#my mind can be too powerful sometimes holy-

[milkyruins]

## teacher!lee felix x teacher!reader, SUGAR FIXES AND MISTLETOE KISSES

summary: as you come under a lot of stress, your fellow teacher and coworker felix swings by to cheer you up with a drink every day. your third graders get some... ideas and create their grand plan to make you two fall for each other, one kiss after another.

genre: fluff

content warnings: mentions of stress, cursing, invasions of privacy by your third graders, using god's name in vain, peer (?) pressure by the kiddos

wc: ~1.7k (woah...)

a familiar blondie popped into the doorway to your 3rd grade classroom.

"felix!" you practically sprung up to greet him. you winced at how obviously enthusiastic you were to see your workplace crush, but he didn't seem to notice.

felix greeted you with his blinding smile as he sauntered in. "teach!" he teased, placing down a steaming mug. "i swiped you something from the teacher's appreciation breakfast." upon further instruction, you noticed the heaping cap of whipped cream on top. your eyes widened at the nostalgic, homey scent.

"hot cocoa?" you guessed. the kindergarten teacher nodded enthusiastically.

"peppermint hot choco. the best kind."

a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "i really appreciate it, felix. i've been so busy with planning the lower school assembly that i couldn't make it."

felix grimaced a bit. "yeah, you've seemed busier recently."

"but," your eyes lit up. "i have some wonderful student helpers this year. they've been loads of help."

his expression softened. "that's great." he paused a bit before continuining. "need any help with anything? i can make myself available to plan with you or set things up; i'm also happy to bring you hot cocoa more often."

your heart warmed at his consideration. you flipped through your planner, noting everything that still needed to be done. "actually, there doesn't seem to be much in terms of logistics. i'd really love your help setting up for the assembly though. that would be amazing, lix." your eyebrows practically shot up. everything grew hot. "shi- i mean, sorry, that wasn't intentional."

felix giggled a bit. "you're welcome to call me that. although i have to admit, the only person who really calls me that is olivia."

this only helped to fan the flames that were scorching your face further. your gaze latched onto the fine grain of your desk. damn, there were a lot of eraser shavings.

as you finally regained a sliver of composure, you turned to face him again.  pointing at the clock sitting on your desk, you spoke "i think i have to kick you out, sir. class starts in five for us."

"imagine starting class at 8:30. kindergarten can't relate." he flicked his hair, which was slowly starting to grow into the prettiest mullet ever. you laughed with him for a bit, before shoving him out the door.

he stopped in the doorway. "i think i'll stop by more in the mornings. you're going to need the sugar fix!" you couldn't tell if he was talking about the hot cocoa or his sweetheart self.

"i'll look forward to it then."

-

as felix continued to deliver you hot drinks and casual banter in the morning (and you got more comfortable with calling him lix, as he insisted it was okay), a strange murmur rose from your third graders. when these morning chats began, your third graders looked on, moon-eyed and curious. you heard them mention you and "mystery teacher" during break time every once in a while.

but then, the third graders began to conspire. whispers of your involvement swept over the entirety of the third grade class.

yoomi, the sweetest little student of yours, waddled over to you during recess. "teacher l/n, how long have you and teacher lee been married?"

you laughed it off, cringing internally. "we're not even dating, little love."

your student pouted. "you're lying!" then she sprinted to join her friends on the monkey bars, anxious to spread the (fake) news.

when retelling this to felix the next day, he almost collapsed onto the floor in a laughing fit. after barely managing to catch his breath, felix responded. "your kiddos are so cute!"

you brought your hand to your forehead, mildly frustrated. "you don't care about the dignity of your professional career, lix? or your love life?"

felix chuckled some more. "there's no love life to tarnish, teach." he stared wistfully at your kiddos, who were starting to file in for the day. "plus, what harm is it? they seem to be enjoying themselves."

indignation fired you up, boiling your blood. "but they might not be able to concentrate on my teachings if they see me just as the epicenter of a crazy romantic drama! what about their future academic careers? they-"

felix leaned over your desk to grab your hand, effectively startling you into silence. you didn't realize how loud your voice grew until the a hush ran through the room. he squeezed it softly.

"y/n, you're a fantastic teacher. you're caring, smart, and always put your kiddos first. they could never forget that. okay?"

you exhaled slowly. "thanks, lix. but..." you motioned towards your conspicuously intertwined hands which the children absolutely ate up. his eyes widened as he released your hands. felix scratched the back of his head apologetically.

"i should probably head out, right?" with that, he promptly exited. you might have been imagining things, but his freckled cheeks seemed to be extra red.

-

oh holy mother of jesus, take the wheel.

you ran around the auditorium, giving instructions, answering questions, and trying your best not to lose your fucking mind. but honestly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, thanks a certain someone, who was currently helping your kids open a really stubborn door. why didn't anyone think to replace these ancient storage closet doors?

you paused to watch felix tussle with the door some more. was he going to be okay doing physical labor in that nice button up and tie? well, he proved you wrong by opening it gracefully. but soon afterward, he and the kiddos were met with a torrent of dust bunnies.

you began to laugh, catching your crush's attention. he gave the helpers some last instructions before making his way over to you. "something funny to you?"

"n-no" you managed between giggles. he cocked his eyebrow at you playfully. you guys joked around some more. despite the stress of... everything, really, being around felix put your heart at ease.

as you two were immersed in your separate world, your third graders became to initiate phase one of their master plan to put you two together. all eyes were on yoomi as she walked towards the almost-couple with burning purpose.

"teacher l/n and teacher lee," she began, pointing at the wad of tangled christmas lights by the door. "can you two help us with that?"

you grinned. "absolutely." you turned towards felix, eyes set ablaze by a challenge. "lix?"

he teasingly rolled your eyes at your shenanigans. "sure, let's go."

the entirety of your third grade class held their breaths as you walked towards the absolute mess that was that string of lights. when you two finally arrived in front of the lights, a cheer erupted from your helper pals.

you quickly spun around, confused by their reaction. a very helpful student pointed above both of your heads, where a haphazardly-taped mistletoe hung. definitely the work of your third graders, no doubt.

"shit." you whispered, careful so that none of your students could witness your potty mouth.

you turned back towards felix, who was clearly stupefied.

yoomi, carefully tucked behind the menorah display, yelled. "now fall in love, lovebirds!" a chorus of giggles sounded as they waited for their otp to kiss and subsequently fall in love.

all you could hear was the rapid drumming of your heart. did this mean you really had to kiss your workplace crush in front of your kiddos? what would this do to your relationship? your professional career?

he slowly approached you and grabbed a hold of your hand. your kiddos held their breaths as he leaned in-

and lifted your hand towards his lips. you combusted on the spot.

"is that enough?" felix asked your helpers, who nodded, accepting their bitter defeat.

as they turned back to their original assignments, felix dragged you out of the auditorium and into the empty teacher's lounge.

"are you okay?" he asked, worry scrunching his brow together.

you nodded slowly, trying to regain your composure. "yeah. thanks for..." your heart squeezed at the thought of his princely hand kiss. "being considerate with me."

he shook his head. "it's the least i could've done." and paused, looking down. "and i'm sorry that i totally disregarded your concerns earlier this week. your kiddos are getting out of hand." 

"it's fine. i'll talk to admin about this eventually, but we should probably head back."

as much as you needed to be back in the auditorium, helping with set-up, you couldn't get yourself to move when he was looking at you like that.

he took a step towards you, averting your gaze. then another. you could see each individual freckle now and it was driving you crazy. "can i... can i ask you a stupid question?"

your breath caught. "always."

felix reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. "i know this isn't proper of coworkers, but i have to ask or i'm going to go insane." he took a long breath. "i really like you. always have. can i kiss you, for real?"

you willed your brain to stop short-circuiting on you. "go on then." you breathed, tugging lightly on his tie.

and he was all too eager to fulfill your request.

the feeling of his lips on yours felt like fireworks. and you did the thing you always dreamed of-- you greedily carded your hands through his luscious blonde locks, lapping up the quiet moans he let out with every tug and pull.

when you separated for air, you began to giggle at the sight. "lix, your hair."

his usually well-tamed hair was an absolute mess. "ah, i'm so sorr-"

he kissed you again, this time soft and sweet. "don't apologize. i really enjoyed it."

a whole heat wave flooded over you. "should we head back then?" you needed out now before you fully melted.

"wait." you looked up at him. he shot you a hopeful, doe-eyed glance. "does that mean you like me back?"

you chuckled at him. "yes, lix, i do like you back. it's impossible not to, really."

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini I want to fuck a demon boy so bad I can't. I'm so sleep deprived and this is the only thing on my mind. The idea of this powerful demon who's not used to being challenged, just ending up ass up face down on the floor, bed WHEREVER. It's not important. Ending up like that is just peak. Also I like to think they'd have sensitive tails. So. Like. I totally.

Wanna make them fuck themselves with their own tail. I think that'd be great. I think it would be awesome.

I want them to get so flustered at the idea of doing it, but do it anyway just coz I told them to. I can almost imagine them finding their own prostate with their tail, and really they can't decide which sensation to focus on. Feeling themselves clench around their own tail, or the way the slightly pointed end slams into their prostate. And bonus points if they cum and you overstim them by grabbing their tail and fucking them so much harder than they could themselves. Hooray, now they've got

your hand around their already much too sensitive tail

said sensitive tail is being slammed into their ass

it's gotta feel so good, they'd probably be so tight around themselves

your hand is gonna slip a few times, which is gonna end up in stroking their tail, which has got to feel like heaven for them

not to forget that you're thrusting their tails directly onto their prostate without letting them breathe

I just. I don't know. I think they'd look so pretty, flushed and begging to stop, even though it's them that keeps weakly trying to thrust their tail back into themselves. Also, they'd look so pathetic, sobbing from the overstimulation. I'm a sucker for tears trailing down their faces, eyes red and a little puffy. It'd almost make you wanna be nice to them. Almost.

But yknow, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And sometimes what a girl's gotta do is fuck a demon stupid with their own tail. (I don't have the same way with words as some people, but like do you see the vision)

~a sleep deprived,🧁anon

You are so smart holy shit. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Fucking a demon with their own tail? Why didn’t I think of something as great as this??! Lemme write down my thoughts for a sec- (btw I thought you are like, very religious?)

Dom!reader x sub!character

You had a long day behind you, and there was nothing sweeter than the thought of finally getting some sleep. All you wanted was to have a good rest, but to your demise you woke up in the middle of the night with something heavy on top of you. “Ops, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Oh well this will do too.” What the hell? It was a fucking person?? First thing you did was push him off of you and turning on the lights, then you thought this was some kind of weird joke. He had two horns growing out of his forehead, as well as a super long tail with a heart shaped tip. Not to mention the pink, glowing tattoo on his pelvis. When he opened his mouth again, you thought you didn’t hear right. “I’m an incubus, pleasant to meet you~ now let me feast on you, pretty please?”

An incubus, so, in other words a demon. What in the- never mind. He said he wanted to feast on you? Heck no, he woke you up in the middle of the night and is expecting you to have the energy to fuck him? As soon as he got up to try make a move on you, you flipped him over and tangled your hand in his hair, then pressed his face into your pillow. “If you are that desperate do it yourself.” Of course that little slut was into that.

He reached for his dick, but you slapped his hand away and instead grabbed his tail. “MhMngh- aaAAHhnn~!” A surprised yet blissful moan escaped him, face all red as lust fills their already sinful body. Anticipation swelling inside them at the thought of what you might do with them. That’s when they felt their own tail poking against their butt… wait wha? In the mean time you stroked it gently while whispering, “I want to watch you fuck yourself, who knows, I might reward you afterwards.” Suddenly all their previous confidence vanished as embarrassment took over. With their own tail..?? How did you even get that idea! Not even something as perverted as them had such outrageous ideas..!

In the end they could only obey without protesting, trusting their already super sensitive tail into their tight, wet hole. Each time they accidentally hit their prostate, they’d yelp and whimpers. Pretty tears are already rolling down their even prettier faces. Eyes half lidded as they whine, “mhm! Ah-ahhHh.. nghHnn~!!” All while their poor, useless dick is twitching around on its own, making a mess everywhere <3

Gojo, Sukuna, Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai, jouno, Scaramouch, Kaeya, lyney, Ayato, Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan (?), Douma - your favourites

[elucubrare]

What are your biggest turn-offs when reading/watching historical fiction or retellings of myths?

this is really complicated - i can put it in two boxes, both of which are packed very full.

disconnection from the material reality of the past

when characters display a very specifically modern mindset (about social issues especially, but other stuff too)

(I also get bothered by some kinds of modern language - I don't mind it when, idk, an author uses "sensible" with the modern connotation of "practical" and not the 18th century "emotional" or "empathetic", but "yeah" or "okay," or even, as i found out when someone used it in medieval fantasy, "holy shit" will get on my nerves.)

there are modern things where (made up example!) a character who's supposed to be a cook will talk about making caprese salad for a fancy restaurant in December, and someone snarking on the book will say "yeah, right, they should know better than to make something that depends on a fresh summer vegetable!" and even with greenhouses, that's pretty fair. and that's even more extreme in the past. it's 1650 in Verona, it's December, you cannot obtain fresh tomatoes. i don't think this means that people in the past were, necessarily, more emotionally or spiritually in tune with the cycle of the year, or the labor it took to get clothes, or furniture, or any other material item, and of course wealth can insulate people from some of that difficulty, but it does mean that the seasons had more direct impact on people's lives. It's possible to, for example, buy clothes ready-made, but for anything fancy, it's more likely that it'll be made to fit if it's new, or altered extensively and painstakingly if it's not. that means that tearing or staining a fancy dress isn't just an issue of looking bad - you can't just replace it, and you probably won't throw it out - you figure out how to reuse it. those concerns of access to material goods are just a lot closer to the surface of the world than they often are now.

my objections to modern attitudes about the world are not that people in the past 100% accepted the views of their contemporaries - there were always people who didn't, and it makes sense that a protagonist would be one of them. but people wouldn't phrase those objections in the same way that modern people would - say your main character doesn't want a woman accused of being a witch burned. "God's power is such that the Devil cannot give this woman the ability to sour milk" is most likely going to be more persuasive to the crowd than "witches aren't real." and sometimes that's rough - it's not super fun to read about a Roman with Roman attitudes about provincial wars, or slavery in the city, but I put something down because a Roman character said (in internal dialogue) that he was disgusted to see that a man had been tortured because "Romans simply didn't do that." Historical Romans did do that, routinely - a slave could not testify in a law court unless they had been tortured. Even with distasteful things like that, I'd much rather it just be glossed over than to have them say the "correct" modern thing. It just makes it feel too much like the theme park version of the culture.

