#that man will never know how to interact with people

[rahuratna]

All right, to start with, I'm always a sucker for great world building and alternate settings, and this piece reflects exactly that. Before I get into the meat of the story, a couple of things:

This story is written in such a way that each paragraph feels like a cog in a larger timepiece, ticking inexorably to its passionate conclusion. I'm not sure how you managed that, but it contributes so much to the development of sexual tension between them, and the reader is placed on a little clockwork cart and pitched along at the pace you set. This control you exert over the pacing is just excellent.

Second, I love stories that transport you to a place of almost isolation, where descriptions of people and places are so vivid, but intentionally slip by you by like scenery on a journey, because the electricity between the main characters is your destination, what you're fixed upon. It's reflective of that true passion between lovers, where love becomes a cocoon and the world patters against the outside, never breaking the spell you cast upon one another.

As someone who worked in a lab, and moved to a profession where I'm pretty much surrounded by large numbers of people daily, I feel Nanami, lol. I would also love the quiet refuge of a place where I dedicate myself to my work. The evolution of the attraction between him and the Reader feels almost inevitable from the time she passes his test. The solution she finds is direct, breaking down a problem that seems complex into simpler parts to achieve an end,  the very essence of creating timepieces.

The sexual tension is also drawn into this theme of elaborate dance, precision and timing. Kento's hands using the Reader's to 'perform miracles', the intimacy of such a position made necessary by work, the way his presence is so strong but never overbearing, all captures the essence of Kento as a romantic/sexual partner.

Also, I LOVE the way the references to the time period make it very clear where and when we are, without ever needing to be explicitly stated. The mention of the lamplighter, of Spring Heeled Jack, were all exactly the thing I needed on this rainy afternoon. For atmosphere. Yes. Lol. I mean, yes, I too would give Reader a piece of my mind for wandering around after dark, especially after an allusion to the Whitechapel murders are made.

Please don't kill me for this: She wanted to deliver the package, but ended up with a bigger one LMAO. At least the man is self aware, he knows he's no size for a first timer. The descriptions of the undressing as an act by itself is so telling. It's such a contrast to the order and mechanical rhythm of their day to day interaction, a loss of that fine veneer of gentility, a reveal of the 'animal' beneath that Kento speaks of. The loss of clockwork to the primacy of passion, unwrapped one layer at a time, is the best backdrop for the explicit nature of what happens between them.

The action of wetting his fingers with her saliva to put out the candle is so inspired. It's almost thoughtless in execution, a tell for how much he's been fantasizing about this.

I think my favourite part of this, strangely, was the way you wrote how they approached the bed. The description of how he knows the lay of the corridor between their rooms so well, because of the number of times he's paced it, his room, a place of peace and order about to be transformed into something so much more, your description of him 'stalking' her slowly up the bed as a continuation of the theme of a beast dressed in 'fine tailoring' was what really stood out for me.

The sex scene itself was such a great juxtaposition to the charade of proper conduct they carry out in the workshop each day, and the Reader character's direct nature, seen in the way she discovers her own sexual freedom through him, is reflected so well here too.

Another thing I've picked up is that although Nanami is clearly the dominant and leading partner to begin with, and it's reflected in what he says, his actions give her agency and the ability to explore what gives her pleasure, and there's nothing hotter than that. The idea of her falling pregnant doesn't seem an unnaturally conceived notion at all, because it comes through very clearly that she knows what she wants, and she always has. It's what drew him to her in the first place.

Finally, the conversation between them after passion has spent itself; while it seems on the surface that he's returning to his clockwork self, that's not it at all. That's who he always has been, he's just allowed the Reader to take him apart, expertly with pleasure, to see his innermost workings, and put him back together after. For someone like Kento, in this fic, that's such a declaration of deep trust and love. It expands on the title even further, one watchmaker recognises another in the art and synchronicity that builds between them, and in that, finds a complete masterwork.

Thank you for this atmospheric and beautiful read on a rainy afternoon, Haitch.

The Watchmaker

Newly employed as the assistant to a renowned watchmaker, you soon discover how deeply his obsessions run.

Warnings: 18+, boss/assistant relationship, mutual longing, loss of virginity, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, hand job (m!receiving), creampie, gentle manhandling (consensual), breeding hints, gentle period-drama Nanami snippety-snaps and becomes unhinged, two desperate people getting far too sexy over timepieces and pots of tea

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It was unusual for a lone young woman to be lodged and apprenticed by a single man; and, yet, it came to be, when you alone passed the Watchmaker's interview.

You approached on dry cobblestones, to a handsome, deep shop, with glossy black and gold railings and doors. Your corset felt heavy with the city's summer humidity; the river held the heat like a simmering pan, and its heady stench threatened to consume you. You were used to being without a chaperone, but your modest dress and poor accompaniment drew more wayward glances in this part of the city.

You hurried into the shop, a brass bell above the door tinkling your arrival. Nobody came to greet you. You followed the voices to the back, the eyes of many timepieces following you, their ticking as whispers and gossip in your wake. You came, in time, down tiled steps to a workshop, warm and bright and full of men...naturally.

A single, cursive note graced a sign before the only remaining workbench.

Repair the clock.

Such meagre instructions for a sought-after job. In golden lamplight, a pile of cogs and a loose-handed clock face glimmered like dragon hoard. You cast your eyes, stroking your corset and heavy skirts. You nodded once, and reassured yourself, only once.

"You can do this."

The Watchmaker, a tall man whose broad shoulders and thick hands did not suggest one with a delicate touch, neither agreed nor disagreed; he simply watched, silently observing you like the many faces of his timepieces. You set to work before your audience. The Watchmaker came and went, seeking to observe the half-dozen men competing alongside you.

And, in time, half a dozen sweating young men failed one, by one, by one. The Watchmaker's disgust was apparent, and his sneers soured one, by one, by one, until the last young hopeful curdled like milk before him.

When the Watchmaker came to you, you and your box of gold were not at your station. He frowned, kept company only by muted ticks and tocks. He followed your trail, out to his walled garden.

The test would have been considered a 'trick' only by those who were angry that their lack of respect for precision and accuracy had been identified. You, who could not fathom such sloppiness, found an honest solution.

"A sundial?" The Watchmaker rumbled. You felt a rush of heat from fingertips to toes, untouched by such a voice before. Smoothing your skirts again, and finishing your adjustments to hide the heat in your cheeks, you nodded.

You had fashioned your clock face and myriad small clock pieces to form a glimmering sundial. You had positioned it just so, and confirmed its position with the time shown on your own, battered pocket watch.

The Watchmaker circled you, with narrow eyes that may contain humour were they not so scrutinising. He was impeccably tailored, you noted; a high, crisp collar and rolled back white sleeves revealed enough throat and forearm to make you sweat. An exquisite navy waistcoat nipped his waist only marginally more than his tied apron, and he hummed at your sundial.

"Not what I'd call accurate."

"I disagree. While it may not be very precise, it is accurate. The cogs for the clock couldn't be set in such a way as to make the seconds correct. They were always just out. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He almost smiled; his eyes certainly did. Nodding, and not one for hyperbolic praise, he bowed, instead.

"Nanami Kento. I would be privileged to offer you the role as my apprentice."

The earth formed a springboard, launching you to heaven, and it wrenched the breath from your lungs on the way. Checking yourself before you babbled over with incredulous tears, you choked out an answer on a sloppy curtsey.

"Even though-- even though I'm a woman?"

A scoff. "I don't see how that's relevant."

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Mr.Nanami sought your constant presence.

A natural timekeeper, himself, he sought the company of those like him, who would not expect him to partake in social niceties and small-talk. It was no wonder, then, that he became a Watchmaker, whose many-natured friends had the same face but twice a day.

While Nanami Kento was normally at peace in ticking solitude, the many hands and ceaseless seconds had eventually, as the years went by, begun to grind into an aching loneliness.

You felt it, as summer crisped to autumn, and frosted to winter-- his desire for your company. The way his obsession bloomed to include you alongside his timepieces. The way he lingered in doorways while you handled the customers' repairs. The way he seemed breathless when your smile sent another happy patron on their way. The way he would flinch if you brushed past him.

And god, how it burned you. Eyes downcast in reverence could not remain so for long, so magnetised were they to him. His silences were rarely cold, but rather, simply those of one who held his tongue until he had something to say; a far cry from the men you knew, who sought to usurp the monarchial peace through vocal domination.

Learning such craft at Mr.Nanami's thick, calloused hands, required intimate proximity; he would have to lean around you, at points, with his chest to your back. He moved your hands within his, teaching you the dexterity needed to repair a tiny watch with surgical precision. He leaned like this around you now. You could barely breathe.

