#fic from an old blog

[feralsmanicdreams]

Dolor [Albedo] [Repost]

Pairing: Albedo (Genshin Impact) x Fem!Reader (fem pronouns used)

Featuring: Klee

Warnings: Dark imagery, mentions of death, angst

dolor;;pain

In which Albedo learns new feelings and new losses.

'Pain; in it’s most pure form, comes from love lost and to never be had again.'

“ Lᴏᴏᴋ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ..”

‘The truth of this world…’  

Something that Albedo mumbled once in a blue, almost as if he was his normal self again. Then again, many would argue that he was never really normal in the first place. He was always the ever distanced and well distinguished alchemist of the Knights of Favonius. No one truly knew him well or personally, so it was more than a shock to others that he had found himself a special someone. He started to become his own sort of normal then. A little awkward mess of stumbles and soft words.

The adoration, however, was so very pure. It was so real and true- the kind that could change ones life, either by giving such feelings, or by being the lucky soul to receive them. 

He looked at you like you were the answer he was searching for. It was very flattering to have caught the attention of a man that had only shown interest in the most complicated forms of alchemy. Even more so when you had heard he could barely keep his attention on one project.

You often wondered what he saw in you. You felt you were a simple woman. You were not an alchemist like Sucrose or a hardened traveler like Lumine, two of plenty other special women he could have gotten with. Or quite literally anyone else. 

You were a normal citizen. You possessed no vision and did not seek to earn one. You merely ran your own little pastry shop in Mondstadt. You did not go adventuring and you did not much care for learning the wonders of the world.

Yet, somehow, you caught his attention. You’re not quite sure how or when, you just knew that suddenly he was a regular at your shop.

Then, through some awkward flirting and soft glances, something much more than that.

“Albedo, don’t you have something you need to finish?”, you ask, breaking the silence.

Soft teal eyes refused to tear themselves from you, “Quite fascinating, don’t you think?”, he mumbles, mostly to himself.

“Hmm?”

“This feeling… I’ve never felt this before… I wonder..”, he soon trails off, leaving you to wonder along with him, but for different reasons. Sometimes he makes you think he is more fascinated by the thought of him being in love, than actually being in love with you.

“ Pᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴇ, ᴛᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀᴍs..”

Albedo was very interested on creating life from nothing, or recreating life from something else and making something entirely new. Just as much as he liked turning the unknown into the known.

Yet, despite all his efforts, he found himself unable to do something he desperately needed. Nothing would ever be the same if he did not do what his foolish feelings were begging of him.

Everyone was growing increasingly concerned for him. His distance was slowly turning into complete disappearance. There became a time where not even Klee could find him.

“ I ᴡɪsʜ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ..”

His affection was awkward to put it nicely. He had never been in a relationship before. He had never kissed anyone or held their hand- he attempted to flatter but words seemed to fail him.

If you were honest it was a little funny as well as endearing. He could explain to you why the sky was blue and what chemicals made up the very air you breathe, but he couldn’t properly explain how you looked so nice in that dress you wore.

He couldn’t explain why he felt that holding your hand without his glove actually did feel as nice as you said it would.

He didn’t get what benefit there was to your lips touching his until you showed him. He wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to feel like but.. it felt nice. It felt like tiny sparks of electricity ran down his spine and stretched across his arms and legs. The touch of you was something he grew addicted to. The soft glide of your fingers through his hair- the warm caress of your lips along the skin of his cheek- your soft palm wrapped delicately around his own.

He craved his daily dose, more and more as the days with you went on.

You were a routine he never knew he would have or yearn for.

Sometimes though, alchemy would capture his attention once more, interrupting his usual craving.

“ Wɪsʜ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇʀᴀsᴇ ɪᴛ..”

It happened again. Albedo disappeared for a time, but when he came back he wasn’t himself. He was angry. It was shocking to see him show such an emotion, especially since he didn’t snap at anyone. They couldn’t tell but it was because Albedo felt that snapping would be a waste of much needed energy.

He couldn’t afford to keep failing. He was losing time- preservation could only help him so much, if it was even any help at all. He couldn’t allow his anger to distract him but it was so hard to ignore. It flared up in his chest, demanding to be felt and acknowledged. It screamed in the recesses of his mind- echoing and bouncing around violently.

‘ Failure failure failure- Not only are you unable to complete your final assignment but you cannot fix what you have broken out of your own selfish need-’

“‘Bedo?”

Immediately everything vanishes from his mind. There were only three voices that could capture him instantly. One of which he had been cruelly snatched from while the other simply.. left him.

“Yes, Klee?”, he says, voice empty.

“… you look angry..”

He closes his eyes and sighs at that, “I am frustrated. It will pass.”

Slowly, she moves to stand next to him, lightly patting his leg for it was as high as she could reach, “Uhm… is.. can I help?”

He softly pats her head, unable to refrain from trying to do something that he learned as comforting. This wasn’t her problem to try to solve. “I appreciate the thought, but I have to do this by myself.”

Klee seems to visibly deflate a bit, it makes him feel… guilty? That might be how you would have described it.

She moves to touch his gloved hand atop her head with her smaller one, “…Is it a surprise for, ___? For when she comes back from her trip?”

Hearing your name gives him a wave of a very unpleasant feelings. It is as if his chest is caving in on itself, but when he looks down, nothing has changed but his now quickened breathing. He must have looked awful because Klee seems to tear up upon seeing his expression when she looks up. 

“I- I miss her too! Don’t worry ‘Bedo! She’ll be back very soon, right? And- and then we can go get some stuff from her shop! Everyone misses her shop! She wouldn’t let us all be sad!”

Her ranting turns to blubbering and once more Albedo feels regret- he wished Klee was old enough to be told the truth. However, she wasn’t so he does the only thing he can think to calm her. It’s something he only does when she is very upset, usually because she gently protests that she is a big girl and does not need to be picked up and held against his chest.

This time though, she welcomes it, latching onto him as soon as he leans down to pull her to him. She clutches at his shirt and does her best to quiet her little tears.

“‘B-Bedoo..”, she hiccups, “I-I miss her s-so much. We- we were so happy an-and… I hear- people s-say… she won’t b-be back. It hu-hurts- you always look so s-sad..”

He frowns to himself- yes, it hurts. So is this a new form of pain? “I’m sorry, Klee. I didn’t know- I… I’m sure she’ll be back.. I miss her just as much..”

“ Mᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ..”

Just as much as you fascinated Albedo, you also confused him. He didn’t believe in a normal. There was no normal. Everything was abnormal and different. Not all plants were the same, nor all experiments or people.

You were far from normal- in fact he often felt he was rather.. bland for a person like you. He didn’t mean it in an insecure way. It was more of an observation. You were adored by everyone that grew to know you.

The Knights liked to stop by your shop in the morning for refreshments to start their long days- or to indulge after a long night of work. That is how he found you. Your apron was coated in flour, your arms splotched here and there in sugars and spices. Your eyes had captivated him. There was an emotion in there he couldn’t describe and he wanted to know what it might be. What made your smile so bright? What joy did you gain that made it so?

Why did you make him feel this way?

You gave him swirls of questions he tried to answer before another came in. At first, you could say you simply fascinated him. He just wanted answers to his questions and then… well eventually, there was no purpose. It was just a want for your company- a selfish need.

One that cost him a hefty price he couldn’t afford.

There was no need for you to accompany him to Dragonspine. You didn’t much care for the cold and it was always crawling with hilichurls and the occasional Frostarm Lawachurl. However, he had invited you out of a selfish need. You had been missing his company since work kept taking him, and so you happily accepted. You bundled up in your best coats and packed for the travel. It would be your first adventure and though you were a little wary, you didn’t doubt Albedo’s promise of protection.

