a girl crying in the bathroom being comforted by her best friend over a breakup that truly will benefit her down the road, a man face down at a table, dead to the world having drank himself into unconsciousness rather than face the things that scare him, different people with different lives yet not at all breaking any molds.

They were all so boring. He winced at the word– boring. Maybe the most hurtful of insults he ever received from the man he loved. Armand was the only one who remembers that night so vividly, by his own fault of course. He can’t even claim that he thought what he was doing was right, he knew of the monumental fuck ups he committed and how they’d likely come back to bite him but he still did them. Lied to Louis, took credit for Lestat’s actions, tortured Daniel, manipulated people time and time again for his own benefit. He couldn’t tell if he was sorry for doing it or just sorry he was caught but now he sit here alone and still like a statue waiting to figure out his next steps.

The doors of the bar slammed open again, a gust of wind blowing through the bar giving a slight break from the man-made humidity indoors. A group of college students filing in talking of their upcoming exams, truly nothing groundbreaking. Complaints of a professor, what pages to study, blah blah and more never ending blah.

But finally something caught the ancient one’s eye, one of the students looked just as agonizingly bored as he felt. He entered their mind for only a second before feeling the thoughts wash over him.

They were thinking of a clock, counting the seconds until they were away from this group, this town, the school, everything. Nothing was keeping their interest and they were sick to death of it.

Sick to death, Armand thought to himself. It had been a time since he last hunted and a burnt out student would be quite easy prey, already halfway lured into wanting some long awaited rest. Normally he enjoyed a bit of a challenge but at his age, finding someone to drain wasn’t exactly difficult. He had sat there for hours with the senseless musings of humanity droning through his mind, he deserved an easy end to his night.

He stared at them, willing them to turn and lock eyes.

“Come to me.” The words were smooth as they slithered their way into the ear of his prey. “Come to me.” The words he projected into Lestat’s mind so many years ago.

The student turned feeling his breath on their neck, the words so clearly spoken and meant for them. They expected him to be just an arms length away as they turned but were intrigued to find the apparent speaker of the command across the bar with an intense stare.

They broke from their group, a muttered excuse of needing to go that was paid no attention. Slowly, they made their way through the crowded room brushing shoulders with people who each smelled of a different type of alcohol that burned their nose. Their eyes never leaving the fire like irises of the vampire, they approached his table and stared down at him.

“Mind if I sit?”

Armand wordlessly nodded his head at the chair in front of him. They sat and absentmindedly swished their half empty drink around in its cup. Their eyes met again waiting for the other to strike up a conversation. Armand straightened in his seat realizing they had no intention of speaking first.

“You’re bored.”

“Yeah?” they looked at him puzzled, “It’s a Thursday night at a bar in a college town, what’s interesting about that?”

“Not just tonight. You’re bored in general,” he said with a face devoid of emotion. This wasn’t an assumption. He just knew.

“Maybe, but you’re certainly not adding any entertainment factor,” they spoke, ready to walk away from this strange man completely.

“I can offer you something that might add to it though. It might interest you to–”

They cut him off, “I’m not gonna hook up with you.”

“That wasn’t what I was offering, though I’m flattered you at least thought about it,” his stoney face finally broke into a smirk. “What I was going to say is that it might interest you to at least listen to and consider my proposal.”

The student growing from bored to frustrated at his conversational pacing motioned for him to continue.

“I have a, let’s say ‘hobby’, of tracking people down. It keeps things interesting for me at my advanced age,” he chuckled to himself. “Would you be interested perhaps in being my object of pursuit tonight?”

“Your object of pursuit?” they laughed at his wording while rolling their eyes, “I already told you I’m not interested in hooking up with you.”

“Like I told you, that’s not my intention.”

“Then what exactly is your intention and why the hell would I wanna be apart of any of this?”

“I could offer you whatever amount of money you needed to live comfortably, more than comfortably, for the rest of your life. All you would have to do is make it to a location of my choosing before sunrise,” he reasoned as if this was an everyday occurrence for him.

“You’d give me money for you to hunt me down?,” they asked incredulously. “But only if I make it to wherever by morning; and what exactly happens if I don’t make it there?”

Armand raised an eyebrow at them, making it out like the answer was quite obvious. His eyes felt like razor blades cutting into them from across the table.

Every joke they could’ve made in that moment suddenly fled from their mind realizing exactly what he was inferring. “You’ll kill me.”

“Only if I catch you.”

The stuffy bar felt cold and suffocating in an instant, like all the air was sucked out of the room and all that was left was the two of them in a standoff waiting for the next move; the younger of the two discovering just how much danger they were in.

The thought sobered them immediately. They were sat across from a killer. The way he spoke of this plan it seemed this was far from his first time making the proposal. His words popped in their head. “At my advanced age,” their eyes scanned his face in confusion. He couldn’t be more than thirty years old, but his eyes are what gave it away; he was much much older than he seemed. The glowing irises clued them in that who– what was sitting across from them was not entirely human. It terrified them to their core that they didn’t immediately jump away from the horror that was this man but he was right, they were bored out of their absolute mind of life. This offer ended in two possible outcomes; they make it to where he tells them to go and they live out their life in the lap of luxury or they die. And they felt sick to their stomach that they actually found excitement in it all; years of the mundane ended, the first sense of twisted joy they’ve felt in recent memory and its the offer of being hunted like a wild animal by this creature.

Armand watched the gears turn in their head, watched as they rolled the idea and all its potential. He slipped into their mind to see their thoughts race a thousand miles per hour until everything became clear. They would accept.

“Where do I need to go?”

He smiled warmly at them as if he wasn’t planning their death as they spoke. “There’s a church about 5 miles west of here called Saint Mary’s, no vehicles allowed; it takes the fun out of it for me.”

5 miles. He expected them to not even make it five miles before he killed them. The realization was grim but they shook his hand before standing, “I take it I’m not allowed to tell my friends I could potentially be gruesomely murdered tonight?”

“It would certainly complicate things for me, but it’s nothing I couldn’t handle quite quickly. I’ll even give you a five minute head start,” he said smugly before making a shooing motion with his hand, “the clock’s already started.”

They approached their friends rigidly saying their quick farewells for the night, a half assed excuse made about needing to wake up early the next morning. As they exited the bar they threw a single look over their shoulder, noticing his eyes never left them for a second; a shiver wracked their body as they headed into the cool atmosphere of a quickly emptying street.

They pulled up the address and directions to the church on their phone with shakey hands, their heart was pounding but despite the lump in their throat they couldn’t bring the tears to their eyes. Adrenaline was coursing through their veins and yet they weren’t upset at the prospect of dying. The student squared their shoulders and began a quick pace towards their location.

A five minute head start, Armand thought it was hilarious. He could give them an hour head start and would still catch them. Obviously he wouldn’t but he was at least generous enough to wait twenty before standing from his chair and making his way to the street. A dreadfully bored college student is easy prey but even if he wanted a simple hunt he’s never had an issue with playing with his food.

