#taking a break from drawing... by drawing? sure!
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In sickness and in health
Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinvitch x sick!wife!reader
summary: You've been having some weakness in your right hand and Robby encourages you to get it checked out. You end up at the neurologist, who gives you bad news.
Angst.
warnings: mentions of ALS and its prognosis, talk of DNR, reader will die in future (not written).
Masterlist
"Damn it!" You whisper as your knife drops to the floor. You bend to pick it up again, forcing your fingers to close around the utensil to grab it.
Robby puts his own cutlery down, his big brown eyes looking over you, trying to figure out what is wrong.
"You know," he begins softly, "That's the third time you dropped something with no reason these past couple of days. I'm starting to get a little worried."
You inspect your hand, trying to figure out why it's been feeling weird this week. "At least the seventh time, actually. I keep dropping my pen at work and I smashed my phone on the floor without warning this morning." You squeeze your finger together, relieved they seem to be working again. "You think something's wrong? Something bad?"
Robby keeps his eyes on your face trying to bring this delicately. He takes of his glasses and puts them on the table, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
"I'm an emergency physician, my brain always heads straight for something bad, that's what I'm trained for. But that doesn't mean it actually is anything bad, we just have to rule it out. You've probably strained a muscle somehow, or you've been overworking yourself. You've been tired these past few weeks, it could just be from that as well. But check in with Dr. Smith, just to be sure. He'll draw some blood, maybe send you to a neurologist, and then it's probably nothing. You're healthy, you exercise. I'd guess it's probably just fatigue."
You nod at him, forgoing your knife to tear of a piece of toast with your fingers.
"Right. So diagnosis is probably just fatigue or something with a muscle, but possibly something a little worse to do with my brain?"
Robby smiles at you reassuringly. "Right. Just call doctor Smith today, go in to see him tomorrow and then we can stop worrying, all right?"
Two weeks later you and Michael are sat in the office of a neurologist. What was supposed to be just a few blood tests has turned into a whole array of other testing, and with each one you've grown more scared of what might be going on. The doctors and nurses keep saying they can't tell you anything until all the tests are done. You had the last of your test a couple of hours ago and you've been waiting on the neurology floor for the doctor to give you the results. Robby was paged up just a minute ago.
He is holding your hand when the doctor breaks the news. He feels your hand start to tremble as you listen, his big thumb stroking your hand to let you feel that you are there.
"So what's the next step in this?" You ask, trying to control your voice, "Surgery? Medication of some sorts?"
Both of the doctors in the room stay quiet.
You turn towards your husband. "Michael. Please tell me. I can take it I swear. I can guess at what your silence means, but I need you to tell me. I need to know."
He swallows and tears fill his eyes. "There's no... cure. Not for ALS. Not yet."
Your throat feels constricted. "What do you mean there's no cure? Explain it to me, because I'm not sure I fully understand. There must be something we can do right?"
The neurologist steps in.
"Unfortunately, at this time there is nothing we can do to stop the disease. We can treat your symptoms to slow the disease, make sure we help you to keep living your life the way you want to for as long as possible. But you have to understand, ALS is a fatal disease."
You feel panic rising in your body, constricting your breathing and setting your brain on fire.
"Are you seriously telling me I'm dying right now? I don't feel sick at all. I'm not even fifty. I just came for a check up 'cause I was having trouble holding my pen at work. I wasn't even going to come in. Robby convinced me and I wanted to soothe his worries. This is- this is...."
You swallowed, your throat terribly dry all of a sudden, "I'm supposed to have another thirty years at least. I'm supposed to grow old with Michael. We have so many things planned, so many dreams."
Michael releases a sob next to you, crumbling, hiding his face in his hands. You look 'round to him in shock. It's not like Michael to break down like this.
You try to control yourself, try to remain calm for Robby's sake.
You aren't sad, you tell yourself. You're angry.
It must be a mistake. Yes. That has to be it.
You don't notice the tears rolling down your own face.
"Are you sure about this? My primary care doctor sent me here just to be sure. He said I was probably just overworked, wanted to rule out anything that had to do with my brain. That's all. We just had to rule it out."
The neurologist continues. "That is what we hoped, but the results are very conclusive. We did several tests and we believe your disease has not progressed far, but you do have ALS."
Robby has stopped crying, he's looking at a drawing of a brain behind the neurologist's desk.
"How long do I have?" You demand. Robby shrinks in his chair.
"ALS progresses very differently for each individual." The doctor answers.
"Don't give me that crap." You snap at him, any grasp you thought you had on your emotions now failing you, "How long?"
"It could be months. but it could very well be years as well. as many as one in every ten patients makes it to ten years. With the right treatment we can keep you around as long as possible."
You swallow. "And on average?"
"The average is around three to five years."
You slump back into your chair, unable to speak. Your hand finds Robby's. He squeezes your fingers and looks over to you. His eyes are red and you can see the path of his tears on his cheeks. He tries to smile encouragingly, but you can only see the pain and worry in his eyes.
The doctor closes the file in front of him and looks you in the eye.
"I think you need some time, both of you, to process this and talk about it. It's very difficult news to come to terms with, I know. Talk about it together, let it sink in. I'd like to see you back here the day after tomorrow, we'll talk more about what's going to happen and what our treatment plan will be. There's some clinical trials we should discuss as well. You can always call me with questions, but I think doctor Robinavitch can answer most of them as well. We'll take it day by day from here, all right?"
You were sitting in Robby's car half an hour later, both without words. Robby had gone down to the Pitt, had whispered to Dana what was going on and left without speaking to anybody else. He left a senior resident in charge. All colour is gone from his face, his brown eyes popping even more against the pale skin, the skin around his eyes red from crying.
You were the first to speak. "Michael, I wanna say something, and I need you to respect that, okay?" He turns towards you.
"I did some googling while you were inside." Robby tries to interrupt. "Let me just finish, please. I probably shouldn't have looked it up, I know. Doctor Google is almost never right. But I did look it up."
You look at some faraway point, trying to focus enough to put your words together correctly.
"I read that, uhm, I read that I'll probably die because my muscles won't be able to support my breathing, or my heart anymore, and I'll go into respiratory arrest. Am I right so far?" You looked back at him and he nodded, his eyes focusing on yours.
"Okay. I want to sign a DNR then. Tomorrow."
Robby pulls at his hair with both hands. "Jesus, fuck! Darling. I'm still trying to process you being sick. I'm nowhere near discussing this."
You put a hand on his thigh and give a little squeeze. You reach for his hands to hold them so he will stop pulling his hair.
"Thats fine. You don't have to be ready to talk about it. But I am ready to talk about it and I need you to listen and except what I'm saying. I want you to know, I need you to know; I don't want any heroic measures. If I stop breathing, I stop breathing. Thats it. If I'm going to die anyway I don't want to do it at a hospital with a tube down my throat. I'll die on my terms. And I'll do everything to slow the disease, I promise you that. Absolutely everything I can. But when it's time you've got to let me go. I want to make sure of that tomorrow, so there won't be a time where you have to make a decision. Not like with Adamson. I can't put you through that. It's my decision to make, and I've made it."
Robby can't talk anymore. He feels like his tears should be close to drying out but they keep coming.
You climb over the console, into his lap. You stay there in his arms, your tears disappearing into his black scrub top, his big hands rubbing circles on your back.
"I promise." He murmurs to you after some time, his lips touching your hair. "We'll do it all on your terms; living, dying, you tell me how and we'll make it happen. I promise."
A week later Abbot finds Robby on the roof. He'd taken a week of work, but at your pushing he was back to work that day. You want to continue you own work as well, want to feel like a normal human being while you still can. So you kicked him out of the house and back to the Pitt that morning.
"Hey man," Abbot opens, "You wanna come on this side of the fence? So we can talk?"
Robby turns around but doesn't leave his spot.
"Dana told me. I am so sorry." Jack keeps his focus on Robby, ready to sprint if he moves any closer to the edge. His face is calm, his eyes filled with pity.
Robby nods his thanks. His arms hang still at his side.
"How do you do it, Jack?" He asks, "Wait for your wife to die?"
Abbot keeps his eyes locked on his friend. He thinks for a minute before answering. "You don't wait, brother. You live life, keep on living, till you can't anymore. You lean on your friends, your family. You go to therapy so you can deal with what you feel, you love her, spend every second you can with her. You try to engrain every part of her into your brain so you don't forget. It's damn hard, and you'll cry and curse out the universe for doing this, but the two of you can handle it. Together you can live life a little longer. You don't wait for her to die, brother, you live, together, while you still can."
Robby moved to the other side of the fence, hugging Jack before going down the stairs together.
#the pitt#the pitt fanfiction#dr robby#dr robinavitch#dr michael robinavitch#michael robinavitch#dana evans#dr robby x reader#dr robby x you#the pitt imagine#the pitt fic#noah wyle#the pitt hbo#jack abbot#dr abbot#nurse dana#the pitt 2025#dr robby imagine#robinavitch imagine#the pitt x reader#robby robinavitch#dr robby angst#michael robinavitch x reader
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Remmick would be WAITING for one of your sex toys to break. Uses his thought projection to tell you that you need him because he won’t eventually break like one of those toys. Can see him being lustful enough to risk a little burn to scavenge it out of your trash on garbage day, some time before the sun starts setting. He is licking and smelling that thing and jacking himself to the taste and scent of you.
yes yes a thousand times yes🤍🤍🤍 + sequel for my previous ‘pretend its me’
explicit 18+, dirty talk, peeping tom, double penetration, fantasies, oral, masturbation, filth, everything smutty above
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you’ve really given remmick something to look forward to. something to idealize and a goal to chase after. someone that isn’t just the next blood bag to rip open and then throw away
remmick still aches inside while he’s pleading to you and the stars above him like it’s some deep holy prayer all the while still very deliberately messing with you in your head
the pervy little fuck that he is takes full advantage of your pliant mind to mold you. ingrain some of his favorite scenarios into you that he has while he gets so goddamn worked up from outside spying. pathetically drools as he’s posted up in that same tree outside your bedroom window. his go to excuse was that it’s not like he had anything else to do with his time. this ultimately became his new favorite sickly way of spending it
visions of having you pinned down often scrambled any thinking thoughts you had left after a long day. remmick would have you envisioning how he’d position you, how he’d fuck with you using those impressive sized toys to his advantage
thinks of getting you spread open wide and salivating for it as he’s smiling mischievously right above you. he’d keep his jaw hung open to let a nice drag of spit dribble down until it spreads over you. smoothing you up to take what you were gonna take
thinks if he had the chance he’d line up one of your rubber toys right above his cock like it’s another fat strap on before slowly stretching you out with both at the same time. spears them inside at the same time
feeling your hole clench and try to accommodate the thick girth of both dicks. he’s as whiny as you are, gushing over how beautiful you look getting stretched impossibly. filled to the very brim. his fingers take great care keeping that toy and his cock squished together close, moving real nice and slow for you at first
he’d takes extra time drawing out the made up scene of splitting your pussy open on two bulging cocks at once, making you compare out loud to him which one is better
one moves real nice and warm inside you, don’t it?
remmick knows what his hips could do to tease you, go gently side to side before slamming all he has in
he’d shake his head in utter disdain at how that rubber toy on top of his cock ruined all the slippery, heavenly friction that helped guide him between your legs
this other one just feels so stiff and so cold… you don’t need no lube to get on mine, I promise. s’this feel good, having two cocks in at once?