He was an alchemist first, but he was also a knight. He carried a sword with him.

Yet it all happened so fast- he was so taken by you. He was lost in his own mind, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be looking for needed ingredients. He was also supposed to be watching out, though he usually didn’t need to. Rarely did any enemies try to attack him, but he should have assumed they might try to attack you.

There was no time to attack- to block- to even scream.

One second you were there, smiling at him, eyelashes painted white with falling snow. It was such a lovely sight, he treasured it- and then suddenly, you were gone. Flung far past his sight, into nothing- no sound had left you- no scream of realization- just deafening silence.

It seemed you stepped too close into the territory of a nearby Frostarm Lawachurl. It overused it’s strength to move you away and the rational part of Albedo knew it was not fully at fault. However.. when it came to you.. his rationality tended to leave for a time.

“ Bᴜᴛ I’ᴍ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ʟɪᴀʀ, ʙᴀᴅ ʟɪᴀʀ ..”

To this day he cannot fully recall what happened after. You were gone and then he was kneeling over your lifeless body, covered in blood that was not his and..crying. In all his life, in every moment he can recall, not a single tear had ever fallen from his face. Not the tiniest drop had ever formed. Not when his teacher left him- not in any moment he had accidentally caused himself physical pain- never.

The tears wouldn’t stop- the sobbing was violent and almost disgusting. He sounded absolutely miserable in the echoes of himself that his brain could register. The dull color in your eyes was the last devastating blow, right alongside the knowledge that you were gone from this world. He was left behind to leave the mess he felt he created.

His own learned love had cost him his everything-

People mourned. They left flowers and gifts all along the outside of your shop No one was allowed to take over your space, not that any wanted to. There were letters and tears and speeches. You left more of an impact than you would have guessed.. even more when their search parties turned up with no trace of you. They knew you would not be found alive, as per Albedo’s recollection of the events that transpired.

He could not tell them he had found you immediately. No.

Albedo could create life from nothing or create new life entirely. There had to be a way to bring you back. Alchemy had a plethora of answers and different solutions, surely he could find something..

Hidden in the depths of Dragonspine where nothing but ice existed, he kept you. A part of him felt and knew how wrong this was- the cold would only keep you so long and you deserved a proper burial but… he couldn’t let you go. He needed you back.

There had to be a way, no matter how much he failed or how angry he got, he had to succeed. He loved you. It was beyond fascination- far beyond any comprehension.

Without you he would be a shell of who he once was- now he is a mess of regrets and what if’s. What if he had left you alone? What if he went by himself? What if you didn’t grow to love him? What if he never got to hear your voice again? What if what if what if- why hadn’t he just left you alone..

As he gazes upon your form frozen in time, he gains his answer. He learns of something new.

Pain; in it’s most pure form, comes from love lost and to never be had again.

“ Nᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ..”

[golden1u5t]

patched up | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ genre: smut heavy make out ses

ꨄ summary: spencer had gotten hurt while on a case and it was up to you to patch him back up, which wouldn’t have been an issue if the tension between you wasn’t so thick.

“you’re really stupid, you know that?” you state as you grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. spencer let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a low groan when you lifted his shirt and poured a good amount of the peroxide on his stab wound. his head tips back against the counter and you can't help but look up at him, your eyes lingering on the bulge of his adam's apple for far too long.

spencer looked back down just in time to catch you staring at him. you quickly looked away and grabbed a gauze out of your bag, but your hands were shaking with nerves and caused you to drop the package before you could get it open.

he watched as you bent down and grabbed the package, you tore it open and lifted his shirt again. the room you were in was so quiet you could hear each other’s breathing, or maybe that was because of how close you were. you didn’t want to look up because you knew he was already staring at you and that would just make you even more nervous than you already were.

you made quick work of finishing patching him up and cleaning up your mess. after you were done you turned around to the sink to wash your hands. spencer could tell you were washing your hands longer than needed so you didn’t have to face him. so he slid off the counter and walked up behind you, caging you in by placing his hands on either side of you.

“do i make you nervous?” he asked, watching as you tensed. you turned off the faucet before spinning around so you were face to face, you could feel his breath fanning over your face with how close he was.

“i’m not- why would i be nervous?” spencer’s gaze dropped down to your lips for a quick moment before he met your eyes again. you couldn’t help but mirror him and do the same, except your gaze lingered on his lips far longer than he did.

“your body language is telling me you’re nervous.”

“yeah? what else is it telling you?” you met his eyes again as your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. you weren’t sure where the sudden wave of confidence came from but you could feel it slipping away with each passing second you stood there under his gaze.

“well, you keep looking at my lips and subconsciously leaning towards me. that tells me you want me, want to kiss me.” a low chuckle left his lips as he stared at you, he shook his head before taking a step back. you reached out and wrapped your hand around his wrist to stop him from walking away.

“would you do it if i asked? to kiss me, i mean.” you asked, letting go of him when you got his attention again. spencer paused for a moment, thinking of all the things he could say in response to you. kissing you is something he’s thought about many times before, hell, he's thought about doing a lot more than kissing if he was being honest.

“is that your way of asking me to kiss you?” he took a step closer to you, already ready to kiss you as soon as you said the word. there was a moment of silence between you, you both just looking into each other's eyes waiting for you to say that one word that could change everything for you.

it took you a moment to find the courage but when you did you confirmed that it was your way of asking him to kiss you. as soon as you got the words out of your mouth spencer was cupping your face and bringing his lips to yours. your arms went around his neck as you leaned into him more.

spencer’s hands fell from your face to gripping your thighs, he effortlessly hoisted you up and sat you on the counter. spencer groaned into your mouth when you ran your fingers through his hair and gave it a gentle tug. your skin felt like it was on fire because of the way his hands felt roaming underneath your shirt, the way he kissed you like his life depended on it, and the ache between your legs that was growing stronger with each passing second he kissed you.

you were sure that if he kissed you like that for the rest of your lives you would be the happiest woman alive. unfortunately, spencer had to pull away because of the lack of air but that gave you the chance to bury your head in the crook of his neck and discover new places with your lips. while you kissed and nipped at his skin he reached down and started to unbutton your jeans.

being able to go all the way with him would have been a dream come true for you but unfortunately you were still on the job and that means your moment was interrupted by emily coming into the room you were in to let you know what they’ve recently discovered.

“just to let you know-” she stopped in her tracks when she looked up to see you and spencer jumping away from each other. her eyes jumped between you two, taking in your unbuttoned jeans and spencers disheveled hair. you cleared your throat as you buttoned your jeans back up, your heart was racing so fast you could hear it in your ears.

emily was your unit chief, yes, but she was your friend before any of that so instead of making a big deal she excused herself to give you both some time to straighten back up before joining the others.

you and spencer couldn’t bring yourselves to say anything after that, the only noise that filled the room was the sound of your heavy breathing and the laugh you shared as the realization of what happened donned on you. before you made it to the common area where everyone else was, spencer pulled you behind a wall to give you one last kiss.

it made you feel like a teenager sneaking around with the boy your parents told you to stay away from but you would do it a million times over if that meant you could experience kissing him for the first time all over again.

[lunaa-runee]

Imagine CEO!Sukuna who becomes a single dad after his ex leaves him suddenly with a son. He loves his son like crazy, but he is terrified that he will be a father like his own. So he decides to hire a nanny, but the nanny doesn't last long. And neither does the one after her. And after a string of failed nannies that never last long, you're eventually the new nanny.