Within minutes he was caught up to the student, staying far enough away and concealed to the shadows that they wouldn’t notice. He expected slight terror, maybe some sniveling at the prospect of death, a full sprint even; adrenaline makes humans do funny things. But no, none of that when he showed up, not any of those things. He had noticed they were bored but he never predicted they would react so– odd? The two were in a park, about three miles from the church, they had made it a good distance in the time he had given them. There was no panic, they were listening to music through a pair of headphones. It was two o’clock in the morning in a park lit only by the occasional street lamp, they weren’t worried about a vampire brutally murdering them; they didn’t even seem to worry that being so unaware of their surroundings at such a time could get them killed by a random stranger.

Armand scoffed to himself. Were they not taking this seriously at all? They were at a bridge that overlooked a small stream when they stopped. He looked into their thoughts, preparing himself to be offended by this human’s apparent stupidity. They were stopping to admire how the lights bounced off the water– while a murderous creature was after them, while he was after them. The next thought is what caught him off guard though. They were thinking about how if they died tonight they left behind no real regrets; they had nothing to quite look forward to in their future. He saw they had a general disinterest in life but never suspected them to be suicidal, though most humans even when suicidal have some sense of yearning for life; this simply did not appear in the student’s head. There was no sense of hopelessness; just apathy, a preparedness for death should it come to them.

It hit him at that moment, they felt the same way he did following his separation from Louis. A feeble minded human potentially understanding the depth of vampiric loneliness? He shook the thought from his head walking away from the scene, he was simply overthinking things. This night would only end one way; he would feed on and kill them and move on with his life once again.

It was another hour before they finally approached the church. They hadn’t seen him the entire night and considered that maybe it was just some weird scare tactic. Maybe they weren’t actually being hunted for sport by some otherworldly creature disguising himself as man. They wandered up the street seeing steeple up ahead, just a few hundred feet before they were guaranteed safety. For a moment, hope swelled in their chest; they could actually succeed at something. That moment all but vanished seeing a figure standing in the shadowed doorway; it was him. The air left their body knowing this would be the end. Their feet began to drag as they walked towards the man. How did he get here so fast?

Armand’s eyes followed the student. He saw the minuscule glint in their eye thinking they had made it disappear in an instant. It would’ve brought him joy in any other situation, but for some reason now it just made him feel a bit guilty.

“So I didn’t make it in time,” they shrugged apathetically.

“No. You didn’t.”

The two were at a standstill across from one another. The older of them looking at the other with a sense of curiosity.

“You aren’t going to beg for your life?”

They shrugged, “I knew the terms of the deal, I didn’t get here before you did. I’m gonna die, that was what you said would happen.”

Armand was met with a wave of conflicting emotions; it was so rare for him to spare a human life, and never if it didn’t benefit him somehow. Allowing them to live offered him no advantage by any stretch of the imagination and yet he found himself moving aside and motioning for the student to pass him. They stared at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I haven’t touched the door yet so I suppose I’m not technically here.”

They held his stare as they walked past him and placed their palm on the door. “Does this mean you won’t kill me?”

He nodded already parting ways with the student, waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll see to it that the money is wired into your account, I’ve already got all your details so don’t worry about it.”

They stood there on the steps to the church speechless. What had changed since the beginning of the night? Before they had left the bar he seemed more than ready to kill them without so much as a second thought. They didn’t want to die but it left them with an overwhelming sense of frustration; who the hell was he? What the hell was his problem? They had half a mind to chase him down and demand these answers but by the time they had processed what had just happened he had disappeared into the darkness of the night without a single trace.

The following night, Armand was on the hunt again; tonight’s menu was a drunkard with an ego even bigger than his bar tab. He had no issue with this one, the man learned very quickly that this was to be taken seriously and was currently sprinting to his destination after Armand played a few mind tricks on him to raise the adrenaline. The vampire was waiting for a single mistake before he finally stepped in and was granted that wish as he watched the man trip over a curb, sprawled out over the sidewalk. Armand stepped out of the shadows next to him, making the man scramble away repeatedly failing to get to his feet.

“You were so close, a mile away and you would’ve made it,” Armand pouted mockingly. “You know the deal.”

The man was drunkenly sobbing, begging for his life as the creature before him stared him down apathetically. “Please, God, please. I don’t wanna die. If this is a message that I should clean myself up, I’ll do it. I’ll fix everything, please just don’t kill me, I’ll do anything. Just God, please!”

He sneered downwards. “God has nothing to do with this.” He spat, “You made your decision, you will die tonight by my hand.”

Terrified, the man finally made it to his feet and turned to run only to be grabbed by the collar and thrown into a nearby alley by Armand. He was effortlessly lifted by the 500 year old being, fangs sinking into his carotid.

Armand drank deeply from the man, his blood bitter with alcohol. It would have to do after the previous night’s happenings. The alcoholic’s heart slowed and he dropped his body waiting for it to come to a full stop. He was still haunted by that student unable to push them from his thoughts; who were they to occupy his own?

He quickly disposed of the body; he threw it in a dumpster, taking no care and breaking as many bones as needed to shove the limbs under piles of garbage. It was careless but the humans would likely write it off as another unsolved murder, no real suspicions had as long as he didn’t make a habit of this. He’s sure he would’ve taken more care if his mind wasn’t reeling thinking only of them. He was wandering the streets mindlessly having no true destination in mind. The sun would be up in a few hours, he should probably figure out where he is and find his way back to his coffin before sunrise. When he looked up he found himself in a residential part of the city, a place he’d never been before but around him he caught a familiar scent.

Armand rolled his eyes. Of course he would end up mindlessly wandering here. It was the scent of them. The apartments around him were all run down; fire escapes nearly coming off the sides of the buildings, iron bars over windows, sidewalks poorly paved and overgrown with weeds. He found himself calling out to them with the same words he had used the night before, “Come to me.”

Five minutes of prodding at their mind, summoning the student, a door to his left swung open. There they stood, in a frumpy pair of pajamas looking irritated at his presence.

“Decide you actually wanna kill me?” they jeered sarcastically.

“No, I spared you last night and I intend on sticking with that decision. I was just–” he paused, “in the area.”

They shifted their weight uncomfortably from side to side before making a decision, “Well if you wanna keep talking to me can we at least bring it inside; I don’t love wearing my pj’s in the street.”

He nodded before following them into the building up to their apartment. As he entered he noticed the inside was just as worn as the outside, albeit the decor added a bit of warmth to the room. It wasn’t highbrow interior design by any stretch of the imagination but it was lived in, something that could never be recreated by anyone else. Homemade blankets were strewn across a couch that had a few holes speckled over its fabric, the television was set to some random show on low volume, pictures framed on the wall some containing humans that the student seemed to care about, other just different pieces of art that they had collected over their time in this town. It was undeniably them.

They stared at him as he surveyed the room, silence overtook them for a full minute before he spoke. “This is where you live?”

Their eyebrow raised, “Yeah? I’ve lived here since I started college.”

“Are you going to get a new apartment with the money I gave you?”

They snorted, “Why? Are you planning on dropping by?”

His face was stone. Ignoring their quip, “Well now you can afford better, wouldn’t you want to live somewhere that isn’t so–” he chose his next words carefully so as to not offend them, “neglected.”

The student blinked, having not even considered the possibility of moving. “I mean, I guess I could. But I don’t think I will if I’m being completely honest.”