imagines giving you some well deserved sweltering ecstasy, making sure he’s pounding his hips good the way you’ve evidently craved day in and day out for so long. now without having to do any of the work, leaving all of it up to him instead. and nothing else would make him happier
other visions got lodged in with the rest, soon turning into ones strictly without a toy in sight. nothing to wash or plug in and recharge. just remmick. all the parts of him. remmick’s tongue, remmick’s cock, his lips and his hands. he makes the obsession all consuming
shows you other ones drowning through his thoughts like him on his knees and lapping at your pussy like you’re his only water supply. drinking and kissing up your slick mess
visions like spending way too long with his favorite foreplay. taking his cock and slapping that fat round head directly down on the throbbing hood of your clit. watches how those harsh blunt beatings on your pussy had you writhing and squirming like he was burning you so good
when the jealousy over your own rubber collection started becoming proper torture for him the whispering in your head got a little louder. louder but still delicate in your ear, straight in your subconscious that yeah those toys may be all fun and games when you’re riled up by yourself, alone, but do they ever truly beat the feel of the real thing? and honey, d’you really believe you been all alone this whole time?
he licks off some loose saliva hanging off his lips. fangs releasing as his cherry colored eyes dilated twice the size. like he can’t handle how hard his own daydreams made him. how it was so fun to force feed you all of them right out of the palm of his hand
we both know those things ain’t gonna last you long pretty girl. even that new one y’got that you been riding like a cowgirl every night. thing’ll wear down fast f’you keep gettin’ as needy as you do
sure as shit didn’t think a proper lady like you could take all that dick in so goddamn fast… m-must be real fucking wet. I love it. you’re always dripping down them legs, getting it on them sheets
he wants, he begs that someday somehow you’ll throw away those bedsheets too. soaked and unwashed just for him. manifests it
his eyes hone in on you, smiling teeth fully out on display in the dark. his greedy dick starving for more. starving for warmth.
bet you’ll be beggin’ to feel the real thing soon. and it’ll feel good for you ‘cause I got a real one right here, he tugs on the giant tent poking through his trousers with a tight fist. he sees how immediate you are, stroking your clit with the tip of a finger at the probing imagery of his cock. does thinking ‘bout the real thing too much make you wet, babygirl?
some could call it luck but remmick knows fate when he sees it and fate was what it was. truly your timing couldn’t have been better
it looked so precious - watching how short fused and pissed off you became when one of those batteries gave out and died on you about halfway through a quickie really early in the morning. hears your ramblings to yourself about hating having to deal with batteries and has a smug laugh to himself
and it’s stupid early in the morning. like. remmick shouldn’t have even still been out. his skin slowly started to crawl and bubble and burn like it was pressed up against a skillet under the warmth of impending daylight
but you were up and at em, so he wasn’t interested in anything else. nothing compared to watching how you ground those hips down on that loud, buzzing, battery-powered one that intrigued him enough to obviously keep feasting his eyes. before you could cum for him one last time it dies on you, freezing your high mid-moan and it seems like you’d had enough
of course he’s still staring with hyper vigilance and baited breath as you’re marching out your front door with a loose bag of trash in hand, slamming it in the can carelessly before stomping right back in. watches as you head back to your room. sees your heavy head fall to the pillow. body language screaming that you were irritated with defeat
remmick goes back and forth between watching you and eyeing the trash you left out front. might’ve been fucking foolish but it would be absolutely fucking worth it. he smells that used up toy that you’d rid yourself of and shoved inside the trash. and now the risk was a no-brainer
the opportunities it gave him felt delicious, felt endless. once his grubby creep hands snuck it from your garbage he’d been fucking his fist on it ever since. gets to thoroughly smell you and taste you now so distinctly up close for the first time was easily more than enough to have him busting untouched before his hand even gets started on the job for him
he gives that cute little toy some long feverish kitten licks so he’ll get to taste the ghost of you and your creamed up slick. digs his nose right into it, inhaling hard to reminisce on all the sticky memories you’ve had with that exact toy tucked right between your legs
mm. should get rid of a couple more of these for me. right after using them too. what a good girl. tastes too fucking ethereal, baby
remmick thinks it’s adorable seeing how you toss and turn in your sleep in the midst of all his mind games. knowing that he’s the root cause of this restlessness. knowing that he’s the one that’s had the underlying thread of control over whatever plays behind those eyelids. anything that goes on in your imagination. all without you ever knowing
your name leaves his lips in a hushed rasp. he knows you can hear it when your head lifts off the pillow in real time, barely conscious before he’s in your head again while spitting down his own cock yet again. teasing himself with some wet slow drags up and down
agonizing me. tempting me. got me out here touchin’ myself, gettin’ off on your sloppy seconds, a smirk appears while he holds onto the base of it, shoved in one of his pockets of his trousers
strokes two fingers down the length of that used toy with his unoccupied hand before taking a lick of those same fingers like your trash was his own dirty little trophy
fucking shit… gonna—g-gonna make me cum again. pussy’s already the death of me—
his full body shudder could’ve sent him tumbling down from the branch he barely still balanced on. with his eyes screwed shut and that hand still vigorously stroking, he doesn’t see it in time when you’re first waking up. half conscious and trying your hardest to drill the nonstop slideshows of getting fucked behind your eyes. you shake your head and try to pinch yourself before any more paranoia sets in
he’s still lost and blissfully unaware to see you trudging over as if you might as well have been sleepwalking. in an instant you’ve slammed your window shut, ripping both curtains until they’re fully closed. the sound makes him flinch, killing the high he was about to reach in an instant
reluctantly jolting him back to reality, he finally seems to remember where he is. tucks his painfully hard neglected dick back in his pants in a hurry before flying back down to the ground. eyes barely even once leaving what was now your covered up bedroom window
alright, alright sweetheart. privacy. I get it. f’it comes down to this then that’s just fine by me. don’t gotta shut me out like that. don’t be so shy. we’ll just get you to let me on in next time so I can fuck this new attitude you got right outta you
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might def have to do another part after having this one be alllll edging too :D
#remmick x reader smut#remmick x reader#smut#sinners#remmick smut#jack o'connell#sinners fanfiction#remmick sinners#smutty fanfiction#remmick imagine#ask#anon#fanfic#fic
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sub channie that doesn’t like to ask for what he wants so you have to force it out of him 🤭
bruh so many of y’all love sub!chan it’s crazy 😭 (no judging tho, i love them him both as dom or sub equally) guys istg if u see typos IGNOREEE
chan’s such a fucking loser. he’s literally inside you, buried to the hilt, but you haven’t moved in minutes.
“p-please … move,” he whines, head falling back into the pillows, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows down pride. you don’t move. your cunt stays snug and still around him, taunting.
chan almost breaks down halfway through the plea, rasping like it hurts to say it. he’s too far gone, panting beneath you, soaked in sweat, his cock throbbing inside you, so hot and hard you swear you can feel every desperate pulse. his hands fist the sheets on either side of him, arms strained, veins prominent, hips jerking up with need so feral it nearly makes you wanna give in.
nearly, but you don’t.
you know how much he hates this part. how desperate he is to fall apart but how much more he hates asking for it. chan wants to be good.wants to be used, but he wants you to just know.
though tonight, that isn’t gonna cut it.
you tilt your head, humming innocently . cruel, slow, eyes glittering with faux sympathy. “aww, baby,” you purr, trailing a single finger down the middle of his chest, watching the way his abs tighten beneath your touch. “you’re already this fucked and i haven’t even moved yet?”
chan groans, deep and strangled, eyes fluttering shut as if trying to will the ache away but it’s no use. you’re perched perfectly on top, walls hugging him with maddening warmth, so wet and tight it’s like heaven and hell all at once. he’s buried to the base, can feel the flutter of you around him every time you shift, but you won’t give him anything more.
“baby,” he gasps, throat dry, “please, i-i can’t—��
“yes you can,” you interrupt coldly, your hips rendering still. “you just don’t want to. you never wanna say it out loud, do you?”
he bucks again, a weak thrust, so pitiful. you’re doing absolutely nothing, and you’re not going to not until he cracks.
“you wan’ me to fuck you? to ride you until you cry? until your poor little cock can’t take anymore?”
chan can’t even form proper words at this point, teeth sinking into his lip so hard you’re sure that it’ll draw blood. his thighs are quivering beneath you, his body pulled so tight with tension you’re surprised he hasn’t snapped yet, but that pride of his always seems stretches out the moment.
“you know what i want..” he whispers, voice hoarse, nearly breaking.
“then say it.”
he whines again, this time even more pathetically as your cunt swallows him whole, instinctively reacting to his helpless tone. hips rutting up again, growing more desperate, like he’s trying to force you into movement, but it only earns him a sharp slap to his hip and a dark look.
“say it,” you repeat, harder now, voice dropping to a growl. “say exactly what you want or i’ll get off and leave you like this.”
that breaks him.
his hands fly to your thighs, clutching like a lifeline, and he looks up at you with glassy eyes, lips all puffy and swollen from biting, his expression so ruined it almost looks like he’s about to cry.
“ffuck- please fuck me,” he stammers, the words finally come tumbling out, frantic and breathless. “ride me, ruin me- use me like a toy, i don’t care, just do something, please, i need you so bad, ’m gonna lose it, i’ll beg all night if that’s what you want- just- please.”
you smirk, hands bracing against his chest as you finally start to move.
“see ? that wasn’t so hard now was it?,” you whisper right before slamming down on him, hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.
he lets out a broken cry, head snapping forward like he’s been shocked, and you ride him mercilessly, every bounce making him whimper and moan, nails digging into your thighs, his voice dissolving into wrecked chants of your name.
by the time he’s cumming, he’s red-eyed, ruined, babbling, face pressed to your chest like he’s ashamed of how desperate he’s become, but you just grab his jaw and make him look at you.
“you’re mine,” you moan out, grinding down slowly to milk every last drop out of him.
he just nods obediently, dazed and teary, voice barely audible.
“yours. always.”
#skz smut#stray kids smut#bang chan smut#skz x reader#bang chan x reader#skz scenarios#skz hard thoughts#bang chan imagines
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hihihihiijihihii. i wanted to ask if you're taking kny requests. if yes, i wanted to request yandere!character headcanons. thank you.
Yandere headcanons.
Some of my Yandere Headcanons for the Upper Three.
Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x gn!human!reader (established relationship)
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Unhealthy behaviour, stalking, possessiveness, implied murder, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, touchy behaviour, if I missed anything, please tell me!
Note: Yummy yummy. I wanted to make this for the upper 3, I thought it’s perfectly fitting for them.
Kokushibo // Upper Moon One.

Like a pet.
Kokushibo is a prideful and powerful demon, meaning that if he chose you as a partner, you must be his perfect mate and nothing less.
As his perfect partner, it is his duty to make sure nobody, and that means nobody, is allowed to even lay eyes upon you. You are too sacred to be defiled by looks from demons that are drooling at their mouth at the sight of your soft and unscathed skin, humans that leer at you for your beauty and animals that not have the cognitive ability to appreciate your person.
You know that you are never fully alone or not being watched over, you’re not sure how but you can feel it beneath your skin how his eyes are always hiding somewhere, watching your every move. Not that you can move around a lot anyway.
He treats you like a pet that needs constant attention and pampering. Kokushibo confines you in his wing of the infinity castle so that he is assured that you are nearby and a sliding door away while he meditated. When he is not around and out to hunt for a meal or to so his master’s bidding and search for the damned flower that kept pulling him away from you, you are trapped inside a single room with some necessities to keep you alive until you come back.
There are some clothes to change into, food to eat, water to drink and some paper to write or draw on. If he feels generous and you have been on good behaviour, Kokushibo may leave some books or a board of shogi to play with yourself. If you misbehaved or upset him in any way, which is not very hard to do, you loose your mind out of sheer boredom. But because of that, you seem much more compliant and overjoyed to see Kokushibo return to keep you company.
Every now and then he allows you to accompany him outside of the castle. You never visit villages or cities, enjoy festivals or take lengthy walks hand in hand, Kokushibo only takes you on a the same small walk you two have been taking every single time and the only one he deemed safe enough for you to walk.
He never walks with or beside you, always standing by the same spot and waiting for your return. He knows you’re not stupid enough to try and run somewhere, you’ve tried before and failed. And you know the punishment for it.