At first he thought you were going to be like all the nannies before, but how wrong he was.

[artsangell]

30's Pervert! Artashi I need you

Imagining being Tashi's pretty young protégée who listens to every word that falls from her lips, You've just barely started being recognized by local sports channels and you're still young enough to have a gleam in your eyes. You practically blush anytime Art attends your private practices with his wife(which he's been doing more and more often.) Art thinks it's cute, you're a great player but so so shy you barely can look at him when he speaks to you. Art decides to exploit this, gets far too close to you after games, says how he's "so proud of you" when you win and flashes you a pretty smile. For awhile it's fun for him, for awhile it's as far as he'll go.

Art needs more than that, he wants to be in a situation where he's in control for once. Art's thoughts start to go from just wanting to see you get all nervous to wanting to pin you down and beg for him to stop. The man begins to fuck his fist after every time he sees you play in your little athletic shorts, he practically moans the first time he sees you wear a small white skirt to one of your matches. Tashi notices, of course she fucking notices the change in his behaviour around you, she notices how close he gets to you and how he runs to the bathroom after every practice you have. Tashi doesn't confront him because frankly she doesn't care, and she can't say she hasn't had... thoughts about you too.

Art is lying on his back beneath Tashi, her toned bare figure above him, he's whining as she cockwarms him, she'll fuck him when she thinks he deserves it. Tashi's hips shift slightly as she begins to nibble on Art's ear, the feeling making him cry out.

"Bet she'd look so much prettier under me than you do." Tashi whispers it in Art's ear, his eyes go wider than the fucking moon. Surely she isn't talking about who he thinks she's talking about, before he even can think of a response Tashi removes herself from him. The loss of her warmth makes him whine.

They both fuck themselves thinking about you that night<3

Repost from old blog!

[sweetsuo]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬

Toji Fushiguro x F!Reader

Cw. afab!reader. Cheating. Infidelity. Dacryphilia. Temperature play. Burning. Fingering. Smoking.

 Genre. [ fic. Smut. See tags for notes.] You're Megumi's girlfriend and his father is not someone you thought you'd catch the eye of in the kitchen.

Wc. 3.6k

This was fucked up. It was fucked up and you knew it was. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but it’s the only way your heart squeezed in that sickeningly pleasant way – the only reason you wanted to sleep over any more.

You looked up at him, eyes dancing over the serenity in his features. Handsome. Somehow boyish in the length of his lashes and the way his lips parted in a slight laugh. He made you feel like an endangered animal – preciously encaged for safety and sanctuary yet never letting you see home again.

Your breath fluttered and you were completely certain he could hear the way your heart swirled in your eardrums. It was evident in the way his head tilted slightly as his deep gray-blue eyes went from your chest, to your lips, to yours eyes. You held your breath, rolled your lip between your teeth, and averted your eyes.

The tile of the kitchen floor was cold against your bare feet and Megumi’s shirt was big enough to graze your knees. The chill of the counter against the side of your hand reminded you of everything outside of the one in front of you.

“W-what?”

“Can I have the milk?”

Toji leaned his hip on the black marble countertop, hand laying over yours on the cardboard milk carton as he took it from you. It was a slight graze of a touch, but you felt the calluses of his fingers trickle across the delicate skin of the back of your hand. You repressed a shudder. Your chin dipped down. Your hand let go of the carton.

“Thanks. What’re you doing up so late, Princess? Gumi kick you off the bed again?”

You felt the warmth of his body as he shifted, bicep grazing onto your upper arm as he poured the milk into the coffee. The nickname always peeved Megumi in a way he couldn’t fully explain. You would reassure him it was fine, it’s just because his dad was a dick. Toji said it was because Megumi spoiled you.

“No,“ you watched as black espresso turned to a pretty caramel. Suddenly your tea wasn’t as appetizing anymore. For a moment your brows furrowed and you were aware that it was 3:15am, “why are you drinking coffee?”

Toji laughed. It’s deep and gruff and sounds like tires over a gravel driveway. This time you can’t suppress the shudder. It’s been this way since Toji came back from his business trip. You never met him up until the last semester. At least not in person. He was usually away. Megumi never knew what he did or how he afforded the house. 

Either way, whenever classes let up or between semesters, you’d come to his suburban home and basically live with him. You loved Megumi very much and you have for the year and a half you’ve been dating. You’d kiss him goodbye whenever you left to see your parents, but there was something about his dad that kept you coming back.

Maybe it was the first night you woke up in the middle of the night. Megumi had kicked you off the bed by accident. There was only so much room for two 20-years-olds and a large dog. It was bound to happen one day or another. It was simply unfortunate that you scraped your arm on a bent piece of metal from his bed frame, leaving a long scratch that pebbled red. You traversed down the steps and having forgotten your glasses on the nightstand, had to rummage through the drawers to find a band aid.

Toji was there, leaning on a counter by the sink, gazing out the window. The sweet scent of cherry tobacco lingered despite the open air. At first, your throat cinched around your thumping heart. You thought he was an intruder. You couldn’t see his features, but the way the moon abstractly bounced off them, you immediately knew who he was just by shape. Megumi got his good looks from someone and that someone was right in front of you.

“You’re bleeding,” he stated blandly, only taking a second to look at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I am?” You knew you were. That’s why you had your arm up like an injured paw and a hand in a drawer full of homeless kitchen appliances, “I am.”

“So you are,” he chuckled. Toji stood at full height and you swore you nearly gasped. The corner of his scarred mouth curled then flattened as he turned to you. He grabbed a paper towel, fingers grasping onto the tips of yours. His palm was warm, soft, tender on the flesh of your arm. The paper towel pressed to provide a temporary fix as he guided you along to the bathroom to pull out a bandage.

You remember every moment of that night; how the sink felt pressing against the small of your back and how his thigh leaned almost too heavily onto yours as he meticulously took care of the minor cut. In his defense, the bathroom was small – one of the ones that fit awkwardly under a staircase and only had a toilet and a sink. It didn’t excuse the way his hand brushed your hair back when everything was settled. You still felt guilty that you tilted your chin to better feel the backs of his fingers against your neck.

For as often as you felt guilty, soon to follow was an echo of his parting words.

“Mr. Fushiguro takes care of his guests – especially Gumi’s Princess.” His smile was strangely sweet when he exited the bathroom, leaving you to collect your staggered breath.

It was that night, and plenty of nights after, that you woke Megumi up by putting his hand on your cunt and asking if daddy could take care of you. The kisses he’d press to your forehead lingered warmly, lovingly. Bitterly.

Brought back by the metallic thwip of a bic lighter, Toji cupped his hand to the flame, lighting the cherry cigarette you would smell when you were lonely in your dorm. It overpowered the familiar scent of eucalyptus you’d once loved.

“For the same reason everyone drinks coffee,” He laughed once through his nose, expression slackening as his gaze lingered on yours. He dragged on the cigarette and exhaled for longer than usual. The swirl of smoke passing over the curve of his lips was beautiful. He quirked a brow, curiously entertained, “Withdrawal?”

You dry swallowed. He offered you the cigarette with an offhand comment you couldn’t quite hear. The end of the cig faced you and you leaned, wrapping your lips around it. The subtle graze of his fingers on your lips tickled. You never smoked before. Through thick lashes, your gazes met and you swore something passed over his. You sucked. You coughed. You secretly loved the taste of burnt cherry.

“That’s not how you do it,” his voice was dark navy and for a moment, as small tears welled from the remaining spasm of your lungs, you thought he would scold you for lying. Hushed, he pressed the cigarette back to your lips, “Try again.”