“You enjoy living here? Like this?”

“Well, a nicer place wouldn’t have my favorite sandwich shop up the street.” They laughed before thinking hard, “And just because I have money doesn’t necessarily mean I wanna completely change my lifestyle. I quit my job and paid off my student loans which is great since I don’t have to worry about those things anymore, but I don’t think buying into a luxurious lifestyle is gonna make me happy.”

“But you can buy whatever you want– do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but money isn’t gonna buy me friends who care about me. Money won’t buy a family that isn’t constantly hovering, wondering how I’m doing since I moved three states away. I moved away specifically because of how bad they hovered and it still hasn’t stopped them. The government sucks, I’m stressed all the time, I don’t know if I’m happy with what I’m majoring in at college. Turning a hobby into a degree has taken all the joy out of what I once loved and I’m not even guaranteed a job once I get that degree. Money can buy comfort but it sure as hell won’t buy me happiness!” The words tumbled out of their mouth, their breath accelerated and tears came to their eyes. They groaned, bringing their hands to their face. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I just don’t like thinking too hard about the future.”

Armand stood there stunned. They were right, in a very human way they were completely right. He was beyond rich and yet he also couldn’t achieve the happiness he had always yearned for. For the second time he was shocked that they had understood his exact issues. Who were they? Before he could think through his request, the words were blurted from his mouth, “Could I see you again?”

Read Chapter 2 Here

[mysticheathenn]

What is Your Soul Here to Learn?

Hi there! Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

The extended reading includes:

What is your soul here to learn?

What lessons and people are here to help you?

(This extended reading is available for free!)

Pile l:

What was your past life like? (Cards: 3 of Wands, The High Priestess (reversed), The Hermit, Knight of Swords)

This may be my spiritual pile (don't have to be but I feel you're either spiritual or religious). In your past life, you may have been a monk. Living your life in solitude but you were celebrated and loved by a large group of people giving your guidance and knowledge to any and everyone who needed it. This energy may have transferred over in your current life but instead of being a monk, you are the friend that everyone goes to for advice or when they need comforting. In your past life, you helped those who needed help with grounding themselves and help with healing. I'm seeing a lot of broken people with deep traumas came to you not just for your guidance but for loving energy.

What were your past life's faults? (Cards: 6 of Wands, 4 of Cups (reversed), Page of Swords, & King of Swords)

You're past life faults were you allowed other people to get in your head which caused your downfall. Some of you may have experienced greed while others of you allowed haters and others that wanted to see you fall get in your head. There isn't much to go on with this question as there seems to be a wall as if your past life is ashamed for the way they have lived and allowed others influences lead the way you lived life. It's as if you had trouble standing up for yourself because you feared judgment of others and didn't want gossip to paint you in a negative light. For others, you let your popularity get to your head and while you did good things you did more harm than good. (Extended reading on my Patreon - Available for free)

Pile ll:

What was your past life like? (Cards: 6 of Pentacles (reversed), The Empress (reversed), The Hierophant, 10 of Swords (reversed)

Pile 2 in a past life you let other people dictate your life telling you what you should do and who you should be in life. You were the type of person who did everything by the book, it gives me the vibes of what used to be the American Dream where if you worked hard, went to school, and stayed out of trouble you were on your way to having a good, long, and successful life but instead it led you into depression because it wasn’t what you truly wanted to do. It gives me “Don’t Worry Darling Movie Vibes.” Maybe you were fed dreams that didn’t pan out to be exactly what you hoped for and anytime you spoke out about it people would gaslight you telling you things would get better or even go as far as chastize you for wanting to do things differently than how they were always done.

What were your past life's faults?  & What is your soul here to learn? (Cards: 3 of Cups, The World (reversed), Page of Swords, & The Tower)

I’m getting a sense that your past life’s faults is the same thing your soul is here to learn.  You tend to let other people dictate what is good for you instead of making these decisions yourself. Maybe you are born into a family with strict expectations where everyone is a doctor, and you have to be a doctor too or maybe your family continues to carry old expectations of how the world used to work and they pass them down to you. An example would be maybe your mom was a stay-at-home mom or something and keeps nagging you that your “biological clock” is running out and you need to shackle down with just about anyone who won't abuse you to give them grandbabies and populate the earth.  I’m sensing in a past life and even now you have tried to break away from the mold but each time you do you are met with manipulation tactic after manipulation tactic like maybe your family and friends saying they will disown you if you don’t follow what they feel is best for you. You want to appease your family and friends but you also want to stand true to who you are as a person and you’re finding that very hard to do because of the many fear tactics you were fed and also you're not believing in yourself that you will land safely on your own two feet but will crash and burn making you feel that maybe your family and friends were right and you should listen to them.

(Extended reading on my Patreon - Available for free)

Pile lll:

What was your past life like? (Cards: 9 of Wands, The Moon, Queen of Cups, The Hermit, 8 of Swords.

I’m getting in your past life you grew up in a household where you were taught to be seen and not heard. This may have crossed over into your current realities as with the 9 of wands you felt a lot of burdens that didn’t belong to you. Maybe you had parents who didn’t get along but would go to you to vent about each other, or maybe you, unfortunately, fell into the trap of being an older sibling having to take care of your younger siblings and you didn’t feel heard because every time you would speak out about how you would feel you were shut down which caused you to go into hermit mode and just move through life as a robot and not actually live your life how you should have. For a moderate amount of you, I feel this has crossed over into your current reality. This may have even emotionally stunted you to where you don’t know how to process your emotions maturely. Maybe some of you currently or even in your past life would lash out at any and every one anytime anything would happen even if you didn’t mean to and you would feel horrible about it because you don’t mean to cause anyone harm or make them feel some type of way.

What were your past life's faults? (Cards: The Devil, Knight of Wands (reversed), Page of Cups, & 3 of Swords)

Your faults in your past life were because you didn’t know how to emotionally process your feelings and felt the heavy burden of others on your shoulders you resulted into drinking, drugs, and maybe even sex to feel something other than the pain you felt daily from not having a safe space to go to amongst family or friends. Again some of you this may have crossed over into your current reality where you feel alone and don’t have anyone you can talk to about the many struggles in your life that are going on and the only thing you do to help ease the pain is by taking on vices whether its drugs, sex, alcohol, maybe even spending a lot of money on things you know you don’t need but temporarily gives you joy. Some of you if this has crossed over into your current reality you aren’t sure how to pick yourself up and try to do better in your current reality which blends into a little bit of what your soul is here to learn.

(Extended reading on my Patreon - Available for free)

Pile lV:

What was your past life like? (Cards: 9 of Wands, The Moon, Queen of Cups, The Hermit, 8 of Swords

Similar to piles 2 and 3 your past life may be reoccurring in your current reality. In your past life, you had a hard time letting go of people and things that were no good for you. In your current reality you could be the one friend who goes to your friends for advice on your sh!itty relationship just for you to do the complete opposite of what you were advised to do because you believe things will get better and you have so much history with a person or even a job for some of you. You have a strong sense of loyalty to anything you see potential in that could be great for you in the future. This pile gives me “I can fix him” vibes even though the situation, person, or job could be draining for you, you still refuse to let go.