Besides, you don’t even want to run away anymore. Why would you?
Kokushibo brings home beautiful kimonos to dress you in, more than enough food to keep you satiated, keeps you close and safe in his arms, allows you to live in his wing of the infinity castle, and he is the only man that will ever love you the way he does. Of that he assures you every day.
Only he can provide for you, only he can care for you, only he matters in your life.
Kokushibo is a prideful demon, so you should be infinitely grateful that he chose you as his partner.
Douma // Upper Moon Two

Like a doll.
Douma doesn’t like it when things break. All of his things are valuable, so especially when one of his precious valuables shatter and become unusable, ugly and tossed aside, his dead heart aches a little.
And since he considers you to be one of his things, his most precious doll, Douma makes everything in his power to keep you happy and pretty.
He sends his followers far away to gather you expensive silks and hand-woven kimonos and yukatas, hair pieces and jewerly, shawls, handheld-fans, exotic foods and whatever else that comes into mind that could make you even more precious than you already do. He adores dressing you up for his sermons, making a mess of your wealthy closet as he rummages through the neatly arranged and tucked away clothes to pick out the perfect colours and theme.
Douma doesn’t have emotions of his own, so be often forgets that you have them. He finds it funny when you get embarrassed about him insisting to watch you change or when you explode on him about being to overbearing and obsessive. You admit, it was cute and nice being showered in lavish luxuries, but you feel like a decoration to him. Something to have on his lap and show off in front of many.
He also makes sure you keep your life for as long as you can. Human lifespans are so short and their health fragile, so Douma orders weekly physician-checkups to check for sicknesses and forces you to take daily spa breaks where he personally tends to you to keep your appearance fresh and perfect.
Despite all this, Douma gets jealous whenever someone else admires you. Only he is permitted to gaze upon you with admiration, to pray to you like an idol and fantasise about you day in and out, your face eternally plaguing his mind. Nobody but him can play with his doll.
”Playing”, to him, is watching you squirm beneath his grip and gaze as he forces you to sit beside him as he feasts on his next snack. It’s his way to say “stay in line or this will be you”.
Overall, he is rather tame. Douma would only hurt you physically if absolutely necessary. He wouldn’t do anything to compromise his doll, after all. His punishments for disobeying him, which could be as little as staring at someone for too long, will be either luring the next human into his chamber for a meal and watching him have his dinner, or isolation for days on end without food or water, entertainment or light, to really make you think about if it was worth it to asking him to go for a walk without his permission.
Akaza // Upper Moon 3

Like treasure. Or capture.
Akaza is comparable to a dragon protecting his den with his precious treasure inside that no other has ever had the privilege to lay their eyes upon.
He is paranoid about what could happen to you during the day, when he is not around, so Akaza barricades you inside your house. The windows are closed up and doors locked. No one living near even knows somebody lives inside this abandoned house down by the thick forest.
Akaza brings you food during the nights to keep you satiated during the day, but you still have to ration everything out. He provides clothes, entertainment like books, art supplies, shogi boards and whatever else you request. Some of the things may be a little more bloodstained than others though.
He can’t bear the thought of you getting in harms way. He’d simply break and die himself alongside you, so whenever he can, Akaza remains with you. Thanks to the closed up windows allowing no light in, he can even sometimes stay during the day, although he isn’t great company.
Instead of playing shogi or keeping up conversations, he sits in the corner and stares at you. Akaza enjoys watching you live your daily, although boring, life. It’s unnerving to have a demon watch every move and jump out of the shadows in worry whenever he even suspects that you got gravelly injured, although you just stubbed your toe.
Akaza is shy in a weird way, uncomfortable to regard himself as your lover or whatever. He gets embarrassed at the thought of even touching you, gets angry at himself for fantasising about those lips again. You are too precious to be dirtied like that. Too precious for him.
Akaza overall doesn’t want to be your lover, unworthy of being yours. Instead he’ll be content to protect you from anyone like him and worse, to keep your pureness for as long as he can, in this small house where you’d much rather just die than live another day.
💠
Author’s note. Thank you for reading!
You didn’t specify what characters so I thought I’d write it for them <33 It was fitting I think
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough<33 Especially now, it’s very hot.
Take care of yourselves!! You’re loved!
#💠 house of vry 💠#demon slayer#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#fluff#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer angst#upper moons x reader#upper moons#kokushibo x reader#kokushibou x reader#kokushibou#upper moon one x reader#michikatsu x reader#douma#doma#kny doma#kny douma#douma x reader#doma x reader#akaza#akaza x reader#akaza x you#douma angst#doma angst#demon slayer doma#demon slayer douma#akaza kimetsu no yaiba#douma kimetsu no yaiba#douma x y/n
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HAPPY PRIDE MONTH AH 😝😝😝
Going straight to the point can I request a spicy fic?
With Kalim?
I like to think he has MANY piercings.... And curiosity leads to ask him about them, and that lead to him showing his nipple piercings and THAT may lead to smth if ykwim.
Ty
KALIM X READER SMUT!
Where you are too interested in the piercings around his body
KALIM THAT DAMN SMIRK- SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT IMAGE TO USE.
⚠️Warnings! This scenario is set during third year, where both reader and Kalim are adults. There's full consent and an established relationship. Kalim takes on a more submissive role in this, while the reader leans more dominant. The reader’s body is not described explicitly, so it can be read as g!reader (gender-neutral reader). Kalim is super OOC because honestly I had zero writing energy yesterday and today. I did my best, but I couldn’t keep his personality intact—so I made him a little less sunshine boy Kalim and a little more damn okay bold Kalim. I’M SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO FINISH THIS even though Pride Month is already over... BUT STILL—HAPPY (BELATED) PRIDE MONTH TO YOU TOO!! 🌈💖
It wasn’t unusual for Kalim to lounge half-dressed in your room. Shirt undone, gold chains across his chest, his bronzed skin—he was a work of art, laid out on your bed.
He had one leg propped up, a pillow behind his back, an apple slice hanging from his mouth when you caught it.
A flash. A shimmer. Something metallic underneath his open shirt. You raised an eyebrow.
“Babe. What’s that?”
“Hm?” He chewed, swallowed, and grinned like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “Which one?”
You sat up straighter. “Have you gotten a new one?”
Kalim laughed, his beautiful laugh, bright and carefree.
“Of course! I told you, didn’t I? I got more piercings when I was back home last break. You only ever see the easy ones.”
He tugged his earrings playfully, then tapped his tongue against the back of his teeth with a little click. The glint caught your eye. That one, you had seen.
But you hadn’t seen what he showed you next.
“I got a few down here,” he said casually, drawing his shirt further apart with both hands. That’s when you saw them—two silver hoops through his nipples, shining against his chest.
Your mouth went dry.
“What the hell, Kalim.”
“Pretty, right? You wanna touch?”
“You’re asking like you don’t already know the answer.”
“Haha! Then why don’t you stop staring and come get a feel? They’re sensitive, hehe”
You narrowed your eyes.
“You’re the worst.”
“Don't say that!—I’m the best, and you’re drooling over my chest right now.”
You rolled your eyes, but your hands were already sliding up his torso, greedy to test his theory.
You weren’t sure which was hotter—the silver hoops through Kalim’s nipples, or the way he looked at you when you touched them.
Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, breath hitching the moment your fingers brushed the jewelry. He bit his lip and let out a soft sound.
“… yeah, like that,” as your thumb circled one of the piercings, watching your every move.
“They’re really sensitive,” he murmured, voice dropping into a low purr. “Guess you’ll have to be gentle with me, baby-”
You straddled his lap with no hesitation, hands sliding up his chest, thumbs pressing teasingly against both piercings this time. Kalim’s hips bucked under you, a soft moan escaping before he even tried to hold it back.
“Oh, you like that?” you teased, already feeling him growing hard beneath you. He chuckled with his pretty smile, warm against your neck as he pulled you close.
“I love it. I love you so much, yeah... only you could have me like this. You can... do whatever you want to me, love.”
And God, he meant it.
You leaned down and flicked your tongue across one nipple, gently tugging the ring with your lips. Kalim whined, arms tightening around you, and his head fell back with a needy little sigh.
“I take it back. You’re not the worst. You’re evil.”
He grinned, breathless. “Only for you.”
It didn’t take long before clothes were being shed completely—his shirt tossed aside, your own slipping off with his help as kisses dragged down your throat and across your collarbones. Kalim’s hands roamed your body, fingers worshiping every inch.
And when you finally lowered yourself onto him, both of you gasping at the feeling, he grab your face and kissed you like he meant it.
No, like he was addicted to you.
“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way you moved on top of him. “So beautiful like this… riding me like you own me.”
"I do,” you said between heavy pants. “You did say I could do whatever I want.”
He moaned as your hips rolled harder, his hands grabbing your waist, piercings glinting as he arched up to meet you. “You can. baby—please don’t stop, you feel too good—”
The metal against your skin added a delicious contrast—the cool bite of steel, the warmth of his body, the rush of his whines as you leaned forward to mouth at his nipples again.
He lost it.
“My love— you’re gonna make me come—don’t stop, don’t stop—”
You didn’t. You wanted to see those pretty piercings bouncing with each thrust, wanted to hear him cry out your name like he had no shame left.
And he did.
Kalim came, trembling under you, his mouth open in a silent moan before it broke into a needy cry. You chased your own release moments after, collapsing against him as he held you close, the metal on his chest cool against your cheek.
When you caught your breath, Kalim laughed weakly and kissed your hair.
“I should get more piercings.”
“You won’t survive it if I keep playing with them like that.”
“Sounds like a challenge, I could try-”
#kalim#kalim al asim#kalim al asim x reader#kalim twisted wonderland#twst kalim#kalim x reader#twisted wonderland kalim#kalim x yuu#kalim al asim x yuu#kalim al asim x reader#kalim smut#kalim al asim smut#twisted wonderland smut#twst smut#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted x reader
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caught in inaction

idia | rook catching gn!yuu skipping class in the bathroom warnings: self-deprecating language, anxiety, self-harm (in rook's) word count: 3k (idia) 2.1k (rook)
10:23.
Your phone is dying.
You forgot to plug it in last night... again.
And you've beaten the rest of the battery to death with mobile gaming and the music blaring through your earbuds. You're sure to be half-deaf by next semester, the way this one's been going- the two-thaumark things you found in the bargain bin at a thrift in Foothill Town were the only kind that matched your archaic phone's jack, and every beat felt like your ears were being full-body tackled to the floor. But anything is better than the unforgivable silence of Monday morning. You had just barely managed to convince Crowley that wearing earbuds in every class is an important custom in your world, and you wouldn't be able to function or focus without them.
He was either really gullible, or he just wanted you to get the hell out of his office before his lunch break started (which you had accounted for, of course. You wanted to be there about as much as he did...)
10:25. Six percent left. You're not going to be able to survive the rest of the day without the sweet oblivion of fuzzy earbud feedback and the white noise between tracks. Sigh. Your music taste has really refined itself since the start of the semester- after craftily finding out which music shuffle app was best by listening in on your desk neighbor's conversation, you'd just been letting the songs play without skipping a single one. You didn't know any of the bands from this world, after all. Folk music between classes, classical in the bath, showtunes walking back from the library... right now, it's an ad. Great. You're about to be thrown to the wolves with a vanilla body spray advertisement as a parting gift.
You shift, drawing your knees to your chest on the chipped toilet seat. There's not exactly a lot of space to sit, but that's to be expected from a room that's only designed for temporary use. Most of the boys that come into the desolate hall bathroom are only here to exchange homework answers and sometimes take swings at the hanging lights with socks full of pebbles. Typical teenage boy things, you supposed. You'd spent a good week testing out different hiding spots around campus before settling on the third-floor east-wing bathroom, the smaller one, tucked between a dusty, vacant trophy shelf, and a closet with a rusted lock. You would've really preferred an empty classroom with a view of the courtyards to tuck yourself away in, like the protagonist of a slice-of-life anime, but all of the ones you found (and there were many) were locked with some stupid magic spell you couldn't undo even if you knew how.