Both of these are because of specific things I come to historical fiction for - I want that sense of alienation, the gulf of experience. I hate that most historical fiction (and fantasy set in semi-recognizable periods) characters don't really care about Honor, except as a joke, because I love when characters organize their lives around arcane rules and systems that cause tiny things to escalate into blood feud. I just think they're neat! I like it when people's worldviews are shaped by their lack of scientific certainty about what causes crops to fail! If I wanted to read about people who thought and acted like me, and had lives that were mostly similar to mine, only cooler, I'd just read contemporary fiction.

[ghostgirl101]

Being Loved By Paul Atreides

A/N: Quick lil blurb headcanon thingy while I work on my next set of hcs between a Feyd and Paul love triangle 🙃

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're never alone, not inside your mind or out of it. The Water of Life gave him the pooling knowledge to break into others' and he almost always knows how you're feeling, without even having to say a word. Even if you're quiet about how you feel and are usually good at pushing things down and hiding them away, Paul always manages to bring the to light, and you'll know you're caught out when you look up from where you are to immediately catch his blue-in-blue gaze locked onto yours with a knowing look. Sometimes the knowing look turns a bit cocky when what you're thinking about happens to be him.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're an anchor to his humanity and burden as the Messiah, having a profound and unbreakable bond tied with you that transcends any ordinary relationship. The love he feels for you is a force in itself, scarily powerful and true and darkly pure, that no other force in the Known Universe could sever it.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're the only one to see him at his smallest and most vulnerable, in between council meetings and fights in his name during the Holy War breaking out over the worlds, the guilt that racks him to his core and makes him want to hide away from it all. The nights that are spent clinging to you so tightly that your skin goes pale by his hard grip, and there's nothing more to feel but the overwhelming heat of his body pressed up as close as it can against your own, his dark hair tickling your neck and face while he burrows into your neck to smell nothing but the soft signature scent of you, and of home.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that every touch, gesture, and moment of closeness feels like something more, like every action to pull you in closer isn't just physical, but a mental strain too, to merge your thoughts and sense of self with his own, so much so that it's almost suffocating.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're never protected more than you are when you're under his fierce, observant watch and devotion. He insists that he doesn't need his guards or watchmen as he can look after himself, with heightened senses and strength enough to know what's coming his way in the present moments and the hidden intentions of those around him, and so they're sent to watch over you instead with keen eyes and strict instruction. If Paul himself is not standing watch over you by your side, you can feel his eyes on you, as if it's omnipresent, and god forbid anyone to let their gaze linger on you with a look he doesn't like, because that's a sure way to be sent down as a sacrifice to the sandworms.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that the only advice or insight he's given that he would truly and wholly think over and consider would have to come from you and be believed by you without the influence of others, because his trust lies in you, and its enough to make him pause for a moment in thought as he pulls apart your words and all their meaning to see if they can fit in and around his plans.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that he would never give a moment of a second's thought to any other man or woman but you, because he holds strong to the conviction that you're his soulmate and the leading light of his destiny. If you die, he dies inside with the last of his strength, and he'll embrace the desert with open arms to offer him up to the great Shai Hulud Himself.

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Next Week's Fanfic: Headcanons for a love triangle between you, Feyd-Rautha and Paul Atreides 😎😎 ⊹˚₊‧───────────────────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @milaeth @ennycutie @nckcn @void21 @leighta @williamtt33 @deathsimp @tatumrileyslover @beebumbo @the-dark-dreamer25 @lilepad @skboo @keicdcat @1950schick @reggiesmoon @velosrantipole @yoonessa @anonymjuni @saturnhas82moons @xlxnq @frickyea-guacamole19 @meowmeeps @chalklate

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DUNE MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

[hijackalx]

I need a breeding fic with Gortash. like him putting you in a mating press and just saying nasty shit like "give me a baby boy" or "your ganna have so many of my fucking babies" holy shit I'm ganna faint he's so mmfg

I WANTED TO WRITE THIS FOR U BUT IT TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY 😭😭💗 also i hope u like spit cuz i saw the opportunity and took it SORRYYYY 😹😹

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, breeding kink, spit, mating press position, some degradation and praise, dom!gortash, you’re basically his baby-making machine, he refers to reader as ‘woman’ and ‘girl’

Gortash doesn't do anything without planning first. He's always a step ahead; he knows what the future holds because he decides it.

And sometimes you wonder where you belong in his grand scheme. What does he have in store for you? All of his meddling behind the scenes— he’s a puppet master, playing your unsuspecting figure by the strings of his jeweled fingers.

It would be sensible to ask, but like a true visionary, he isn’t keen on being questioned. He'll blow you off as sweetly as he can, cradling your face and assuring you that you needn’t worry about such things. Despite his facade, you can tell it bothers him; you can see the irritation behind his gaze.

You'll admit, it can be a little intimidating being with someone like him, simply because you never know just how much of your relationship he's manipulated and plotted into fruition. You're stumbling around in the dark, clinging to his wrist for stability while forgetting that he blindfolded you in the first place.

When the next stepping stone of his intricate plan is revealed, you feel it's all too obvious. You realize the crucial part you play, and how integral it was that he didn't scare you off. No doubt you were plucked from a plethora of suitors, carefully considered for your purpose. You think you should feel flattered.

You lay on the silk sheets of his bed, spread open and waiting. Your bare skin is soft and scented, a flame spreading over the surface as you watch him approach. He crawls over top of you, the mattress giving with each movement. You swallow at his looming presence, how he locks you between his strong arms.

Thumb coming up to tease your bottom lip, he leaves a lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm going to make you the most valuable woman in Faerûn." He smiles before rocking back on his knees. Another kiss is left on your ankle as he props your legs against his broad shoulders. "Isn't that right?"

His features are gentle but his eyes are dark— intense. You can tell this is something he's been waiting for, something he's been heavily anticipating. You wonder how you were never able to pick up on his faltering restraint before; he looks like he's wound as tightly as he can be.

His tip plays at your entrance, smearing precum against your heat. You throb, aching for him, but you can tell by his smirk and the slight tilt to his head that he's waiting for a response.

You nod readily. With that, he angles and inserts himself into you. Gasping, your fingers bunch up the fabric beneath you as he stretches you out inch by inch. "Gods..." you mutter at the feeling of his cock slipping past your walls.

You stare at his face while he watches how your pussy strains around him, admiring how his thick, black hair hangs from his forehead, how the corners of his sloped nose crinkle slightly; the concentrated furrow to his brow, and the small parting to his lips. You did get lucky, didn't you?

Out of all the men who'd want you to carry their child, you were picked by him; a powerful man, body and mind, who is certain to pass on his traits through you.

You struggle to take him in further, the width near his base stretching your opening uncomfortably. Without hesitation, he cups his hands under your knees and pushes them to your chest, resting his weight onto you. He manipulates your figure on instinct— as if it's his, as if he owns you.

Your body is forcibly spread deeper, allowing him to sink into you the rest of the way. The new position almost takes the breath out of you, eliciting a surprised whimper from your lips.

He sighs contently as he fills you fully, the warmth of your needy pussy engulfing his cock. He finally starts to move his hips, rocking you on the mattress as your wet cunt squelches around him.

You gaze up at him through your knees, watching his lip curl at how tightly you grip him. "Fuck," he hisses. "You're perfect. Fucking perfect," he almost seems to be muttering to himself, his eyes unable to break away from where you two meet between your thighs.

He picks up the pace, his heavy balls hitting you with every thrust. You leave behind bits of your essence in his hair, the slick coating his ebony strands.

His hand releases one of your legs to snatch you by your jaw. The aggression catches you off guard, and for a moment you wonder if you've upset him. Under lowered brows, he grins.

"You're going to be my personal little broodmare," he laughs breathily before interrupting himself with a grunt. "And you'll give me as many baby boys as I want— won't you, sweet girl?"

His fingertips leave indents in your skin, and he appears too distracted by pleasure to know how rough he's being. Still, you don't mind— men with gentle hands don't sit on thrones. "M-mhm," you do your best to respond under his hold.

He slips his thumb between your lips, pressing down on your tongue. He coerces your mouth open until it's fully extended, staring down at you.

"Yeah? You like the way that sounds?"

His nail digs deeper into your tongue with every second you take to answer, his expression bordering on wicked. Unable to speak, you nod vigorously.

The corner of his mouth pulls upward, his brows lifting briefly. "I thought you might," he says before leaning over you, encasing your body in his shadow. Without warning, a quick wad of spit comes flying out onto your tongue. "Whore."

The warm substance lands and spreads over your tastebuds. Only after he admires how it looks in your mouth does he release you. He stares down at you expectantly, so you hold his gaze and swallow.

As he watches your throat bob, you feel his cock twitch inside you, a low groan vibrating in his chest.

Your body writhes with want beneath him, with need. You feel the way your cunt repeatedly tightens around him, trying to draw out his orgasm.

He can feel it too, and you know he won't last much longer. Soon he'll be filling you full of his cum— again, and again, and again— ensuring that, without a doubt, you'll be pregnant. You'll carry his heirs, securing his rulership with his bloodline.

You never saw yourself as mere breeding stock before. And you most certainly never saw yourself enjoying the thought of it. It sends a surge of heat through your body, a tremble through your limbs. You yearn to be of use to him— to his success.

"P-please," you stutter, gripping his bicep tightly. "Come inside of me. I need you to come, please—" Your words come out quickly and almost incoherent, stumbling over your own burning desire. You need to feel his thick, white seed lacing your walls.

He almost coos at how ready you are for him. "Fuck, I love hearing you talk like that."

His hand slips down the back of your thigh so that his thumb can toy with your clit. His touch isn't the softest, and it makes your sensitive body jolt with every rub. Still, the timing of it has you questioning if he's rewarding you for your begging. You wouldn't put it past him to condition you that way, so that your cunt's always desperate to be filled.

He places his hands on either side of your head, hooking your legs over his elbows. His face is now inches from yours, and you can see the lustful haze over his stare. It's dark, almost wolfish, but it only excites you.

You're so ready for him to finish, just so he can do this all over again.

You wrap your arms over his muscular shoulders, holding onto him while he fucks you. Your body is at his mercy in your vulnerable position, completely pliant to his every whim. You almost shiver at the thought— not from unease, but arousal. Your eyes flutter shut.

The bed creaks with his tempo, mirroring the needy movement of his hips. His breathing is uneven and wavering by your ear, accompanied by the occasional grunt or moan. The sounds of his pleasure send a wave of excitement through you, and you can tell by the rapid snaps of his pelvis that he's close.

Your voice evolves into whimpers as you feel his orgasm approaching, anticipating being filled with a steady stream of cum. With a hiss through gritted teeth, he slams into you hard, pumping white ropes into your cunt. You rhythmically tighten around him, milking him for every last drop.

The feeling of him filling you up makes your limbs buzz with exhilaration, and the knot in your core finally snaps. You tear and claw at his back while he ungracefully rides out his own orgasm, pushing his seed into you further and further.

After his final sloppy thrusts, his body stills. He rests above you, the arms supporting him tense and slightly weary. His breaths fan your cheek, warm and ragged, indicative of his high. You would almost think he was spent, if it weren’t for the fact that he still hasn’t pulled out of you.

You focus on the way his cum settles inside you, threatening to leak. It’s so much— you find it hard to imagine fitting more. Still, he smiles down at you with an endearing obstinance that says he’ll find a way.

You realize you’re in for a long night.

[allebasimaianunes]

lamb of god diary's † father charlie mayhew short-fic

sumary: there's a lamb of god very much loyalty for hers favorite preacher. so she writers everything what happens with both like her own bible. the bible of the sinners.

autor's note: my fisrt "fanfic" in english. the ideia it's this sounds like a really deep dive on the mind of a girl (reader) while she envolves with her priest, like a real diary where i'll can find thoughts and randoms stuffs about her life.

warning contend: sexual mention, lost of virginity, prient kink. drabble.

word count: 803

language: english

soundtrank inspo: preacher's daughter (ofc)!!!

lamb's diary. oct, 30 of 2024.

Father Charlie Mayhew was so incredibly hungry for me.

He needed to possess me, maddened, completely intoxicated by his own desires. And I wanted it too, I won’t lie! When he approached me—an angel in the church, a smirk on his beautiful face—I knew exactly what we’d be doing in that secluded place.

He looked deeply into my eyes during communion, letting me feel his touch as he placed the body of Christ on my tongue, whispering, “Come to me tonight.”

I was so nervous and anxious about it! In the midst of guilt and sadness, I always wanted this: the bodily contact, the intimacy, the singular pleasure that I sometimes indulged in alone but which, at times, was not enough. My perverted thoughts had haunted me, haunted me while I walked with my dog and saw the new priest jogging in those ridiculous shorts, his slim shirt clinging to his muscular body; haunted me when he fixed his gaze on me, on my body, with a hidden desire in his dark eyes; haunted me as I touched myself alone in bed, with the holy Virgin Mary looking down on me in mercy until I climaxed, thinking of Father Charlie fucking me so hard that it broke my bed.

Then I’d wake up from a wet dream of him, telling myself it wasn’t real. Until that day, when I entered his room. I sat on the simple wooden chair, hands clasped in my lap, looking at him with expectation.

Charlie sat on the bed, which sank under the weight of his muscular frame, his dark, intense eyes undressing me. His breathing was already heavy with desire, which I could tell by the bulge forming in his black cotton pants. He slowly declared his intentions, asked my thoughts on celibacy and sex. My response was simple, lacking arguments—a passive plea, revealing my need to be devoured by that man, so powerful in his presence. He whispered about God and the outdated dogmas of the church as he unbuttoned the front of my dress with one hand (he’s very skilled with his fingers, I might add).