What were your past life's faults? (Cards: The Devil, Knight of Wands (reversed), Page of Cups, & 3 of Swords)

You’re faults in your past life just like the first question could bleed into your current reality as well because you believe people can change and time and time again you have been hurt and led astray believing this kind of thinking only to get back up again and try a different plan to make something that has been dead come alive again. I’m getting the TikTok trend “Staying delulu is the solulu.” Some of you stay in a delusional universe when it comes to situations or people that drain you. No matter how many people tell you that you need to leave a job or person you keep telling yourself it’s going to get better. I just have to do a little more of this or a little more of that not seeing that you are watering dead soil. I’m seeing the clip of Viola Davis and Denzel Washington in the movie Fences where she goes off on her husband saying “It didn’t take her 18 years to know she was watering rock-hard dead soil but she stayed and kept fighting and pushing and showing up because she’s loyal and sometimes still has a little bit of hope.”

(Extended reading on my Patreon - Available for free)

Thank you to everyone who likes and reblogs my post. Always truly appreciative of all of you. Remember to check out the extended reading on Patreon for FREE!

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Until next time, stay safe and be blessed.

[veetyuh]

I'm reminded of that "antishipping isn't purity culture because it isn't conservative christianity" post... And I think I've done some unpacking on why it triggers me so much.

I was an intersex child shoved into the role of a female, in a rural & conservative Christian environment. I've had not just purity culture shoved down my throat, but also the shame of not being able to meet the expectations put on women in that environment.

It's not just cover up, slut. That implies I had something to show off, to begin with. And men still want to ogle you and imagine what your body is like beneath that modest dress. So here, literal child. Have this shapewear to make your figure conform to that of a developing middle school female's under your clothes.

It's contradictory that way. You have to try to be unappealing to not 'tempt' men, but you still need to be appealing in the sense of conventional female attractiveness. Moreover, you must not think about men or sex at all. But you cannot be asexual — your parents demand grandchildren.

Antis do the same with their queer representation. It's the same contradictory expectations... They champion the idea of breaking societal norms through queerness (i.e. the idea of 'queer as in fuck you'), then demand that every nuclear family norm be met. Queer characters must be disruptive without actually disrupting anything. And the contradictions apply to fans, too — you're homophobic if you don't like a canon queer ship, and you're fetishistic if you like queer ships too much. (There are more, but I'd be stuck here forever if I listed them all. 😅)

There's also the obvious — fictional sins being as bad as things done in real life. There's Matthew 5, which includes so many popular verses about thought control that Christians use, and equates bad thought to bad doing.

27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

And fuck if antis aren't cutting off their entire goddamn arm and gouging out both eyes.

It's not just purity culture they embody, though — it's the satanic panic, too. Good lord the amount of times my grandma wouldn't let me watch Ghost Hunters because she thought I was welcoming demons into the home, or her concern for me watching horror movies because I'd surely become more violent. It's the same shit, different horse.

On a more light-hearted note, they play the same game that Christian demoninations do, too. I was Baptist, and considered the Methodists okay. But the Catholics? No, keep that shit away from me. Why are you worshipping Mary? That's idolatry! How horrible, to openly spit in God's face. When I read antis' DNI lists rattling off forbidden, unredeemable fandoms, it feels the same way, haha.

But what really seals the deal for me is how they smile in your face and promise they're just looking out for you. Christians do that, too. "We want you to get better. We want to help you. You're on a dark path." While they break your bones to force you into their mold. You may not be hurting anyone on your dark path, but they'll convince you that you ARE. You're hurting yourself "spiritually," you're hurting the community, your family, by being an abomination to God. You're hurting everyone and yourself, you just need us to help you realize it. Antis feel the exact same. I block them pre-emptively because I cannot handle having that shit directed at me again.

Moreover, their insults feel the same. The childish "icky," the ad hominems. It's too reminiscent for me. Of my mom hating my icky facial hair and my classmates making fun of my masc traits when they thought I couldn't hear; you are a gross person!!1! Ew!!!

It's funny that antis are so often anti-kink, considering they're so fucking intent on giving me a golden shower and telling me it's rain. I hope they're careful not to choke on the homophobic, pedophilic pastor cock they're sucking.

[haikyuufanficwriting]

Chapter 7: Kuroo (NSFW)

Prompt: Reader working non-stop and (Character) has to ‘tire’ them out. (NSFW) Character: Kuroo

_________________

You’re a workaholic. Anyone who’s ever met you could notice it at first meeting. You’re a typical type A person. You fit the stereotypical mold perfectly. This isn’t really a surprise to you though, you’ve been this way for as long as you could remember.

Ever since you were a little kid, you’ve never been able to take a proper break. You simply didn’t know how to. There always seemed to be something else to do, something to improve on, something to fix…

And while you profited from this trait in your professional life, it did horrendous effects on your personal life.

“Kitten, it’s almost midnight.” You don’t even glance up from your desk, engrossed in the report you’re writing, as your boyfriend curls his arms around you, silently beckoning you to come to bed. You sigh lightly.

“I’ll be there is fifteen minutes Tetsu.” You mutter absentmindedly, and Kuroo snorts, knowing very well that you’re saying anything to sate him.

Truth be told, Kuroo understood where you’re coming from. Becoming the spokesman for a famous a volleyball team has led to many late nights, but the difference between him and you were he knew when and how to take a break. Kuroo could kick back and forget about all his ailments, while you could barely go ten minutes without going into a frenzy about some files you had to go over. He couldn’t really remember a time when you weren’t like this. Even back in high school, you tried to make sure you had perfected every subject, every assignment. When you joined the volleyball team as manager, you stayed back longer than any boy practicing. Doing anything from helping cleaning and maintaining the gym, to help making as many practice matches as you could.

Many times he’d have to force you to eat and to sleep, among other things. Kuroo had gotten so used to it, it became routine to pick up both you and Kenma just to make sure both of you had eaten something. So much so that it’s a favorite pastime for him to recall those memories and watch you cringe.

But, now in your adult life and being in a romantic relationship rather than a platonic one, Kuroo lets you do you. Of course, now you know when to do basic necessities like eat and sleep (Well, sometimes you needed a little help), but mostly because he wouldn’t dare change you. (Maybe because of how amusing it is to see you try to relax). However, there are times where he felt he needed to step in. Just to make sure you wouldn’t burn out or combust.

You were high maintenance but, Kuroo liked maintaining you. Your drive and passion for everything you do is one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place.

Which brings him to his current mission. To get you to sleep. Ever since you were brought on to a new project at your work, he could tell you weren’t sleeping as much as you should be. And while he was usually lenient, it was starting to worry him a little bit. Hence, why this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Kuroo doesn’t respond with words, but only light, feather-like kisses down your neck, just to remind that he really isn’t going to give in. You try to ignore him, but once he begins to suck a light hickey right below your ear, you can’t handle it and let out a heavy sigh of mainly annoyance and just a bit of pleasure. You can feel his smirk from behind you. That jackass.

“Tetsu, I have to focus.”