So, smelly bathroom is was. You're sure there must be mold in the vents here- no one actually uses this place to pee, it's too far from the actual classrooms, but there's a pervasive musty smell that never worsens nor improves. You're probably going to start hallucinating and having weird nightmares. Well, more than usual, anyway.
10:30. Your phone dies without warning, drained of all life after you hit 3%. Damn it!!! You were really hoping you had a few more minutes. It wouldn't have done you any good but to take the weight of skipping another class off your mind, which was all you wanted, really.
You just couldn't do it today- again- presentations.
Not yours, mind you. Yours is on Thursday. But today you'd have to sit through an hour of watching your talented, smart, funny classmates rake in laughter and applause for their stupid puns and award-winning smiles and Wikipedia-tier research. Which is not as bad as presenting yourself (you'll probably skip on Thursday, too) but it is torture on par with waterboarding. And after ten minutes of imagining the ceiling tiles falling on your classmate's heads, you got kinda bored.
This is infinitely better. You're failing, but failing in style, right?
Somewhere nearby, a leaky faucet drips.
The last light in the room fizzles out and dies.
Now would have been a good time to have your phone. You're not afraid of the dark! It's just... there are puddles of... liquid... all over, and you can't navigate around them in pitch black. The newer bathrooms on the lower levels all have windows, low and close to the ceiling, hugging the helm of the wall and sucking up all the darkness and bad smells. This room has vents full of mold and... puddles. Not really unlike Ramshackle, but it's not like you're crazy about that, either.
Crap. Now what? You can't even check the time, so you won't be sure when class is over unless you venture outside for a clock. It could be an hour from now, or thirty minutes. How is anyone supposed to live like this?!
Creeeeak... click.
You tense. Maybe not being on your phone is best, especially in a dark room anyone else can see in.
The stall you've locked yourself in is the only one with a working-slash-existent door, the others having been smashed in or melted or taken off their hinges and carried into the night, or whatever else happens at this fucking school. That's all to say, if you were blissfully on your phone when whoever just came in came in, they'd see the blue light and know there was someone on the only usable toilet. Then they'd probably say something like, "Woah, dude, it must be huge!" because you won't leave and you'd be shaking so hard from the nerves that it'd rattle the walls.
Please, don't try the door... don't... this bathroom is disgusting!!!! And MINE!! Go find your own mold poisoning!!! FUCK YOU!!
Your bathroom-mate doesn't seem to get the angry memos your mind is rapidly firing at them (who would've thought?) and the sound of sneakers scuffing the damp tile floor follows. DAMN YOU!!!
There's still a door on the stall, sure, but the lock has been busted since you found it. There's a suspiciously rock-shaped dent where it should be, indicating a teenage boy-related event may have occurred there. You shrink into the furthest corner of the stall, hands against either side as if bracing yourself for the walls to collapse in on you. Don't try the door... it's not worth it, I promise!
Click, swoosh. "EEEEEK!"
You should be the one screaming, if anyone, especially since there's a giant blue gumball blocking your only exit. With the lights going out, the foreboding cracks and creaks, and the stranger in the doorway, you could see this as a corny horror movie... if the slasher wasn't sheet-white and shaking.
You blink. "O-occupied..."
His hair falls over his face in waves, a soft, blue light, not unlike that of your recently deceased phone, glowing around him like a halo. He doesn't look much like an angel otherwise.
He stares at you, processing your half-baked response and the sight of a person sat like a spider in the corner of the toilets.
And then... he glares.
"Get out,"
EXCUSE ME??
"Guh?" is all you can manage.
He frowns. "I-I said, get out. This is my hiding spot,"
No way! Who does this guy think he is?! He's really defending this nasty bathroom stall!?
"...Wh-whuh?"
He swallows thickly. "...C...c'mon... please?"
His arms, firmly at his sides, seem uncomfortably stiff. He clenches and unclenches his fists, clearly not as mean or scary as he's trying to come off as. You narrow your eyes.
"I-I found this spot fair and square!"
"I-I've been coming here to hide since my first year! I found it first!"
He shuffles a step forward and the door swings shut behind him, forcing him a little further. It's not a big stall, so he's practically in your lap.
You blink, and he rolls his eyes, turning his back to you and fidgeting with the lock on the bathroom door.
"It's broken," you say, stupidly. The stranger turns it at an angle and then hits it over its top with a closed fist, the click of the lock following.
You stare. "...Ah-ah..."
He turns to look at you from over his shoulder, and you awkwardly slink away from the toilet to give the grimy porcelain seat to him, which he takes with an exasperated huff, crossing his arms and leaning against the graffiti-etched wall.
You do the same, mimicking his posture, but against the door. He blows a strand of hair out of his face.
"...So... skipping, huh?"
It's still dark in the stall, but the light coming from his hair is enough to make out his features. You wonder if he can do the same for you.
You nod, and then: "O-oh, uh... do you have the time?"
The stranger starts to reach for his pocket, but his hand stills at the last moment, and he rolls up his sleeve to show off a pricey-looking digital watch instead. You can't tell if that was to impress you, or if he just didn't feel comfortable taking out his phone in front of a weirdo he found pressed up against the wall of a toilet.
"It's ten thirty-eight,"
You slump. You were somehow hoping more time had passed since he first spoke to you.
The stranger observes your body language, the sweat beading on your upper lip, the awkward, uncomfortable way you shift against the wall.
"Forgot your homework?" he asks, prodding for answers. He's a lot less anxious than he was when he found you- you must make him feel at ease. There's something both relieving and aggravating about that- what's a bathroom-dweller doing judging you, anyway? He doesn't know you!!!! Maybe you're really popular, and you're meeting a lover here... well, you're not, but he doesn't know that!
"I-I just didn't want to go," you mutter.
He looks at his feet. "Yeah, okay. Me, too,"
Figures. You sniffle, crossing your arms.
"Presentations?"
"Whuh?" he says, eyes darting up to meet yours before swiftly away, back at his feet. "N-no, I just... don't go to class in person often, but the wi-fi is down for maintenance, so I..."
He trails off. A spark of envy ignites in your chest. What's he got to complain about?! You have to go to class in person every day! It's not like anyone's asked you if that's what you want to do, either...
You stifle the flicker of frustration tickling your throat and shift again. "But you're not going?"
"No," he says. "...Can't."
Can't is much heavier of a word than want, and you find yourself envious again, at least of his ability to make you feel bad for him. No one feels bad for you, and yet here you are, giving sympathies to a stranger who's life sounds a hell of a lot easier than yours...
You bite down the bile of insecurity.
"...I... me, too," you say, half-wanting to make him feel more comfortable, half-wanting him to feel bad for you, too. For some reason.
"Can't, I mean."
He nods. "Y-you chose a good hiding place, then... I guess I'm not so opposed to sharing it as long as we're using it for the same thing..."
You'll count that as a win. "Thanks..."
"NP," he says, sitting up straight again and rolling his shoulders with a soft grunt. Bad posture. "I-I didn't realize anyone else was, uh... yeah. I'm... Idia."
He didn't give you much to work with, but you're not asking for much, either. You're really just grateful he didn't kick you out.
You give him your name, in no uncertain terms, and he nods, looking away again. The stall suddenly seems so small, with two people in it... Idia seems like he's realizing this, too, the way he's looking around and bouncing his legs like he wants nothing more than to stretch them out... but there is, of course, nowhere else for you to go.
Unless...
No. Those sorts of things only happen in crummy fanfiction written for hormonal losers, and you're anything but that. Obviously!
Idia lasts all of two minutes before he asks you to move, his voice crackling with a renewed twinge of anxiety. "C-could you...?"
"I don't have anywhere else to go," you say, telling him exactly what you'd been rehearsing in your head, in case he asked.
Idia swallows a rebuttal and turns around himself in the tight space. There really isn't much in the way of comfort, and by the look on his face, he already feels guilty for making you get up. At least there's that!
"D-do you wanna... could you... um, we just have a lot of time left, and..."
You'd been so quick to dismiss any sympathetic, sappy thoughts like that, but he spoke up so easily... maybe he'd been thinking the same thing? But, no, that'd be...
He's just being nice.
Still, you can't say no, even if you really wanted to. You shuffle closer, suddenly feeling very aware (and very afraid) of your own weight, though Idia doesn't seem too concerned. If anything, the terrified look of anticipation that's on his face tells you he's thinking a lot about his own body. You move slowly, both for his and your own benefit, fitting yourself in his lap with a touch of grace you weren't aware you had. Idia stiffens at first contact, but he doesn't seem completely repulsed by you, which is a relief.
"Is this... are you comfortable?"
Something like that, you think. You nod, sat neatly in his lap like a present under a Christmas tree... or maybe more like a lump of coal in a stocking, but he's nice to sit on, and that's all that matters.
A few moments of familiar silence pass before Idia shifts, the sounds of shuffling fabric following, and he pulls out his phone.
Despite the less-than-charming atmosphere, the musty smell of mold, the incessant drip, drip, drip of the tap, the darkness, the looming threat of moving time and the outside world, this is... strangely... nice. He's watching car crash compilations on his phone (the screen lowered, so you can see, too) with his chin on your head, which is actually somewhat uncomfortable, but it's romantic, too. Dreamy, even. Something you'd see in a romcom, if romcoms were written about people like you.
You sit there in silence, quietly contemplating the nature of time, existence, and foreign-language dashcam videos, until you're suddenly... not contemplating anything.
bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!
You jolt, hand flying to your bedside table to slam your stupid alarm off and cram in an extra ten minutes of sleep, just to punch straight into a metal wall. Ow.
Cradling your sore fist, you sit up, eyes adjusting to the desolate darkness of your room. Not... your room, you remind yourself.
bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!
You blink, reaching out in the darkness for the source of the sound and finding only metal, metal, metal... something soft. Fabric. Hoodie, pocket lining, and then, phone! It's not yours, remember- yours died.
You remember that this pocket is attached to a person, who's happily snoozing through the loudest alarm you've ever heard. You contemplate the situation for a moment, and then decide it would be best not to dawdle. And so you hold the phone speaker right up to Idia's ear and let it ring again.
He wakes with a start, his hips snapping up and jostling you in his lap, and he just barely has the mind to grab hold of your waist and keep you upright before you fall onto the bathroom floor. You hold his phone as if it were a sickly swaddled newborn baby, close to your chest.
bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!
Loud, too loud. You hand the phone to Idia and, in his sleepy stupor, he tries to answer his alarm like a call. It'd be entertaining if you hadn't just been woken up from a... nine hour nap.
No, that can't be right. You squint at Idia's digital watch again, reading the screen as he paws at his phone, trying to turn off his alarm.
Almost evening. You slept in a dirty bathroom with a stranger for an entire day... missed all your classes getting mold poisoning.
...Could have been worse.
Besides, it's not every day a human being willingly touches you.
"That's for dinner," Idia mutters, slipping his phone back in his pocket with an exasperated, sleepy sigh. "Gotta set a reminder or I'll forget to eat... I'm, uh... I get busy..."
He doesn't have to explain anything to you, but the fact that he likes you enough to want to look good is pretty nice.
You nod.
"Y-yeah... me, too..." you mutter.
Idia unlocks the stall door with a jab of his elbow and walks you into the hall. It's already dark, and you can't see anything but inky blackness through the tall, imposing windows of the school, and the air is impossibly clear here. You're going to smell like raw sewage and mildew for a month...
Idia sniffles, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The events of the day haven't caught up to him yet, it seems. You wonder how he's going to react once he's fully awake.
"Eh, uh..." he starts from behind you, and you turn over your shoulder.