With rough lips, dripping words from his soft tongue, he kissed me passionately. It was a delicious, desperate kiss, far more experienced than my first kiss, and Charlie knew how to move his hands. He made me sigh with passion, squeezed me between his palms, made me tremble as he undressed both of us. His body was a temple of temptation, sculpted and strong. He was big. As he laid me down on the bed, covering me with angelic, affectionate kisses, I felt something hard pressing against me. That’s when I thought, “Oh my God! It’s going to happen!” With abruptness, he removed my panties, followed by his own underwear, leaving us both completely exposed to each other, eyes filled with lust. His desire was dripping from him, radiating a strange, forbidden aura through his gaze, while I felt like a lamb about to be sacrificed.

Since I like metaphors, here’s one: with his sharp-bladed dagger, he pierced my throbbing core, causing a sharp pain that bled down to its hilt, flowing from the wound and bringing me closer to the sacred light. A radiance enveloped me—my thoughts, my body. A small death that revived me when he finished, filling me with himself and asking forgiveness for everything. But it wasn’t over. He kissed his way down, cleaned me with the blanket, and began to pray between my legs. Sacred incantations. Within minutes, I reached the epitome of something far greater than myself, giving myself over completely. Me, cruel.

Lying next to him, staring at the white ceiling, I lazily asked, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” to which Charlie laughed, his chest shaking as he responded smoothly, “Of course not.”

I knew it was a lie, but in that moment, I preferred to believe the sweet honeyed words of that serpent.

Then he helped me up, asked if I was okay, offered me warm water, helped me dress, and guided me to the door. The rectory was strangely empty, but Charlie whispered that God had arranged it all.

With a strange fear lodged in my throat, he gave me his blessing, and I went home, feeling a burning between my legs and a numbness in my mind. I must say, this has been happening for weeks. I enter his room, he devours me, ravenous, and then I slip from his hands as if I’m leaving the scene of a crime. And isn’t that what it is, really? A priest shouldn’t be doing this… well, I don’t think Charlie should even be a priest, but that’s another story.

In the end, though, it’s consuming me bit by bit.

Father Charlie Mayhew is consuming me entirely. And I’m not complaining.

[teratosubmission]

Your father, the King, had been pushing for you to join more diplomatic meetings. You needed the experience, of course, and what better way to get some than to accompany your Royal General to various meetings and discussions?

You dressed your best, of course. A light, silky skirt that barely covered the top of your thighs. Formal upper clothing without sleeves and a bottom cut that exposed your left hip and midriff. Your long flowing blond hair was freshly combed, adorned with a tiny rose sculpted from ruby. You were ready to receive this important dignitary and help lead the talks that would secure further peace between your kingdoms. Though as you had little taste for the initial boring pleasantries that go around every single staff member and noble at the very beginning, you were encouraged to wait a bit before entering the room. As your presence is announced by the door guard, you eye the General and make your way towards him, who was conversing with who you assume was the foreign dignitary… holy shit, he’s attractive? You can hear the general introduce you to him, the Formal Diplomat of the Western Kingdom, but his fanciful words sorta get lost on you as your eyes eat up his features.

God, his rippling muscles, his beautiful coat of fur, he was just… handsome. The neighboring kingdom could have scarcely found someone more attractive. You close in and gently touch his biceps and chest, gazing up at him in awe and lust. Oh god, he towered over you even more in person. Holy fuck. “Are all the wolves in the West as handsome as you?” you coo, biting your lip. You bring your knee up his thigh to subtly gauge his size by feel… oh, god, hes packing. He smirks at your comment, and he flexes for you, letting you feel just how ripped he was under all that fur. Oh my… You wanted him to devour you.

"Ahem, my lord, I know you wish to extend formalities in full,” your general interrupted, “but we have some serious business we need to discuss.” In the corner of your eye, you could spy the general adopting a stone face you’ve become all-too-familiar with when he gets irritated. Maybe he should get laid sometime, too. You’ve offered him some pussy in the past, you knew girls who would love a chance to bed a powerful warrior like himself. But he always droned something about duty and professionalism. What a bore.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” the diplomat replied, enthusiasm dripping in his deep voice. You start murmuring an apology but he cuts you off by tipping your chin up, gazing deep into your eyes with a roaring hunger. You salivate at his gaze, silently begging for his undivided attention. Please please please fuck me.

“I’m sure we could discuss this policy while paying my respects to His Highness.” His powerful hands grip your hips, swinging you around to face the war room table, and sets you firmly against it. You squeal in excitement, thighs trembling, as you spread your legs apart for him. God, you loved diplomacy. “Eager, are you?” he chuckles, pulling up your skirt to cup your cheeks and play with them, as the head of his cock slowly pushes against your quivering hole. You glance back at him with, happy groans escaping your lips as you beg for more. “Mmm… please…”

“Yes, please enjoy our hospitality.” His curt unfun words slice through the air, but its getting dulled by the electrifying current of pleasure sweeping through your clouded mind. “Now, you carry a proposal from the West?”

The diplomat doesn’t even skip a beat in his speech as he rhythmatically pounds into your bussy, his words getting huffy and labored as he struggles to keep his volume above your pathetic moaning with each plap. Your slender hands struggle to hold onto the table, your flowing locks knocking over some wood pieces representing some distant army. It was all distant, really. You couldn’t really hear the conversation anymore, you couldn’t focus on any part of the map on the table, you couldn’t even put two thoughts together about this whole affair. All you could do is let him slam into your hole and moan like a good boy. Let your drool pool out onto the map, let him raise you high enough your feet don’t reach the ground anymore and you’re solely leaning forward and pound you harder. Let your little cock throb and cum between your belly and the table, then just leak again and again as the waves of pleasure overwhelm you. Let him push as deep inside you as he wants and fill you up with his own cum, before pushing you further forward and letting you lay there, legs dangling off the edge with cum dripping out. You were in Euphoria.

“...And what does the prince think of this action?”

Wait… what? How long were you laying there basking in the afterglow? When did the werewolf quit fucking you? How long were they talking? There’s no way they finished their talks and were ready for royal approval. Was he really that good? Fuuuck…. You’d agree to anything just to feel him fuck your brains out again. Maybe you’ll invite him to your chambers immediately after this.

"Uh… yeah…” came your words, slurred and disjointed, as you struggled to lean your head up to gaze at the circled group of men in the room. “Sounds… good…. Someone gimme a… pen…”

One of your knights picked you up with ease, and set your toes down on the floor so you could prop yourself with your hands. You couldn’t bear to sit, anyway, not after what undignified things that foreign dignitary did to your ass… mmm, fuck… where is he? Somewhere behind you? Niice… You poke out your ass absent-mindedly and wiggle it at him teasingly.

“Your highness? The signature.” The curt words of your general snap you out of it, and realize the document had been sitting in front of you for some time. Everyone was watching you expectantly. The general in particular had that impatient look of mild disdain whenever he asked you for your permission. You got the feeling he didn’t like you much.

“Oh… sorry…” With a few strokes of your pen handed to you, the document is signed with the sloppy handwriting of a boy who still was suffering from a good dicking. Not your best handiwork, but it’s a document, not a work of art. You barely finish the last stroke before document and pen are snatched away, and the general shoots a hurried final greeting to the dignitary before exiting the room with his staff.

You can feel the weight of the dignitary press against your back, his hands reach forward on top of yours, and his muzzle presses against your ear. “You made an excellent decision this day,” he whispers, and his tongue suddenly drags up your earlobe to the pointy end. “I was hoping perhaps we could discuss more… private matters in your chambers? For the good of our kingdoms, of course.”

As you were being bridal carried by him all the back back to your bed, you kept thinking about just how much you were making your father proud. Just wait till he hears how important you were to governing favorable terms with the Western Kingdom. Or how well you're cultivating new relationships with them.

[queerprayers]

I'm a lifelong Christian and I've been struck with fear recently because I've never feared God. I love God so much, but I cannot fear anyone whom I love. Those two things can't go together in my mind. I think of 1 John 4:18 and I justified, but then I think of all of Proverbs (wisdom is the fear of God) or even some of Jesus' sayings (ex. Luke 12:5)... and I start feeling like a horrible Christian because I just can't imagine loving someone that I'm afraid of. I guess I am afraid sometimes of God showing me my guilt when I sin, but I'm not scared of God sending me into eternal hell or anything, because I wouldn't be able to believe in a God who'd do that to anyone. Is there another way to think about "fear of God"?

What a great topic, beloved! The answer is yes, there are many ways to think about the concept of "fear of God!" 

The first thing I want to bring up is that we have to be careful about moralizing emotions. As someone with a mood disorder, I know all too well that when we do this, we alienate people with emotional differences, and we also fundamentally misunderstand a lot. We cannot control our emotions. We can choose between reveling in them or moving on from them, we can learn ways to process them, we can identify whether they're helpful, but we cannot control them. Because of this, we cannot require certain emotions as a virtue. It's not realistic or helpful.

Fear, the way we usually talk about it, is an emotion. It can be a logical response or a completely illogical one. Someone with an anxiety disorder may experience fear in perfectly normal situations; someone with paranoia or a phobia may be afraid of completely safe situations. We may not feel fear in an unsafe situation because of recklessness or ignorance. 

Emotional responses to God are varied and uncontrollable—although with religious education and emotional intelligence, they can be useful. We can process our guilt to decide whether it's pushing us to change or keeping us trapped. We can process our joy and cherish when it is a response to holy things. We can let anger lead us to work for justice. We can honor our grief at injustice but work to not let it paralyze us. We can love worldly things or eternal things. Again, I don't want to moralize emotion, but rather honor it as a part of the human experience and use it to serve God.

You're afraid because you don't fear God—this comes out of a desire to be a "good Christian," to cultivate in yourself what is holy. Ironically, your fear is leading you to God, the kind of fear you were afraid you didn't have. Now if fear of being a horrible Christian traps you, if it causes you not to care for yourself, if it keeps you from experiencing the joy of Christianity, we know it isn't serving you. But it can, and it may be doing so right now, pushing you to think further about this.

To see fear as a virtue, though, we have to look beyond uncontrollable emotional responses. We have to see it in Scripture in all its many facets. You have identified two completely different verses on fear—showing us that fear can be can be the enemy of perfect love, and also a logical response to a God that has ultimate power. Fear can prevent us from reaching out (being afraid), or it can be an awareness of our own lack of power, our dependence on God, and result in surrender. Anxiety is a shutting in; reverence is a reaching out.

I cheated and used the Wikipedia page to find this, but Pope Francis said that

The fear of the Lord, the gift of the Holy Spirit, doesn’t mean being afraid of God, since we know that God is our Father that always loves and forgives us,...[It] is no servile fear, but rather a joyful awareness of God’s grandeur and a grateful realization that only in him do our hearts find true peace.

We don't fear God because we don't trust him—we fear offending God because we love God, we fear losing God because we are completely dependent on God, we fear forgetting God's love because that's the only meaning in the universe.

I've really valued C.S. Lewis's perspectives on fear—I don't have The Problem of Pain with me right now, but the Wikipedia page for "numinous" helpfully quotes it:

Suppose you were told there was a tiger in the next room: you would know that you were in danger and would probably feel fear. But if you were told "There is a ghost in the next room," and believed it, you would feel, indeed, what is often called fear, but of a different kind. It would not be based on the knowledge of danger, for no one is primarily afraid of what a ghost may do to him, but of the mere fact that it is a ghost. It is "uncanny" rather than dangerous, and the special kind of fear it excites may be called Dread. With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous. Now suppose that you were told simply "There is a mighty spirit in the room," and believed it. Your feelings would then be even less like the mere fear of danger: but the disturbance would be profound. You would feel wonder and a certain shrinking—a sense of inadequacy to cope with such a visitant and of prostration before it—an emotion which might be expressed in Shakespeare's words "Under it my genius is rebuked." This feeling may be described as awe, and the object which excites it as the Numinous.

Proverbs states multiple times that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom—not guilt, not an eternal state of being afraid, not self-hatred, not doom. When it is an understanding of our dependence on God, our recognizing how small we are and how much power God has, when we realize that everything real to us is a pitiful reflection of what is in store, that is where we find wisdom in this life. 

Proverbs also tells us that to fear the Lord is to hate evil (8:13). 16:6 says that evil is avoided through the fear of the Lord. Job 28:28 tells us that the fear of the Lord is wisdom, and to shun evil is understanding. We see here fear of God leading us to good works and obedience—if it's not leading us anywhere, it's stagnation. (The same with guilt.)

Another place fear of God leads us is life and rest (Proverbs 14:27; 19:23). Fully understanding and submitting ourselves to God, knowing how afraid we would and should be without that rock, we can rest knowing that we have God, the fountain of life.

Another interesting thing besides evil that fear of God is set against is arrogance/pride. Romans 11:20 says, "Do not be arrogant, but tremble." Proverbs 22:4: "Humility is the fear of the Lord." When we set ourselves as the center of the universe, when we think we're in control, when we cling to earthly things, we are not in that state of reverence. 

Fear of God is holy—but over and over, God tells us to not be afraid. So what's the difference between these fears? Fear of earthly things (the emotion) is a logical response to the very real dangers we experience. But when we make that a state of being, when we don't move anywhere, we're not trusting God. Fear of God, on the other hand, is that ultimate trust and awareness. "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe" (Proverbs 29:25).

Fear keeping us safe seems an oxymoron if we define it as an emotion, which is an earthly experience. We have to look further. We have to understand that the logical response to an all-powerful God is being afraid, but the first thing an angel meeting us would say is, "Be not afraid." Fear the one who has the authority to throw you into hell, yes, but worship the one whose love drives out that fear. 

You may have skipped the first step—your love of God is admirable. But leave some room for awe, for the strangeness of religion, for the reality of your lack of power. If fear comes up, let it lead you to Life. Don't try to control your emotional responses, but cultivate a spirit of reverence. And keep thinking. Keep finding seemingly conflicting Bible verses. You're not a horrible Christian—you're just a Christian. Not to be a Lutheran, but you cannot by your own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ or come to him—but the Holy Spirit has called you, and will not meet you in the middle, but rather make all the steps and land where you are. And the only response that I have ever found is to surrender.