"You were not wrong. Though not strictly right, either," he murmured in your ear, his breath grazing over your cheek. His hands held the tools in yours, using your body to perform miracles. You felt faint, flushed, hot against his body, and breathed a shaking breath, quiet in your frustration so as not to disturb the sleeping cogs.

"I want to be perfect, I-- I need it--"

An amused hum, used to your angry tiny mechanics. "You are perfect, thank you. Now let us make the pocket watch match."

As your hands worked in tandem, and another impossibly tiny cog found its home, you gasped in delight, relieved, and not thinking.

"Ah, yes, Kento, we--"

Mr.Nanami stiffened behind you. You backpedaled.

"Ah-- I mean, Mr.Nanami-- I'm so sorry--"

He did not seem upset, though his ears reddened as he stepped away from you. He murmured again, unused to being perceived.

"No, no-- it's quite alright-- I use your given name, after all."

With his face flat but his eyes alight, when you looked up at him in wary apology, he sought to reassure you with a smile.

"Really, please-- please do call me Kento."

"It feels...wrong."

"I...would not seek to make you uncomfortable. It is entirely of your preference."

Your heart drowned out the whispering whirrs of the room. You heard the tap of Mr.Nanami's feet as he ascended the workshop stairs, and blurted out.

"--Kento, I'll...I'll call you Kento. Please."

A pause. Another silence. Kento's voice tightened with something altogether more intimate.

"I fear I shall get used to it far too quickly."

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Too long were you lingering in your respective doorways, before bed. Too sweet, were the shared evenings in a firecrackle sitting room. Too electrifying, were the hands that met to pour just one more cup. Too intentional were the slim-eyed stares that burned down to the very bones of you.

If you died, and committed your body to science, the ghost of you would be unsurprised if a surgeon found Nanami Kento's name scored across your ribs; for nobody else could access that cage to your heart and soul.

Nobody else could warm you, during Winter fairs on the frozen river.

Nobody else could take your hand, to help you down the stairs at the Timepiece Exhibition.

Nobody else could still you with a look, or teach you with such few words, and this was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

Your peak hit you in a burst of static. You clasped your hand over your own mouth, as if it would sell you out for your filthy crimes. Still, you arched in your bed, your toes curling against the sheets, bucking up into nothing in waves. Clarity did not hit you after, for it had already hit you during, and had done nothing to still your fingers.

Rolling over, and pressing your face into your pillow after the ecstasy had passed, you held your breath. It was too quiet.

Your eyes sprung open. The muffled bustling you had heard from the bedroom next door, had stopped. You weren't sure when. The silence was deafening...until movement started again, more clipped than it had been before. You could feel him, moving with irritation, a prowling beast in a cage.

It was over an hour before Kento's own hand travelled down his belly, to grasp himself with whispered curses and pleas of your name. Long enough, he hoped, for you to be asleep. Long enough, he hoped, that he could hide this rampant obsession that was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

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"I should think I'll be home for tea. Inspector Aberline's grandfather clock again. It has stage fright, I fear, for how often the Inspector stares at it."

Kento's words, from hours before, rolled through your mind again and again. The smile you had sent your final patron of the day on his way with, slipped away, for you saw the lamplighter beginning his rounds on the cobbles outside. The sun had already set; he was late, tonight. You'd have offered him a lantern, but without Kento beside you, you felt you would need its warmth and light more.

Your eyes flickered to a package on the desk. It was imperative, Kento had said, that this was delivered to the customer today. 'Today', as a concept, was growing increasingly more abstract as it threatened to expire.

You saw the deep, dark circles under Kento's eyes, in your mind's eye. He had not been sleeping well. He needed the rest. You could not bear to see him overburdened.

Taking a deep breath, and undoing your apron to replace it for your heavy coat and gloves, you tucked the package under your arm, locked up to the tune of the tinkling bell, and stole away through the night like a thief in the dark.

Clacking across cobblestones, and trying to diminish the noise of your boots upon them, you walked for what felt like miles. Though you were sure you were safe, in this part of the city, the darkness turned shadows into beasts of great renown.

Spring-Heeled Jack stalked you from the shadows. You clutched the package closer, walking faster, breathing harder--

"What the hell are you doing out here, at this time of night?"

You squealed, and flattened against a red brick wall. Kento, imperious and huge in a heavy brown overcoat, glowered down at you with unbridled rage.

"The package," you squeaked, brandishing it as a shield, "you said-- said it needed to be delivered--"

"And it is not your place to take it upon yourself to do so. Returning to find you gone, out delivering a bloody package, while there's a killer on the loose? Extraordinary." The coldness that Kento reserved only for others, now directed at you, was a bitter sting.

Still; Kento held out his arm, stiff. His lip curled when you did not immediately take it. He grew frosty as he waited, and you slipped your arm into his, to a mollified grumble.

"Come," Kento rumbled, arresting you in a hold so intimate against his side, "let us not waste a journey. The customer isn't far from here. It shall give you time to think about your foolish choices."

You felt furious tears prickle behind your eyes. Like a dog with a bone, Kento struggled to let his anger go, and you snapped up at him, "Give it a rest. You're not my husband--"

"--yet, if it would allow me any sort of say over your safety, perhaps I should be your husband." Kento had frozen, looming over you. Your belly twisted, your face hot. You turned aside, chastised like a child.

"I'm no girl," you whispered, venomous, "I can take care of myself--"

"In a world that places no value on women, why should you ever feel safe? Out here, instead of in my--"

It was Kento's turn to redden. His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped upon the package. You felt righteous anger bubbling over, and rolled the dice, in a stabbing final gambit.

"In your what, sir? In your workshop? In your arms? Or in your bed?"

Kento's stony impassivity was tested, but remained steadfast even against your snapping. But you knew him, now; you saw how his chest hitched, heard his knuckles crack, and caught the faintest flare of his nostrils. Ducking his head for a moment, and dramatised by lamplit shadow, he stepped in just once to whisper above your ear.

"You forget yourself. I am your mentor, and you are my assistant, and--"

"--and I've had enough of you pretending that's all we are--"

"--and it's hard enough not bursting into your room at night when I hear your fingers drag my name from your mouth, so if you will be so kind as to cease and desist, I will not have to press you against this damn wall to hold your tongue with my own."

His hissing reproach doused the argument with ice water. Numb-footed and stunned, you walked through treacle, as Kento dragged you to deliver the package. Your chest was still thickened by mortification by the time you approached the Watchmakers' familiar iron railings.

You found yourself pressed inside, hearing the door bolted with force. Kento's hands softened as they removed your coat from your shoulders.

"Bed," he snapped. Kento turned his back to you to light a waxdrip candle. White shirtsleeves billowed from the shoulders of his waistcoat, and he checked his pocket watch as if it would give him the answer. You reached one hand out, to bunch in the back of his waistcoat, as if a child, and he snapped again.

"Alone."

You flinched. You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. You swallowed hard, rolling the dice again.

"I hear you, too. In your room at night. The walls are thin."

"So is my patience, young lady, I will not tolerate--"

"You treat me like a girl to distance yourself from me, but pleasure yourself to my name? Please. You can make a fool of yourself but don't make a fool out of me--"

Kento spun with a growl, lifting you by the waist to drop you upon the counter. You squeaked, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself when he closed the gap between you.

"Do not act as if you know," Kento whispered, low and slow, "what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring. Do not act as if you know what it means to be reduced so, that I must spill myself onto my belly every night, to preserve your virtue.

I do not blame you, naturally-- it's my burden entirely-- but if you add one more ounce to my shoulders with that incorrigible little mouth of yours, I'm afraid your virtue shall be...under threat."

You couldn't deny the heat pooling between your thighs, now, trapped as it was by Kento's taut body. You couldn't deny your craving for such fabled bliss.

"How does it feel," you whispered, your hand creeping up the buttons of his waistcoat to stroke the silk of his cravat, "Kento? How does it feel? Do you use your hand, or--"

An agonal little choke broke past Kento's high collar. His eyes begged you to stop him. You felt his long fingers twitch on your waist.

"Do not ask me--"

"Please," you whispered again, just as desperate as him, "please, I need to know, I can't keep living life in the dark--"

"My hand," Kento choked out, his chest barrelling with the weight of his breaths, "I use my hand. But even in the dark, I can't seem to convince myself that it-- that it's--"

You felt him falter, and you begged him, your tugging loosening his cravat enough to see his throat bob behind it. Kento whined, begging in kind. His face twisted, as if the thuds of pleasure lengthening his cock were hurting him. The torture was sweet; you felt it, too.