Obediently, your lips found their way around the stick. You had Toji’s attention on you in the same way a starling bird had a peregrine falcon’s. You felt wanted by something hungry.

You waited patiently for his order, looking up to him with those pretty, expectant eyes. You barely noticed his hand slowly pulling the cigarette. Your lips stayed connected. He felt your breath fan the backs of his fingers.

“Are you going to suck it, or what?” There was a bite to his voice and you took a long, nervous drag. The crackling burning paper filled the space between you. You tried to inhale it all and the burn made your eyes water. Toji’s head tilted by a minuscule as your lips detached, leaving a small string of saliva attached to the end. Bleary eyes matched his, desiring his approval. His free hand cupped your cheek, giving a slight tap, “I’m not going to spoil you like Megumi does, Princess.”

Strong hands grabbed under the thickest part of your thighs, hoisting you up and onto the cold marble counter. Megumi’s shirt was disregarded and hiked up to the crease of your hip. The hiss of hot ash sprinkled on your thighs matched the heady hiss your tongue made against teeth. Toji smirked. The burn was replaced by his rough hands smoothing over the supple flesh. He gripped your ass, hauling you to the edge of the counter.

This was wrong.

Your heart throbbed in your chest and even more between your legs. Your Thighs squeezed together as Toji leaned into your neck, biting hard. His thumbs dug into the junction of your thigh and hip, keeping you sat firmly on the counter top.

Megumi was upstairs.

Toji’s mouth trailed down your neck as the tips of his fingers traced up along bare skin. You could feel him smirk against your neck. Surely the warmth of his lips could feel how fast the blood pumped through you. You felt light headed, impatient for the touch of his chilled fingers. The man before you nudged his cheek onto yours and you felt the subtle graze of his spudding 5 o’clock shadow.

He said nothing, but you heard the change his breathing. Hiis middle finger slipped between your glossy lips - the touch was so cold, you gasped and your cunt clenched on nothing at all. The pad of his middle finger moved slowly in a circle, then traced down. It was so slow that your body writhed for more. To try and coax the digit in, your entrance throbbed. He headed to call to its beck. Rather than satiate your starving sex, Toji brushed up to your clit. Totally in control of you, his fingers dance in cruel repetition.

His spare hand trailed up your torso, pulling his son’s shirt up to expose you bit by bit. The shirt never came off, no. It’s not like he needed it to when you wore nothing underneath it. He’d be lying if he didn’t notice how your nipples perked and your stance shifted when he entered the kitchen. He felt your eyes on his back when he opened the fridge. Deliberately (and with the goodness in his heart), he allowed your longing gaze to linger on him. It was laughable that you were pressing your bare chest into the palm of his hand, The tissue malleable and molten under his touch. It was euphoric. You gave into his touch so desperately.

Toji’s grin widened, Cheshire-like against you. His breath was hot against your ear and the baritone of his voice was enough to make you swallow a whine, “Maybe Gumi doesn’t spoil his Princess like I thought. You’re really this cock hungry? I barely touched you,” his finger tapped on your swollen clit and you jerked in response, curling forward and trembling digit gripping onto his impossibly tight shirt. Practically on the brink of tears from the way he teased you, you wondered how hands so cold could feel like they burned like the ash on your thighs.

Fuck. Fuck.  

The hands gripping his shirt slapped the cold counter when you pulled your torso away to back on your forearms. Your brows knit and your chin tilted back. Megumi’s shirt draped over your tits like fine silk. What a fucking delicious sight. Desperate. That’s exactly how you looked with your nose scrunched and lips drawn in a tight line. Your fists were balled and legs spread wide, separated by his body. He admired that the first thing spilled on the freshly installed black marble was the drool of your cunt.

Toji persisted despite the painful ache of his cock. He wanted you to grovel for him, prove his suspicion that his son lacked the same skill to make you a drooling mess. Why? The answer was simple instinct to him. The aftermath of his divorce left him in shambles. But then again, papers were filed the second he fucked his sister-in-law on wifey’s new BMW (and doubled down on when she found the recording of him with the couple’s therapist). Validation, maybe. He had nothing to prove or no need for it. He just wanted to know that he could fuck anyone he wanted anywhere he wanted, no matter who they were.

You opened your mouth to scream in frustration. Your legs shook, every part of your body wanted something to fill you. Empty. Empty fucking. Empty satisfaction. The slap was followed by the sound of skittering upstairs.

You paled and your heart threatened to burst with anxiety. Complete silence took over the kitchen and your mind emptied, listening for the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s footsteps. Eyes looked over your shoulder and suddenly you were very aware of the fact that every entrance leading to the kitchen was an open walkway.

The man between your legs had paused then, lips slack as he listened. He had good hearing. Good senses. His fingertips sprawled on top of your mound, palm pressing against your fluttering entrance absent-mindedly. It was merely the dog. He trained it to only bark or alert of certain triggers. This was certainly not one of them. Your reaction though- he could work with that.

His fingers circled your clit and you feared he would continue his cruel tease. Toji could see through your expression like the Bermuda seas. He leaned forward, hand slowly tipping over your entrance as his words filled your mind, “What happens if you’re caught?”

Your breathing stopped completely. Dread, excitement, and two long digits filled you. Just as you had expected, every second of teasing coated your walls. Every nerve ending had been meticulously prepared for something to touch them, trigger them to ignite. Your walls spasmed readily and your knees gripped the sides of Toji’s hips. He experimented with you for a while, salivating when tears pinched past your lashes. In the back of his mind, he needed you to break before you got his cock. He was getting slightly impatient. His hands were cold and you could feel every single motion of his fingers in you. Your mind could paint a picture of every ridge his digits had to offer simply from his temperature.

He leaned over. His tongue was hot. With a single broad, strong, and long open-mouthed lap along your clit, you unwound. A free hand slapped over your mouth, muffling the near animalistic yowl you let out. He smirked.

Bet Megumi never heard that sound.

As soon as your walls slowed and your voice died out, Toji shoved the band of his sweats under his cock. He could tell by your blissed out glaze that you weren’t entirely processing what was to come. He could fix that.

Hands pulled you half-way off the counter. You yelped, shivering at the slick on the surface beneath you. Toji held you under your knees, practically forcing you to prop yourself up on your elbows. He cooed, “Good girl.” The way you stared at his cock like it were god itself had a dribble of precum roll down his length. A bare minimum of 8-9 inches stood at attention, positioned right under you. Your arousal drizzled over him and if your mind worked, you would’ve offered to lick it off like one would a warm sugar glaze.

He adjusted his arms so that the underneath of your thighs were supported by his hands and your knees hooked over his arms. Your own arms wobbled and shook. The muscle ache was blunted by his thick tip pressing onto your entrance. You had no option but to give him the reins. His focus was entirely on the junction between his tanned cock pressing into you. It was almost endearing, how this look of fascination came over his harsh features, enrapturing your gaze like a renaissance painting.

He guided your hips in a circle, bending his knees slightly to swirl against you. The scar at the corner of his lip twitched in gratification when you throatily let out a long high note. He lowered you onto him in bit by bit. Slight thrust in. Draw back. Slight thrust in. Draw back.

Every. Single. Time. He drew out, you wanted to cry out. You could take it. Toji continued to carefully make his way into you. He was large and he learned from mistakes of drilling in too soon. Sure, he slipped in easy enough, but he still met resistance to the stretch. He didn’t want to hurt you. Or at least that was until you opened your pretty mouth.

“Stop fucking around. I can take Gumi’s dick, I can take yours.”