<3 Johanna

[dominixsremorse]

- NSFW CHOSO X (GN)READER HEADCANON-

STARRING : Choso Kamo x gn!reader CW: nsfw , sub!choso (terms of power dynamic sometimes because let's be real, you would need to teach him everything at first) ,top!reader (terms of power dynamic sometimes) , virgin!choso , kinky!choso , just slight mentions of bdsm (bondage), loss of virginity (choso)

links : masterlist .+. request rules

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- The first time you have sex with Choso, the half-curse would be a nervous WRECK. He's shaking, fingers trembling against your hips where you're straddling him ( just to ease him into the feelings first, so you're doing most of the work the first time around). He's asking with a shaky voice if he's doing everything right, needing that confirmation he's doing everything okay. "baby, am... am I doing this right?

- He would be an absolute sucker for praise. One "good boy," or "you're doing everything you need to, baby. sit back and relax." and he's harder then he's ever been and he thinks there must be something wrong with him because his dick keeps twitching at the sound of each praise. Also a sucker for your touch in general. Do a little foreplay with him, and he's crumbling under your touch. Neck kisses, hickeys, love bites.

- Honestly WAILS the first time you sink down on his cock. His mind is hazy, yet so alert, lighting up with pleasure and he can hear you moan in the distance around his thick length. His hands are still trembling, almost crying at the feeling of your walls squeezing and clenching him. Start riding him, and he starts sobbing, hands clutching your hips like you're a lifeline.

"oh god, oh god- baby- i think i'm seeing stars-"

- Vocal like there is no tomorrow. He's sobbing, whining, whimpering, moaning and you might get a noise complaint from the neighbors. For a virgin, he moans like he's a pornstar. He mumbles during it, just commenting on whatever he can to keep himself sane because you're going to be the death of him if you keep fucking him like that. Through the tears he's babbling and you can't get him to shut up even if you wanted him to.

"Oh god you feel so good, you're so tight and warm and- baby please slow down, it feels too good-"

-. You'll know when he's close because he's so confused.

"i think i'm dying oh god, my stomach feels all funny... baby please..."

"you're not dying cho, you're about to cum."

"oh god oh god- i'm gonna cum please please don't stop, please-"

- When he cums, he literally blacks out. His body is twitching, his hands are digging into your hips, he's hiccuping, and fat, sticky tears are rolling down his cheeks from those glassy, out-of-it eyes. His hair is plastered to his forehead, sweat-covered. He can feel his cum sloshing around inside you ( he would cum just massive amounts, it's almost concerning ) and oh god, it makes his softening dick almost get hard again.

- When he comes back to, if you lift your hips and let his dick pop out, his cum just flooding out of your swollen entrance, his mind would almost bluescreen again.

- Aftercare GOD when you tell him what to do and he gets the hang of it. He's kissing you, cuddling you, asking you if you're okay and if you had a good time, cleaning you up throughly.

"you okay baby? nothing hurts or is sore? do you need another towel?"

- Introducing him to sex was either your best or worst decision ever because he just can't stop. He's like an addict and god the more you do it with him, the better he gets, and it's not like, oh, he knows what to do more as he and you go on! He makes jumps like he's leaping over mountains. Teach him how to eat you out? In 5 minutes, he's savouring you like a gourmet meal and his tongue must be magical or something because holy FUCK, you're cumming on his tongue and he's just drinking you up. Teach him to fuck you? By the second time, you're cumming every 5th thrust of his hips and he's honed in on where your sweet spot is like he's committed it to his memory. Teach him to suck your cock/strap? He's drooling over it, taking it down his throat fully and looking up at you with those innocent eyes that beg for praise. Certified service switch.

- He wants to try EVERYTHING. The moment you talk about something new, he's jumping in the bed to try it with you. Pegging/you fucking him? He's fucking himself on his fingers already to stretch for you. Roleplay? He's ready. Lingerie? He's drooling at the thought. Spanking either way? He's bending over or patting his knee for you to bend over. Bondage? Rope is secured. He loves it, because he discovers both yours and his kinks.

- Loves taking care of you. He loves you taking control, but when he gets to drive his dick deep into you and make you cum on that fat cock of his, his pride mixes in with his pleasure and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

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©dominixsremorse all rights reserved

[fumifooms]

Thistle & Falin

Just my narrative of Thistle & Falin, collection of shippy thoughts and dynamic analysis. Creating some imagery and threads, etc. What if we both made devotion to our loved ones our purpose, what if we both hadn’t lived for ourselves in a long, long time. Who are we? Beyond who we love and our powers, what are we?

Background info: a short Falin analysis touching on Faligon and Thistle + an old thistlin post, compiling most of their moments. Here I delve into further thoughts but for base analysis of what they have in canon and in potential those are good starts. If you want I also have a full Falin analysis.

Disclaimer: Beyond the nebulous 1000 years I place Thistle as a young adult, and though I agree Falin mothers him to some degree I don’t think it’s unsimilar to the way that Marcille is a mom friend that sometimes mothers Falin and Izutsumi especially. Their relationship has layers like every other one in Dunmeshi, reducing it to being incestuously motherly or age discoursy to justify it being problematic is so funny to me, hello did you miss the mind control. Ah yes I love the 1090 yo with godlike powers being groomed by his chicken slave. You can have your own interpretation but canon is ambiguous enough, and dare I say intentionally ambiguous, that I have no qualms with not infantilizing Thistle, same with Yaad at the end of canon. I do ship Thistle and Falin, and although it’s in a nebulous qpr-or-other third secret thing situationship instead of conventionally romantic way, like, I puke on anything giving them a parental framing so don’t come shitting on my doorstep, kid-Thistle truthers be warned. Only nuance enjoyers allowed on this post. It’s valid if you’re uncomfortable with the ship!! Don’t make your issue others’ problem.

I thankfully finished my Falin analysis before posting this, but besides that I also have an analysis coming on the whole Thistle age thing which I think is interesting, beyond the well being poisoned there are things to explore there, idk in how long that’ll be done though. That’s all for plans that are relevant to this, now let’s get into it.

Part 1

So my favorite Falin things are Faligon + her sense of being like a pawn/misplaced, going on autopilot to follow the wishes of others, a feeling of identity being a burden and sort of fleeing from that, and her not really caring in the way/with the intensity that she’s "supposed" to (as per the points I go over in my Falin analysis). Meanwhile, Thistle has a lot of shit going on already but then there’s also how being a dungeon lord is highly wearing on his mind. As Faligon and as dungeon lord Thistle, the way they’re both so out of touch with reality in different ways holy shit?? They have power imbalance between them and it very much comes from mind control lol, but it’s also not something Thistle is fully aware of himself, because the powers are driving him unstable and he’s not even aware there’s someone in front of him really. He’s so out of it that he can’t even recognize that the dragon has been fused with a human and she’s so out of it we can’t even tell how conscious of her actions she is.

And then the interesting thing is that they’re kind of in it together… Mostly from Falin’s standpoint. We see that he does rely on the dragon increasingly so, hanging out with it, being saved by it and embraced by her etc. When he lets them both fall after breaking the web they were hanging from, he automatically, fully and wordlessly trusts her to catch him, instead of relying on magic or anything, and she does. Falin devotes herself to him but he’s devoted to The Cause which is just chasing ghosts at this point. But despite it all there’s a weird comfort here too… From the guy who in his last moment of lucidity reached out for someone, anyone’s hand, from the guy who hasn’t felt companionship in hundreds of years probably, hasn’t taken it slow and slept and eaten in who knows how long, from the girl who feels compelled to care after him like she’s always done with others… And the beast-ness allows her to have some freedom to figure herself out in a weird way, to simply enjoy being beside someone and doing anything her own whims tell her to.

It’s very destructive and weird and layered but like…. I can see the sliver where it works out. Where her kindness reaches him and he has a moment of lucidity where he sees her and it’s like, wait, who are you, you’re not the dragon?? Where finding someone else who feels just as messed up and devoted as them, like they’re just trudging along life like it’s a dream following their loved one, heals them a bit. Where caring for the other becomes a way to care for themselves too, a dark mirror of each other that shows you, oh, this is how bad it can get and I want to choose something else for myself actually. To grow to see the person standing in front of you, instead of only searching with your eyes in what way they’ll reflect on you. In helping each other, finding some companionship that’s weirdly vulnerable and self-healing. He gets her in touch with herself and her own needs again through the arc and conflict they have, and she gets him in touch with the world and his surroundings again. They have clashing ways to be selfless, very self-sacrificial from Falin meanwhike self-centered with Thistle (he ‘knows best’, ‘everything needs to be left to him’, etc etc, he needs the control, but he does it all for others, meanwhile Falin leaves that control to others and only grabs it for herself in exceptional cases like sacrificing herself to the dragon for Laios).

Like just let yourself be, damn!!! So then them being like, zombie mentally stunted babies kind of enhances that theme in a way too lol. The way they communicate together is very… Instinctive and basic, and I’d love to see how it could develop into a functional dynamic. They’re in ‘learning to be your own person’ kindergarten together to me. Thistle looking at her coloring wildly outside the lines and being like "you’re doing it wrong" and then you look at his and he colored everything a weird color. The precision is scary but then his crayon goes 1 mm out of the lines and he blows up into tears. Ok the metaphor has run its course

So yeah like the ship/brotp is very, them being isolated and against the world together and like… Slowly regaining their minds together. Getting their sense of identity grounded into them again. In my mind they have a 50k words adventure where they hang out and he slowly realizes there’s more to her than just dragon and she encourages him to dawdle around and eventually just play in water and shit and it’s like, starting to see life again beyond the laser focus you limited yourself to… And she’s allowed to just chill out and do whatever she wants besides the whole searching for Delgal thing. You can’t tie down a dragon! They are a duo they are an unit‼️ He’d have been fucked without her and at this point in time he sort of made her and he’s her world. Traumabonded kittens do not separate but it’s onesided in different ways haha. Honestly it’s sort of reflavored mickuro wait fuck…

If nothing else, they’re a very interesting dynamic to ponder. The depths of it all… I want to use them as a social experiment. I want them to stop to smell at the flowers and learn to work together… They’re master and servant they’re owner and pet they’re mothering and mothered (in a guardian hound way, in a mom friend way) they’re both incredibly (emotionally and physically) vulnerable in different ways…… Master and monster if you will. Mostly I see them as guardian & leader. Like I said I ship them but it’s not really romantic atp I think but it’s not quite qpr either it’s truly a weird secret third thing… What if we were sort of coworkers but also ?!!!>??????! You should hate me but you fiercely protect me I should appreciate you but I only see you as a tool WHAT IS GOING ONNN IN THERE

He wants to be protected even if he can’t really admit it. Here the catalyst was emotional distress moreso than physical threat. Notice how he lays there under her wing for a bit as he (refuses to) processes what Mithrun told him about Delgal dying and betraying him. She’s becoming his safety net, his comfort hound. Somehow, the both of them find they’re soothed in each other’s presence.

It kills me. Them being so toxic at the start of it, then somehow ambiguously just hinting towards how things could have went on to be better, could have been headed somewhere nice and healing and healthier, she dies and he dies everyone fucking dies and they forget each other and it ends there they never speak of each other again. Canon wanted me dead specifically. Like remember too that I was there when the last chapters where being released, my ass really was like "Oh I wonder how Falin will react seeing Thistle after being revived!" 🤡 But yess at least that means there’s a lot of Unsaid, a lot of space for speculation, and I want to see what could have been. I want to see it so so bad. It’s so interesting

Post-canon is also so interesting, where they’re sort of recovered but not fully not really, them actually getting to know each other… And she doesn’t remember him but he doesn’t remember her either, in a way they’ve never met even though they have, even though she was the first one on his side since so long, the first hint of companionship he’s had, companionship that he’s so unused to getting that he can’t even recognize it for what it is. He couldn’t even recognize a human standing in front of him!! He is so disconnected from others and the world!! He spoke to ghosts like they had no worries in the world and everyone was ok!! He’s out of touch, tone-deaf af!! Has always been tone-deaf!! Being tone-deaf when he was younger, a stick in the mud, caused him to be more isolated than he already was… Autism4autism, anyways—

It’s them not knowing why or how to express it but being drawn together, a bond forged together by the fire of circumstances and coincidences— or is it only that? No one can know for certain but there’s a grip they have on each other there somehow. Weird distant caring thing. I dont know who you are but I feel like I should know you

It’s like my headcanon that she doesn’t know why, but on her travels she feels something when she comes across wild thistle flowers… There are just faint remnants, whispers of feelings like ghosts.

They should be remnants in each other’s lives. A deja vu of a person in the way Falin hugs small dolls to her chest, or how Thistle reminisces of something when he sees bird feathers discarded on the ground. < This paragraph courtesy of @cabinette’s huge brain

He canonically writes poems btw… Poems would be such a good way for him to get in touch with himself again post-canon, find desires in again and get creative fulfillment. He should make poems about her. To explore and vent and express all the vague feelings and memories he has, both those of during canon and after canon. He doesn’t remember her but he remembers her, slivers of kind eyes and warm gentle hands and healing magic like a blanket…

Yaad, an unlicensed therapist but the best you're gonna get in fantasy land: Maybe you should try journaling.

And too the thing is their relationship with each other in a way is ONLY about themselves, even when Falin is being self-sacrifical it’s less about him and more about how she generally is, that sort of instinct to latch onto someone and just follow along with whatever they do and ask, meanwhile to Thistle she’s only ever been a factor in his plans. Idk idk them getting to that point where they see and know each other, stumbling into that through canon or actively working towards it post-canon, there’s weird beauty in that Like. Thistle cares about her because he’ll take anyone as long as they fit the job description well enough, he’s desperate to find Delgal and will grasp at straws to find him. In a similar way that he’ll reach for someone, anyone’s hand on the verge of death, she seeks to protect someone, anyone. That’s how she centers herself, makes someone her compass and her world. Falin wants to protect someone and Thistle would use anyone, pushed to the states they were in they would latch onto anyone for comfort (caring for him, grabbing Marcille’s hand).

Mirrors truly truly. And Thistle likes to shatter those, and silence anyone who tries to talk to him about reality, so then the option left is to be by him quietly and subtly gradually, gently (her specialty) nudge him in the right direction … Nooo but actually why did he shatter those mirrors. Very interesting to think about. Would seeing himself in others anger him?