“You can focus tomorrow, (Name). It’ll still be there when you wake up.” Kuroo says in a teasing tone while moving his hands from your sides to your hands, pulling them away from the work you so desperately want to finish.

“I promised myself I’d finish this today.” You argue, turning around to plead with your eyes, but to no avail.

“When’s the deadline?” You pause, before looking away slightly.

“Next week.” Kuroo doesn’t even need to use words, but just a slight eyebrow raise for you to feel the need to defend yourself. “I-I’m using next week to read it over just to make sure I didn’t forget any-” Your argument is cut off by your yelp as Kuroo picks you up bridal style right from your chair. You flush.

“T-tetsurou!”

He gives you a Cheshire smile. “Bedtime.” Is the only thing he says as he carries you to your shared bedroom. You huff childishly as he sets you down onto the bed and pulls the covers down. He pulls off his shirt and lays down. You’re silently thankful that you were already changed for bed. Your mind can’t even take the imaginary scenarios of what your boyfriend would do. Your noises of disagreement are quieted when he pulls you into his chest. You grumble slightly.

“I’m not a child you know.” You hear Kuroo let out a small chuckle. You feel the vibrations coming from his chest and shiver slightly.

“Sleep, kitten.” He whispers before playfully nipping your ear, which earns him a light smack against his arm. Such a tease. You sigh, before relaxing into your boyfriends’ arms, attempting to sleep.

Maybe this could actually be good for you. Some sleep to feel refreshed in the morning and give you the final push to finish that report…

~~

This was a terrible idea.

Not only could you not fall asleep, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your unfinished report in the other room. It was practically calling you, teasing you, infesting your mind with the fact that it’s sat there, undone. You shift slightly, leaning more against Kuroo as you feel his deep and even breathing. Lucky bastard practically passed out the second his head hit the pillow. While you laid there for about what felt like an eternity. You let out a low agonized whine, before looking at the clock on your bedroom wall. It was 1:35 am.

You definitely couldn’t stay like this. It was going to be the death of you if this continued.

You look from your door to Kuroo. Surely, he wouldn’t notice if you left for half an hour? You were almost finished with your report, so you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long, plus he slept like the dead…

You slowly and cautiously uncurled Kuroo’s arms from your waist, checking his face for the smallest shifts of discomfort, stopping whenever he twitched. After about five minutes, you managed to get him off you, and as quietly as possible, you stood up and tried to make your way to your door. You were about halfway there, when you hear a low grunt. You turn to see your boyfriend’s arms searching threw the empty space of the bed. He was trying to look for you.

If you weren’t focused on the task at hand, you would’ve recorded this for blackmail material. But, afraid of waking him, you silently grabbed your pillow and gave it to his searching hands. And like a child, Kuroo immediately clings onto it, pulling it into him and letting out a satisfied groan. You feel sensations of warmth course through you.

You swear you cannot describe the love you feel for this man. You feel yourself smile, going back and brushing your fingers down his neck, to which he let out a comforted noise.

Wait, stop, (Name) focus!

You snap yourself out of it, reminding yourself of the report sitting outside. With one last glance, you turn and make your way out the door. You feel peace and relief as you sit back down in your desk chair.

Okay time to get to work…

~~

Okay, this might’ve taken a little longer than you’ve anticipated.

You finished writing the report, but when reading over you decided halfway through that you wanted to change a section, but then it intersected with another part and another…

Long story short, you’re rewriting it all over again.

You have no clue what time it is, only knowing the last time you checked it was 2: 45 am, and its felt like forever since you last checked.

But nevertheless, you were convinced that you were going to be done in the next fifteen minutes, so you just had to make sure that it was quiet enough that Kuroo wouldn’t wake. You made sure to check the door every five minutes and not a to make a single sound other the keyboard clacking. You were filled with determination. The next ten minutes flew by, with you getting immersed into your own little bubble.

Which is why you didn’t even hear Kuroo get up.

Granted, he had woken up randomly, but when he stirred and found himself clutching a pillow instead of your body, he knew immediately what you were up to.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He groaned, before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head at the clock on the wall. It was around 4: 15 am. Kuroo got up and walked out of the room, to find you sitting on your desk, face totally absorbed in your screen. He leans against the wall causally, watching you for a while.

“You know they say the early bird gets the worm,” His voice is rough from sleep, but is still filled with amusement as he watches you jump from his voice. You turn his way like a child getting caught for taking candy from their mothers’ purse.

“But this is a little much don’t you think?” He watches you slide out of your desk, closing your laptop while attempting to figure out a reasonable defense, but ends up watching you open and close your mouth like a gaping fish. He wishes he had his phone with him to catch your expression.

“I… I wasn’t tired. So I just figured I’d finish while it was still on my mind.” You finally say, voice filled with nervousness and a little bit of shame. Kuroo looks from you to your laptop.

“And did you finish?” You look away.

“…Not yet.” There’s silence between you two for little while. You watch Kuroo rub his face, clearly trying figure out what to do with you. You gulp.

“Tetsu, just go back to bed, I’ll be finished in ten minutes. As soon as I’m done, I’ll go to sleep I promise. I just couldn’t rest knowing it wasn’t done-” You’re cut off by Kuroo’s body pressing into yours, pushing you against the wall in a searing kiss, moving against your lips in a slow but bruising pace. You moan in surprise.

How-How did he even get over here so quickly?

Your mind goes blank as his hand travels under your pajama shirt (Which was his old t-shirt, but whatever), rubbing your lower back in ways that leave your skin tingling in its wake. You gasp from the sensation, giving Kuroo the space to slip his tongue in. At this point your body is on auto pilot, with even your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck at some point of the suddenly heavy make out session.

After what felt like centuries, Kuroo pulls back to let you breathe, before immediately going to attack your neck, not in the lighthearted way he did hours prior. He cycles from sucking on your flesh to lightly biting to kissing, all in places that he knows are sensitive. This all came on so fast that you can barely form coherent sentences.

“T-tetsu… What -ah, are you… Doing?” You pant, and he finally stops and smirks at you, which alone caused your heart to skip a beat.

“What else could I be doing? Taking your mind off work.” With that, he continues that assassination on your neck.

Honestly, the idea came to Kuroo on a whim. He knew that you couldn’t (or wouldn’t) stop working on that stupid report, so at that moment he could only think of one thing that could have a chance at taking your focus off it.

 Sex.

Primitive yes, but hey, it worked at the best of times. Plus, it could also help with working off the extra energy you can’t seem to shake.

It’s a win-win in his eyes.

(It also may have to do with the fact that you two haven’t slept together in a week, due to said report, so he could be feeling a little pent up but that’s a different issue.)

After he was satisfied with his work on your neck, which was full of red and purple splotches that he knows you’ll complain about later, he returns to your lips, kissing you with all the strength he had. His hands travel from your back to your chest, thankful that you weren’t wearing a bra. Kuroo starts to knead your breasts, making sure to pinch and pull and your nipples every so often, leaving you to twitch and cry softly in his mouth. He can’t help but think about how the sounds would feel around his cock, and that imagery goes straight to his crotch.

Right no, this was about you. Another thought for another day.