In the moon of early evening, where you can make out more of his face and less of the glowy halo that hides it, he looks more... like himself. You suppose that's a nonsensical thing to think, but his brow is knotted, his eyes turned away, his lower lip caught between his teeth, but all in that stubborn side of him you met first.
"...Same time tomorrow?"
You blink. No... not really, does he mean that?
"Uh..." shit... "I have... potionology, this- that time tomorrow. But Thursday! Th-Thursday I'll definitely be here..."
Idia nods, looking mildly relieved that you didn't turn him down (how could you?)
"Thursday, it is,"
You part in opposite directions (even though your dorm is the way he's going), your feet padding against the stone floor, the-
"W-wait!"
You turn. He's staring at you, wide-eyed.
"W-we don't have to do that in the toilets. You can just come to my room,"

Today marks the third time this week you've missed History of Magic.
You really shouldn't be skipping. It's not like you haven't had every opportunity to succeed, after all; Professor Trein has been extending deadlines since the start of the semester, which, as his syllabus would indicate, is strictly against his classroom rules and expectations. You're a "special case". Always have been.
So, he's not totally heartless, but he is pretty oblivious. It would take a blindfolded fool to not notice the way you cower in the back of the class, avoiding eye contact and praying you don't draw any unwanted attention to yourself. There might've been a point in time where you wanted to be noticed, admired, befriended, loved like your classmates were, in this world and the last, but that fantasy had been long abandoned in the abyssal blackness of your mind. Since September, you've been focusing on one thing, and one thing only: staying out of people's way. If you could survive school at home, then you could here, too... or you'd die trying, which wasn't the worst route.
Not like you had much of a choice either way. You couldn't just ignore the main storyline to focus on sidequests, or you'd never move forward. No matter how daunting that was.
But you could allow yourself breaks, and since Monday, every day had been a sidequest day. As evident by the tiny bandages dotting your skin, you had successfully been abdicated to the infirmary for a full three days worth of classes. Of course, the injuries you littered your skin with weren't that serious- a bruise, a scratch with the end of your quill, a paper cut here and there, "accidentally" stapling the soft flesh of your palm... enough to make you bleed, but not to cause permanent damage. It was the perfect plan. And once you had secured ointment and a colorful bandage from the nurse ghosts, you got to wander the halls until class had concluded. You had quite the reputation for being clumsy, but it was worth it- you'll have to milk this as much as you can before Trein bans you from using the pencil sharpener on a permanent basis.
You drum your fingers on the stall door, the steady rhythm and melodic taps motivating you to turn the textbook page you'd been perusing. Who said you have to go to class to learn, anyway? You can just cram for exams from the comfort of your porcelain throne! You'll pass, easy peasy.
And if not...
...You don't want to think about it. A summer course might not be so bad, since there'd be less people, but you're not even sure if NRC offers those.
And to retake this miserable class next year...
Shudder. You swallow your worries and return to the page on ancient sorcery. Midterms are coming, and the last thing you want to do is make an idiot of yourself by having your low scores posted on the corridor wall.
Or, worse... Trein will read them aloud to the class. You'd seen that in a light novel once, though you're not sure if it happens here. But it might, and that's plenty enough motivation to keep you reading.
Each turn of the page echoes in the impossibly empty bathroom. Besides the drip, drip, drip of a leaky pipe somewhere off to your left, the only sound is your own breath, and the flutter of paper. You could be taking notes, too, but this is plenty enough sound for now. You just have to get a passing grade, after all. You're not aiming for points. Just not to be humiliated when the grades are posted...
You swallow. Your throat is dry and scratchy, no doubt from staying up too late again. But who could blame you? Night is the only time when you actually get to be alone, and you don't have to worry about these... things. No textbooks or tests, no snickering classmates, no whispers and stares, no angry Trein demanding to know how you accidentally slammed your hand in the door... again.
You really hope he doesn't report you to Crowley.
Having a heart-to-heart with the Headmage is truly a fate worse than death... or retaking a class. You try to reassure yourself that Trein wouldn't do that, no one truly suspects that you're hurting yourself on purpose... right? You're just clumsy and accident-prone. There's nothing worth reporting there!!!
But, truthfully, you don't know what's going through the old man's head. Or anyone's. You get teased for your clumsiness, but does anyone really mean it, or are they just saying that because the reality is more uncomfortable than a simple lack of poise? You shudder to think of it, your fingers digging into the pages of the book and crinkling the smooth paper. You can't focus on the paragraph anymore, rereading the same line over, and over, and over...
What could they be thinking? you ponder. Maybe Trein will report you, or he'll think you're playing hooky like some idiot kid and give you detention... maybe he'll make you stay after class to catch up.. oh, the horror...
You swallow the painful lump in your throat, your spit stinging the red rawness all the way down.
Don't be ridiculous, you reason, or try to, at least. Trein teaches hundreds of students. He wouldn't take any interest in someone as insignificant as you...
"Helloooo in there~"
What- FUCK!
Someone is knocking on your stall. You didn't even hear the door opening- who the fuck is it?
"O-occupied," you manage.
"Je sais," the voice says. "You cannot hide all day. Come out, now, I will tell you what you missed!"
Threatening. Overconfident. French. Your stomach drops.
The door opens (how did he unlock that???) and there's Rook Hunt. You shrink as far as you can into the corner of the water closet, sitting on the toilet with your feet on the seat and your hands on either side of the stall, your textbook slipping out of your lap and onto the dirty ground.
"C-can you not see I'm busy?"
"Eh?" he hums, looking down at where you had locked the door. "Ohh... oui, I see. I have been sent as your personal aide to class. You seem to have forgotten again. I will escort you!"
Perhaps you would have had some pity for Rook Hunt, the boy who collects friends like they're novelty bobbleheads but never really makes them, never keeps them, if he were not... Rook Hunt. If he had not spent the last few months justifying his want to follow you around like a hungry hunting dog with the excuse that you were... what did he say?
"Mysterious"
Never in your life did you think you'd one day be hoping for someone to regard you as worthless and leave you be.
But you're pressed here, both physically and metaphorically, and you can't summon the confidence to say "no", and so you do something stupid instead.
Run for it.
You were once taught never to turn your back to predators, like bears and big, rabid dogs. Your tablemate had been reading something from his scout book to his friend in first period. They'll see you as prey, he had said, and then to you, with an evil smile: I bet they would run. They're so afraid of everything.
His friend had scolded him for teasing you and ruining your morning, but you hadn't been planning on enjoying it anyhow.
Stupid, you had thought, you would never be caught dead outside of your room, let alone in the woods. Useless information.
There were no angry bears or hungry lions at Night Raven College. But you did have Rook.
Your tablemate should have learned something fucking useful at his stupid scouts training. Like, for instance, what to do when a tall, scary extrovert takes your running as an invitation to hunt you like an animal.
You're so out of shape. When did that happen? You suppose you can only blame your piss-poor diet of noodle cups and sweets for that. You're winded and worn in two minutes, using the wall as a crutch to support your weight down the hall.
For a fleeting, terrifying moment, you have a very scary thought: I wish someone else were here.
And then it goes away, with your energy, with the feeling in your feet, with whatever was left of your pride, and the air in your lungs.
Shouldn't have run... Stupid, stupid, stupid...
SMACK.
Had there always been a wall there? You can only somewhat register the shooting pain in your skull and the purple bruise forming on your forehead as you fall backwards. It's not graceful; you hit your tailbone on the stone floor and curl in the fetal position.
If anything went right in your pitiful life, this is where you'd die. But it's only an ache behind your eyes and a bruise on your butt, and then Rook Hunt crouching over you like you're his latest kill.
"Zut alors... you have injured yourself yet again!" he trills picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, not even flinching once at the weight.
"You are quite the tricky one, you know! And here I was, thinking that your injuries were all faked... tch, it looks like you are a clumsy one... non?" he smirks knowingly at you, paying little attention to where his feet are going but walking gracefully nonetheless.
You don't respond. This is the most anyone has touched you in... years, probably... and it sucks. It's miserable. And uncomfortable.
"Wh-where are we going?" you manage.
Rook tsks. "Ah, the infirmary, of course. You are in no state to study after that fall!"
Maybe running for it wasn't such a stupid idea, after all...
"And I will stay dutifully by your side, nursing you back to health!"
Never mind.
You wince at his words, a sharp sting of panic shooting down your spine and right into your bruised tailbone, making your butt ache. Ow. "Y-you don't-"
"But of course!" he interrupts before you even get to finish. He knew you were going to object, damn it. "It was my doing, was it not? I should have known better than to spook un petit lapin such as yourself... small, easily-startled creatures should be handled in traps, or at long distances!"
He's talking about shooting you now, which honestly isn't the worst thing you've heard about yourself here. At least he's being honest, rather than saying it behind your back.
You don't even try to fight it. What's the point? Besides, your head really does hurt, and you don't have any access to ice in Ramshackle (as Rook would also go on to remind you).
But you could do without the boy at your sickbed, legs crossed, elbows on his knees and chin in his hand as he studies you like a piece of fine art, or, more likely, an ant under a magnifying glass. He bats his long eyelashes at you as you cautiously eat the soup he had "specially prepared" for your health. There's probably something weird in the warm, swirling broth, but you can't find it within yourself to care. It's good soup, anyway.
"...Are you going to sit there all night?" you weakly ask him, your fingers absently feeling over the thick bandage on your forehead. You'd bled a little, when you hit it.
Rook nods eagerly. "Ah, yes, to study such a rare specimen... of course, I would have preferred to do it in your natural habitat, but under controlled conditions is acceptable..."
Like you're a rat, or something. Well, you've been called worse. You set the lukewarm bowl to the side and sink into the bed. Firm, uncomfortable, just like home. Your dorm, that is.
You're not too keen on being... "observed", or whatever he said, but it's not like you have much of a choice. He wouldn't leave even if you asked him to.
"..." you wring your hands, quiet for a moment. "...Can you at least get more ice, then...?"
"Ah, it would be my honor!" Rook says, shooting up from his seat. You're almost surprised that he doesn't salute you, too.
He does, though, return with a bag of ice, place it by your abandoned bowl, and press a fleeting kiss to your forehead.
It's swift and painless, like being decapitated- and not unlike a headless body, it leaves you silent and stunned. You sit there for a moment longer before Rook presses the ice to your head himself.
"Just as I thought," he says. "I will have to take note of this... ah, how my heart leaps at such an opportunity to study an elusive creature such as yourself! Rest easy, lapine, I have many more trials to conduct!"
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Ning Yingying smiles at Liu Qingge, "This disciple only wishes to prove herself and bring honor to her Shifu's name as well. Liu Shishu."
Shen Jiu hides a quick smile behind his fan but not before he makes sure it is seen. He is proud.
An arena is hastily prepared on Bai Zhan, hushed word of mouth travels about Shen Qingqiu's head disciple challenging the War God, disciples from every peak gather in small groups here and there trying to not be noticed, Shen Jiu directs his AND his Shidi's peak to prepare a feast preemptively for HIS peak's victory. To put the whole affair simply, it was a spectacle and a half.
Things come to a head after 30 minutes and a small break. Shen Jiu steps back into the arena with grace to refree the match, he pats Ning Yingying's head while throwing Qingge a dirty look. His stern voice carries over to the last of the disciples, "Finish Him." And with that he signals the start of another round.
One second, The War God's sword narrowly misses her hair and the other, she rolls out under and grapples her own Shifu, before throwing him squarely at Liu Qingge's quickly retreating sword. Not one to lose an advantage, she uses a attention redirection technique paired with a gust of particularly strong wind from her fan to drive it home.
Liu Qingge finds himself not only distracted with an armful of Shen but also responsibility to keep his husband's robes and by extension his dignity intact from the vicious attack, lest he should be barred from their shared house.