Your lips formed into a pout and the words backhanded his ego. So this is what Megumi dealt with. Oh no, he couldn’t have that. You were obviously trying to get a rise out of him like the brat you were. Toji darkly chuckled, “So this is what’s got him around your finger, huh? You want me to ‘stop fucking around’?”

He pulled your right leg across his chest so that it rested along his left shoulder. The left leg was guided around his waist. “By your command, Princess.” He thrust in hard, shoving his cock through the tightness. The pace was relentless. Harsher, meaner, heavier than even Megumi’s was at his roughest. Your mind erased the fact that you were in the kitchen of a house. It erased the fact that your arms felt like they were going to tear. It erased the sweat under your palms as you white-knuckled the edge of the marble. It erased Megumi, peacefully asleep upstairs.

All you felt was the hot vibration of your clambering walls and the searing hot brand of his cock burning into your core. Everything fuzzed, scattered with every near full pull, then came crashing back with every push. The position itself allowed for the force of your own weight to freely bounce back on him without him needing to do much. He still gripped your limbs with such force there would be bruises.  He wrapped your other leg around his waist patting your thighs to grip him as he changed his thrusts to slow, deep. Toji peeled off the shirt, a glisten to his every muscle under the dim light as it reached over his head. Arms were up high as it was shimmied off, but his thrusts were controlled. Abs worked, tensed in a motion so beautiful that you were absolutely certain that this was and would be your only religious experience.

The shirt hit the floor. Toji licked his thumb. The palm of his hand rested along your pubic bone, tilted so that he could graze your clit in such a gentle, yet effective way that you reeled. You bucked with him, using your legs to draw him in more until you felt a sharp pleasure rake your cervix, claw down the up-side of your walls. He dragged out. He thrust in.

He was close and was grappling for why the hell it was taking you so long. He felt how you squeezed his cock over and over. Your breathing slowed whenever it happened and there was a certain flicker going off in your half-lidded gaze. Your walls got tighter each time, but never released. For once in his life, Toji Fushiguro thought he had met his match in stamina. There was a click of his tongue, “What the fuck are you waiting for? Are you a dog? Only can cum on command, bitch?” His words came from annoyance and impatience.

You nodded.

Trained her like a bitch, didn’t you?

“Cum.”

There was finally release. The hot iron brandish pressed hard into your walls, your abdomen, your throat. Your walls shuddered so violently, Toji nearly lost grip. A beat behind you, his cock thrusts jerked. You’re mouth opened with a silent moan, all muscles tensing in response. Hot. He was hot and fast and you felt each rope melt along your walls and drip off.

Pulling out his softened cock, Toji looked to the dark tile ground beneath you coated in a mix of a translucent glaze and thick white. He took mercy on you then, leaning and looping an arm under your back and pulling you to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and for a sprinkle of a second he could see what Megumi saw. One hand held you up under your ass while the other pulled his sweats up. The house was quiet once more as he grabbed paper towels to clean you up.

After all was said and done, Toji sat on the couch with you on his lap, nestled into the crook of his neck. His hand supported your back as you sniffled your way back to the present day. He wasn’t great at aftercare and if he were being honest, any quick fuck had ended when he came (which was usually last). He was indifferent to the sniffles and indifferent to the way you made little sounds of comfort to yourself. You were doing what you needed to to keep yourself together. If that included reliving each moment Megumi placed a loving hand to your cheek and cooed at how well you did, then so be it. Who you craved at the end of the night wasn’t him. 

Toji wasn’t one to be possessive - yet he rubbed small circles on your back, believing that he could be. 

[nc-vb]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

this is a repost from my old blog! and also the first fic i wrote for tumblr lol.

pairing -> vinsmoke sanji x reader

notes -> feminine terms (mellorine, mademoiselle); kind of based off of a scene from that vr one piece game; y/n is a new straw hat member i guess + her noble family kinda sucks; kind of rushy bc i didn’t feel like writing a backstory lol; honourifics are used; maybe a little suggestive…? just in case

wc -> 1.2k

“What a cute kitchen!”

Your eyes can barely contain their sparkle as you take in the final room of the tour. Smiling, you’d realize it’s already occupied by the light chopping sounds coming from the left of the entrance. You approach him from behind, tapping him on the shoulder. “There you are, Sanji-san,” you’d gently called, not wanting to startle him in the middle of his food prep.

“Ah, _______-chan!” Throwing a careful grin of his own over his shoulder to you, he sets down his knife at the edge of the cutting board to turn completely around to you. “I was wondering when you’d make your way in. You’re just in time – I’m making lunch!”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner,” you apologize with a small laugh. “I think Nami was just a little… excited? Relieved? That she wasn’t “the only woman” on the Merry anymore, I mean. Her grand tour felt more like a tea date.”

“No apologies necessary; making you feel at home with us comes first. Do you?” he asks.

“I do,” you reply easily. “Our captain encouraging me to toss a chair at my window to escape was probably one of the first signs of that one for me.”

Sanji chuckles. “I’m glad. Well, what do you think?” He raises his arms from his sides, inviting you to take in his safe haven.

“It’s quite lovely, as I suppose kitchens normally are?” You glide your fingers across the island, enjoying how smooth the surface had felt on your skin. “This is my first time being inside one.”

“Your first time?” Sanji repeats, genuinely shocked.

Nodding, “I was never allowed inside ours,” you explain. “My parents were… very conservative and traditional in their ways. It may have stemmed from them being apologists of the World Government and the Celestial Dragons, but they always said that entering such places would be beneath our name.” You sigh deeply. “I always knew they were wrong.”

For a moment, Sanji is quiet, the slight tapping of your shoes and the bubbling of the boiling liquid in the pot overtop the stove the only sounds filling the room.

“I didn’t know you were also the chef until Nami mentioned it in her tour,” you add, your voice soft. “How wonderful.” You sniff the air, your lips quickly rising once more in appreciation of the scent filling the kitchen. “Wow… That smells incredible.”

Sanji’s lips part in awe at you, watching you move closer toward the stove. Not wanting to hang your head directly over the pot, you waft the vapour closer to you, inhaling deeply.

“What do you call this, Sanji-san?” You gesture into the pot. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had this before.”

“… it’s called Sugo all’amatriciana,” he says, making his way to join her side. “A sauce made of tomatoes.” From the drawer to the right of the stove, Sanji steals a spoon. “Panchetta. Pecorino romano.” Having given the sauce a stir with a ladle, he dips the spoon inside to scoop some up. “Onion and garlic.” A hand cradling beneath the spoon’s curve, “and a bit of basil.” He lowers it toward you, and your blink. “Try it.”

“Really? Could I?”

Sanji’s lower lip curls inwards, pinching the inside flesh between his teeth when you lean forward to blow lightly on the sauce. Lips parted, you barely release a breath, one just strong enough to begin cooling it, before taking it into your mouth and sucking back the contents in the spoon.

“Sanji-san… this is delicious!!” you gush after a moment spent savouring the flavour. “It’s the perfect amount of garlic, and the pecorino tastes so fresh–” You hum almost excitedly at the leftover flavour on your tongue. “You really are such an amazing chef.”

Sanji’s grip on the handle falters, the metal slipping from between his thumb and forefinger and clattering to the floor, his other hand coming up to clap over his own mouth. Immediately, you’re turning to the cook with worry.

“Sanji-san, what’s the matter?” you ask, reaching out to him. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I did, I-I–”

“I…” You frown, the skin of your forehead bunched together in concern. “I just didn’t expect you to be so cute.”

“C-Cute?!” you exclaim, your face instantly exploding with heat.