His hands leave your chest, to go to the back of your thighs. He squeezes them to silently tell you to that he’s going to lift you. You help a little, jumping slightly and hooking your legs around his toned hips. Without leaving your lips he takes you to the nearest surface, which was your couch, and lays you down with the upmost care, before pouncing on you immediately. Putting one of his legs between yours.

After five minutes in this new position, Kuroo suddenly leaves your mouth and you quietly whine at the loss, but he doesn’t hear as he motions you to lift your arms off to take off your shirt. You comply, helping him remove the item of clothing, leaving you in just your panties. Kuroo appreciates the fact that you don’t wear pants to bed as he takes a moment to look at you. Your face flushed and red, lips swollen with a bruised neck that goes down to your collar bones. Your chest heaving from your heavy pants that accentuate the curve of your breasts. Kuroo has to real in his self control to stop himself from fucking you immediately. You feel yourself heat up from his dark eyes looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat.

“St-stop staring, pervert” You mutter, turning even more red from embarrassment. He smiles at your shyness. “Sorry kitten; but you can’t expect me not stare when you’re all laid out for me like this~ Just waiting to be devoured.”

You stutter at his words, refusing to look at him but trying to kick him to get your point across. He catches your leg with ease, and starts to kiss your calf, going up your leg, purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You whine again, this time with Kuroo hearing you and he chuckles lowly.

“Patience is a virtue, you know~” He teases, and before you could say anything, he latches his mouth to one of your nipples, leaving his hand to tease the other, making you speechless. Your only response was a shaky moan as he softly bites your nipple, causing your back to arch just a bit.

Kuroo is relentless, refusing to let your nipple go until its bright red and engorged, making even the lightest touch make you shiver. But he isn’t done in the slightest. Once pleased, he turns to the other one, giving it the exact same treatment. Once he’s done, you’re practically shaking with need.

“Tet-Tetsu… Pl-please.” You moan, as he teasingly pinches your extremely sensitive nipple. He looks at you, acting oblivious.

“Hm? Do you want something?” You glare as hard as you could at the prick, but with your half-lidded eyes and totally red face, it loses all intensity. Kuroo huffs out a laugh, sensual and deep, as he takes his finger and trails it down your abdomen and down to your inner thigh, making you let out gasps as your body twitches at the touch. He traces tiny circles down your inner thigh before grazing the lips of your pussy.

You’re absolutely dripping. His cock twitches. Maybe this week has been hard on you too…

“So needy~” He groans, again not giving you time to respond, as he shoves his finger inside your dripping hole, leaving you writhing. To be honest, he was becoming impatient as well, his cock was becoming so hard it was beginning to hurt, but he ignored it for your sake.

Kuroo starts off slow, pushing his finger in a slow pulse, loving the way your walls would twitch around his finger. After a while he brought his thumb to rub slow tight circles on your clit. You struggle to hold in any noise. Not like you weren’t struggling before.

“Tetsu~” You pant, becoming a literal puddle as he steadily winds the coil forming in your lower abdomen. Your hips start to move on their own accord, pushing against his finger to get it even deeper.

You want more. You need more.

“Still thinking about work?” Kuroo asks slyly, purposefully adding a second finger just to mess and cloud up your thoughts.

Bastard was making you look like a bitch in heat. But in the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not with all the pleasure muddling your basic communication skills. Kuroo obviously didn’t like that, so he decides to push up into a place that makes you see stars.

“Tetsurou!” You literally gasp, arching your back so far that you lift yourself off the couch. Kuroo groans just from your voice and expression alone. Just watching your eyes roll into the back of head was enough to put him in a frenzy, not even mentioning the way you said his name. He wanted you to scream it. Scream so loud the neighbors file complaints.

So of course, what else was he supposed to do but press and rub against that spot repeatedly.

Kuroo watches hungrily as your gasps and moans pitch higher and higher as his fingers set a brutal pace. Adding a third finger and his palm against your clit once more and you were goner, with him throwing you into climax rather than pushing you to it. He swears your cunt squeezed him so hard his fingers lost circulation for a moment, but it was worth the expression of pure bliss on your face.

It takes you a while to get your breathing under control, winding down from a climax harder than you’ve had in a while. You take a couple minutes resting your eyes, before you remember that Kuroo was still present, now rubbing his cock against your inner thigh.

“I hope you’re not tired yet, kitten~ We still have so much work to do.”

Boy, were you in for a rough night.

[blkgirl-writing]

Helloo! so I know you can romance the companions with any appearance, but I have a hard time imagining them actually choosing to being with a plus size person like myself.

Very indulgent, but do you have any thoughts about them being with a chubby partner? Perhaps a bit of fluff and spice?

Love what you do. writing for the ppl that fanfics often leave forgotten. You're awesome & I hope you have a great day today <3

I’m so happy you asked this, because actually, most of the companions I see loving thicker people and a few fairly exclusively liking bigger women (it’s Wyll) but here’s my headcanons for the baldurs gate 3 companions being interested in a chubby/fat tav!

Aatarion

Astarion is actually the only character I see maybe not loving chubby bodies all that much, but that's really for acended Astarion, since he becomes such a despicable and unapethetic person

But Astarion once he breaks free of cazador?

learns to be accepting and....kind?

He was always drawn to a very conventional type of beauty as he had to be fit into that mold for so so many years, so he kinda felt like he needed people to fit in that mold for him as well

He would start to find beauty in the smaller things in life that he was never able to before

Including bigger chubbier bodies

the comforts of plushness and something extra very much opposes his more thin and sharp body

like he actually likes hugging, he would ASK for a hug

to him hugging you is the embodiment of his freedom and enjoying non sexual things simply, without any motivation

Gale

I think Gale would find comfort in your body

Using as much of you as a pillow, cuddling and being able to be the big and little spoon

Any skimpy outfit would drive him wild, he'd get all flustered and kinda just be more near you?

Since he loves thighs the bigger the better, he won’t complain. He lowkey wants to be crushed by your thighs

Gale would find so much joy in so much ass and thighs in his face, his personal horny heaven

(TW E.D) If you have trouble eating he would cook for you and sit away from camp if it made you more comfortable. He'd take so much joy in making something you wanted to eat (END OF TW)

Gale stars at you a lot

And when you ask why he's staring, he always has a different reason

Somehow he always knows when to compliment you when you're feeling down

he will always find the best way to make you feel better and it's unique and special

"I love how your shoulders look when you're reading" or like "I just can't take my eyes off you when you smile, it lights up your whole face. All I want to do is make you smile til the end of our days" etc etc

Shadowheart

Lovely person but I do think she’d learn to love bigger bodies, I like to think Karlach was her sexual awakening to big women

But honestly I think it would only take some good titties for her to be convinced

I think she would love being smaller than you, and would absolutely wear your shirt/blouse around camp as a baggy dress

Especially to kind of brag about sleeping with you and you being hers and hers alone

She would basically exclusively want to sleep with her head resting on your thighs

many many nights were spent like that looking at the stars

honestly you'll need to ask her for compliments but she never fails to make you smile with them

"What? You want me to tell you how perfect you are? Or how beautifully your body looks in that tight dress? How much I want to take you to bed right now? I thought you already knew those things, but if you ask I'll say them a million times, til you believe it, and a few more times for good measure."