I like to call him a ghost of who he was sometimes, a ghost of the past, he’s so haunted, and I think there’s fun imagery there too. The care she offers Thistle somewhat reminds me of the one she offers ghosts. I wonder if part of it is that she sees herself in ghosts, that she wants to offer them freedom and peace of mind she can’t get for herself.

And of course meanwhile on her end, the thistlin arc is also about growing self-respect. I don’t want to see Thistle as a lost cause in saying that her efforts are wasted on him, but being so permissive and invested in him is obviously not healthy for her. She needs to learn when to put her foot down

Oooh, just realized that choosing to eat in this scene was a big character moment all things considered. By eating she faltered in her task, stood up for herself and her needs, was selfish for once (/positive go get your damn food girl). She chose to eat. Anyways

I bet he’s the one who healed her wounds after the Shuro party fight. And on that note— it’s interesting he could change her form from Falin to Faligon without touching her isn’t it? Healing by everyone else like Marcille and Falin always required touch, physical contact between the healer and healee, which some like Chilchuck say is a negative, but… The dungeon lord not needing to touch to heal makes a nice metaphor for how isolating the powers are I think. Truly clinical instead of warm. Theme of community and freely offering affection in Dungeon Meshi etc etc. Like I said, Thistle is out of touch.

The way that he has the powers to change her form and heal and like soo much magic power but he can’t even realize when he’s hurting himself and she’s the one who has to heal him. He’s so fully devoted to the cause even when he acts selfishly that he neglects himself too, and she has to remind him to take care of himself, to eat, etc. That she feeds him. Eating is an act of love to yourself and to life. The berries, the curry, the soup that Thistle refuses to eat—

Do you see the vision. Do you see all the narrative relevance and themes and parallels of their dynamic. To chase ghosts, to cling onto them so they stay with you no matter how warped and ugly they get, and to soothe souls, purifying them and helping them depart for the afterlife… Both magic prodigies whose lives revolve around protecting and caring after their loved ones more than anything else. A family member who looks elsewhere while they are their whole world. They can flee their emotional issues together 🤝 Who are we? Beyond who we love and our power, what are we? I think about the way she cradled him in her arms just before they fell down into the dungeon all the time idk idk

^ End notes from the one fic I wrote about them so far: Slivers, on AO3. For a moment, they were both slivers of themselves, bound together.

Thistle feverishly holding onto ghosts of the past and his source of power, meanwhile Falin cradles the people she can protect in the now with the powers that reside in her… Him cradling his book, her cradling her master……… Parallels

Interlude

And yess it’s important to remember too, Thistle became a mage only after delgal asked… He had innate talent, but moreso than Falin it’s through studies that he learned to actually harness his magic etc. Idk I think it’s an interesting parallel that could have interesting stuff be done on it. People often characterize him as predominantly bratty but. He’s smart and composed he’s mainly smart and composed… He’s unstable and everything during canon was happening all at once with the winged lion being freed and Laios’ party and the canaries and agh </3 He can have a meltdown as a treat he’s smart and cool-headed if it wasn’t for the dungeon wearing on his mind ok… Obvi I love my chars with anger issues but saying he’s overly childish is having tunnel vision I think

Ok so the elephant in the room… First of all how present is Falin in Falugon exactly…… We have no clue. The end sequence does show her in purgatory with a dragon foot holding her down, which can easily be read as it suppressing her personality- with how it’s shown though it feels like she’d be fully suppressed by that? And we know that’s not the case, since not only does she recognize Laios and calls out to him, she hesitates to hurt Kuro because of the dog association, she’s excessively kind towards Thistle, the latter which her Adventurer’s Bible profile confirm to be "her kind nature remaining as the chimera". Maybe it’s a dream-like state? Maybe the dragon is the driving force with the instincts, and it’s only bits of Falin and her personality that show through? A state of mind very primal and not very think-y, even if Falin has enough brains to think of sharing the berries, gesturing and oh- of course, casting magic. No issues with controlling the human half of her body as well. To some degree, her and the dragon are working in tandem. My own preferred interpretation is the driven by instincts one, a state of mind like an actual dragon’s, which in my Falin analysis I delve into the significance of it for other parts of Dunmeshi too. So yeah, dreamlike mindless autopilot… I think exploring her pov as Faligon would go super hard. Aware of her surroundings but sort of disconnected with it, and disconnected from herself too, entirely living in the present… And like with her talking to Laios— the only time she speaks in her chimera form, a simple observation, "Laios, brother", sometimes her human thoughts peek through more sharply, short moments of lucidity… I think it’d be interesting to see an arc where as the chimera, she learns to share the "brainspace" more with the dragon.

It’s also unclear if Thistle had a say in how much of ‘Falin the human’ is in control? He very well might have suppressed her somehow when he changed her form to be more dragonlike. That might also be due to just getting back the dragon meat though— and the dragon meat itself might be why/how the brainspace is shared. There is a lot less of Falin’s body in the chimera than there is of the dragon, body mass wise. Dungeon Meshi is a lot about physicality so I wouldn’t be surprised with this reasoning. But there’s the whole mind control soul bond situation too…

The mind bond is another thing that’s left mostly to interpretation when it comes to the details. She feels compelled to listen to the dungeon lord’s orders as a monster created and owned by it, like the dragons Thistle summoned during the fight at his house, but again like we see with the dragons, if the monster has a "strong will" it can disobey to some level without being punished by the bind or anything. The eyes of the magician, the small wyverns, level-of-control wise can’t be accurate examples because they’re sort of like familiars, Thistle can see through their eyes in real time no matter where they are but it’s only this species as far as we know. So otherwise the mind bond is more subtle… There’s also the question of how much the control is shared between the dungeon lord and the demon, which again Thistle’s situation is exceptional because he managed to seal his demon in a book, presumably all the power goes through Thistle without the intermediate of the winged lion, though we do see he has some reach since he reaches Laios through his dreams. ANYWAYS all that to say. I do really ponder about how a dungeon lord's monsters get their orders, like... For the fight on the first floor, did Falin just feel Thistle's agony in her bones and came clawing and barging her way in desperately and angrily to protect him because of his distress, or did he more directly demand she come, consciously or not?! Idk, since Falin is actively protective of him unlike the dragons who reluctantly listen to him, her being very fast and intense about it doesn’t have to be forced… It’d be interesting if she can sense his feelings, wants or thoughts, bc I don’t think it’s as conscious as like, telepathically communicating "hey you, do this"…? Pondering, pondering. Mind bond <3 Soulbound <3

They’re both very trapped in the past… I wonder if as Faligon a lot of her mind goes back to memories of Laios and such, if she’s in a dreamlike state and not just sort of absent, where would her mind retreat... I don’t think so like I said I think she’s mostly driven by dragonlike mindlessness, but still… Thistle stuck in the search of Delgal, thinking back to everything they’ve shared and where it all went wrong obsessively, and Falin, sort of larping that she’s still beside Laios, not unlike how Thistle treats having the corpses of the royal family at his house like them being safe. Delusions. Idk I just want more character studies.

The metaphors in this truly… It’s not literal, like def not something that happens during canon at no point are they or could be ever atop a mountain of frames and paintings of the Golden Kingdom’s royal family and fine art lmaoo, so then like the meaning behind it all… She offers him reprieve, an outsider from all the Golden Kingdom expectations and drama, just someone warm to lean on, someone who’ll stay…….. I love Faligon pushing him to rest and nap so much. Man has first nap in a thousand years. Feather duvet like a nice warm pillow. The peace she offers him man……. Live in the present bbygirl Unfortunately it doesn't help. Look at them eyebags… Man needs to sleep!!

Part 2

^ This panels drives me crazy It’s the possessivity. It’s the "my". It’s the "stealing".

What if you have fear of abandonment and think you have to prove your worth for people to stay by your side. What if belonging to someone makes you feel like you belong and you feel loved and soothed by it lowkey, feel like it makes things easy. What if I was bought as a slave and servant but I was adopted into a pretty loving family. What if ownership is what love looks like to me. What if that’s why I have no problem rationalizing keeping people against their will in a glorified kingdom-prison, because that’s just what someone with the power who Knows Better does, and… Did he always call her his dragon hello? Feelings

He is not letting it go damn He hates when people mess with what's his. Or Delgal’s.

But imagine. The dragon is like, the last thing he has. The Golden Kingdom has moved on from him, everything is shit, but his dragon is the last thing he still has some realm of like. Ownership over. But that ownership is kinda just his sense of belonging. His role, his duty.  So it’s like "Don’t steal the last thing I have" especially if post-canon… It’s thinking from his time as a jester bought into a loving family that ownership is natural in love and care. It’s thinking that’s the way you get to belong beside someone, beside earning that through achievements and being useful and capable. Everything is being stolen away from him. Control and things and people and even the importance he has to the Golden Kingdom as he becomes part of the background & past history and the kingdom switches into new hands aka Laios’…

My dragon, not the dragon. I do like to imagine especially after the berries he’s starting to feel differently about her. He keeps being like "you’re acting odd, dragon". His dragon is special. She’s not just another regular monster npc to easily replace, there’s human contact in there. His dragon just for him. <3

I do think Falin has some issues with like, asking to be with the people she loves, feeling safe in asking for that, that she’s worth that. She follows them and is quiet and just takes the crumbs of love that they offer, she doesn’t ask Marcille at the academy to spend lunches with her, doesn’t ask anything of her distant busy father and ill anxious mother… The person she did ask things of, Laios, who she always asked to go travel the world with him and whatnot, left her behind. Like how Delgal left Thistle. Theme of leaving </3 theme of family and abandonment issues </3 So she just follows and cares after them and makes herself useful and is grateful she gets to be beside them at all. So yeah what I’m saying is being owned/belonging to someone might feel yeah like, belonging. Being One Person's. He’s seen her at her worst and most bloody and raw, and still wants her? Very comforting And especially post-canon he doesn’t need her to be witty or useful or such, he just needs her love and that’s what she has lots to give.

Do you think Falin wants to be needed… Do you think she’s a little restless if she doesn’t feel like she is, like she thinks just like Laios people might leave you behind and you never see them again.  It’s also because of what she said, that she put others before herself, that she just followed/imprinted on her parents/Laios/Marcille. She avoided conflict, she wanted to be liked and live in peace. The only times she was selfish, she hurt people (left school for Laios, sacrificed herself for them, teleported them out despite possibly hurting people on the surface), so she chooses to be selfless instead. "One of the most selfish things i've ever done was barely even for the sake of myself" - Falin and Toshiro both hah Falin is often told she doesn’t care the right way or not enough, you’re cutting classes Falin, I’m upset you left me and you don’t even seem to think it’s a big deal Falin, you shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself to save me (her not noticing her ostracization in her village wasn’t told to her but I’m including it also). And with Toshiro when considering her proposal, she was worried to accept because yeah it’s have been convenient but she wouldn’t be reciprocating his feelings in the way he wants and expected her to with what he asked of her… And she’s worried it wouldn’t be right… Bc she doesn’t care about the proposal on the same level he does….. I just think that’s neat I think that Falin caring both too little and too much, with laser focus on Laios & Marcille neglecting even herself, is a big part of her. She focuses on others and their emotional needs so so much always, babygirl be selfish for a while…

Thistle’s interaction with Laios is interesting too, especiaoly when Kaios heals him. How he looks at his shoulder, surprised and confused… Guy who's used to not having his personal needs met because he's so busy doing everything for the people he cares about receives care??? Woah that’s crazy Something something being so unused to human contact and affection that you don’t know how to process it and don’t recognize it when it happens/stares you right in the face. Thistle the Toudens are gonna make you open up ur heart to humans again on god…

What if… He doesn’t want to admit she’s not the dragon. If he admits it’s not the dragon that means giving up some control… This was not in his plan, he doesn’t know how well he can control a chimera rather than a dragon, it’s weakness it’s vulnerability it’s feeling like he’s losing his grip on everything again and thus losing his place and purpose. Hmm…

Finding yourself through someone else… Because defining yourself through others is what you’ve always done… Yeah. Yeah.

I do love it tying into Falin’s arc of finding herself. Like, she doesn’t remember her time as a chimera, she just remembers this guy she has conflicted but fond feelings of for some reason, so say if they travel post-canon, traveling with him would also be a way to figure out more how she’s feeling, and then there’s how when looking at him she gets the feeling that it’s been a long time he hasn’t lived for himself either… And like for him traveling is about seeing the world a bit too. Seeing it not as something to control or always dangerous but something to explore, and just enjoy the little things instead of worrying about the court. And just. Aghhhh. He hasn’t had someone on his side for centuries. Sighs. Of course Yaad also becomes that largely but traveling post-canon with Falin… Would love to see that in fancontent

Them growing to SEE each other, with the film in front of their eyes slowly fading away. Both of them coming out of it more genuine than they’d been even before meeting, before becoming warped, growing more comfortable in their skin and with the thought of connecting with others. It’s the mutual care <33 it’s having been on each other’s side at both your ugliest <3 Unconventional caring...

Toshiro saying "you can’t tie down a dragon" is always so good… Someone should so do stuff with that. "But you can tame it" / "I tried to once" / "but she chose to stay with me anyways"… Musical theme of How to Train your Dragon starts playing in the distance

When/after they get together, I feel like their relationship isn’t something they like to label… If anything it’s like. Partner. Or calling each other by name… Him calling her my dragon, except now it’s warm and personal would be so. Aughh <3 But then that just also makes the first time he calls her by name so huge.

Conclusion

They and their relationship is weird and unusual but that’s just how they are, and how they need to accept themselves (again: as they are) and roll with it! And make a place in the world for them anyways!

Magic forced them to be vulnerable in front of each other but it’s them who have to like… Be pushed out of their passivity and do something with that vulnerability.

BROTHERSSS THEY’RE BOTH ALL ABOUT BROTHERS. LEAVING. OUT OF TOUCH WITH REALITY. OUT OF TOUCH WITH THEMSELVES AND THEIR OWN IDENTITY. In a twisted way only the other would understand what it’s like.

Thistlin is so crazy, in humanizing you it humanizes me, in recognizing you for what you are I get more back in touch with the world again.