Sanji swears his entire body stalls at your expression; like a set of cogs that’s lost one of its gears, the chef goes still, but his heart continues to pound beneath his ribs. As you attempt to collect yourself, Sanji slowly extends his hands out toward you, and places them on your shoulders.

“San… ji-san?”

“______,” he practically whispers, head tipped down toward yours. You swallow, nerved by the intensity in his one visible eye. “You really are the cutest.”

“I-I… Sanji…”

This time, your warmth is contained to your cheeks. Sanji’s smile is sweet, crooked with the relief of not being pushed away by his new female crewmate or battered on the head by them. The gentleness in your eyes entrances him, and before he can control himself, the young cook leans forward toward the young deckhand, his eyes shut and lips searching for yours. A small breath escapes you before you’re able to reel it in—it would be your first kiss. Your first kiss with, practically, a stranger. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to pull away— it’s actually quite the opposite.

Hands having risen to balance your trembling body against him, they press into the lapels of his blazer, your fingers winding around them to give him a slight tug toward you. Eye swirling with adoration, Sanji is quick to fit his lips to yours, his own hands respectfully daring to come up to rest above your hips. With a small sigh, you press into him just a little more firmly, a little more curiously, steadily becoming more and more listless the longer your kiss goes on, and despite the loss of air in your lungs, you discover it to be difficult to pull away from Sanji, your hands releasing his suit and travelling to hold him to you by his nape.

The sharp hitch of your breath should have acted as a sign that you should pull away, that you should break to breathe, but you couldn’t bear to let him go. Feeling the tip of your tongue suddenly dart along his lower lip, tasting the faintest hint of tobacco that had lingered from his last cigarette, Sanji chuckles into your mouth. Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, he gently insists on bringing you back down to earth with a subtle tap against your side that has your eyes opening. Finally, you part from him, sucking in a breath so deep that it nearly has you choking on it.

“M-Mellorine, mellorine,” Sanji calls to you over your heavy panting, a hand rising from your hip to tilt your chin toward him, “you have to breathe at some point, no?”

“I-I… I… guess…”

Sanji blinks at you, his own face flaming once again. Did she sound… disappointed? His hands, warm and slightly calloused at the tops of his palms, slide around to hold your face in them.

“I adore your enthusiasm, mademoiselle, but if you pass out, I can’t kiss you how I want to.”

© nc-vb 2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[lewishamiltonstuff]

The concentration tho

[woahjo]

my hero academia masterlist ᡣ𐭩

drabbles

fics

what we lacked (bakugou x reader) // redirects to ao3 + angst + from old blog

in case you don't live forever (bakugou x reader) // redirects to ao3 + from old blog + angst

APHRODISIAC! (bakugou x reader) // best friend katsuki + aphrodisiac quirk + dubcon + rough sex + desperation

series

a/b/o band au // two separate fics with deku and sero + redirects to ao3 + old writing style + smut

the people we became (bakugou x reader) // zombie apocalypse au + strangers to lovers + violence + angst + romance + slow burn for the emotional stuff

[khinesthetic]

A Fancy Lance from @teamxdark's gorgeous fic May I Kiss You?

[chocosvt]

[dejwritesarchived]

please i thought moving back to this blog would itch my brain. but gosh, i think i have truly grown out of tumblr.

[nari-writes]

Blogging (and other dangerous activities likely to get you adopted by the Batman)

Inspired by Latchkey by goldkirk

Tim wakes up to Batman in his room.

It- well, it's not fair to say it's a surprise, but seeing the looming figure in his window does make his heart seize. Even after the time Tim's spent watching him with the Robins, it's still nerve-wracking to have Gotham's nightmare show up. Especially since Batman does little to dissuade the notion that he's here on genial business.

Maybe Bruce has figured out he knows and is going to silence him. Maybe this isn't actually Batman, but Man-bat, and Tim's about to be twelve-year-old bat jerky. Maybe-

His parents are home this week though, so if he really wanted he could probably scream and get himself some thinking time; but as he takes a breath to decide what to do, Batman puts a gloved hand over his mouth.

And, ugh. It smells kinda gross. Like leather and motorcycle fumes. Probably the right Batman, but also. Super gross? Why does he smell so bad? When did he last rinse his gloves?

“You've been blogging.” Batman says, which isn't a question but is a very unhelpful non-sequitur.

“Mmrnhm?” Tim says, largely unintelligible but not entirely intending words.

What the shit. Batman's only here because of the blog?

Also, unfair. He'd had to jump through so many hoops to spoof his IP and make his own VPN and switch which library he posted from, and Batman still found him? This sucks.

“Don't scream,” Batman says, and Tim nods. Batman pulls his hand away slowly, potentially having expected Tim to lie, but Tim's not stupid. Batman doesn't have to do this nicely, even if he is a kid, and Tim also knows that if he did scream, Batman would either a) be prepared and gag him again or b) vanish, and then Tim would be in trouble with his parents. Either option sucks, so he'd rather opt for the one that lets him keep taking in the details of Batman's suit. It's hard in the dark, but still way easier than through his camera.

“It could've been my parents,” Tim says, when it seems Batman's waiting for him to answer his earlier not-question. Batman hums, and Tim wiggles back so he's against the headboard. “Yeah, I figured you'd already researched their flight times. Have to try though, right?”

“The blog. Why?”

“It's-” he starts, because there's so many reasons and he doesn't actually know which one Batman wants. Or, actually, would like the least? Probably 'I wanted to see you in action' would land with the grace of a sleep-deprived Jason Todd, but 'I was lonely' may be worse. 'I didn't expect it to blow up?' may be okay, but in the end he hesitantly settles with: “I just think that- seeing you, being- human? Or, showing you have humanity- was important.”

“Did you ever think that I wouldn't want that?” Batman asks, and Tim shifts awkwardly.

“I mean. Yes? But also, the way people- talk about you and the Robins. It sucks.”

Batman's mouth looks very displeased.

“It just, it shows that you're human!”

“How do you know?” Batman asks, and he actually kinda sounds like Bruce Wayne now, like this is a joke he's used before, and Tim thinks through what he'd been about to say very quickly and shuts his mouth with a snap. Ow. Now his teeth hurt.

Batman, on the other hand, does something to his cowl that makes him look like he's very slowly raising his eyebrow. Is it weird to think he looks tense, looks more threatening now, even though he'd literally just been looming with the promise of violence? Tim swallows hard.

“I don't?” he offers, his voice breaking, and he literally doesn't think he's ever been more humiliated by puberty. “I mean, I don't! Know you're human, that is. You could definitely be an alien if you wanted. Or a spirit of revenge, or-” Tim flops backward on his bed and pulls his blanket over his head. “I shouldn't be so bad at this,” he mumbles, and doesn't think about he's definitely going to die because Batman's suspicious and Tim's an idiot when he's tired.

Batman is damningly silent, but when Tim finally, hesitantly, peeks his eyes out from the hem of his blanket, the Dark Knight is still standing in his room. Actually, he's half-hunched over Tim's desk, looking at the corkboard of Tim's photos and reminders. He reaches out, and Tim's heart thuds. “Oh, please don't!” he says instinctively when Batman grazes Tim's camera. Batman stops and tilts his head over his shoulder to look, and Tim swallows down the anxiety clogging his throat. “Please don't take my camera. I can get another one but I- that one was-”

“Stop taking photos of us.” Batman says, short and to the point.

“Stop posting them to the blog?” Tim offers, and this makes Batman turn around properly, looking at him head-on again. He's judging Tim, now, and Tim wonders what part of him will be found wanting. In Batman's eyes is Tim's wealth a precursor to change or stagnation? Does he think Tim should be doing more with his life? Or does he simply expect that this is a rich kid's hobby, no sentimentality involved? Bruce Wayne took his billions and made himself a hero and Tim knows he can't do the same, considering his parents are in charge of the Drake fortune, but there's probably a million other things he could be doing that don't involve stalking superheroes.