Wyll

Wyll is so sweet and so nice, he always compliments you and always hugs you in the best ways

he notices your insecurities and makes sure to compliment them and tell you how much he loves and appreciates those parts of you

He also just finds you the sexiest thing alive

he loves his partners bigger

I mean I've already said he's an ass man and he fully wants to be engulfed in that ass if possible and that just don't happen with skinner people

Wyll loves his comforts and his comforts is just ass on face tbh

he'd get real wild and very flirty drunk too

"Give me all of that ass" and "sit on my face and ride it like you mean it til the dawn breaks"

is also in love with your stomach and kisses it whenever your closing rides up or is exposed from the clothing itself being revealing or just short

when he's next to you he will always have his hand around your waist

Karlach

no matter what size you are Karlach can pick you up and swing you around like she's picking up a pillow so

she treats you absolutely no differently than a skinnier person, maybe she picks you up and swings you around more actually

she'd treat you kinda as a princess it's adorable

In my head, Karlach is obviously super muscley but also kinda chubby so like there'd be no reason to see you as anything but perfect and so beautiful

She is always snackin' on stuff, so she'd ask if you wanted any of the nibbles she found on the way

Karlach would wanna just sleep face down on your stomach so like you can decide if she actually does every single night or short rest or nah

and she'd randomly kiss your tummy while she laid on it just cause she wants to and she finally can kiss you and lay on you, and all the fun things she wanted to do for what felt like forever

Lae'zel

she sees someone as the bigger, the more strength

so immediately she'd be like ah yes, a worth lover able to take all intensities i give

She's definitely go harder on you in combat (during a certain romance scene) because of your size, and definitely give more during sex

Especially if you have bigger arms? she's a suckers for big arms

Lae'zel would cuddle like it was fucking wrestling

like you'd wake up with bruises and if you asked she'd be like, you can take all I give, therefore I will give you even more than I have

everything she does is intense of course but she will never baby you like she may someone smaller

she sees you so much as an equal and a strong fighter it's actually very cute and everyone is kind of shocked how much she likes you

----

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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic

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[grahminradarin]

SPOP And Queer Joy Tw for transphobia, the Daily Wire, and getting kicked in the nuts

I was watching the most recent video from Some More News about a deeply stupid and bad and transphobic film from the daily wire called Ladyballers, and there was a scene they talked about where one of the main characters who was a guy that has been disguised as a woman for a couple weeks in order to win a woman's basketball tournament realizes he might actually be trans, and confesses this to the basketball coach who is his old friend and came up with the idea. The basketball coach then tells the trans character that she doesn't understand her own feelings and that the coach will help her figure it out. When she continues to insist that she's a trans woman, the coach kicks her in the nuts. And this made me realize the whole conservative mindset is based on an authority figure convincing people under them that they don't understand their own feelings and they don't know who they are, but the authority figure does. And the point of it all is to make someone never trust themselves or their own feelings ever.

And then I thought of the ending of She-Ra.

And I finally get why it felt so right and so triumphant and so different. Catra and Adora have been living with Shadow Weaver their whole lives, and Shadow Weaver has constantly been telling them who they're supposed to be, and it hurts both of them so much over the course of the series because Adora keeps trying to fit herself into that mold better (is helped in this endeavor by light hope) while catra is trying to break out of her mold to put herself in Adora's as the golden child

And then hoard Prime shows up as the ultimate example of an authority figure insisting that you don't understand yourself with the chips, which are literally a direct physical implementation of that idea!

And in what both of them think are their final moments alive, they kill the shadow Weaver in their heads, trust themselves to know who they are, and do what they've wanted to do the whole time. Catra stops trying to prove herself and admits that she cares and wants to just be enough without having to try. She stops caring about whether she's weak and says she loves someone. Adora stops trying to be the self-sacrificing hero and acknowledges that she can care about other people differently than just having to save them and she finally takes something she wants without worrying about the consequences.

They both say "screw authority, I know who I am and I'm going to let that out" because they both think they're about to die. And that one tiny moment of rebellion and understanding saves the entire goddamn universe. It terrifies Prime to the point that he can't even comprehend what's happened, and then it obliterates him and frees everyone he's ever hurt. It fixes everything

That one moment of queer Joy, even at the very end of the world, is all that it took.

[charmedreincarnation]

My shift to Bnha

I’ll start with the basics. For starters my reality is a bit different. The legal age is 25, so therefore school duration is longer, and our ages are different. I start UA when I was 19 years old, which made me a year 1 student. my parents are both prominent figures in hero society, and I was an only child to them. I only add this because I think it’s important to acknowledge background information because it shapes your experience and your placement in society, especially in a world filled with heroes everything is ranked and merit based.

UA .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Contrary to popular belief, at least in my reality school is very much emphasized and just as important as hero work. For me a typical day looked like, getting up at 7:45 to prepare for classes that started at 8:30 and ending at 5. We do have a one hour lunch break, and a specific period to work on our specific quirks alone any way we see fit. A lot of people do use that time to slack off and hang out with friends, but they’ve recently become very strict about it. Credits to to Tenya Ida for informing the board of what people were really doing ! A lot of people were mad but honestly I am a teachers pet in this reality so I kind of appreciated it.

I can’t speak for the other classes, maybe it’s because of everything we went to, but we are not a class we are genuinely family. I am closest to Izuku, Sui, Ochacho, Mina, Todoroki and MoMo! Not in any particular order. I’m not going to talk about everyone but here are some of the reasons I love them <3

•Mina is just as extroverted quirky and bubbly as you would expect. Shes one of those people you meet and you can’t help but adore because they energy is so welcoming and they’re so loving. She’s kind of a prankster and a rumor starter and I find it hilarious. You can’t keep anything from her, though but once she has a narrative she has narrowed upon, you have a better chance of changing the devils mind.

For example i talked about this in a different post, but she started a rumour that bakugo is in love with izuku and that’s why he’s mad all the time. It got back to bakugo and he threatened to turn the cafeteria into a live bake oven. It’s honestly hilarious how she can make a whole room laugh. Or make anyone mad.. I guess it’s a talent regardless.

•Sui is the sweetest girl ever. She kind of keeps to herself but she’s honest and what you see is what you get. She’s also kind of emotional and I am kind of a cry baby too there so we get each other. We really just want to do our best and see everyone succeed. I would say both of us made friendships are bigger priority than hero training and we have both been called out for it too.