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom there are risks and drawbacks. Thistle was Falin’s.

It’s not everyday you can have a ship where both characters are out of touch with reality and others and themselves and have this weird almost innate bond of her being compelled to protect him and care for him and him holding onto that unknowingly… Even if he didn’t need to, keeping her by himself and sitting on her while he plans and has a panic attack….. And also he owns her and robbed her of her freedom & body & full mind but she still wuvs him. Weird intimacy with the guy who horrifically changed you into something else, and yet is not even aware he has done it.

Falin loves nature and Thistle is named after a flower… Her post-canon coming across wild thistles and feeling a rush of fondness and she doesn’t know why… Thistles have thorns, but they taste sweet. Just gotta peel them off and enjoys the sweet taste of it once it’s open <3 Eat it like them honeysuckles

Slice of life 40k words thistlin sitcom I need you. Don’t make me write it myself. Sob

You are so so close sweetie…

wutiwant

I don't know what I want But I know it's not this These words don't mean nothing Once they left my lips More awake inside of my dreams Was that really you, next to me? Give me what I want, who am I supposed to please? Who am I supposed to please? Who am I? Who am I? I? Give me what I want Give me what I want

Some links, since the pair is small enough that finding stuff for them can be hard: Falin & Thistle search on pixiv Falin & Thistle search on danbooru Ao3: Thistle x Falin, Thistle & Falin Ship names: ファリシス / シスファリ. Thistlin

My own spotify playlists: Thistle & Falin, Thistle, Falin

source v

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

My dearest lord of the burrow, I beseech you, please grace this mere peasant with another scrumptious Demiurge fic? You, my lord, are the only individual I have found in my travel on this desolate land known as Tumblr to create gender neutral or male reader Demi fics and one's that are not of a sexual nature.

If you would hear my plea, this one would be eternally grateful. You, my lord, may call me, 🥕Carrot.

Seraphim SB Part 2, Electric Boogaloo~

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Greetings, noblest 🥕Carrot anon, one has heard of your quest for gender-neutral and male reader Demiurge content and sends you this small offering to hopefully quench your thirst... even if this is only slightly Demiurge related... sorry about that. This particular work is a gn reader one as pronouns aren't mentioned at all, and it is a continuation of a previously received ask since there were no specifications in the ask you sent. —Benny🐰

Original Post

                                                                                                   

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Presenting…! An short overview of Seraphim SB's general information!

It wasn't mentioned in the original ask, but Seraphim SB is the heteromorphic race ‘Angel’ and has gotten to the maximum evolution and level, reaching the class of ‘Seraph’. I thought of a passive trait of theirs being that they have a natural holy aura around them that purifies anything within a certain distance of them. And by anything, I mean, living and non-living things.

As mentioned in the previous ask their aura harms those of undead or demonic origin, steadily chipping away at the health of those who are at the same level or higher and hacking away at the health of those of lower levels. The effect of Seraphim SB's aura is so powerful that even Ainz has to step away from them after a while after seeing his health become three-quarters of what it was just an hour ago.

As said above, Seraphim SB is a Seraphim; in angelology, Seraphim represents light, ardor (enthusiasm & passion), and purity. This would mean, after a little while in the new world their overall demeanor would become incredibly positive, bright, and enthusiastic.

The positivity they hold never dissipates even in the most serious or depressing situations, as their mind no longer allows them to feel negative emotions; their racial qualities completely blacking them out. They'll also take on a strange sense of innocence that makes those around them feel an irrational need to protect them from certain things and people. Seraphim SB's positivity also affects those around them, driving being into an almost deranged happiness if they stick around too long.

Because of Seraphim SB's holy origin, most if not all of the spells, skills & abilities they use are also of holy origin. Their particular skill is somewhat similar to a command order, but it's strictly directed at other angels. This skill, ‘Buisine’, allows players of the seraphim class to issue irrevocable commands to those of the angel race that are ten levels or less below them. Not only that, but angels and other holy beings have a natural want to follow, serve, and protect seraphim as they are usually a sign that a God is nearby.

It's already been established that Seraphim SB is the law of Nazarick; they are the judge and sometimes the executioner. But, who's the jury? Seraphim SB has two NPCs who act as their jury, each one is of a race that can split themselves into multiple consciousnesses with a maximum of six. They give off the appearance that each part has its own thoughts on each case, but in reality, they all share the same thoughts, goals, and morals stem from Seraphim SB. So to be clear, the “jury” is also Seraphim SB. It was also mentioned in another ask I received, but they can summon a sort of instant domain in the form of a grand courtroom that can seat thousands.

Let's talk about Seraphim SB and their relationship with others in Nazarick!

As stated in the previous post, Seraphim SB pays the arch-devil no real mind. They usually ignore most of the people around in favor of having a constant internal celebration instead. What do they celebrate about, you ask? Anything. Back on topic– Because Seraphim SB is physically and mentally incapable of having negative thoughts and opinions anymore, they usually fail to see the wrong in anyone's words or actions.

Demiurge wants to take over the world in the name of Ainz and themself and also happens to be kidnapping humans and doing unspeakable things to them at the Happy Farm? Okay! Sounds great! Shaltear was brainwashed and is fighting Ainz? That's awesome, Seraphim SB is rooting for both of them! Albedo wants to hunt down and kill any other players she finds? Cool! They're wishing her luck! 

Seraphim SB is also incapable of reprimanding and forgiving others, they can't identify that any wrong has been committed and because of that, have no reason to punish or forgive them. That may make you wonder how they can accurately judge others when they commit a crime against Nazarick, but they trust that the book of laws that Ainz gave them is correct and they abide by it without fail. They also have Albedo, Demiurge, and their NPCs to point them in the right direction when it's needed.

Because they trust so readily and are easily manipulated by others, Demiurge, lucky for him, has been assigned to Seraphim SB as a sort of protector and a balance to their morals. 

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Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[lemon-russ]

Another slightly shorter one as i'm still getting over something

but I wrote enough that It started to haunt me so its ok it needs to be purged

Part 9/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(both POVs today)

CW: Vague alluding to sex, not much going on today

Summary: Cato a makes sane and normal choices to take a beach episode

word count: 1,712

Cato has a brief moment of clarity. What is he doing. Oh holy emperor what is he doing. He acted on impulse, he'd ordered his ship to that warp damned paradise world, and now, he sat behind the controls of a thunderhawk, heading toward the planet the ambassador was on.

He breaks out in a cold sweat. He can still turn back- say he thought he received a distress signal or something. But he grimaces and can't seem to take his hands off the controls. He'll just say Guilliman told him he could pick his next assignment and he decided he also needed to relax. Why should the Ambassador and Titus be the only ones to get a break? Yeah, that's it. He's choosing to take a break. That's all.

His stomach was doing back flips, and his hearts were hammering against his ribs. What the hell is he going to tell her? What if she's cuddling up with Titus when he gets there? He gripped the controls harder, making them creak under his powerful hands. No, it's fine, he's allowed to do things. She doesn't own the galaxy. He can go relax in hot springs. With her. Or not, whatever, he's not just going there to see her. It's a coincidence.

He brings the thunderhawk down to land at the welcoming hangar. Well, he's already here. Might as well go look around at least. He's never taken a day off before.

_________________________________________________

You sigh, stretching out a bit in your chair. You have a fruity drink made from those fancy fruits this world is known for, and your feet dangle in warm, soothing water. You're laying out on a chaise partially in a natural hot spring, in a bathing suit you had to get while here because you've never needed one before. Not like this- any that the ultramarines have for mortals in their ranks are utilitarian one pieces. This one was basically underwear, two pieces and decorative, but everyone here was dressed like this.

You flop back in the chair and sip your drink. You're trying, you really are. But you're so, so bored. You kick your foot in the water a bit, trying not to pout. You're not ungrateful, you just wish you had more fun company. You glance at Titus, who stands politely nearby with his back mostly to you, as not to stare. “Are you sure you don't want to join, Commander?” You ask again hopefully. Is there a way to order someone to pretend be your friend? No, that's mean, that'd be an abuse of power. But you can ask nicely.

Titus glances over his shoulder, “Ah, again, I can't, apologies ambassador. But I am ok, do not worry for me.” He said with a smile, turning back. Uhg. He's nice, but by the throne you wish he'd let go a bit. You sigh and flop back out.

You sigh exasperatedly. “Commander, would it bother you if I talked at you?” You ask tiredly. He chuckles, and walks over to stand by you. “Of course not, Ambassador. Talk away.” He says softly. You roll on your side, laying on your hand. “Do you mind guard duty?”

He smiles a little. “It's not the most exciting, but also not so bad. You are pleasant company, my lady.” He chuckles slightly. You smile. “How do you feel about Captain Sicarius?” You ask.

He quirks a brow. “Uh, he's… well, what is it they say, if you don't have anything nice to say…?” He chuckled. “He is a good fighter, probably the best duelist in the Imperium. That is all I shall say.” He said, smirking. You raise a brow back. “Oh? So, he's an asshole to you guys too, is what I'm hearing?”

He laughs a deep hearty sound, “you could say that, lady ambassador. It seems you are not free from his wrath either.” He says lightly.

You chuckle and shrug. “He's a bit if a bully. But we get along sometimes.” You say, glancing away. You shouldn't say exactly how well you sometimes get along, you figure…

Titus doesn't miss your look, and his face grows curious. Before he can ask further, the two men nearby both make a noise. “Sir?” They say in unison, and Titus turns back to the entrance of the private little spring area.

Titus makes a surprised gasp as well. “Captain? What are you doing here? What is wrong?” He asks in a panic, hand flying to his bolter. “Is there danger?”

Your head snaps up and you jolt out of your seat. Captain? Cato? What in holy Terra-

“At ease, commander. I simply ran out of things to do, and Guilliman had recommend I take a break. I decided I would.” He says, walking into your view. Your brow shoots up. Hes out of his armor, and dressed…. Casually? Where did he even get plain clothes? They're still ultramarine fatigues, but the t shirt and loose pants types they'd sometimes wear in training.

Titus looks baffled. “You're… here to… take a break…?” He asks as if he's being tricked. Cato smirks that cocky way he does and walks past him. “what, am I not allowed?” He chuckles. Then his eyes fall on you and your heart stutters. He smiles and lets out a sigh, shoulders relaxing. Which confuses you a bit- he wouldn't come here just to see you, right…?

“Captain…?” You ask, standing. His eyes widen a bit as he looks you up an down. “Ambassador. You look… comfortable.” He says, clearing his throat. His eyes longer on your chest and you blush a bit. “As do you…” you say a bit awkwardly, eyeing how the shirt clung to his massive arms. Your mind betrays you with the image of those arms caging in your head as you look up at him from your back- stop, stop that, you scold yourself, focus.

“Are you here as a guard or…?” You ask, voice a little heavy- damn it, stop getting excited- You clear your throat again. He smirks a genuine smile. “Nope. Just decided it was super unfair you got to take a vacation and I had to work.” He says, not bothering to hide how he's looking at you.

Titus, still standing near you, clears his throat. “Captain, weren't you supposed to be training new applicants today-” he's interrupted by Cato shooting him a glare. “I checked on them. They're fine. And you will not speak so freely to me, Commander. I am still your captain.” He snaps. Titus flinches, frowning. “Ah- Apologies, Captain.” He says, frowning and looking away. Does he look… disappointed…? No, you're imagining things. But Titus makes no move to leave his guard of you.

Cato stares daggers at him for some reason, then pulls a chair over next to yours and sits, his massive frame making the poor furniture groan under his weight. He smiles down at you as you sit back on your chair. “So, how does one… vacation?” He asks with a chuckle.

________________________________________________________

Oh Emperor, what is he doing. He’s sitting next to the Ambassador, feet in a hot spring, sipping some horrible fruit drink concoction. He didn’t even tell his Father he was heading here. He lied to Titus when he arrived- Titus who stood infuriatingly close to the Ambassador constantly- and told him Guilliman gave him permission to be here.

But by the throne was is worth it. He was both very pleased by her current clothing, or lack thereof, and furious. He knew she’d be prancing around in nothing in front of Titus, but he didn’t expect whatever this thing was. underwear. it was underwear. Just enough to cover his favorite parts of her- barely- and even sporting a bow between her breasts. like a gift. He’s glad he opted for loose fitting pants as he shifts forward to hide himself a bit.

When he arrived she’d been laying on a chaise thing, talking to Titus all sweet and cute looking. He could kill him. He shot another dirty look at the commander, who tried to suppress another frown at the glare. Playing innocent, like he didn’t know why Cato was angry with him. Coward, he should admit he’d been trying to get close to her and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, or fight him for her like a man.

He huffs, glancing back at her. She looks a bit concerned. “You okay, Captain?” she asks with a small frown. He sighs, “yes, yes. Is there anything else to do? this is…” he gestures at the water. “Fine, sure, but, surely it’s not all this world offers…?” he says tiredly. She tilts her head, frowning and- is she blushing? She glances back at Titus. Emperor damned Titus, he knew there was something between them-

“Commander, you’d trust me to be with Captain Cato without an Escort for a bit, right?” she asks a little sheepishly. Oh. well, that’s better than he thought it was. Titus frowns deeply, brow scrunching. “Ah, My Lady-” Wow, really? he calls her Lady? “-The captain is unarmored, and Lord Guilliman insisted you have at least two guards…” he said, shuffling nervously.

She pouted- Throne he loves that face, he smirks- “Surely there’s no major dangers Cato- um, Captain SIcarius can’t handle himself? We won’t go far…” she actually bats her eyelashes at him. He doesn’t know if he should be jealous, disgusted, or impressed by her blatant display. But it works, Titus looks pained, frowning hard but sighing. “…Don’t go far.” He says tiredly. “Father will have my head if something happened to you…” he grumbled.

Cato grins. “Excellent, let’s go.” he says, hopping up and taking her by the arm. She grins at Titus, “We’ll be nearby, don’t worry” she assured, but Titus looked very stressed about it regardless. Cato smiles and follows her lead as she holds his elbow and leads them toward a building. Cato spares a smirk back at Titus, catching what he can only describe as unbridled jealousy on the Commander’s face. Cato grins wider, returning his gaze to the small mortal woman leading him who knows where.