“You're a child,” Batman says slowly, and his voice has lost the harder overture that's affected his speech so far. “When Batman is out, it is late, and dark, and dangerous. You are a child and shouldn't be anywhere near-”

“I don't go close!” Tim protests, “I'm not stupid!”

“There are always people in Gotham. What does it matter if you're not in the area of the most danger when you're still in danger?”

“I'm not stupid,” Tim protests with a hiss that contains more vitriol than it really should, considering his conversation partner, but he can't help it. “If you never saw me how'd you think anyone else could?”

“How do you know I never saw you?” Batman asks, like a challenge, and Tim scoffs.

“Come on, you think I don't know that if you saw me out there, you'd have me thrown in the back of the Batmobile and at the closest precinct before I could blink? Jason almost-” Tim freezes, then quickly blurts, “-before he took your tires, and got adopted by Bruce Wayne, Jason tried to do the same thing whenever he saw me. I know what I look like, to people in Crime Alley.”

Shoot, shoot, shoot, this is actively a terrible lie; Batman only needs to ask Jason when he met Tim and the whole thing would be blown. And, also, name-dropping a specific kid, like Batman would remember who stole his tires? The connection is tenuous at best and damning at worst.

“You've been taking photographs of us since you were eight?” Batman asks, sounding horrified, and Tim winces internally. Please forgive me, Robin, he whispers in the back of his mind, and then says with all the glib disdain he can muster:

“Well, you let Robin go out when he was barely older than me. It's the same thing.”

He has never seen Batman do a full-body wince before. He's not entirely sure he could get Batman to do it again, and wonders if he should add it to his board of accomplishments. He’d have to encode it if he did, even if the board’s mostly for his own reference, but imagining it pinned up next to his photography awards is making him feel a bit hysterical. Then again, that could also be the fact that Batman is still in his room and Tim is lying.

“He was not eight-”

“I just think that unless the same orders get applied to him I think you're being a bit of a hypocrite. He’s actively in more danger than I am, considering he ends up in grabbing range of Rouges and I don’t.”

“I will be telling your parents,” Batman growls, and this time Tim smirks.

“Yeah? And how do you think that's going to go for you?” Tim can almost exactly imagine it: there's no way his parents will believe Batman, because it's crazy and they'd be freaking out over Batman in their house, and if he does it as Bruce Wayne it'd be a crazy coincidence for Tim Drake, known genius, to have access to. If Tim hadn't already solved their identities, that connection alone would probably tip him off.

Well, maybe Batman wouldn't think about the potential implications - academic strengths don't always translate to detective-solving skills, and it's just Batman's misfortune that in Tim's case it's a little bit the other way around. Detective skills that he's carefully and stubbornly honed have led him to a dogged dedication to his studies.

“Robin is a trained professional,” Batman says, and Tim volleys back with,

“Yeah and I'm not doing the same thing he is at all, so my standards can be different.”

“Tim Drake,” Batman says, this time actively growling his name, and Tim doesn’t know if he should cackle or wince. For one thing, he’s pretty sure Batman has lost this verbal volley, which is why he’s pulling out the doom and darkness voice.

On the other, this is the voice he uses on men triple Tim’s size and with twice the bravery (and crazy), and having the full force of it directed at him makes his stomach drop. He clutches his blankets, fabric pulled tight, and tries to pretend his hands aren’t shaking.

“The blog is being removed - do not start it again. I will not see you on Gotham’s streets again during my patrol.”

The lens of his mask are so narrow that the white is barely visible. He holds Tim’s gaze, like he’s imparting the orders, like he’s checking to see Tim’s fear will keep him obedient, and then nods slowly. The cape swishes behind him as he puts Tim’s camera back on the desk, and then he’s leaving. Leaving, and Tim’s secrets are safe and he is unharmed and undeterred.

“You won’t,” Tim whispers as Batman slips out his window and into the dark.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

Hi hello I watched all of carmilla in a weekend when I was 17 because a student teacher who in retrospect I had a bit of a crush on mentioned that she knew one of the actresses. also I am pretty invested in all your recent vampire stuff because I watched iwtv in 2 days last week because your edit intrigued me

oh hiiii 🫶 thank you for indulging me. thats so cool that you watched iwtv! did it live up to the expectation?

i also watched carmilla at 17! or like, 17-19. i found it when s2 had just started and followed it to the end. did something permanent to my brain but i think it was a good thing. on rewatch now im like, i was right to like this. like it's a solid show, it's good. it has its flaws obviously but it's well written, the emotional moments still get me, i can see why i liked it and i still like it now even when it's not anymore, you know, meeting every need that baby gay me didnt even know they had

what it doesnt reaallyy do though - i dont remember if i posted abt this or if i left it in my drafts but - is explore vampirism as a concept. their subject matter is more lesbianism than vampirism. which is great! thats what they wanted to do and they did it and it's very good. but reading interview with the vampire the book rn im realising how much potential vampires have to be metaphors for like so many things and i started wondering like 'wait, did carmilla just not really engage with it or did it all go over my head'. but it just didnt really engage with it all that much. which again is fine bc that wasnt what they were doing. im glad they were more about the lesbianism than the vampirism

but there's this interesting difference in framing, because in iwtv they keep calling armand 'ancient' right? and emphasising how old he is. and he's like 500? and i was like 'wait isnt carmilla like 400?'. she isnt, shes 340, but still, thats getting there, you know? and we know quite a lot about her history, but kind of just the Big Events. when she was turned, the events of the novella, coffin of blood, silas. thats sort of what we know. but none of the long lonely slog of history day to day you know? with armand i feel like we can really feel how much time everything takes. how every one of those years is made up of single days. with carmilla i dont feel that as much. i keep kind of thinking about daniel, when louis calls him a boy in the first episode, saying "im an old man, with all the triggers that come with it"

because carmilla might look 18 (or mid twenties at this point) but she has lived all that time. shes also seen her native land be claimed by like a succession of ruling powers, right? like armand. shes been buried alive, like louis. when lestat is born, shes already 80 years old, shes lived a whole human lifetime, and the entire adult part of it shes been a vampire. shes lived through 1680-1870 being a lure. i compared her to abigail hobbs in some tags on a post, i dont know if youre familiar with hannibal the tv show, but i do also kinda keep thinking about that comparison

if youre not familiar, in the first episode of hannibal the murderer of the week is this guy garrett jacob hobbs who kills and cannibalises girls who resemble his daughter. and later on it turns out she was made to be his lure. like they'd go places and he'd sent her to the victims to make friends and maybe get them back to their home or smth. not sure if they specified all the details. but that's what carmilla did for mother. and in s2 we hear from mattie that while every couple of decades carmilla had to lure victims for the fish god, she also seemed to just enjoy humans between those times, right? like the doctor, gets lonely, gets a new companion. but we've only sort of got mattie's mocking word for it ("dont eat him, hes a poet! or her, shes got such a wonderful voice. or that one, shes just too pretty to ruin"), we don't know exactly from carmilla's point of view what she was doing or why. if mattie's talking about stuff that happened after the blood coffin, 1950-now, then i think it's a fair assumption based on what carmilla says in the s1 sock puppet show that after she'd figured out what the real situation was and what her role in it was, when she'd started trying to save girls from being sacrificed, that she mightve been doing the same trying to save people from becoming mattie's victims. it's probably more likely that she was just trying to find excuses to stop mattie from sucking someone dry rather than actually having like an aesthetic based morality. but it might be a bit of both. im still trying to figure out what her philosophy actually is, like i dont know what existentialism actually means ghkfjghkj but i will