Shen Jiu purposely becomes dead weight in his husband's arms. The War God is useless if he can't fight with a minor disadvantage. And he is. Shen Jiu tsks as Qingge's sword is sent flying when he maneuvers to take a hit that would have otherwise slashed the ribbon in A-Jiu's head piece.
He forfeits, grumbling, "I see. Using dirty tricks much like your Shizun." Peak lord Shen draws himself up to signal the end of the match and his husband a loser as the crowds cheers.
Ning Yingying laughs, saluting both of them, "This disciple is filal and has only wanted to follow in her Shifu's every step. Thanking Shimu for giving this lowly one permission to court his sister, officially." Liu Mingyuan rushing towards her has her distracted and being swept off her feet is even moreso but she manages to finish her thought.
A few weeks later, Peak Lord Shen is seen confiscating yellow books about himself and his idiot husband. The challenge is still talked about years later.
#liujiu#shen jiu#liu quigge#ning yingying#liu mingyan#shen qingqiu#svsss#scum villian#scum villain self saving system
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Humans are weird: Sadism
( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)
*Cell door opens and lone human enters before it is closed behind him.
*At the center of the room stands a 9ft tall alien Mek’ar warrior held by chains as thick as a human’s forearm.
*Human walks up to just in front of the alien and opens a folding chair to sit in front of it. The alien’s shadow swallows the human alone as it looks down at its captor as they open a small folder and browse through several documents.
Human: Your armor was marked with “Kel’nok”; is that your name?
Alien: *Silence
Human: My name is Marcus Benson, is yours Kel’nok?
Alien: *Silence
Marcus: Strong silent type I see.
Marcus: I can respect that. When one of our soldiers is captured they’re instructed to only give their name and rank to their interrogators.
Alien: *More Silence
*chains rattle as the alien tries to take a step forward but is held in place.
Marcus: Scratching an itch or trying to get me within stomping distance?
Alien: I would strip the flesh from your bones were I not bound.
Marcus: Oh?
Marcus: Let me help with that.
*Puts down folder and stands up. Slowly walking forwards, the chained alien watches in stunned silence as the human stops directly underneath them and looks up.
Marcus: From here I bet you can crush me with your foot without needing to break your chains.
*More chains rattle as alien tests their binds to confirm this.
Alien: Do you have a death wish, foolish human?
Marcus: If you kill me they would simply send another, and if I fail to get the information from you they will kill me all the same.
*With a nod of their head Marcus draws the alien’s attention to several figures standing outside the door to the cell. They peer through reinforced glass in the doorway but do not set foot in the room.
Marcus: Don’t mind them though, *Marcus waves at the humans beyond doorway before looking back at alien, they’re just here to make sure I don’t mess up again.
Alien: Mess up?
Marcus: Indeed.
Marcus: The last time I questioned one of your kind they too were stubborn and died before I could get the information I needed.
Alien: *Laughs
Alien: I find your claim most amusing.
Alien: As if one of your kind, could kill one of mine.
Marcus: Chuckles
Alien: What do you find amusing?
Marcus: That’s the same thing your friend said to me before I began.
Alien: Began with what?
Marcus: Reaches behind belt and pulls out medium sized hammer
Marcus: I started hitting them with this hammer.
Alien: That wouldn’t even breach our exoskeleton.
Marcus: It didn’t.
Marcus: At first it bounced off the shell your kind have.
Marcus: They found it amusing.
Marcus: I was at it for a full hour and they just sat there in chains laughing.
Marcus: They stopped laughing by the third hour when the constant hammering finally cracked their shell.
Alien: Unlikely.
Marcus: Shrugs Everything breaks if given enough time.
Marcus: For a brief moment I saw a look of concern cross their face before the smugness returned.
Marcus: So I kept hammering in the same spot after that and once the shell broke the cracks started spreading out like a spider web all over.
Marcus: At this point they offered to answer one of my questions.
Alien: What did you ask?
Marcus: Nothing.
Alien: Nothing?
Alien: You were sent to get information.
Marcus: I was, and I gave them a chance to share it which they refused.
Marcus: So I kept hammering.
Marcus: By hour four I had reached the raw muscle and what passes for nerves inside your body.
Marcus: They certainly could feel the hammer now and were awash with such a colorful vocabulary of swears and curses as each strike sent a wave of agony through their body.
Marcus: By hour six they gave up speaking as my strikes had all but severed the limb entirely; so I sent them back for recovery and started on their other limbs the next day.
Alien: You are a monster.
Marcus: No, just someone who truly enjoys their work.
#humans are weird#humans are insane#humans are space oddities#humans are space orcs#scifi#story#writing#original writing#niqhtlord01#malevolent#evil#sadistic
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Stan that can manipulate his and every other living being's age at his will.
De-aging himself to easily escape and hide from criminals and cops tracking him down, taking the form of an old man to blend into a crowd, and when worse comes to worst, he transforms everyone he can touch into a toddler with no teeth and old geezers with bed knees so severe they can't even stand (he hates doing that bc it draws suspition to him very fast).
On a more silly note, he totally uses that power to mess with Ford and Fiddleford (and Bill if he's involved) when they're being annoying. “Oh were you saying something bud? Sorry I don't understand goo goo gaa gaa lol” (cut to a very pissed baby Fidds/Ford/Bord trying to lecture Stan but their vocal cords are not developed enough).
Hmmm. Are you perhaps aware of one piece's jewelry bonney? I ask because this is her exact power set, but if not it really is a fun one that keeps everyone guessing at how old you really are.
In any case, onwards.
Stan's not born with the power, but stumbles on it on his travels. Its super useful in quick escapes and distractions, makes it easier to crime under the radar when someone sees a kid pick a pocket then that kid vanishes, as an old man putters by. Needs to get somewhere small? Tiny body! Need to look harmless? Old man! No one knows how old he really is, changing it up to whatever suits his needs.
Then Ford comes a calling.
Stan rolls up, his actual age, knocks away, everything is the same right up to the fight. Why fight fair after all, when he can turn Ford into an old man (not a kid, not like this when they're at each others throats, it would just make everything hurt more). Ford is suddenly just, so old, and Stan's still yelling and things are falling apart, and Stan has the upper hand, being young and limber while Fords got aching joints and a bad back at the sudden old happening to his everything.
There isn't a brand, instead Stan just beats up his elderly brother, shoves his book into his hands, and storms off, leaving Ford to slowly scramble to shut off his portal while Stan slams the elevator button a million times and gets out of the basement. Ford wants him to leave? He'll leave, he'll go so far and so fast, no one from his past can ever find him. Why even try anymore if Ford doesn't want him for anything other than errands after all. Why get a million when the brother you'd do anything for just wants to use you and throw you away.
Except he has no money, his car is stuck in the snow, and there's a blizzard, and he Fords old man hobbling after him, ancient and kinda sad looking. Not so sad that Stan's gonna fix him (Ford will just tackle him, he knows it), but sad enough Stan doesn't want to leave just to make sure he doesn't keel over from a heart attack or something.
Ford wheezes into the house, just, so old, and wants Stan to fix what he did, explain what he did, and also take his book to the farthest edges of the earth.
Make me says Stan, child sized and full of energy as he sticks his tongue out at old man Ford and books it. Fords hit with so much heartache at seeing Stan so little, then annoyance as Stan is now hiding somewhere in the house until the storm passes and he can get his car free. Maybe take some of Fords loose cash with him, as reimbursement for wasting his time and breaking his heart.
Then shenanigans, as old man Ford is even more prone to snoozing and old man Bord is both not happy about being so old and also knows exactly where Stan's hiding. Then regular Stan is holding tiny kid Bord while he screams and hollers, full demon eyes and hissing at Stan. Sort of tucks him under his arm while he rages at the outrage of it all, and Stan figures he can stick around long enough to solve the demon problem and no one can make him leave anyway. Thats it though! Hes gonna solve Fords problem then they'll be even and Stan can be his own man!
Then more shenanigans as they fight off Bill, menace Fiddleford and his cult, and eventually reconcile.
#gravity falls#gravity falls au#stan pines#ford pines#bill cipher#then stan uses his power for evil#oh old man ford is just so old#wonder how that happened#was it perhaps because he was staying up way too long and pestering stan#little baby fidds got too robot crazy and now he's in time out
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Thank you @oliviaambs for this request! This was a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy it! ♡
Breaking the Rules
Nicholas Chavez x Reader | 18+ smut
It’s the third time this week that the hot guy in the gym catches your eye. There’s a lot of really fit and attractive men who frequent the upscale gym, but there’s something different about him. He isn’t like all the other arrogant guys who act like panties should drop as soon as they enter the room. He keeps a low profile and doesn’t seem to care about all the attention he draws. He hardly seems to even notice it. You find his quiet demeanor attractive. He’s one of the hottest guys you've ever seen, but it’s almost as if he doesn’t realize how hot he is.
From where you stand in the gym, you watch him doing his bench presses. He's laser focused, oblivious to your staring, but that’s all about to change. Today, you decide that you’re going to make him aware of just how hot you think he is. You apply a coat of lip gloss before making your way over to him and stand behind the weight bench. It probably isn’t very polite to have your pussy so close to this stranger’s head, but you aren’t thinking about good manners. You could’ve sat on his face.
He notices your presence right away and stops what he’s doing, placing the barbell back on the rack as he sits up. The sheen of sweat glistening on his muscles looks so good that you can’t help but stare.
“Hi,” you smile sweetly.
He removes his headphones and smiles back, though a bit hesitantly. He’s polite, but clearly confused at why you’re interrupting his workout and invading his personal space.
“I don’t mean to bother you, but I’ve been seeing you in here and I just had to tell you that I think you’re really hot.”
He can’t help but laugh. “Girls actually do this?”
You shrug. “This girl does. Now say thank you and tell me your name.”
His face gets a little flushed.
He's actually blushing.
“Nicholas.”
“You’re blushing, Nicholas. Am I making you nervous?”
He laughs a bit again. “No, I’m just not used to girls being this forward.”
“So, you’re telling me that no girl has ever gone up to you and told you that you’re hot as fuck?”
“Yeah, no, not really,” he smiles.
Oh, that smile.
You take a step back to look him over, biting your lip as you admire how handsome he is. His big brown eyes are easy to get lost in… and his body? His body makes your pussy clench.
He’s a walking wet dream.
“I find that very hard to believe, Nicholas. Have you seen yourself?”
His response is another little nervous laugh that you find so cute. It doesn’t seem like that should be the adjective used to describe this ridiculously hot guy, but you have him so flustered that he can barely maintain eye contact.
“I think somebody should be telling you that you’re fucking hot, so guess what?” You place your hand on his shoulder and lean in so you can whisper into his ear. “I’m gonna tell you every time I see you.” You give him another smile before turning to leave. “Later, Nicholas.”
You make sure to do a cute little walk because you know he’s checking out your ass as you walk away. You don’t blame him, it’s a really great ass, if you say so yourself. The perfect amount for grabbing. His hands would make a nice fit. You smile at the thought of your legs wrapped around him, his hands holding and squeezing your ass, while he fucks you up against a wall. By this time next week, you’re sure that weights won’t be the only thing he’s lifting.
You learn that Nicholas comes to the gym four days a week, so obviously you start coming on those same days. Every time you see him, you spark up a conversation and shamelessly flirt. You really enjoy how nervous you seem to make him.
“Hey, handsome,” you greet as you take the treadmill next to him.
Nicholas smiles. “Hey.”
“What are we working out today?”
He raises a brow. “We?”
“Yes. We’re working out together.”
Nicholas just looks at you with an expression that’s both incredulous and impressed. He can’t believe that you’re actually this bold, but he likes it. He’s just not telling you that yet. Instead, he breaks down his workout split to you. You find out that it’s an upper body day and he’s working back and biceps. What he's really gonna be working is you, but he doesn’t know it yet.
“Biceps, huh? Yours are so big. I wonder what else is big.”