He can think of an excuse to tell Guilliman later. For now he thinks a vacation was a very good idea.

[animeyanderelover]

Hello🎀Can I request Hashirama,Tobirama,Madara,Itachi,Shisui,Sasuke,Tsunade,and Obito with a darling that has a bunny quirk?Like mirko from my hero Thank you 🧸

I wish Mirko would have gotten more screentime in the recent season of Mha. I ended up mentioning the holy thighs a lot because damn~

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, manipulation, blackmailing, delusion, sexual harassment, abduction

Darling has a Rabbit Quirk

Madara Uchiha

🌑 Initially Madara is rather judgemental when he sees his darling for the first time after having heard all the amazing stories surrounding them. Bunnies aren't exactly the most intimidating animals and your rabbit ears and round tail are the talk of his clan as they make fun of you. Madara shows himself as slightly suspicious, even if your muscular thighs do tell him that you have power in your legs. It isn't until he actually witnesses you eradicating a training ground with your strength that he changes his opinion slowly. He'd definitely be interested in training you with the main focus on taijutsu considering your abilities, although he'd go out of his way to train you in ninjutsu too since he considers you worthy of his time. Watching you fighting in is already a treat in itself since he starts considering your thick legs as rather attractive, he's probably staring at them quite a lot. Needless to say, he's the only one allowed to look at you that way though so if he catches anyone else ogling at you because of your appearance, he'll remind them quickly that you don't belong to them. He's most likely already busy arguing with the eldest to take you as his spouse.

Hashirama Senju

🌳 He's somewhat flustered by your appearance when meeting you for the first time too as your ears, tail and your thighs catch him off-guard but he's not judging you for it. Hashi is open-minded and welcomes you warmly in his village. You're quite unique due to your interesting skills so you end up in his center of attention a lot thanks to the influence of his clan. Honestly, he thinks that your ears are really adorable and secretly he wants to really touch them, not to mention your thighs. He can't help but keep on glancing at them and besides wanting to lay his head on them really badly, sometimes his thoughts wander in more unholy spots much to his embarrassment. He's a worshipper so you can expect him definitely praising your skills and your looks a lot, star-struck whenever he is able to watch you in action as he stands there in a daze, watching you destroy the ground with your legs. He's aware that your looks can be the attraction of negative attention though so he reacts very sensitive when someone tries to pull you down because you have ears and a tail. Even if his darling is chill with it, he gets a bit mad on their behalf since he loves them too much to just sit back and say nothing.

Tobirama Senju

🌊 He does his best attempt to keep his composure although even he can't help but be slightly stunned when he meets you for the first time. It isn't everyday he sees someone with bunny ears and a tail but Tobirama is just as aware of your incredible skills in taijutsu so he tries to ignore your appearance and instead focus on your talents. He's probably so embarrassed and in a hard state of denial in the beginning as somehow the aspect of falling in love with someone who has rabbit features seems under him. Despite that now he can't help but focus on your fluffy tail, your long ears and especially your thick thighs and you caught his ears going red when he stared at them for too long, most likely due to his thought process. He's just as much aware that he's probably not the only one thinking like that and that instantly puts him in a sour mood so he often questions you whether or not the shinobi on your missions ever give you secretive glances or talk dirty about you. Because if they do, you'll never be teamed up with them again. He puts you eventually on his own team to keep a better eye on you, snapping at everyone who gives you a wrong look. They should learn to respect you because you're going to be his future spouse.

Tsunade Senju

🐌  Tsunade is very worried about her s/o being the victim of sexual harassment since they have some rabbit-like features, even if she's fully aware that you're technically fully capable of dealing with any lecherous people yourself. Still, if someone ever dares to make one wrong comment about you in her presence, they'll be personally send into the hospital by her. The woman likes to fawn over your cute appearance herself though when there's no one to anger her. She is very, very sceptical to send her s/o on high-ranked missions out of paranoia that she might lose them too, especially if they have a similar attitude and mindset as Mirko. The council and Shizune constantly have to convince her since you're one of the best that the Leaf Village has to offer. You're tough when it comes to injuries yet Tsunade will still make a big fuss about you anyways when you return with wounds after a mission, personally caters to all injuries. Jiraiya might have some interest in you due to your look but if Tsunade realizes what he's thinking, he's probably going to have another near-death experience thanks to her.

Obito Uchiha

🔥 There will definitely be problems if you're not up for an abduction but the best of luck anyways dealing with this paranoidand delusional mess of a man. Obito certainly won't let you leave once you've captured his heart but it's alright, he could never be really mad with you. Your appearance is misleading in a way for him as he connects bunnies with something soft and innocent, tends to ignore the fact that you could easily crush him in between those legs of yours. Maybe he secretly wants that...He's up for admiring and worshipping that body of yours too, he loves your ears and loves laying his head in your lap, it helps him calming a bit down. He's down bad and very trigger-happy so if he ever finds out that there has ever been someone who insulted you, mocked and bullied you because of your special abilities, he'll definitely go on a murder spread and avenge you. Honestly, if there really are cases of bullying due to your rabbit-like appearance, he'll only feel more validated for wanting to keep you away from the world and only to for himself. The world is so cruel and unfair after all, they will only use you and push you down for your special powers.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂 He's one to contain his slight astonishment upon your unique appearance better as he knows that the Hokage trusts in your abilities and for that he wants to respect you too. Shisui is from the very beginning someone who warns people to not make fun of you or underestimate you because of your special jutsu you've developed. Most such comments calm down if they themselves witness your strength, speed and keen intuition themselves and there's a sort of smug feeling whenever Shisui realizes that they've become more careful around you, slightly scared of you now. The Uchiha treats you like he would everyone else he admires and respects, does his best to never stare at your ears or your legs or tease you for having such bunny features. His obsession is quite well-contained, although your uncanny intuition might just tell you to be a bit cautious around the talented, young man. He has zero tolerance for anyone who sexually harasses you and attempts to touch your tail or your ears and oftentimes his grip on their arm is so tight that they beg him to let go because otherwise their arm will break.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡 Similar to Shisui, he won't judge his darling for having certain bunny-like features as he's aware that that is just part of their powers. At times he finds it rather adorable when your ears twitch or you indulge in your favorite meal which ironically happens to be carrots. It is saddening to see other people shaming you for your appearance and for your strength though as you're an outcase in the village you live in. Especially if you have lots of experience with bullying and sexual harassment will Itachi make all the more effort to treat you like a normal person, although still slightly wary in case you decide to attack if you recognize his robe with the red clouds. After an abduction he'd probably have to be very careful if he ever plans to take you into a village since you just stand out with your long and pointed ears, your round and fluffy tail and your huge thighs. If he ever hears someone still making lecherous and inappropriate comments about you though, his eyes grow cold with silent fury. I do feel like if his darling and him get along well even after an abduction, he'd be generally less worried about leaving them alone because even if they might be found and attacked, they'll be more than capable to defend themselves.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙 He thinks of you as a joke the first time he sees you in Orochimaru's hideout only to be slightly humbled after a training session with you where he isn't able to keep up with your speed and barely avoids being crushed like an egg by one of your kicks. Not that he'd ever admit it but he definitely treats you with slightly more respect after that day, although he can certainly still be mean. Sometimes your appearance bewilders him though as his eyes awkwardly run back and forth between your eyes, your thighs and your ears. Sasuke finds himself growing jealous and possessive the moment others marvel over your appearance and reach out to touch your ears if you allow it. Not like he ever allows others to do so, he always stops them with a dangerous glare and a painfully tight grip on their arm, yanking the hand away that was previously about to touch your fluffy ears. You draw in general a lot of attention to yourself and Sasuke just isn't a fan of it so no wonder he isolates you as much as he does. People who flirt with you or make suggestions because of your bunny features always end up hurt because Sasuke doesn't tolerate anyone thinking like that about you, except himself of course.

[inviisiiblelee]

just a little note so I don't forget this about my Overpowered!Vox AU, in which Vox becomes the strongest Overlord entirely on accident and through necessity.

The idea of deaths as a Sinner and regeneration having long term effects. You get sent to maybe purgatory, or some sort of void, and must make your way back to fully return. A sort of maze. It gets easier the more you experience it, but typically it only take a month max for most people. And usually they come back faster.

Vox himself doesn't do well in the dark. His first death, if he ever experienced one, would take twice as long. Three and a half months before he returns to his body, or reforms, whichever is easier.

My interpretations of Vox and Alastor insist they've known one another and have been close since they met, Alastor took him under his wing, so to speak. But when Alastor left for seven years, he left Vox behind, who had always been weaker. He wasn't a fighter; he preferred words.

But he was a mess without Alastor, and they had left on poor terms, and he was vulnerable. When he finally died, being attacked for his vulnerability, people didn't stop trying to kill him, trying to take the credit of killing the Media Overlord, who once was protected but was no longer.

Over and over again. Three deaths, twelve, twenty-five. He only needs a week now. After forty-five deaths, he started getting forgetful. He started losing track of time, forgetting how things happened, and becoming paranoid. After fifty deaths, he upgraded his body to support on hand weaponry, including holy weapons.

After fifty-three deaths, he started attacking first, reacting to every little movement. Carmilla and Zestial deemed him a liability, in spite of his many, many soul contracts making him prime need for Overlord meetings, requesting Valentino or Velvette permanently take his place. He would corner those he attacked, if he could refrain from killing them, demanding their souls in return for mercy. They would usually accept, with angelic steel pressed against their necks.

After fifty-seven deaths, he had a hard time recognizing anyone, and remembering what was reality, and knowing whether people were trying to threaten him or not. People die by his hand often because they look at him wrong. He doesn't fall apart emotionally anymore- he fixed that after death forty-seven. He's almost indestructible, safe from himself, at least.

His mind is never quiet. His thoughts are too loud. Sometimes he thinks people can hear them. He scares everyone. People run from him, now. It's odd. But he can make them stop. He is so powerful ... a single turn of the spiral in his eyes and none can resist his commands. He is paranoid. Anyone as fragile as he once was gets his protection. He will lose his mind if you tell him no, or give the slightest hint of attitude or what he may deem as odd behavior. Killing is daily. Accustomed to. He may not be very good at fighting, but who needs to be when he can shape up to be roughly the size of Godzilla itself? He would eat Adam whole and spit him back out if he wanted to, and while Adam would be capable of beating him, he'd have to react fast enough.

Vox has turned into the single most powerful and most terrifying Overlord, but also the single most insane being in Hell. He has no sense of self anymore. He lost everything, including his mind, after Alastor left.

When Alastor returns, Vox doesn't recognize him at first. It's only lucky he ran out of holy-tipped bullets that day or he'd have killed him! Haha!

"How long has it been? Twenty years? Oh. Only seven? That's good. It's been too long, still, old friend, let's catch up!"

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

i wonder if u agree, but sometimes when i read old man rust x younger oc, it's weird to me picturing somebody in early/mid twenties bc, realistically, that would make the oc around his daughter's age, and i don't think rust can go for that. i say that as somebody who's 23, so i don't mean to exclude younger women or whatever. anyway, that's why i really like your oc bc she seems like an actual match for rust and not bc of age, but bc she's just the type of person i can see him falling for, i guess? like directly canonically in the series, so yeah, thank you for your work!!! but that got me wondering: when u started to write, did you have somebody in mind already and thought of how that sort of oc will work with rust, or did u ask urself what sort of person compliments rust best? sorry if this is too much trouble.

NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE i think this is acc a super interesting ask!

my opinions below the cut…

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

RIGHT so i wanna preface by saying EVERY SINGLE rust oc story ive read so far has meat to it, like the authors know their shit and they should get their due snaps and kudos

i think i read younger ofcs with like a pinch of salt in the sense that i know it’s a bit crazy — btw this is coming from someone who had a “relationship” with a much older man at the ripe age of 16 — but i think it’s still good to read

things we experience can be ugly and uncomfortable but it’s still real and a part of me appreciates like keeping it real 💀 this is going to sound a little femcel of me but let’s be honest, sex is about power and the dynamics of that power give intricacies to stories that make them interesting! rust is a man (😔) and have you ever seen that one study of like ages of women men find most attractive and it’s a consistent 20 even as men get to like 70

yeah

keeping it uncomfortably real but real nonetheless

true detective is southern gothic and what i love about southern gothic is that it doesn’t shy away from touching on the less palatable corners of human existence/nature/WHATever. do i see why a daughter woman child thing as a love interest to a middle aged man with a dead baby is off-putting? YES. do i still read things along those lines because it’s interesting? ALSO YES. because more often than not creators are self-aware and explore these topics with nuance, which i respect massively

now onto like the sort of second part of you ask, beautiful anon…

when writing The Idler Wheel, idk if i was thinking as deeply when creating an oc as i was fixated on the weirdness of rust and ocs like yearning 😭? for each other, and the fact that he felt anything at all was a massive woaaaahhh for them both. the way we experience / act on desire (not even sexual just any kind but actually maybe especially sexual) says so much about a person and i guess that’s the single point from which i branched out, and every other aspect of her came later

the reason she/oc is not like twenty is because, similar to what you said, i cannot picture 1995–2002 (around that time) rust with a youngYOUNGGGG woman becaaaause holy shit i think he’d just die, like out of sadness or hurt, i think he wouldn’t be able to look at her at all 💀

old dog rust on the other hand does not give a shit about doing what’s “right” imo if that makes sense, like he’s who he is and he feels what he feels and i think this version of rust would be much more receptive to a younger woman, even if it’s “wrong” because he literally just doesn’t care anymore

i think the only reason The Idler Wheel girl was able to sneak her way in around that time is because she’s grown and a part of his workplace and therefore she should be “safe”, no more than any of his coworkers. so he lets her in his space and he lets her bring him coffee and he lets her do him favours because she’s just like the others and he just has to tolerate her, just has to see her

but of course she’s not like his coworkers and he can’t place why he wants her so bad, only that he does, which is bad because she should be mundane and she should be nothing and yet unfortunately he wants to be her dog

does this answer your q or did i go off on a tangent

i love you anon 💕💕💕💕

[ladyclwriter]

State of Grace - Paul Atreides!AU

I'm not a Dune reader, I only watched the movies. Everything here is fanfiction!