"Don't make me say it," Kento pleaded, nose to nose and nuzzling from side to side, "I can't take it--"

"You can-- you can take me--"

"--you don't know what you're saying--"

"--I do, Kento, please--"

"--don't know what you're sacrificing--"

"--you wouldn't," you pressed, feeling his hands moving against his wishes to unbutton the back of your dress, "you wouldn't sacrifice me, I know, so just--"

Kento groaned, a sound so sinful, just to feel your dress release and slip down over your shoulders. Pinching the ends of your sleeves, with his fingertips grazing your palms and inner wrists until you shivered, he pulled. A gossamer shift of white ghosted over your skin.

"So many layers, upon a lady," Kento murmured against your lips, "like unwrapping a gift."

He sounded drunk, and the honeyrich pools of his eyes had darkened. You couldn't pinpoint the moment his resolve had crumbled, but crumble it did, with the tick-tocking eyes of many upon you. Kento grazed his fingers against your lips, ordering in a whisper.

"Open." You didn't have to, your jaw already slack as promise burned you at the edges. Kento swiped his thumb and forefinger across your tongue with a groan, and reached out, snuffing the candle between them.

What dim light there had been, died. None that breathed would hold court or witness to what Kento was about to do to your virtue.

"This will not happen only once," Kento murmured against your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you until you mewled. He cursed to hear it, becoming more unhinged by the minute. "I will take your maidenhood as a lover, but take your hand as my wife. You cannot refuse."

You could refuse-- you knew you could, in absolute safety, but such refusal would take his mouth from you with immediate effect. His hands would cease their insistent glide up, and up, beneath your skirts. He would stop rutting forwards against nothing, with each whimper that left your lips. He would no longer drag your bodice down with his teeth, to suckle at the plump swell of your breasts.

You nodded, breathless, your hands shaking against the buttons of Kento's waistcoat. He grunted as it fell open, and your hands settled upon his waist. His graze against your neck was more insistent, now, and sloppier; hungry, open mouthed kisses that suckled the salt from your skin. Occasionally, you heard him murmur, begging to you, or to his god, or to himself, for any sort of release.

Overtaken by need, you finished unbuttoning his trousers, and tangled your fingers in his hair, instead.

"Don't know what you're doing," Kento mumbled, drunker by the minute, "going to ruin you, I-- I'll ruin you-- I'm no sensible size for a virgin--"

"So you suggest I find some other man?" You panted, "You suggest I find someone smaller--"

"They don't fucking deserve you," Kento spat, forcing the last of your skirts up to grind himself at your core until you whined. With your corset untied, Kento tossed it to the floor behind him with disdain, and yanked the final layer down to free your breasts.

Shuddering, he gripped his cock to restrain himself.

"Divine," Kento whispered, ducking to nuzzle against the tips of your breasts, "I have to-- please allow me to--"

Without waiting for an answer, Kento lapped your nipple into his mouth with a groan. Suckling until you pleaded his name, with hot bursts of pleasure to your core, Kento's hands reached the crest of your thighs, and groaned to find more layers in the way.

"Buy you some more," he grunted against your breasts, gripping the fabric between strong fingers to shred it apart, "my apologies-- now, just-- oh, fuck, I--"

His fingers had slipped between your folds to glide through them. Needing to see you arch against the sudden intrusion, Kento pressed you back until you were lying on the counter, and loomed over you. You caught sight of him for the first time in minutes.

Kento was utterly dishevelled, unabashed, and too far gone. With his cravat and waistcoat hanging loose, and a long, thick swell beneath what remained of his unbuttoned trousers, he looked more debauched than your wildest fantasies. He twitched with the spurt of pre-cum that left his cock, to see you spread out before him.

Sniffing, and dragging one hand back through his parted hair, Kento scoffed at your look of glassy-eyed wonderment. His fingers curled through your lips until that sought-after arch graced his eyes, and you mewled again, your thighs clamping around his hips

"More than one of us can be reduced to a beast," he growled, circling your clit with calloused fingertips, "as you have insisted. I've taught you with these fingers before. Let us teach you something new; how it feels to peak upon the hands of a man."

"--o-oh god, oh god oh god--"

A bark of laughter, "--he won't help you now--"

"--oh, sir--"

"Try again."

"K-Kento!" You chastised through blinding pleasure. Kento chuckled again, intoxicated and made ruthless by it, and holding you flat by the belly as his hands worked miracles on your core.

"That's it-- good girl--"

The way he praised you had always brought you to a blush, but how he growled his praises while he fingered you to completion was another entity entirely.

Your hips rolled up, trying to fill the emptiness that his fingers alone couldn't. Your body was rendered base with pleasure, and nature's insistence that such passiveness should be used to leave your belly full of seed.

You could see that, too, in his eyes; an urge; a hunger that belied his gentle nature. In sudden clarity, you understood his cry of agony, from mere minutes before: 'Do not act as if you know what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring.'

"--K-Kento, I-- I don't know if I'll-- it's too much, aches-- augh--"

Your approaching peak threatened to overwhelm you, and you squirmed and begged, though you knew not what for. Kento pinned you, with one splayed hand on your belly, and whispered you on.

"That's it-- don't be afraid...shhh, now. Good girl-- that's it-- beautiful--"

You came with thigh-clamping bursts of ecstasy, so sharp and static by the hands of another, that your belly ached and cramped with the force of the spasms. Kento's fingers slowed, massaging the pleasure out of you at length, though you could feel his body growing heavy with the weight of self-restraint.

You felt yourself twitching, crunching forwards involuntarily, with little more than broken whimpers and cries as he talked you down. Though, as clarity dawned in supple bliss, you felt he may be trying to talk himself down.

"...good...that's good, that's enough, I...I am satisfied, I..."

Kento lied to himself so exquisitely, as if he didn't palm his cock with one trembling hand. As if he hadn't pulled his shirt off to relieve the prickling heat of his skin. As if he couldn't kiss you because that, oddly, would be the intimacy that broke the dam.

You broke it for him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his neck so he couldn't rear away from you. He tried, at first, with a grunt of surprise, gripping you by the waist. Feeling your lips against his rendered him dumb again, feral and nuzzling his nose to yours, like an addict in a field of poppies.

"Please-- I'm afraid I won't-- won't be gentle--"

"Bed," you whispered against his lips, "not alone."

Kento groaned again, cupping his hands beneath your thighs to lift you, and carry you up the narrow wooden staircase. He knew every shoeworn step in the dark; knew where the corridor dipped; knew the amount of steps between his bedroom door and yours, so many times had he paced between the two.

With his curtains un-drawn, only the cold winter moonlight lit the room. Meticulous, uniform possessions left meticulous, uniform shadows. The whole room smelled of Kento; of soft wax, leather and musk. In his room, in his arms as one leg flicked the door deftly closed behind him, felt like being brought home.

"If I show you how," Kento whispered, laying you on his bed, just to stalk you slowly up to his pillows, "will you...can I..."

You'd have said yes to anything. Without knowing exactly what Kento asked for, you nodded. He saw the absolute trust in your eyes, and stiffened, his eyes darkening with something more profound than need.

"Do you know what physical love entails?" He rumbled, nosing against your neck again, and depriving you of the first kiss you so desperately craved. "Do you know what it is, to be taken?"

You swallowed hard, feeling lead weights in your still twitching belly. You cursed the society that had sought your submission through ignorance.

"We...are supposed to fit together," you whispered, to Kento's satisfied rumble. Stil, it was not enough; you knew he would not continue past his insistent suckling of your throat, if you showed true ignorance, so you mumbled past your blushes.

"You...press yourself inside me, until...until you..."

"...go on."

"Until...you finish, like--like--"

"...like you did, on my fingers. Except, your completion simply fills my soul...metaphorically speaking. My completion fills you literally."

Your hand had trailed down his bare chest, reverent at his form, so different to your own and witnessed before only in fine art and statues. He didn't stop you as your hand trailed lower. He simply fixed you with a stare, that was half hope and half despair.

With rising breaths, you looked down between your bodies as you freed him. Animalistic relief twitched across Kento's shoulders, for the release from his confines. He groaned into your throat, husky in a way that made you throb. You longed to see his pleasure as he had seen yours.

Tentative, you grazed his length with the barest fingertips. Rigid, woody, hot, velvety, wet at the tip and so long and--

"Oh," you breathed, gripping him and feeling his heartbeat through his sex, and utterly unsure what you had expected, "feels...good--"

Kento breathed harshly, and had dropped onto his elbows above you, his face twisted in agony. He panted, fractious.

"Don't-- do not--"

Your hand flinched away, horrified for having hurt him, and he cursed, rolling off you to sit, strewn and messy and barely dressed, against the head of the bed. Your eyes fixed again on his manhood, heavy and twitching against his belly.

"I won't touch-- I'm sorry--"

"Don't stop," Kento emphasised, breathless, "don't...dont stop."

With a flush of heat in your cheeks, you understood the nature of Kento's agony, and it only made you hungrier. Crawling over him in the barest white undergown, to straddle his thighs and sit upon them, you reached out to grip him with one trembling hand again. Kento arched, moaning that rusty, desperate moan again.