His eyes get wide and he lets out a sound of disbelief. Did you really just say that?
“Oh, shit, did I say that out loud?” You start giggling and bring your hand to your mouth. “Oopsie.”
“You’re really something else, you know that?” he chuckles.
“Yeah? I think you like it though, Nic.” Turning off the treadmill, you hop off and wait beside him, watching him run. “Your legs are pretty impressive too. Did you play football? You look like a football guy.”
He flashes another smile. “You’re distracting me.”
“I’m distracting you? Tell your muscles they’re distracting me. Your abs have been staring at me since I got here.”
Nicholas just shakes his head with a laugh and finishes his warmup on the treadmill. Soon, he’s heading over to the free weights section with you beside him. He decided that he would let you workout with him today.
As if he really had a choice.
“So, do you live near here?” he asks.
“Why? Are you trying to take me home and get me in bed?” You gasp dramatically. “Take a girl to dinner first, Nicholas.”
He laughs. “Noted.”
He’s completed his first set of bicep curls and realizes that you haven’t picked up a dumbbell yet. “Are you not gonna workout?”
“No, I’d rather watch you.” Smiling, you stand behind him and run your hands along his arms. “You know what I like about a guy with big, strong arms?”
“No, what?”
“How easily he can lift me up and pin me down. I really like that. You know what else I like?”
“What?”
“Your back. It’s so sexy.”
It’s evident how much you’re turning him on, and that only excites you more. Your hands move from his back to his abs and you smile at how his muscles tense under your touch. “You have such a hot body, you know that?” Your voice is somewhat breathless. You’re practically moaning.
He breathes deeply. “Yeah, this cute girl I met in the gym keeps telling me.”
“Just cute?”
He smiles at you through the mirror. “Sexy.”
You can feel the wetness between your legs, and the bulge forming in his shorts lets you know that he wants you as much as you want him. Now the only question is, do you fuck him here at the gym or at home?
“Come with me,” you whisper.
“What? Where?”
“Just come on.”
With a bit of reluctance, Nicholas follows you as you lead him to the men’s locker room. This is one of the times when the insane amount of money you spend on your gym membership seems worth it. The gym is really nice. The showers, in particular.
Nicholas pauses when you both reach the entrance, unsure of whether he should go inside with you or not. Sure, he’d love to fuck you, but maybe not here. He actually did want to take you to dinner first.
“What if someone sees us?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
You shrug. “So what if they do.” You trace your finger along the veins on his forearm. “Just come on.”
“I don’t know.” Nicholas says, still unsure.
“You’re way too sexy to be boring.” Crossing your arms, you grab the bottom of your sports bra and pull it off in one smooth motion. “I’ll be in the shower.” You toss your bra at him and walk inside.
It’s a bold move, even for you.
Luckily, you find that the locker room is mostly empty and no one catches a glimpse of your tits. They’re for Nicholas' eyes only. For a moment you think that he’s actually left you to shower alone, but then you hear him call out your name. Smiling, you push open the glass shower door and peek your head out as he walks over to join you. It’s clear that he’s nervous as he just stands there in his towel. You don’t know why you make him so nervous.
“Don’t be shy, Nicholas. Get in.” You tilt your head back as you stand under the rainfall shower head, letting the water cascade down your body, the droplets tracing a path down your neck and over your breasts. “It feels so good.”
Nicholas removes his towel and gets in. You literally almost drool. How is every inch of him so perfect? His body is truly like a work of art. You can’t wait to get your hands all over him, but much to your surprise, he makes the first move.
“I’m breaking all my rules for you, you know that?” he whispers as his hands slide up your sides and cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. He's been thinking about touching you like this since you first approached him that day. He doesn’t really do casual hookups like this, but it’s something about you that he just can’t resist.
“Good. Some rules are meant to be broken.” That’s the last thing you say before you drop to your knees in front of him.
Looking up at his handsome face, you wrap your hand around him and slowly start to stroke him, feeling his dick grow harder in your palm. It’s a pretty impressive size, and you silently thank the universe for creating something so perfect. Your pulse starts to race, not from nerves but anticipation as you take him into your waiting mouth.
Nicholas watches as you run a long, slow lick up his length, circling your tongue around the tip and sucking gently. You feel him tense and a sharp breath leaves his mouth, the feeling of your lips and tongue just too good. You know you’re good at this, you’ve been told, but you want it to be better than anything you’ve ever done before. You make it your mission to give Nicholas the most mind-blowing head he’s ever had. With every little sound he makes and the way his body responds to your every move, you know you’re well on your way to giving him just that.
“Jesus. Fuck,” Nicholas exhales a shaky breath, his hand slamming against the shower wall as you take him in further. He’s in awe of your skills. He's fairly sure that nothing else has ever felt better.
You keep going, working your mouth deeper, his fingers running through your hair guiding you. You can feel that he’s getting closer, his breaths coming quicker, but you don’t want to send him over the edge just yet. Very slowly, you release him with a long, satisfied lick and stand to your feet. He tells you that you’re “fucking amazing” and kisses your lips before turning you around and pushing you against the shower wall with a force that makes you gasp.
Oh?
Not that shy.
Nicholas stands behind you and you feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers. “How rough do you want it?”
His hand reaches around and strokes your clit. Your pussy feels like an inferno, and you’re pretty sure that you just might explode if he doesn’t fuck you right now.
“As hard as you can give it to me,” you whisper back and bend over slightly.
The next thing you feel is Nicholas sliding into you, taking the wind out of your lungs as he gives you every hard inch of him. He starts moving, slow at first, then working up to a speed that feels nothing short of amazing. One thing is certain, he doesn’t just look good, he fucks good too.
“Shit, Nic…” you trail off as he hits a spot that makes you cry out. You bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud, your hands pressed against the shower wall.
“You like it right there, huh?” He eases out and slowly pushes back in, hitting that spot again. Then again. Over and over, deeper and harder, until your legs feel like they’re about to give out. He feels it too, and he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you back against him as he continues to drive you out of your mind.
“Oh God,” you whimper softly. “I’m so close…”
Nicholas chuckles to himself hearing your cute little whimpers. You were so bold, so confident, so bossy, and now look at you, so needy and desperate.
“Don’t stop…”
And he doesn’t.
With a few more thrusts, your body is trembling and you're letting out a loud moan that you couldn’t hold back even if you tried. Nicholas follows right after, groaning into your neck. You feel his body still behind you and he stays like that for a few seconds before he slowly pulls out, his release dripping down your thighs with the shower water.
“Well, that was fucking amazing, Nicholas. I’m already planning our next round.”
He smiles and chuckles. “How about tonight after I take you out to dinner? I can pick you up at 8.”
You smile. “How can I say no to that?”
#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez#nac#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas chavez x female reader#nicholas chavez x fem!reader#nicholas chavez x y/n#nicholas chavez x smut#nicholas chavez fanfiction#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas chavez fic
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are you leaving the fandom once minibug is done?
not leaving, just kind of taking a break from creating stuff centered around ml. like im still gonna watch the s6 episodes as they air and post about them, but i will most likely not write ml fics/create ml art for a while
minibug took a lot of me (writing a 22 chapter/nearly 200k word fic + drawing 22 pieces of art in the span of like 4-5 months) and also the fandom just aggravates me and interacting with it in any form is more annoying than it's worth, so i really just need to kind of give my brain a break. but im not leaving
the hyperfixation just kinda fizzled out, as most of my hyperfixations do. i still love ml, just not as obsessively as i did a few months ago. i am sure the intense, all consuming love will come back someday. but for now i'd really like to focus on making original work and starting to take on commissions again next month versus dedicating all my time and energy into making ml stuff
but who knows. maybe another fic/art idea will grab me by the throat and force me to bring it to fruition. we'll see lol
#ash answers#Anonymous#minibug is STILL requiring a lot of effort tbh#weekly updates that need weekly edits to make sure the chapters are as good as they can be#i put a lot of love into it!#and while i do immensely enjoy it#it is also quite exhausting!#i am going to be sad when the fic is complete#but i am also looking forward to creating a lot of original work with my ocs!
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Another draft fic finished
"And cut!"
Despite the scene being over, Oliver still kept his face smushed against Lou's neck, laughing along with Lou. They had done the scene three times and each time had them laughing more than the last.
He could feel Lou laughing now, his chest rumbling against his and Lou's hands on hips.
"I said cut you two." Aisha rolled her eyes, a small knowing smirk on her face alerted Oliver that his best friend would have a slew of jokes to tease him with after this.
He looked at Lou, not suprised at all that the other man was already looking at him with those eyes.
Soft and always endearing.
As though he found Oliver to be as adorable like Tommy found Buck to be adorable.
Oliver tried not to have a reaction to Lou's hands dropping from his hips.
Aisha was already back in the directors chair, "Let's take a break? Everyone take an hour. We're gonna be back to filming the breakfast scene."
Oliver nodded, he expected Lou to stick around to rehearse the next scene but turned around to find Lou already gone. He nearly spun in a full circle, trying and failing to find Lou.
How the hell did he just disappear like that on set?
Oliver rubbed his jaw, disappointment sinking in his mind as he phone buzzed in his back pocket.
A picture sent from Lou, the picture was of the script...
In Oliver's trailer.
The next text came immediatly after.
Wanna rehearse? ;D
Lou was an incredible goofy dork.
But Oliver found himself laughing anyway as he nearly hopped jogged as he went to his trailer. He was walking right pass Aisha and the others when he heard Aisha go.
"Looks like the British are coming."
He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to give her a look.
Considering the years they've worked together, Aisha was unfortunately very immune to Oliver's glares. She looks damn near smug as she merely grinned and wink. "You have less than an hour, clock is ticking."
He has never been this desperate.
But this is different.
This is fun.
He wasn't 100% suee what this was, but he felt a force drawing himself to Lou now.
He opened his trailer door to find Lou right in front of him, smiling knowingly.
"So wanna rehearse?"
Oliver didn't waste a minute, he pushed Lou further into the trailer, making sure the door was closed and locked before grabbing Lou by the waist and kissing him. Lou went willingly, smiling into the kiss before opening his mouth for Oliver.
Oliver felt himself chuckle as he felt Lou's hands - his big muscular warm hands- cup his face gently. Lou was a good kisser and while he was careful about on set during their make-out scene as Buck and Tommy, he was more intense and intimate in reality.
Not to mention strong.
He felt Lou's hands move down to his ass, squeezing gently before moving slightly lower and lifting Oliver.
"Jesus!" Oliver huffed out, he was not used to being picked up. He knew Lou could deadlift his weight, they had talked about how much each of them could lift. But being lifted by Lou was a different story.
A very different story.
Oliver wrapper his legs around Lou's waist, burying his face into Lous neck and biting and kissing the exposed skin. He heard Lou moan, making sure to squeeze Oliver's ass again as he pressed their groins together.
Oliver moaned as he felt his hard-on grind against Lou's. "We have less than an hour." He groaned as he felt Lou move, leading them to the couch.
He let out a loud groan as Lou bit the space under his ear before licking the spot slowly with his tongue. "Then let's make the most of it." Lou hummed into his ear.