Summary: Paul succeeded at bending most of the noble houses at his upcoming command. You are the leader of a Minor House, Polaria. Spending some time with Paul before battles, you find yourself resonating with Muad'Dib, and your advice to the older boy is: don't let them take Atreides from you.

Longshot, time jumps, platonic, gender neutral reader, lots of high fantasy stuff

*In purple: creation of mine, fanfiction.

The curved walls weren't welcoming, it's dead gray like a panicking hug, differently from the colorful shapes of your planet. You could still remember the suffer of waking up inside concrete boxes, which they called chambers — at your little palace, the place where you'd settle your head to sleep was adorned on silk, feathers, and rainbow furniture. Walking through corridors busting with laughing children, maidens carrying baskets, warriors with swords, elders with it's incenses perfuming the air. Greeting many faces, and trying to remember all of them, was a daily task. You had to smile even when you didn't want to, for there was no time or room for melancholy and paranoia.

And now, you would find yourself praying to find anyone at all willing to even look at you. Irrelevance, how much of a pain it could be. And loneliness was a death sentence to a Polaritia.

After your platoon playing a definitive role at a conquering battle against one of the Major Houses, Duke Paul started to pay more attention to you. He'd discuss attack plans with you, trust your guidance and build teams at your observations.

“They have no reasons, nor power, to come against me” he said nonchalantly to Halleck. “Sometimes the weakest, the smallest ones, are the ones to trust”

You were teached to be trustworthy, but not the one who trust. The Atreides house could hold the power of the Voice now, but forgotten people like Polaritia mastered the ability of listening. You'd spend minutes hearing the Duke's casual thoughts, his worries, his plans and his craziness. From time to time, the boy would talk to himself, lost in visions and ghosts that only he could deal with. You were there, standing like a tree, pretending to not be paying attention until he remembered of your existence again.

The catch is; there was no catch. You were as important as a stone, a tool, your value based on for what the Duke would need you for. And it had to change.

“Your Highness, Muad'Dib” you get on a knee until he pats your shoulder, walking to his own bed.

“Polaris” he says in a casual tone. The title of the leader of your little nation became your name. Actually, he probably doesn't know your name. “It's late. And you don't come to me without a reason. Something bothering you?”

Not that he cared if the answer was yes. You stand straight, hands behind your back, eyes following the skinny man as he sits on his duvets. “I'd like to ask what awaits my nation, Your Highness”

He raises a dark eyebrow. His hair follows his head as it tilts slowly, blue eyes looking at some specific point inside your being. That eerie aura only he could carry.

“You should be clearer, Polaris. That sentence could have different meanings. And I can give you as many answers” yes, he could. Your eyes wander from his, as you inhale and humbly declare:

“I have no interest on your holy visions, Muad'Dib”

His eyebrow is still up as he smile, and nod. For a moment, he's silent, looking at nowhere, caressing his own hands. He nods once more, not talking or daydreaming, but coming to a conclusion. Your heart was beating at your ears, a pressure on your chest as the worst answers come to your mind.

“Your people is amazing at arts, we could make use of some cultural schools. And no one compares to your acrobatics” he's not looking at you while he speaks, making sure his thoughts are being well articulated. “I don't need more worshippers. But I don't need more nobles too”

When his eyes meet yours again, there's a silent question in the air. You were following his logic, and you knew the right answer to give even before he could ask. He knew that too.

He leans back at the bedpost, hands crossed on top of his spread legs. “Can Polaria promise neutrality and loyalty?”

The answer was a definite yes. There was no room for a no. Yet, you keep seconds of silence. Your lips part, and your eyebrows lift slightly. But your face gets back to a plain, obedient expression.

“My people has a deep passion for the colors, for the life” it wasn't an explanation. “With your protection and affection, we would be guardians. Your art, your culture, our enemie's. Not vowed to the House of Atreides, but servants of joy and knowledge. A safe place for the ones interested on nurturing something more than power”

He stay quiet. His eyes go to nothing again. His thumb clashes against the back of the white hand it holds, feet swaying carelessly. It lasts a minute or two, until he looks at you with the most serious face he could do in his sleepwear.

“Isn't passion the biggest of the fuels, Polaris? Wouldn't your House behold a power too high for it's hands to reach?”

You couldn't contain the sparkle in your eyes. That specific feeling at the roof of your mouth, something warm inside your stomach. The smile wasn't at your face, and your voice was cold, but he could see through the etiquette. His own pupils dilated with interest, challenge.

“We are inside a flying machine, Muad'Dib” your hands tighten at your back, and you don't know if you're breathing when he smiles right after you say: “The sky was never a limit”

Ever since that day, for the first time, the people of Polaria had a purpose. The citizen captured the message, and in no time the planet was well organized to be some sort of academic safe haven. The well trained warriors were with you, battling for the Imperium. Your acrobats, illusionists, and alchemists something to be reckon when joined with the Fremen. Your mind was always aligned with Paul's, and even if no one would dare to consider you such, you became an arm of his operation. But, as nothing can be perfect, the Duke of Arrakis would also keep you at an arm's length. You couldn't read the reason, not when he looked so distant and nonchalant every time you two were alone.

Being alone with him was as entertaining as terrifying. He was easy to memorize, easy to decode, if you pay enough attention to the details. The way he would smile at things without importance, or the way he couldn't hide the turmoil inside his mind when destiny obligate him to go against him instincts. Changing weight from a feet to another when about to snap at someone, or his jawline straightening when in the smallest amount of fear.

“You seemed so sure about this. The marriage, I mean” the commentary comes out in a quiet tone, as you don't look at him in respect. “What changed?”

Can I help you in any way? was the question. He kept staring at himself on a mirror, the royal silver outfit contrasting to his disheveled hair. He asked the maidens to leave before they could finish his look. The boy needed silence, and it was understandable.

When he doesn't answer, you look at the floor. “Is it the Fremen woman?” his fingers twitch beside his body. That was enough.

There was nothing you could do about his lost love. Nothing you could do about any of his feelings, at all. So, you stay there, quietly waiting for him to speak up. When he does, the distress wouldn't be detectable. Except for the fact you knew him enough to do so.

“Do you think these clothes look good on me, Polaris?” you don't answer, but your eyes go back to his reflection. He's quiet, and you only know you were supposed to say something when his eyes meet yours.

You swallow words. Compliments and critiques. He reads it. An eyebrow is lift, a silent inquisition.

“I do, Muad'Dib” you say with an uncommon hesitation. You knew he needed more than that. “Personally, I dislike it. The attire, I mean. It... It is the Imperium style, their colors. And... That doesn't feel like you, Your Highness”

He ponders. That was clearly an unexpected answer, but he didn't seem to disagree. “I bet you don't know the colors I used to wear”, his tone was cold. “Black. Dark like tar. In simple attires, thought to represent both royalty and strength.”

Considering the armory, and how he could pull it off, you could picture he looked equally good at those. But you stay quiet, letting him think. “This feels wrong. It's too light, makes me vulnerable to any threat. It's shiny, attracts attention. It's trouble” he was mostly talking to himself. “I'd be dead in minutes wearing this at Arrakis.”

His voice drifts away. He tense up, jaw clenching. Fear. Fear of losing his past. Himself. The woman he truly loves and the people who put him where he is. And his eyes water. Sorrow, grief for what was no longer on his life.

“Duke?” you call out. He hears, but doesn't react. Your chest inflated when you inhale deeply, closing your eyes while doing your best to maintain education. But you decide to flip the coin.

Your steps are purposely noisy when your boots reach the floor. You stop at his front, but not directly, not blocking the mirror. Your gloved hands find his collar, fixing an asymmetric button.

Your skin burns when his eyes are on it, and the air inside your lungs suddenly feels too warm. But you play nonchalant, hands slow, delicate, careful not to break into his walls. “If the worms of Arrakis could see, they'd call you dramatic. That's how I would describe the high houses's style.”

He raises an eyebrow, like he always do when curious or barely listening to you. “In my planet, we dress however we wish to. I, a leader, could wear either a white dress for battle, or a pink armor for a dance. Our streets are almost blinding with colors. It's insane, really.”

Your fingers trace other details of his clothes, fixing slight errors, straightening the shiny cloth. “I can't really see the use of a silver attire. It's brilliant, it's smooth, but... What is it implying? Why is it relevant to an Emperor?”

“I don't see the dramatic part” he comments lowly, emotionless.

“The drama is a whole House have a color to dress. Unnecessary, vain, indeed” after having nothing left to pretend to fix, you join your hands at your back, meeting his eyes with a polite smile. “I know my House is loyal to me and our ideals, even if we are many, and not only a family. We don't need a color or a shield. We're Polaritia.”

He only looks at you, taking what you said with a cherish he couldn't express. A nod, and he turns on his heels, summoning maidens to fix his hair.

Mission accomplished. You eased the tension on him once more, giving him something random to think about.

The days would go on like this. When not on field, fighting, you were wandering around spaceships, fortresses, either busy with the newfound Cultural Center of Polaria, with your own platoon, or, well, making sure Paul Atreides wouldn't go insane. The more battles won and planets conquered, the more his eyes would go hollow blue. Distant, shallow, lost inside his disturbed mind. His marriage with Princess Irulan, the already settled weight of him becoming the Emperor of the Known Universe, while being the Messiah of many people, was draining every single bit of humanity the young man had. And you were there, watching, trying the best you could to keep him sane, alive. To keep him as, well, himself. And it was an agonizing way to live.

That eyebrow wouldn't lift. His jaw wouldn't clench. No half smile, no silent curiosity. At a certain way, it was killing you too. And, hours before the ceremony of his marriage, you decided to step in.

“Excuse us” the maidens didn't question; not after your months of work and lone moments with the Duke. “Your Highness. I'd like to talk”

No answer, as always. He was sat at his bed, hair combed back, wearing a shirt that was being taken care by the maids. You stop right in front of him, determined. “Don't you give me that dead fish face, my lord. I know you hear me. Talk to me, please”

His eyes find yours slowly, emotionless. That makes your whole being shake with anger and frustration. “Sir. Talk to me” you demand. When he keeps staring at you with those glass eyes, blood burns in your veins, and you snap. “I will not stand here and watch you falling by the strings of a fate you didn't choose”

No reaction.

“For fuck's sake, Moad- Paul!” you yell his name. For the first time, it comes out your lips in a shout. “You are the fucking future Emperor of the New Universe, former Duke of Arrakis, of Polaria, Caladan, and countless other planets we raided days ago!” he wasn't reacting, but listening. His eyes weren't on yours, but down. At your moving angry lips. That could make butterflies on your stomach if you weren't so pissed. “You are the first man to behold the Voice. You are the Lisan al-Gaib, the Harkonning bastard who gave us freedom. You are a living legend, a god, a savior!”

You point towards him, you spit your words. None of them resonating within him, neither within you. No, these weren't the titles he needed. These titles weren't him. “Your Highness. Paul. I...”

How painful it would be to watch such a man fall for the manipulation of forces he himself could dominate. You get on your knees. Taking his cold hands in yours, you lay your forehead at his palms. “You are good. I see goodness in you. I see faith, of a million souls. And I see hope”

As you lift your head, the vibrant blue orbs are fixated on yours. His irises shake, switching from each one of yours. A reaction.

“And I see me”

It was true. You've been thinking about that for days, working it in your mind. “I was born to shine a light on my planet. To bring us recognition, greatness. To be Polaris”

He blinks. Just once. Listening.

“I lived under the shadows of a hundred people's expectations. Literally a hundred. That's our population” you chuckle bittersweetly, tears in your eyes. “And it was heavy. It was twisted, torturing. But I had to do be. If it wasn't me, no one would. And it was hard to not lose myself on it. On who they wanted me to be”

You squeeze his skinny fingers on yours, hoping it would convey your empathy, your deep need to bring that man back to life. You did it for yourself, once. And he deserved a chance.

“Paul,” it cascades down your tongue, your lips. Caressing your teeth with a sour taste. “before all of this, you were someone. You were the son of Leto Atreides and Gesserit Jessica. The boy of Caladan”

The stories were clear. And you had to study them, as Jessica required you and anyone near Paul to. “You were a loved son. The light of your parents, and your family, even if too monotone sometimes”

You get up on your feet slowly, pulling him by his delicate hands, and he follows. You lift your chin to the tall pale Duke, and whisper:

“Become a myth alive, Paul. Conquer the New Universe” your voice shakes, and by the warmth in your eyes, you know you had tears. “But, please, don't let them take Atreides from you”

His eyebrows twitch. You gasp, finally having a reaction. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, and you laugh alone at the way your emotions were overflowing. A hand is lift to the back of your neck, and you don't think straight when your face is against his bony shoulder blade. But you close your eyes, hands at his back, clenching the fabric in it.

He wasn't a friend. Or a companion. But you hug him tight, crying for the lost man whose chin was on top of your head. Whose nose was, now, sunk in your hair.

“The universe will be damned if you get lost” you whisper, voice shivering.

The feeling of his hand running softly in your hair gave you goosebumps. He was certainly not normal, certainly not the Paul Atreides. But he was, at least, conscious.

“The ones unseen are the ones to befriend” his voice is warm, low at the side of your head, reverberating inside your chest. “For in the cold darkness lies the truth of men”

His hand cups the crook of your skull, as he lowers his head to perfectly whisper at your ear:

“Stay with me, unseen one. Help me thread through the shadows surrounding us” it wasn't a command, but it wasn't a suggestion. A whisper to your soul, your beings speaking to each other.

“I will. I will stay with you, Paul Atraides” you whisper against the cloth of his blouse. Well, that was the feeling his believers had. Reverence, hope, submission. You understood it all.

“Thank you” he sighs, sending electricity down your whole body. One of his hands travels up to your cheek, and he looks inside your eyes like a lost, madman. But completely sane, as he whispers:

“I don't think Paul Atreides will exist for long” he admits, melancholy I his tone. “But with your help... Maybe I can have faith in me.”

I watched the movie and I had this sentence in my mind. "Don't let them take Atreides from you". And I had to find a way to put it out.

Please, tell me your thoughts! Every commentary is appreciated.

And to the ones who follow me, sorry for the hiatus. I'm working on some stuff and I promise I will try to finish them this year (lol).

Thank you so much for reading!! Love you all