"Show me? Like you do in...in the workshop."

"God, your hand is so sweet--" With his own hand, big enough to engulf yours, he wrapped around your grip to his length. Slowly, deliberately, and watching where your hands clasped around him with sweat on his brow, Kento used your hand to pump himself.

Feeling the glide of silk on iron made your core wetten and clench. Watching how Kento moaned, bucking into your joined fists and reaching up behind him to grip the pillows, was hypnotic. Within seconds, your hand had begun to move independently of his, stroking him with raw determination to witnessq his unravelling.

Kento groaned in time with your rhythmic strokes. His newly freed fist bunched, instead, at your hip, having rucked your slip aside to dimple shaking fingertips in the plush of your curves. You began to squeeze a little tighter at the tip, twisting a little, and making Kento see stars.

"Hah--haaaaah-- don't-- don'tstop-- better than any dream-- good girl, please, please--"

Your thumb swiped without warning across a bead of wetness that had seeped from the slit in his tip, and Kento swore, bucking hard enough to make you chirp and grip his thighs for purchase.

"--wait--wait-- I'll spill in your hand, wait--"

This didn't deter you; if anything, it spurred you on to faster and faster strokes. Kento writhed, sweating and gripping, and you watched the heavy balls beneath his length tighten up, and--

"--ungh--coming--don'tstop...unh--"

Kento's whole body tensed. His face fixed in divine ecstasy. You watched his length jerk in your fist with thick, warm glugs of sticky white seed. You stared, your new obsession making you want to stroke Kento's release between your folds, but you held him instead, feeling him rut into your fist to chase his high.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kento came back to earth, with a heavy chest. While lax, for now, something in the way he looked at you, kneeling above him and examining the way his release dripped down your forearm, told you he was barely sated.

"Always were a...a fast learner."

"Well, you always wrote me off as a child--"

"I did not," Kento huffed, a mortified, angry flush colouring his cheekbones, "I knew exactly the woman you were. I do not lust after girls. If I didn't separate you, I knew I would...I knew we would..."

You nodded. You had both fought to convince yourself against such inevitability. Pondering, and curiously disappointed in the aftermath of Kento's pleasure, you stroked his slippery length in your hand again.

"You're...still hard."

Kento's eyes flicked down, that animalistic hunger taking seed in his eyes again. When he spoke, it was low, and barely measured.

"It would not usually, but-- but feeling you above me, so close that I could flip you over and trap you beneath me, I--"

You felt your breath leaves your lungs at once. Kento winced, disgusted with himself, but you snatched it away before it could take root.

"Please-- I want that, please--"

"With all this seed, and more to come after I bury myself inside you, you will be with child within days," Kento spat, gripping your cum-slick wrists to stop you stroking another orgasm out of him. Kento froze; having been about to throw you off, he saw the look in your eyes. The look of willingness. That sheer determination that had taken you as his apprentice in the first place.

"You like that," he mused aloud, enraptured as you lifted your undergown away to reveal yourself in your entirety. With your wrists gripped in one broad hand, the other stroked down between your breasts, to settle, stroking, on the soft plush of belly just above your mound.

"You...like that? The thought of a part of me, growing inside you? The thought of me spilling myself so deep, it has nowhere to go but your belly?"

The thought made you lightheaded. Why? Why was the thought of the same sticky release that coated your hands, inside you instead, so alluring? Beast in fine tailoring a beast in fine tailoring a beast--

Kento rolled you over. The strength you always knew he had, carefully restrained by waistcoat and pocket chains, bore down upon you now. He kicked away his trousers, desperate to be as bare as you, and brought his sheets over his hips to bury you both in a warm little den. You shivered to feel his length rest on your belly and mound, so close to where you wanted him.

Kento shook his head, trying to see logic, "If I finish inside you-- you really will be in danger of bearing my child, you..."

His voice had faded, gobsmacked as you stroked your seed covered fingers between your folds, mulish and clipped.

"There," you snipped, "I've already covered myself in you, so that's that--"

"You are utterly feral, this is what I get for bringing a guttersnipe into my workshop--"

"--so you might as well just finish the deed, sir, because--"

Kento laughed, overjoyed by your fearless audacity. His lip curled, and he reached down again to stroke his sticky seed between your folds.

"You think that's what I meant by inside?" He pressed, so close to the entrance you had never sought to penetrate, "You think I meant here? No, my love...I meant here."

You squeaked to feel Kento press one thick finger at your entrance. You felt the briefest sting of resistance, felt yourself clench and buck. Kento stopped, and pressed a first kiss to your lips, so sweet that you rushed through a wildflower meadow in summer.

He stroked circles just inside your entrance, loosening you with the slick of his seed, and kissing you with an intimacy that felt so much more than all the sordid deeds you had stolen from each other so far.

"And when I say 'here'," Kento continued, his breathing getting heavier, "I meant deeper. Much deeper than my fingers could reach. In truth, I would rather break your maidenhood with my cock, than my fingers. Some...filthy little part of me, I think. I loathe it. But, since we are well past being dishonest with each other..."

"Want that, please--" you babbled, squeaking with the promise of being filled with the rod you felt dragging on your belly, "--please, do it, I need to know, need you--"

"You beg like you mean to corrupt," Kento grumbled, pressing a little harder against your entrance and shivering as you squeaked, "I was a good man before this...I think. Shhhh, shh shh...that's it...soften you up...good girl."

"Not a girl," you gasped, your voice breaking and your nails digging into Kento's shoulders. He laughed, a full, rich, deep laugh of genuine delight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his fingers were replaced by his cockhead.

"You are right," he rumbled, nuzzling his nose to yours again, "you're certainly not. At least...you won't be, in a moment." Nose to nose with you, and whispering into your mouth, Kento pressed insistently forwards, "Hold onto me."

You did, feeling a brief sting, and stretched and stretched and stretched and--...full. You whimpered, bringing your legs around Kento to embrace all of him to you. He grunted, and gasped, pulled to bottom out within you, when he had meant to take you slowly. You clung him inside you as he moved to pull out, and begged, afraid it was already over.

"Nonono-- don't come out-- stay--"

Kento bucked into you involuntarily, and groaned a godless sound, arching up and gripping the headboard, white-knuckled.

"Got to-- got to move, to-- to finish...but at this rate--Christ, you'll kill me-- god, can't-- can't finish straight away like a boy--"

If the pleasure of being locked into the warm, wet drag of your pussy hadn't almost taken Kento to the edge, the way you looked up at him with glassy adoration would. He moaned again, another certain stepping stone to damnation.

One more glance at you had Kento planting one forearm above your head, and plaiting his fingers with yours upon the pillow. He gasped, trying not to take you too roughly, and finally, whispered again.

"Hold onto me."

Smooth, and fluid, and with the barest scraps of self control, you saw stars to feel Kento drag his cock back to your entrance, only to fill you again. You felt the thickfriction drag, and its bursts of belly-deep pleasure than rendered you oddly submissive. You revelled in it; drugged, and sighing, your eyes slipping closed.

The drunken animal in Kento had returned in force.

"...feels...weird...good--- don't stop, Ken--"

"--sh-shit, won't last-- I'm sorry--"

Kento watched you in wonderment. Whatever pleasure your ripe core gave him, could not compare to that given to him by your face; your mewls, and sighs, and whispers.

You couldn't seem to whisper his name, though; it tasted so sweet upon your tongue, that you could not bear to let it go.

You could feel Kento losing his ragged self-control. Watching your face, the plush bounce of your breasts, and the way your thighs spread against your belly every time he fucked into you, was an otherworldly delight. You took it; gladly. Your pleasure built strangely-- deeper, and more powerful, and yet not quite enough.

Your fingers sauntered down your belly. In your addled, fucked-into state, you barely noticed what you were doing. Kento noticed, though, and growled, a droplet of sweat dropping from his forehead between your breasts. His thrusts deepened, harder and faster and desperate for orgasm.

"F-fuck...just like that...just like you do at night-- my name--"

"Ke...Ken--"

"My name."

"Kento," you half-sobbed, lost in his promise to fill you with the sticky cum that had dropped down your hand, "please--pleasepleaseplease--"

"--the begging, fuck, I'm-- I'm done, I'm-- ungh, fuck--"

You knew Kento must be finishing. You felt him twitching, and jerking, within the snug gripping heat of your cunt, ruined by him as per his promise. You felt the curious warm spill somewhere deep inside you.

You knew the look of bliss upon his face. Your fingers, still rolling the remnants of his seed around your clit, moved faster and faster and faster--

You arched, seconds after Kento's own peak had begun, into your own. You heard the headboard crack under Kento's grip, heard the rhythmic, fractured moans that may have been his and may have been yours, too lost were you both in oblivion.