i also found it pretty striking in the movie when shes turning back into a vampire she says like "this was supposed to be done, you know? the blood lust, the self-loathing, the sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom". thats what defines her vampirism, wanting blood and hating yourself for it (the third part is a joke/reference to s1 but also i think meaningful for how she sees her relationship with laura when she IS a vampire. little bit of that 'she will reject me for my monstrousness' shining through). and thats what defines vampirism for lots of vampires across the genre obviously, but i dont know, it struck me. we dont get a lot from carmilla's pov, we know a fair amount about her, but the story is always told through laura. we get laura's diaries, but just snippets here and there from carmilla, what shes thinking, how shes feeling

and i love that shes a philosopher. i love that thats how she seems to try and find something to hold onto, in a world that kind of moves around her, having been murdered, kidnapped, turned and groomed to be a lure on the cusp of adulthood, never having been properly loved (the relationship with her father wasnt good she says in s3, and her mortal mother i dont think has ever been mentioned (like laura's)). the only good relationship she seems to have had for the better part of 3 centuries seems to have been mattie, and mattie seems to love being a vampire. i can imagine carmilla just sort of going along with anything mattie wants to do just because shes so desperate for that friendship. not like, against her will necessarily really. but more like, she hasnt even had the space to develop her own will, you know? and philosophy lets you do that. philosophy gives you frameworks to understand the world and to develop your own opinions on it. and by the 21st century she seems to have developed those opinions, she has a sense of her own values, but shes also still stuck in that same situation. shes jaded and cynical in the face of laura's optimism and strong moral code a lot of the time in s1 because she feels probably pretty powerless. like she does what she can to save some girls but at the end of the day shes scared of her mother and she has nowhere else to go really, right?

i like how she grapples with that over the course of the series, in tandem with laura grappling with her black and white morality. she sort of jumps ship from her mother to laura bc theyve fallen in love, but then laura still stuck in her hero thinking refuses to see her monstrous side. not literally bc i think the biological vampirism never seemed to be a problem for laura, but morally. the having murdered. carmilla needs laura to see that and love her while seeing it bc the last girl she loved rejected her for being a vampire.

but you see her kind of swing back and forth in s2. she softens first with laura but then they break up and she leans back hard into the sarcastic cynic defense mechanisms, leans hard into "im a monster, dont expect heroism from me". but thats like, it's sort of learned helplessness i think. it's powerlessness, resignation. bc morally shes not a monster. maybe she doesnt have as strong a drive to help other people as laura does and is a little more selfishly hedonistic in that she just wants to enjoy her/their life, but she doesnt hurt people for fun, she never has. she just sort of didnt have another option for a Really long time. so she pretends she doesnt care. "im a vampire, this is what i do, this is who i am". but clearly from the way she talks about it when she turns back into one, she doesnt enjoy it

and i like how she goes even further in s3, where she starts swinging even more to the heroic side, bc she sees hope. shes like "wow if we kill my mother, i'd be free". theres hope and she becomes like a lot more active. and shes like that at the start of the movie too, a lot happier, a lot more relaxed, and then vampirism is back and bam depression gfhgkjh like shes immediately more gloomy, ashamed of her past and her self, retreats into herself

sorry i just took this as an opportunity to dump all the carmilla thoughts floating in my head on you. you didnt ask fhkghgjh consider this an open invitation to you or anyone else to come talk to me about carmilla

[httpiastri]

dear everyone,

a while ago, i hit 1.5k followers on this blog.... i didn't want to get too sappy but i really wanted to write something, so:

the fact that over one and a half thousand individuals follow me is truly insane and too much for my little brain to grasp. i want you to know that i'm so extremely thankful for each and every single one of you and this makes me so so so happy. this is way more than i ever had expected when creating this blog.

i made this account back in june purely for my own enjoyment; i created it mainly because i was disappointed in myself for having stopped writing, since writing has been such a big part of my life since forever. ever since i stopped writing about kpop, i had barely written anything at all... i made this account just for fun with no pressure and no expectations, and before i knew it, this blog turned into something so special for me. the blog, all of the people i've met through it and all of the moments we've shared, all mean the world to me.

honestly, i'm not sure what i would do right now if i didn't have this blog and this community. these last few months have been pretty rough for me, but i've always been able to come back on here and gain a smile or some laughter. you've all helped me so much, even if unintentionally – every single interaction helps me push forward. i'm eternally grateful for every single like, comment, reblog and ask i've received on here, and your kind words really do mean the world to me. i don't know where i would be without you.

i hit 1k a while ago but didn't celebrate it properly, so i decided to make an 1k/1.5k-celly that i will be releasing soon (when i have more time to actually write)(hopefully at the start of december). please stay tuned!

and once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all so so so much. you truly are the best. 🧡🧡

[all-or-nothing-baby]

WHEN THE NIGHT HAS COME AND THE LAND IS DARK

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Sometimes, on cold nights—and occasionally on some not-so-cold ones—Geralt wakes abruptly in the forest with something tickling his cheek and bothering the inside of his nostrils.

Jaskier's hair is like silken web; soft, and fine, and fucking irritating when it tangles itself in your eyelashes like dandelion fluff caught in tree sap.

On these particular cold and not-so-cold nights, Geralt wants to grunt loudly and swear and push Jaskier roughly from Geralt's space on Geralt's bed roll because what the fuck, bard?

He never does though.

Not even this time, as Geralt awakes to that mass of brunette spiderwebs in his actual fucking mouth, with one of Jaskier's surprisingly muscular arms and a long and shapely leg wrapped tightly around Geralt's midriff as if the cretin is some sort of tentacled ocean dweller. Oh and, for fucks sake, the idiot bard's stupid slackened, drool-covered face mashed right into the crook of Geralt's neck.

Half blowing, half spitting Jaskier's hair from his mouth, Geralt balls his fists and grits his teeth and sighs, heavy as granite.

With the moon fat and high in the inky sky and sounds of the wild all around them, he will try once more to find sleep.

Closing his eyes again, Geralt pointedly ignores how Jaskier smells of lavender and forest ferns. He shuns the way Jaskier's soft, rhythmic snores play their easy tune in his ear, taking no note of Jaskier's even heartbeat and how the sound of it is a welcome comfort in the dead of night. He pays no heed to the shallow breaths leaving Jaskier's mouth nor the way each exhale warms more than just the spot underneath Geralt's jawbone, and he most certainly doesn't spare the slightest bit of attention for the way those smooth lips, with their perfect cupid's bow, feel on the skin of his throat as Jaskier mutters the sweetest of song lyrics from his dreams.

As sleep finally does pull him under, Geralt also most definitely does not take to heart the way the idiot bard makes everything better.

.

(from my deleted witcher blog behonesthowsmysinging)

[eff-plays]

Honestly a lot of the romance pipeline joaks just aren't relatable to me at all.

Zevran > Fenris > Solas > Astarion? What is the man of mid Solas doing among those kings? He's nice like they're not, powerful like they're not, and doesn't play into the trope of being mean/"evil" and sexy. He also has so much power over Lavellan, which the others do not have over their love interests. Get him out of there. Yes they're all sad elves but that's it. Surface level reading.

Also I don't think Cullenites who are now obsessed with Astarion like Astarion for the same reasons I do. That is all I will say on the matter because I am seeing a large gathering of people outside my window and they seem to be chanting wishes of my death and gripping pitchforks.