•Ochacho is very similar to Mina but she can also get down to business when she needs to. Everyone loves her, and her powers are super helpful in any situation, like for sneaking out quietly… but I wouldn’t know anything about that. I vividly remember having a conversation about our hero progress and she’s deeply insecure. She grew up impoverished and Monterey compensation is one of the reasons that really encouraged her to be a hero. I remember one time she was telling me how impressive I was during the first few weeks of school because I had a better handle on my quirk than her. She said something of how I was meant to be a hero. It made me sad because I admired her will and determination more than anyone. I had so many factors that put me ahead in some of my peers. My mother is a pro hero and I went to a profound middle school that molded me to be ready. I told her she was born to be a hero and I was made to be a hero. I was being honest and I didn’t think it meant anything but she always reminds me of how she thinks about that anytime she’s in a situation where she needs help. Nothing made me happier

•Momo and my quirks are very similar. My quirk is called clairvoyance somnium, and my hero name is dreamer. Kind of what she can do but I visualize whatever I need. I can also do more things that I won’t get into but a lot of it, I was inspired by my shifting methods ! Anyways she’s the sweetest and we live pretty close to each other so I’ve seen her around for a while. She’s honestly very gorgeous and we both struggle with insecurities and anxiety, so she really is someone I relate and rely on. Maybe it’s because our quirks or so similar or we have similar backgrounds and personalities but… she’s probably the person I am closest with! But I really do love everyone equally

Bakugo .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Ok lots of people ask about him so let’s go.

Yes he’s so loud and always angry. You know I thought i would be scared of him but I honestly even I even give him snarky remarks sometimes (in a nice way because I am so nice in this dr) but wow he is the loudest person I’ve ever met in any dr but his powers are amazing we all respect it

Contrary to popular belief..no one is scared of him. As angry, loud and aggressive as he is he has proven time and time again all he wants to do is be a hero. Honestly it surprised some of us but everyone knows he has kind of good intentions under his wrath ??

He also makes everything a competition and he’s actually good at eveything. He’s good at school I’m pretty sure he placed after me in mid terms ! I got third and he got fourth. He’s a great cook and baker. We had a baking competition and he placed after sato. We made ramen and he made the best ramen ! Like he’s not as dumb as he looks. He’s also in a one sided competition with Todoroki but as we have all noticed he doesn’t give a fuck.

Powers .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

This may be egotistical but I could not imagine not being a hero in a world with 80% hero. Don’t let the league of villains hear this it will fuel their fire. 🥲 in all seriousness we are lectured that we are not better than anyone, and we are simply stronger than other people and that is it so we shouldn’t let it conflate our egos. The only way we would be given the green flag to pat our own backs is when are abilities begin to save millions of lives. But then I guess if we’re only being heroes to look good then would that really make us heroes. At least that’s what I wrote about in my English essay. Present mic did in fact eat it up, I got an amazing grade on it. But that’s not the point. The point is it’s easy to get a big head but we were simply genetically lucky, not better, smarter, etc.

Now that philosophy is behind us, having powers is so cool and coming back here the limits of other realities having no bounds never fails to amaze me. Our quirks are an extension of ourselves and literally are us. It’s not second nature, it’s first nature after having these abilities for so long. Especially my quirk, if I wanted I could “dream” 500 million yen, and well I wouldn’t be able to put it in the bank but I digress. Finding out what your quirk can do and how far your cbs push your limits always allows us to be going through moments of self discovery. Having a quirk is honestly it’s own life alone, and I genuinely could not be happier.

My favorite classes .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

As a student in this incredible universe, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to pursue many amazing topics of study.

One class I took was Hero Studies, where we learned about the many different hero theories and methods of justice, as well as what it takes to become an effective hero. We also discussed the history of the hero world and its evolution throughout the years. It was a fascinating subject and definitely one of my favorites!

The next class I took was Quirk Studies. Here we learned all about quirks, their effects on people and how they can be used to help protect civilians and stop villains. We even discussed how to best work with a partner with a different quirk, and how to combine two quirks to create a unique and powerful attack.

Finally, I also took a class called Combat Training. This class taught us all about combat techniques and how to use the environment and our natural abilities in order to survive any situation. We learned how to effectively dodge and block attacks, as well as how to use our quirks to create powerful attacks.

We of course also had the general classes of math, English, science, math, and music

The classes at UA High were some of the most interesting classes I have ever taken and I am so grateful for having the opportunity to explore them. Not only did I learn a lot about the world of My Hero Academia, but I also grew as a person and as a hero.

Random funny story .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

I’m going to tell you one of the funniest most embarrassing things that happened during the UA sports festive. This happened during the third event, when we were in teaams.

I was with Izuku, mei, Ochako, and fumikage. Everyone is trying to steal the headband from us because Izuku has all the points ! Everyone was targeting us and it was so unfair. during the last few seconds I started running to dream us a tower so we can hide and to grow into to the skies. Then someone came so they threw me the headband and i I was waiting for them but then they got attacked and they told me just go without them !?? I was literally shaking and my anxiety was at an all time high time so I quirked my tower or whatever and made it grow and then the time ran out! I had the headband and we thought we won and we were cheering but umm no. I was the only winner technically because I wasn’t with my team. BUT because that took away FROM the point of the team work part I was deducted points from my own Individual points because that wasn’t the point of the challenge. Honestly you win some you lose some. It was a fun experience regardless.

Also honestly i shifted here around the time of the World Cup, which I could not care less about, but I get the hype of sports witnessing Izuku’s fight against Shinso (manipulation guy.) it was so awesome !!! I was at the edge of my seat the entire time!!! So I guess Now I understand how some people feel about sports lol. By the end of the festival, I got third place overall and my mom was so proud of me. It was the honestly a great feeling.

Random dump with no correlation

my mother (Uwabami’s) Quirk gives her a trio of live snakes growing from her head. One of the snakes have acute senses, allowing her to locate hidden criminals and disaster victims.one snakes also has a scent that can make her victims mindless slaves, one snake produces poison and attacks her victims.

my father who also attended UA with my mom has Squirmy Fingers (can precisely bend and control his fingers, giving him great dexterity) As well as a High Scientific knowledge Skills IQ in engineering. I found this interesting because usually children are a combination of their parents quirks or either or, and mine has nothing to do with either lol.

Todoroki’s pretty smart though he places after Bakugou in the mid terms. he also loves to read ! He’s also politically educated and actually had profound knowledge on the history of heroes and how and why he believe hero’s and villains came to be so.. surprisingly he is more philosophical than I would think. He doesn’t really talk about it or bring it up because if you have a good conversation with him and get him to open up it is always worth.

Food

Tbh to no surprise the food options were eclectic and varied. There was something for everyone! I had everything from traditional Japanese dishes such as ramen and sushi, to western and American-style dishes like pizza and burgers. I even had access to a variety of international cuisines like Indian, Chinese, and Korean.

One of my favorite places to get a good meal was the school cafeteria. Every day it was full of delicious options, from freshly-cooked dishes to the convenience of pre-packaged items. There were also lots of drinks and snacks available. On certain days, the cafeteria also served special meals such as curry or tonkatsu.

If I was looking for something a bit more fast-paced, there were several food stalls and restaurants around town. I could find an assortment of things like ramen, takoyaki, and okonomiyaki. There were also locations that offered more unique dishes such as Japanese-style hamburgers or omurice (Omelette Rice).

Although I often ate at restaurants, I also cooked meals in my dorm room. I could make simple dishes with ingredients from the local grocery store, like fried rice, or make something more complicated with ingredients from the nearby specialty grocery store. I even tried my hand (well with sato as well) at making dango, the traditional Japanese dessert.

Tbh No matter what type of food I was looking for, UA had it though. With all of the different options available, there was something to satisfy whatever cravings I had.

I also write and speak in English so don’t ask any language questions because I do not know