The world may have completed one full turn. Struggling to hold himself up, Kento shook, dopey and half-asleep after filling you as he had threatened. You locked him within you, and held him like a lead blanket, nuzzling into his throat.

"Just...stay there. Stay. I like it."

"That feels...indecent," Kento mumbled into your neck. His uncharacteristic colloquialism was winding back again, and you felt the clipped man in the waistcoat and pocket chain returning to earth. You whispered, to his devilish laugh.

"How are we supposed to make watches together after that?"

"Carefully. Very, very carefully. As husband and wife."

"...oh."

[kandlewick]

“Huh. The stars are different here too.” You really shouldn’t be surprised as you laid back against the cold roof of the Ramshackle dorm, arms outstretched towards the sky. Cassiopeia, Orion, Andromeda, Ursa Major… not even the Big and Little Dipper were there, everything was new and foreign to you. The night sky was something you use to take comfort in as a child, knowing that no matter how far you were from home, you were still under the same sky and stars. Here you felt… lost. There was no morning star to guide you home anymore. Everything was so different and strange. You felt a little tickle in the back of your throat. gn reader x malleus (platonic or romantic)

“What was that, child of man?”

“It’s nothing really, Horton.” You turned your head slightly and met the gaze of your quiet companion. Malleus stood beside you, his eyes lowered, a quiet mix of contemplation and curiosity at the sight of you. Whether he knew it or not, his tall form kept the chilly winds away. You shake your head, offering him a small smile and shrug, “I try not to think too much about it but…” you couldn’t help but let out a sigh, a deep one from in your chest, “I really am far from home.”

“Yes, you are.” Malleus’s gaze never left yours as you turned away to look back at the sky, a forlorn expression forming on your face. You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to consider his next move, as if trying to plan out the best course of action. It was almost funny how unuse to human interaction the fae prince was with his piercing stare and slow blinking eyes, almost alien. You could almost understand why some people would find the prince an intimidating figure even without the title and prestige.

You hummed, “It’s funny to think about, with how different our worlds are, how much is the same but just slightly different because of the ability to wield magic. We’ve hardly learned about our own oceans, yet we’ve mapped the stars farther than we could ever possibly go in a single lifetime. Isn’t that amazing?”

“What an odd concept. Just what do you plan to do with this information?” Malleus cocked his head to the side, eyes wide in curiosity, “If humans like you live such short lives, what do you gain by this?”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his wording but seeing Malleus’ eyes narrow and a pout forming on his face, you quickly hide your smile behind your hand, waving it off. You hadn’t meant to, he was just so honest about his curiosities. But the thought did give you pause and so you grew quiet. You sat back and pondered this before coming to the only conclusion you could think of.

“I guess we’re lonely?”

“Lonely?”

“Ah, yeah. Lonely.”

You figured Malleus could understand that. 

“We can hardly get along with ourselves but the idea of being alone on a rock surrounded by nothing but empty space for billions of miles, dead planet after another is…” You let out a breath and drew your legs close to your chest, your fingers tightly entwining. Despite not being alone here on the roof, all of a sudden you felt so lonely. You had very quickly learned how to compartmentalize the anxiety, the anger, the fear that came with being in a new world. It was easy to ignore the gnawing worry in your chest clawing at your throat every time you thought of home, about your job, about your life. Out of sight, out of mind, right? However, sometimes in the quiet of the evenings, you could feel it crawl its way back into your heart. The cold night air seemed even chillier than normal, even with your companion standing by your side.

Malleus finally lowered himself down next to you as you became quiet, a nameless expression on his face. He wasn’t used to comforting others, you could tell, by the way he seemed to fidget in his own strange ways. His gloved hands were in his lap, his eyes less narrowed, and he kept peeking at you from behind his hair. If you weren’t used to how he normally acted, you might not even have noticed but you did. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“But to make up for that loneliness, we sent out a spacecraft — two to be exact — to adventure farther out than mankind could even hope to reach. Their names were Voyager! They were thrown deep into space to learn and study and show us all the beauty our universe offered. Oh, Malleus, I wish I was able to show you.”

“Perhaps if given a description, I could attempt to recreate it for you.” His words were kind, an offer to give your memories a physical form. It was a sweet thought.

You hummed and leaned back, looking up at this world’s universe., “Sadly, the spacecraft couldn’t be powered indefinitely. Last I checked, it only had 10 years left of its life before it stopped speaking back to us… but that’s ok because on them, we left a little present.”

“A gift? Perhaps your universe isn’t so lonely after all if you’re attempting to offer something to whoever finds it.” Malleus’ hand reached up and cupped his cheek in thought, as if the idea of throwing a present into the vacuum of space wasn’t something fantastical. You wondered if Twisted Wonderland has ever wanted to explore its stars. Would they have a reason to? There didn’t seem to be any sort of arm’s race from what you’ve picked up.

“Yes! We call it the golden record! On it, we’ve stuffed it full of a bunch of stuff we thought was important to us. Music, our language, photos of us.” You slowly closed your eyes and smiled, “Everything we could have possibly have put in it, we did.”

“Then are you not something similar to that?” Malleus asked.

You turned quickly and stared up at him, his bright green eyes nearly piercing yours as he blinked down at you. His face was gentle, tender while he softly continued, his shoulder nearly bumping into your own. “A Voyager. A traveller. You are far from home but you’ve shown me plenty of things I’ve never experienced before.”

You flushed from his words, a dark blush creeping up your neck. You could feel your ears burning while you tried to break eye contact, instead choosing to stare at a particularly uninteresting loose board barely hanging on on top of your roof. Malleus paid you no mind and continued, his voice reaching you even over the winds that chill your bones.

“You are what we, — No, what I — know of your world. You are my Voyager. Thank you for traveling so far to reach me, Child of Man.”

[dobadoo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ wanderer ..

wanna find out what your loved one likes within the framework of.. not exactly childish topics ?

✧ warnings — MDNI !! pure smut , some kinks , asexual wanderer, fem ! reader ofc, mentions of breeding kink; ✧ a/n —This work is somewhat of an experiment, I welcome your participation in its development. Write to my inbox and write what character you want next. Сharacter name + "for nsfw-alphabet", and then your application will be considered when writing. ✧ minors do not interact. !!

༊*·˚ A: aftercare(after sex)

About sex, the wanderer is certainly enlightened, after all he is 500+ years old. For the wanderer, sex is an alien and strange, as he thought, activity for him. Despite his long life, the Wanderer never thought that he could allow himself something like sex - the prerogative of people. However, you opened the door to this mysterious world for him, leading him by the arm through all the corners of pleasure. And for him this is certainly valuable.

After all, he got attached. Again.

But when he, despite the fact that he is a puppet, hiding a slight shaking in his body from the sight of your pleasure, continues to bring you through overstimulation with his own fingers.

After he brought you beyond the edge of pleasure, he will silently lie with you, without touching, but no, he is not squeamish! in no case! the wanderer always lost himself in his thoughts, leaving reality for himself, but hearing how you slightly squeal and try to catch your breath, he will carefully cover your fragile, human body with a sheet wet with sweat, having kissed you on the forehead beforehand.

༊*·˚ B: bodypart (favorite body part)

Hands. He loves to hold on to them, to feel your warmth. If he is in high spirits, he will definitely kiss your wrists and knuckles, asking you to run your hand over his chest or torso. His hands themselves are cold, with puppet joints, with each touch you are literally shaking.

Another time, you wanted to grab onto something in horror, when the wanderer sharply increased the pace of caresses that he gave. His hand tenderly entwined yours, his fingers held your palm, and then your hands intertwined in a lock. You are struck by the contrast of body movements: with one hand they give you quick advances, with the other they hold you, with the pads of their fingers lightly stroking the back of your palm.

༊*·˚ C: cum(orgasm)

Your inner sense of justice can rarely be calmed down: of the two of you, you are the one who gets the release most often. Although you understand that he certainly doesn't need an orgasm.

Undoubtedly, the Wanderer loves your personal attention and loves to see your efforts (he will never say this), but he can often refuse the receiving position in favor of you and the time spent, and sometimes he simply stops you during the process, gently taking you away from his body, and says: "I've had enough for today," although you know perfectly well that you haven't reached the end.

When it comes to you, he always knows how and what to do with your body in order to hear your beloved voice again, trembling amidst slight insanity. The Wanderer was able to quickly find what he wanted and often tries to distract you from unnecessary work or study at the academy.

༊*·˚ D: dirty secret (secret sexual desire)

Surprisingly, he is not used to hiding anything, although it would seem that he is a man with many secrets. However, only his past is covered in a dark haze, when, in his own words, he lived in Inazuma. But in matters of sex, he rarely hides anything, more often he himself is curious about various embarrassing issues.