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Since we’re in the mood to write aus/canon divergent - what if Ayra and Sansa were both captured by the Lannisters during Ned’s downfall. How would Ayra adapted to being a hostage? Would they allow the girls to be together (potentially drawing them closer) or separate them? And obviously the Littlefinger of it all.
i think about the girls getting stuck together literally all the time.
first of all, i do think catelyn has a better argument for trading jaime when it’s a fact the lannisters have both girls on hand, to a point that jaime might actually be Safely sent by robb. esp bc - i think it’s going to leak that the girls are being abused bc i think there’s no way joffrey isn’t publicly much worse if he has arya on hand. he does NOT like her, and he is NOT obligated to try to in his mind - sansa is his betrothed, he has to put up a front of sorts. arya, imo, would not get even that. i don’t know if his torture of her would be sexual the way it is with sansa, but if the events are that syrio dies trying to save arya but she gets caught anyway, she’s putting up a fight when she’s caught, she’s putting up a fight while she’s locked up, she’s gonna start biting people after they kill ned, and i think she’s smart enough to also know that they're likely doing something sinister to sansa as well, not to mention the rest of the household.
so even if, for example, cersei insists arya is kept under house arrest to avoid any weirdness, do we think arya is going to just stay there? i think that if ned isn’t executed, arya is willing to play along. once she’s locked up, she’ll stay quiet in her room, maybe even fake apologize to whoever she probably injured while being taken. but after ned is executed….i just think she’s going to take that + being separated from sansa and probably not knowing (but suspecting) what has happened to their entire household very badly. she has the ability to fawn at harrenhal because she has an identity to hide behind. being Arya Stark during this period i think would be really hard on her. and joffrey loves to get a rise out of people. it’s just a powder keg imo, and while i think tyrion Could put a stop to it, i think actual news about how ~the stark girls are being abused~ is going to leak out of king's landing.
once tyrion is in charge, i think, if given some time and space to calm down, i think arya could calm down? if we assume robb still doesn’t trade for them, or if idk its taking a minute, and arya is a Normal Hostage as opposed to Joffrey’s Hostage, i think that’s a situation arya could adapt to. and the girls…i think maybe in this scenario arya doesn’t actually see ned be executed, she probably just hears something happening outside? i imagine she’s probably told by joffrey dragging her out to look at ned’s head - maybe with sansa (like, Genuinely we’re in trouble here if they go out there together) or maybe separately (honestly probably better in the long run). i would Think this would make them both very “us against the world” but they’re also both kinda mean when they’re stressed out? i can see them fighting in the godswood a lot while publicly trying to put up a united front (i imagine their alone time is impacted and they aren't given much time just together?). especially as joffrey keeps tormenting sansa, and im sure picking at arya too, but more subtly - he’s not sneaking in comments about raping sansa without arya noticing he said something. does she want to talk to sansa about it or does she just think “i’m gonna be nicer to her tomorrow”? are they actively trying to understand each other or do they wind up breaking under the pressure?
i think the Jon of it might be underrated though - he's not likely to get explicit confirmation that anyone is being abused all the way up at the wall, but if that gets to him, that arya is being mistreated, i think he is much more likely to desert, whether thats defecting to the wildlings or just running off to join robb. and of course this massively changes things as the war goes on - if, say, arya and sansa are safely traded for jaime, what in the goddamn hell happens to them when theon takes winterfell? and there's no way one girl is escaping without the other if they've been hostages together for a year - so either lf has to figure out how to deal with arya (dear god) or arya perhaps discourages sansa from trusting dontos and the willas marriage happens? but this still puts a question on "where are the girls post red wedding" - because if they're together and they need help, jon is deserting and he's not thinking twice about it. he already deserts just for arya, there's no way if, say, Dontos grabs Sansa during the wedding, and then Arya convinces Sansa to ditch Dontos (he's drunk all the time, I actually think Arya could take him) and they try to get out together, they'd probably try to take a boat straight to the wall (i mean, that's what i would do and i think it would occur to arya). that man is not fucking around, he's getting his shit and he's leaving with the girls lol.
so anyways tldr i would assume Arya is willing to play nice until Joffrey inevitably brings her outside to gloat about killing the household + Ned, in which case I think she loses her mind immediately, which probably leads to some physical confrontations between her and Joffrey. Probably her and Sansa agree to bury the hatchet and by "bury the hatchet" I mean they don't talk about what's bothering them and let it build up emotionally because they got shit to deal with. Catelyn has a better chance of trading for the girls, but this isn't likely to happen until after Arya and Joffrey have had at least one fight, and I think that's very likely to start leaking out to the Northern faction that Joffrey is beating the girls. If Jon finds out, the night's watch is so fucking cooked lol.
#asks#thecatsaesthetics#and i do think if joffrey has her beaten one (1) time arya is not stupid she's not going to provoke him esp if it's like some sort of#'oh you acted up now i'm going to have the kingsguard beat up sansa' but joffrey *loves* to poke at a problem so he is GOING to#instigate and arya is GOING to react (i mean look at sansa - 'maybe he'll give me yours' 'it's fine for men to cry actually' saving dontos#arya is going to have outbursts like that too but the thing is joff isn't going to accept flattery as much bc he doesn't like arya#but. arya & sansa dealing with dontos. now THAT'S interesting.#canon divergent au#the sun and moon in endless chase
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#my sister in thor#how the hell did i miss THIS#okay i know how but wish i didnt#okay lets put the navi tags first so it doesnt get buried#dagur obsession era#slay#zooming in inappropriately#TBH. this is likeee those posts about cats when someone takes a wet slim excuse for a cat home and#it turns into the most majestic creature youve ever seen in less than a month of being cared for#this#this is him#shaved + grew out some hair + stopped being in a fight or flight mode all the time#muscles actually turn into fat fast as heck so the second he stops working himself to the core hed probably get close to this form#hed remain strong tho and iiiiim not sure if he ever stops working out and hell remain strong anyway#i like to think he picked up every healthy habit after the his neardeath experience#started appreciating life and all#and went overboard with it of course#anyway let him put on weight#stoic is CLEARLYYY his transition goal let him just do it idc#babydagur saw stoic beat a dragons ass and thought THIS WILL BE ME!!!#боже он в сланцах#oooooooooooh no ill take a break my envy attacked me#IM BACK. A DAY LATER#anywayy there must be a reason why hes so underdressed aside from horny though wait horny is actually a valid reason#but still the context my brain came up w is that the island he was stuck on for 6 months was likkkke with warmer climate? if that makes#sense for VIKINGS#and anyway bro caught zen and started dressing in normal stuff and not wearing The Good Robe Tm (IYKYK) all the time#everytime hiccup doesn't see dagur for a long time and then meets him again bro gets bigger#сам придумал сам посмеялся#im guessing its not the case bc of the braid
#part 2 woooo#looks like something post-canon which makes more sense both logically and by vibes#bc the island situation certainly was stressful as fuck#my heart tells me i would handle it with ease but something is telling me that nah#sigh i love cartoon characters so much bitches literally never change#they sleep on their beds with no sheets in their everyday clothes#i love the casual shirts you give him from time to time#oh and that one dagur-with-tummy one#basically a croptop. sigh it is living in my brain rentfree for reasons you dont want to know#i dont know if i can comment properly on that one without revealing too much about the depths of my cursed half asexual half kinky in every#way mind you know.#anyway the one you drew here on the right is a more civilized way of showing off the forms ill give him that#i like his hands here so much i cant#at some point artist develops a certain way of drawing hands that conveys the gesture perfectly but when you look at it its a blob#boobs. sigh#and#В АТАКУ ладно не буду#i dont have the words to express the feeling this DIY skirt thingie makes me feel#i just like how vague it is i suppose <3#the little scorpio one is so cute what is this pose#liliputka never creates new canvases or layers for that matter just move a little bit further and draw#the pose is cute bc its giving cat#like a cat seeing a cucumber at the corner of their eye and freaking out#his left half is skrinking to the minimal volume his left half can possibly take and his right half is trying to run away on all fours im#not taking cryticizm#boobs.#yeah thats the only thought i have#whats the rest of him is he sittinng is he standing im tugging at the edge of the canvas just to see#love his neck here too#and arms
#part 3#sighh hh h#looks simple but its really not#the one a little above looks thinner i take it for rob-dob dagur for some reason#sigh the genre of dagur we only get in your drawings#the ultra curly one#his smile is so cute i cant#LOOK HE STRONK AMD HAS BOOB#looking at us with this half smile#silly#ultra заросший <3 thank you for choosing this silly beardshape for him#its likeee jet black but a lil less crazy tbh suits him a lot hell mb ill steal it#his model beard is so silly they just covered his long as fuck egg shaped chin with hairs and thought itll suffice#still thinking about how he only shaved for his wedding#gaining xp for the ultimate attack#hey this scar seems to be on both this sketch and the one on the bottom#whats up with it#sighh if Only i was brave#youre a stache hater /silly#it may be weird that i say sigh so so often but i really do that irl looking at your pictures and then immediately write it down#screaming crying and throwing up is Usually eternal but sigh is real#i just want to add that i love how you differenciated the sketches with this triangles#this is just. neat#thank you for your art
,,,,,fat dagur,,,,,,,,
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playing around w slightly different hair renders
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#jjk art#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#itafushi#fushiita#yuuji#megumi#cries megumi fought tooth n nail..... i refused 2 flip the canvas tho >:(#i vastly prefer drawing him facing right bc fr some reason it makes his hair look better silhouette-wise#so having him face left is alr a Challenge#but also having him slightly look down (difficult angle + changes the silhouette) had me bashing my head in2 th TABLE#same thing happened earlier this month w gardening megu middle pose . i did not learn my lesson#but even worse w this one yuuji's head is blocking th main pointy part tht basically carries the entirety of the shape language#u can imagine my distress i am sure#anyway th render made me a lot happier with it thank god. colours hard carry bless <3333#i didn't plan on making it a full sheet but i needed 2 remind myself that im good at drawing megumi#so i threw in solos of each of them n tried slightly different render flavours#idk how Different all of them look visually but th process fr each ws Very different so i am satisfied#fight aside this ws useful i think! got 2 break out some Clunkier chalks n dust off a few of my smoother blended brushes#think i picked up some things i can keep also !! which ws. u kno. the Goal#tbh every time i do art studies i feel like i am kirby#one time i got called an art ditto by one of my fav artist mutuals when i did a style challenge#SUCH high praise from her it lives in my mind i take it out on days when i feel like trash#it doesnt Sound good when u say u r good at copying but real talk it is such a good skill i am very happy 2 have it in my arsenal
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ANKETHIA, THE GRANDMOTHER OF TRANQUILITY
( character is a woman, she/her ! )
feeling the hype for the new predator films so i've decided to revisit my main yautja OC's new design! i've been working on her on and off for a couple of months now. took a break from my current WIPs to just have fun and finally give this big ol' lady the reference she deserves!
enjoy some lore on ankethia :)
Ankethia is the respected leader and ancient of the secluded and mysterious clan of "Resting Blade". Located in the ruins of an abandoned moon, Ankethia had founded Resting Blade thousands of years ago as a sanctuary and a place of retirement for elderly warriors such as herself and provided asylum for travelers or warriors who needed it as well. Even some Bad Bloods have found a place at Resting Blade. Prior to founding her clan, Ankethia was dedicated to the hunt like many others.
In her prime, Ankethia was nothing short of a beast, a revered warrior known for slaying multiple Xenomorph queens alongside her wife, Mak'arhu. The two of them were an unconventional yet deadly duo. Unfortunately, Mak'arhu had succumbed to illness and died in Ankethia's arms. This did not deter her, however. Following the death of Mak'arhu, Ankethia set out on extinguishing an unknown amount of hives in memory of her fallen mate. She would hunt until her body told her that it was time to stop, until her heart was full and she was content.
Currently, Ankethia lives out the last of her days not in bloodshed and glory, but in peace and tranquility (and a little partying here and there!). Ankethia is quite the diva, preferring to live in luxury, gorging herself in home-brewed winery and only hunting when she wants a good meal. She ensures the same luxury for all those who seek refuge at Resting Blade.
#not sure when i’ll draw her again but i hate to sate my brainworms#and this was fun to work on today while i took a break from. Everything#pro tip: feeling overwhelmed? take the day off and draw yautja#monstatrons art#ankethia the ancient#monster#creature art#monster art#oc#creature#original character#horror#yautja#yautja oc#alien vs predator#avp#avp oc#predator#predator badlands#predator killer of killers#monster lady#monster lover art#monster lover#monster woman#creature design#creature artwork#alien#alien oc#character design#character art
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