But he imagined what would have happened to you if you had appeared in his life with his "past" version of himself.. What would he do with you. This thought throws him into a slight fear. Believe it or not, he really feels fear, fear for you. He is afraid that someday, he will lose control.

But.. let's be honest, he sometimes imagined how his own hands would close around your fragile neck, slightly pressing and blocking access to the oxygen you desire.. But these are just his dark, secret fantasies (or are they?)

༊*·˚ E: experience (how much more experienced is he)

The wanderer is not experienced in sex, but in other things… He can give you advice or suddenly during your conversation he will say such a wise thing that you inadvertently think about it for a long time..

Of course, the wanderer is 500 years old and in his life he has seen and experienced different things. - "What was in the past will remain there" - you got this in a conversation about his former partners. He did not ask you, but you, purely out of politeness and mirroring his actions, did not ask him, although this topic is wildly interesting for you.

But he definitely knows how to touch your body to bring you to the peak of pleasure. And it seems to you that you are kind of "the first" but he had some mongrels before you..

༊*·˚ F: Favorite (favorite memory)

He always values ​​memories with you, because he knows that one day he will lose you. But his favorite memory to this day is a joint trip to the bookstore.

In addition to the actual publications in bindings and booklets, such places sell various kinds of stationery and all the writing items that can be imagined in your world. The Wanderer, of course, went there only because you went there. But he often needs paper, even more often - braided strings for letters, for the academy.

"Maybe while you.. look around here?" - he looks at you mysteriously, leaning his elbows on the counter, and turning over a sheet of some paper in his hands so that you do not see the contents. Some paper that the merchant gave him..

You nodded, obeying, and headed towards some shelves where there were books with "inverted" covers - inazuma novels that are read from right to left. Returning a little later to the wanderer with a couple of books in your hands, you, slowing down, stopped next to your lover, who was already waiting for you with an envelope in his hands.

"Hmm..," - the Wanderer hands you a blue letter with one hand. - This is for you. There is very beautiful sealing wax here and… I chose the best one. You let out an "oh!" and accepted the blue letter with a smile, tilting your head questioningly.

The merchant, who had gradually faded into the background, reappeared just when you took the letter in your hands. He explained with a smile:

"I forgot to tell you about the colors, and your lover has already paid for everything! Deep blue is used for love letters!"

You, embarrassed, opened the envelope and looked at the bluish particles of the frozen substance on the core of the letter. The Wanderer frowned, chuckling, covering his smile with his hat.

༊*·˚ G: Goofy: how serious is he at this point

He's more like… curious. He's happy (no) to agree to something new, he looks at your body and his body with a searching gaze, he doesn't always even treat sex as sex and not as a scientific examination. You sometimes joke about it with him in a light-hearted way, but he seems to be able to masterfully feign involvement, so you never figured out whether he's really enjoying it or just pretending.

His goal is to please you so that you'll leave him alone with this question for at least a couple of days. So at first glance, it may seem like the Wanderer has light-hearted intentions.

But I'd be lying if I said he doesn't like to use slightly rude remarks about your condition - flushed cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and a trembling body.. Ohhh! In such moments the wanderer looks so hot, I'm not afraid to say so..

༊*·˚ H: hair

He loves. He takes care of your hair, fingering the strands between his fingers when you both, barely covered, lie in the darkness of the bedroom. He never allowed himself rudeness in the form of pulling them or other experiments.

He constantly frowns and growls amusingly when you pull his indigo hair away from you or squeeze in fits of "love" during intercourse.

༊*·˚ I: intimacy

Oh, he's clearly not a romantic. But he'll gladly follow you when you suggest that he sit by the river or walk in the Avidya forest after your work at the academy. The Wanderer is very careful about his time and is ready to give it only to the chosen ones; therefore, if you ever ask yourself whether you are needed or close, remember how much activity boils in him when your figure appears on the horizon.

Oh, Wanderer.. What a man you are!

When you do not see, he will pick you a bouquet of flowers or bring you food when you are at the academy.. His woman cannot starve like this and be without attention..! Well, isn't caring a form of romance..?

.. But somehow we have moved away from the topic of sex, right? The Wanderer himself says that he is not a fan of romance, but at this very moment he behaves like the last suitor in the world. You know how he loves to kiss and passionately bite your neck, not caring at all how excited you are below, how he passionately kisses you in a fit of "love" and presses you to himself, being inside you.

He loves to kiss you, loves your lips - He really likes to cling to them as close as possible, bite, lick.. Long and deep, soaked in a hilarious and passionate feeling kisses, he leaves for the evening..

༊*·˚ J - Jerk off (Masturbation).

.. No, just no. That's all.

༊*·˚ K: kink(kink)

Although the wanderer very rarely hinted at lustful games, but in conversation, already seeing the embarrassed face next to him, the former harbinger will barely lower his voice, stroking your cheek with his finger, and will continue to say things of a slightly intimate nature, as if it does not embarrass him at all..

Roughly speaking, this is called a kink for embarrassment.

When the Wanderer, seemingly not going to kiss or lie down on you, hangs near your face, lowering his gaze to your collarbones. You listen to his usual slightly hoarse voice - his voice becomes like this when you speak quietly - You can't go anywhere and … The request to look him in the eyes is not fulfilled the first time. He shamed you, and he himself is trying to show his confidence, even when the meaning of what was said is very, very vulgar. He raised his bluish-indigo eyes to you and asked in an ingratiating voice.

"Why are you so blushing, my sweet girl, hm?" - after his addresses you blush even more, you want to hide. Everything inside you turns over several times, and in the lower part of your stomach it becomes heavy. You roll your eyes, trying not to look and not to show your reactions, but this only makes the wanderer laugh, giving new ideas for your closeness.

You never get embarrassed, you say?

༊*·˚ L: location(place)

He loves those places where you can "a lot and for a long time", therefore, of course, he considers your home - the bedroom - to be a winning option. But, considering how he hates human vanity and places with a lot of people (because you live in the city of Sumeru) still seem to be the best option for enjoying… you, this is the Avidya Forest, a beautiful and aesthetic place.

M: motivation(what excites)

Call her by name more often. Only you can. Drop these little words-challenges, so that the former harbinger turns to you. You know the translation of his wonderful name, right?

Perhaps, when you call him, using not always standard intonations, he feels some interest in his person. A special need that he has long tried to find in people.

Kabukimono. Ka-bu-ki-mo-no..

After all the betrayals he experienced, he never got close to anyone, for everyone he was always a stranger and a monster who knew no mercy. He never felt love for people, just as they did not feel it for him. Until you appeared in his life. He loves to hear you whisper his name, say that he is the best, responsive, wonderful..

He also gets a little embarrassed when you kiss that very electro sign on his neck and hug him around the waist.. For him, this is a slightly intimate place, no, I'm serious.

༊*·˚ N: no(what he won't do)

You have a dub-con purely on the base, because the wanderer seems to take you under his wing and plays with you like an animal. But still, he will never do what you don't want. o he will stop when you directly ask him to. Even if he starts something, he will also always be ready to stop. Still, sex is not necessary for him, and he tries exclusively for you.

A simple "no" is always enough.

༊*·˚ O: oral(oral sex)

He knows perfectly well how sensitive and tired your body can be, the wanderer can go down, grab you by the hips with his hands and, slightly lifting them to bend your legs, will begin to leave kisses on your tender skin. He considers you very tender, just a tender person, but with such practice he melts from the permissiveness that you give, and without stopping he whispers: "mhh.my beloved girl..so fragile..so tender.."

(give me this man. now. I demand!!)

༊*·˚ P: pose(favorite pose)

Pose, any of those that allow you to maintain eye contact. This is a rather significant condition for him, because if intimacy - then you need to enjoy everything at once. Your beautiful eyes too; he loves to look at them even in a non-intimate setting, just putting you in front of him and lying on top.

After the incident when you heard his cold, commanding tone in the middle of the process..

"Look at me Y/N , or else I'll stop. " - You completely forgot all questions about why this is so. You look at him. He looks at you. You watch the wanderer squinting his eyes until the smallest movements, visually gazing into your slight fright from his rarely emerging, so openly dominant attitude towards you.. Oh oh, it seems the Wet effect has happened!

༊*·˚ Q: quickie (quickie)

yes and no.

If you remember that he doesn't need sex, and he does all this only for you, you can understand why he wants to finish with all this as soon as possible. But damn him! How he loves all this foreplay, even though he said "I don't need all these ceremonies".

So.. He prefers long foreplay - quick orgasm.

༊*·˚R: risk (experiments)

no. I mentioned it above. The Wanderer is not one to risk his reputation just because he gave in to the embrace of debauchery. But he is always willing to use vision with you during the process, just a little bit! And after that, when you almost burned down your house… You stopped using vision often.

༊*·˚ S: stamina (how resilient is he)

He is a puppet created by the Archon to serve and wear gnosis. He does not need food, water, sleep or rest. He can continue to fuck your body for hours without shedding a drop of sweat. But why does he need that? He leaves you immediately after the first round. Perhaps, if you ask him nicely, he will give you another orgasm.

༊*·˚ T: Toys(How does he feel about toys?)

He does not understand at all why they are needed when there are… (okay, okay, I'm kidding). And I'm not sure that there is such a thing in Teyvat.. He does not like and does not want to add more debauchery to this process, as he previously considered it, because he looks at your naked body not so much with lust in his gaze, but with tenderness and admiration.

༊*·˚ U: unfair(teasing)

Yes! but this happens rarely, usually he is gloomy, serious and attentive to your body.

But still.. He likes to tease you sexually, already directly in the process. This is either prematurely touching particularly sensitive places, provoking a violent reaction, or delaying the moment so that first your malicious comments come into play, and then your sweet pleas caressing his ears and more.

༊*·˚ V: voice&volume(voice and volume)

You know, at first he will mockingly jerk off your groans, looking at you while he fucks you with his own fingers, but he himself will not notice how carried away he is and will moan with you in the rhythm of his thrusts, bringing you both to the edge of pleasure.

You've often heard how he sometimes sighs to his thoughts and makes a frak when he likes something..But how does he sound when he's pressed tightly against you? It's like music! You won't believe it, but it's true.

But you can't call him loud, he's just playing around. He likes to hear your melodic, beautiful responses, like gratitude for his work. He can't help but smirk every time he hears these frank, beautiful moans from you, and often overdoes it with his caresses to hear these beautiful sounds even more..

༊*·˚ X: x-ray (under clothes)

Under clothes, a magnificent body.

That's exactly what you told him the first time you saw him completely naked. A thin puppet body.. with various interesting inserts and doll joints.

Despite his quite good self-esteem, he still has a slight lack of self-confidence.. Here it manifests itself in his chuckle when you compliment him; he will be a little embarrassed, will not show it and will begin to divert the topic. A moment of weakness that he can allow himself only with you.

༊*·˚ Y: yearning (libido)

4/10. Lower than yours, so there is no doubt. He clearly may have a need for your affection and care, but hardly for sex. He perceives sex as a way to express tenderness that tve can't express in words. And he puts pleasure in second place. Every time he inhales irritably and scoffs when you ask him to "give you time" he says how all these human aspects and desire are slightly incomprehensible to him (were), but every time he still gets lost in the throes of passion with you.

༊*·˚Z: zzz(sleep)

well..um..He doesn't need sleep. So, he just waits, waits for you to fall asleep before getting himself in order.

the list of characters will be updated

(he serving cunt bro 💀😭🙏)

@anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @bl0odyd0kuro @himasgod @shyentsmissingink @crimsoncandy04 @ariiadnes

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[playingwithwater]

“Thanks, I Stole Then from The President.”

This is my first fic written on Tumblr and my first fic in the DC fandom. I’ve been lurking and sorry if nothing’s all that canon accurate I’ve only really read the fan fictions on Ao3 this was idea was inspired by this post

Fic under the cut.

BREAKING NEWS: BRUCE WAYNE ON TUMBLR?!

Last night Bruce Wayne attended President Lex Luthor’s gala. According to online sources one young socialite commented on Mr. Wayne’s shoelaces and his response? His response was the tumblr famous, “Thanks I stole them from the President.”

That seemed to be the headline going around the morning after Bruce had infiltrated Luthor’s gala. He had arrived in his bat-suit not planning to actually attend the party as Brucie. Then he had lost sight of Luthor and his newest partner in crime so he went in to investigate.

Breaking into the building was easy. Finding a suit was a little harder but still manageable. It was a spare suit Luther had in one of his offices. He quickly changed out of the bat-suit and into the stolen suit. Bruce hid the bat-suit and joined the party.

Two minutes into the gala he regained sight on Luthor and his newest companion. Five minutes in he was approached by the first socialite. Thirty minutes in was when the line that started it all was said.

“I like your shoelaces,” commented a young man, no older than Dick at the oldest, offhandedly.

“Thanks, I stole them from the president,” Bruce replied before he could think it through completely.

The boy stared at him in shock for a moment. For a second Bruce thought he had taken it literally and he would have to come up with an excuse, but the man just smiled and walked away. It was definitely one of the weirdest interactions Bruce has had so far.

There were no further incidents that night, but when he got home the next morning the couple of his children who were in the manor and awake watched him with an expression of shock and awe.

Namely it was Tim, Cass, and Dick. The last who had broken his arm on patrol three weeks ago and was confined to the manor by Alfred.

Tim looked up from the computer on which he was typing something when Bruce walked in. And Cass’s eyes were wide as she watched Bruce.

“B?” Dick asked after a few silent moments of the three staring at Bruce. “Are you on Tumblr?”

“What?” Bruce replied confused. When Dick had spoken Tim had switched tabs and was typing furiously on his keyboard.

“Do you have Tumblr?” Dick asked again slower.

“No?” Bruce was still confused and his kids seemed to be having some sort of existential crisis.

“Yeah well, hate to say this but Bruce Wayne is trending on Tumblr right now along with the tag Tumblr’s Batman.” Tim interrupted.

“This happened like eight hours ago.”

Tim shrugs and takes a sip of his energy drink, “Tumblr works fast. You should see it when Ao3 goes down for five minutes.”

If Bruce’s thoughts could be seen right now he’s sure that they’re might be a giant question mark floating above his head.

About ten hours of research later and Bruce could say he was still thoroughly confused on how Tumblr works but he could now understand that it might be useful occasionally. He stares at the sign-up screen for a long moment before closing out of it. Making one now after all of this has gone down would be suspicious. Maybe he can commander one from one of his children who may have preexisting accounts.

Meanwhile on Tumblr

Tim watched the chaos going down as people frantically searched for Bruce Wayne’s account on Tumblr. Not that he himself wasn’t also searching for it. He really wanted to know if his adopted dad followed him and had seen some of his shitposts that were meant to never see the light of day after they had been posted. What happens on Tumblr stays on Tumblr.

Five minutes later reveals to the rest of the Bats that Bruce genuinely had no idea what he started with his reply and now felt it was too late to admit to the fact he does and not and never has had tumblr. Ten minutes later sees Cass volunteering to let Bruce use her account. There’s a reason she’s Bruce’s favorite. It’s because of times like this when all the rest of his children are laughing their asses off at him, but Cass is actually more subtle about it.

[roxygen22]

bf timothee gets pissed and jealous bc yn is interacting w another guy before realizing that either he has a s/o, hes gay, or wtv you want

Jealous

"Who was that?" Timothée growled as he returned with your drinks, jutting his sharp chin toward the guy you were just speaking with while he stepped away. You and he had just started a few months prior, so this was his first company holiday party as your plus one.

You turned to see who he was glaring at. "Oh, that's Mark. We've worked together for a long time. He is one of our contract attorneys." As if he heard you speak his name, Mark turned and caught you looking. He smiled and sheepishly waved. You blushed with embarrassment and ducked your head before turning back to Timothée.

"He knows how to make you laugh," he said in a flat, gravelly tone.

"Oh, he's effectively the office clown. Mark does great work, but he doesn't pass up the opportunity to make people laugh. He has the worst dad jokes that you can't help but laugh and shake your head at. I enjoy it when he gets assigned to my contracts. He keeps things light."

Timothée shifted uncomfortably in his chair, arms crossed and glowering across the room. He almost looked like he was pouting. Is he jealous? you thought to yourself. You had never seen him behave like this before.

Suddenly, Timothée jumped to his feet and held out his hand. "Want to dance?"

You hesitated briefly as your brain caught up to his sudden change in demeanor. "Of course," you replied, taking his hand to let him lead you to the dance floor. Light jazz music filled the air from the stage band at the front of the room. Perfect for slow dancing.

You and he swayed beneath the twinkling lights on the dimly let floor. He rested his forehead against yours, humming softly to the tune, eyes focused on you and you alone, until you glided past Mark. A fire lit his eyes as his soft gaze shifted to a cold hard stare at the other man. Timothée lowered his hand to the small of your back and pulled you even closer.

On one hand, you were not a piece of meat to be fought over in a one-sided competition, as you were not Mark's type, nor was he yours; however, you were surprised to find the possessiveness mildly titillating on a primordial level. You lifted your hand from Timothée's shoulder to his cheek to gently pull his focus back to you.

His gaze softened once again. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," you returned. "Where did you go?"

"Oh, uh," Timothée stammered. "I just got a little distracted."

"Uh-huh," you replied with a smirk.

"Look up!" Your head swiveled to the side when you heard one of your nearby coworkers whisper yell, pointing to the ceiling. You and Timothée followed her gaze up to the mistletoe near the stage that he had managed to dance you under. He lowered his eyes to you and grinned so hard that you couldn't help but return. Given that you were in a room full of coworkers now staring at the two of you, you expected a cute, chaste kiss.

In an instant, you were staring at the ceiling again because Timothée had dipped you down and planted a forceful kiss on your lips. In shock you parted them, which only encouraged him to deepen the kiss further. You felt the blood rush to your face - in part due to gravity, but mainly from the embarrassment of hearing your workmates whooping and cheering all around you.

When Timothée pulled you back to your feet, your head whirled. You focused on him just in time to see him flash a smug look over at Mark. Mortified, you angrily growled through your teeth and stomped off through the side door by the stage. Timothée hung back for a moment in surprise, arms out around the void where you once stood until he regained his wits and chased after you.

"[Y/N], I-"

You spun on the balls of your feet to face him. He shrank back at the evident anger on your face, something he had not yet been subjected to in your time together.

"What was that?!" you yelled. "Don't you think that was a little EXTRA for a work party?"

"I just, I-"

You wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. "You are just jealous. Timothée, Mark is GAY. And happily married at that. You have nothing to worry about. But maybe I do, if you feel like you can't trust me and feel the need to strut about like...like a damn peacock to defend your territory."

"I- he-?"

"Yes, Timothée. He is gay. I am definitely not his type, nor is he mine."

"Oh." His shoulders fell as he stared at the ground, realizing that he was out of line.

"Timothée, YOU are my type. I love YOU and only you. Ok?"

He lifted his head rapidly, mouth agape. "You love me?"

"Yes. I know I haven't said it out loud until just now, as this is all still so new. Maybe if I had, it would have prevented this little...," you paused, unable to find the right word as you gestured between Timothée and the event venue. "Display."

"I love you, too," he all but whispered. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his chest. His heart beat wildly beneath your fingertips.

"Yes, but you don't own me, Timothée." He nodded and placed his hand over yours. "I need you to trust that I am not going to let myself get swept away by some cute guy at work."

"Cute?!" He bristled and then cleared his throat to keep the green-eyed monster at bay. "I suppose he is objectively good looking," he muttered.

You stifled a laugh. "But not as cute as you, my love."

Timothée half-smiled. "Love. I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that word."

You patted his chest. "Now that it's out in the open, you'll be hearing it a lot. Now come on, let's get back inside out of the cold."

<><><><><>

Masterlist

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002

[trinityobsessesovatings]

do you have a ranking of your favourite arcane characters?

this might come as a little bit of a shocker…

MOST

Caitlyn

Vi

Jayce

Mel

Sevika

Ekko

Jinx

Ambessa

Viktor

LEAST

caitlyn is my absolute FAVORITE character!! idk what it is about her but i want to have her children! i would definitely be her little housewife fr! she has me acting in ways… IM CONCERNED ABOUT. i would definitely be in her corner like “babe stop this isn’t you! look at me baby this isn’t you! don’t let jinx get you there.” …yeah it’s bad.

vi is a VERY CLOSE second. i absolutely ADORED her character. she lowkey reminds me of myself fr, willing to do anything and everything for the ones she loves. i have an older brother who has autism and would DIE for that mf fr! i really loved how even though she was frustrated with jinx… she never really gave up on her… in my eyes at least.

…now… jayce i’m not gonna lie.. he’s position on this list is a SHOCK to me. i was a jayce HATER all throughout the show! mainly because i was jealous with the way he got the baddest bitch in the show mel.. YES IM A HATER! but chileee… when he popped back up with beard… SUMN WAS PURRING 🤪 i’m a slut for mean with beards.

mel, mel, mel… when she first popped up on my screen I was deadass stunned with how stunning that woman was! then when she first started getting with jayce i was like: 🤨😕. i couldn’t believe it. i was also definitely one of those people who shipped her with sevika even though those two NEVER interacted. but yeah her aura was so strong she had me hating jayce. WHEN SHE UNLOCKED HER POWERS OH MY GOD I WAS SCREAMING AND JUMPING FOR JOY! baddest bitch. 😌

sevika was definitely someone else who caught my attention when the show first started! i thought she was THE COLDEST mf they introduced! even when she betrayed vander i was upset a bit, but also at the same time… i supported it??? because she just wants the best for her people! i was literally so pissed she kept getting that vegeta treatment tho… LIKE COME ON!

NOW the only reason ekko is so low on this list is because… most of the people above him they got EXTRA POINTS because i’m attracted to them! ekko is honestly so adorable and just the goat fr! that’s my son fr! little man when he was so small 🥹 MY SON!!! i was having heart palpitations when him, hiemerdinger, and jayce where glitching out during the wild runes scene! MY BOY JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIS TREE!

the reason jinx is where she is on this list is literally the same as ekko’s! jinx and ekko idk how they are so that’s an immediate “you’re my child and if anything happens to you, i’ll kill everyone.” jinx was also one of them characters that deadass HAD ME DYING! the scene with enforcer not believing she’s jinx, when silco was calling for her but she was too busy jamming, when she jumped sevika and tied her up, asking her sister if her caitlyn fucked before she killed them, almost crashing out when viktor called her powder… THE LIST GOES ON! she an icon, a legend, and she is the moment! 😌

ambessa she had me in the first half, like when she was first introduced! i’m pretty sure if she didn’t end up being an opp… she would definitely be higher on the list! the only thing ambessa got going for her rn is she’s hot! I JUST HATE WAR STARTING/LOVING ASS BITCHES!! like for why! DO THAT SHIT ON YOUR OWN TERF DON’T BRING THAT MESS OVA HEA! also she slapped mel so that DEF docked some fucking points!

now this might be an unpopular opinion… i might get hate for it… i thought viktor was the most boring character on the show highkey fr! IM SORRY IM SORRY! like he had his moments that man is a sassy king… but other than that I didn’t really rock with viktor as a character or as potential boo thing. when it comes to science people… it’s hit or miss for me fr. also… that mf ran a cult 🙅🏾‍♀️ NO THANKS

HONORABLE FAVS

vander

isha

babette

shoola

lest

claggor

cassandra

HONORABLE LEAST FAVS

SILCO

that rat looking mf

MADDIE

mylo

that guy who was in sevika’s gang who was also licking something or someone

[forecast0ctopus]

making fun of arthur is a hobby

[prolibytherium]

Just in general I think trying to look to pre-late modern period history for validation of LGBT+ identities is an absolutely useless venture. Every single underlying human experience defined through the lens and framework of LGBT identity has always existed, but it's impossible to pin down Exactly who and what a figure might have been if they existed in this contemporary context and decided to self identify via these labels.

It's also a wildly reductive lens that flattens the complexity and variety of how sex and gender has been constructed across time in different cultures, how sexual norms have varied, etc. This is not a constructive approach to learn about history and you're never going to be able to fit historical figures neatly into little identity categories.

[puppyeared]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[biblicalhorror]

Aroace Riz real but also Fabian is SO clearly in love with him and Riz has no idea

[mostlyvoid-partiallyflowers]

The most recent episode of Interview with a Vampire let's us see Lestat's side of the story and see how it compares to Louis' accounting of their relationship. As a result, it reaffirms just how unreliable of a narrator Louis is, but it also further illuminates elements of his character that the director and writers have been playing with since the beginning of the show.

There's this part in the episode where Lestat turns to Louis and apologizes and it's framed with Lestat turned to Louis on one side and Claudia on his other side. They're the angel and devil on Louis' shoulders, but who is the angel and who is the devil? And as my friend said, Armand and Daniel are placed into that same dynamic with Louis later on. We are being asked to decide who to trust, who's telling the truth, who's the good guy, but the fact of unreliability robs us of that decision.

This whole story is about Louis, he's the protagonist, though not the narrator, and he is constantly being pulled in two directions, no matter when or where he is in his story. He's a mind split in two, divided by nature and circumstance. He's vampire and human, owner and owned, father and child, angel and devil. He's both telling the story and being told the story. His history is a story he tells himself, and as we've seen, sometimes that story is not whole.

Louis is the angel who saved Claudia from the fire but he's also the devil who sentenced her to an life of endless torment, the adult trapped in the body of a child. He's the angel who rescued Lestat from his grief and also the devil who abandoned him, who couldn't love him, could only kill and leave him.

He's pulled in two directions, internally and externally at all times and so it's no wonder that he feels the need to confess, first to the priest, then Daniel, and then Daniel again.

He's desperate to be heard, a Black man with power in Jim Crow America who's controlled by his position as someone with a seat at the table but one who will never be considered equal. He doesn't belong to the Black community or the white community, he can't. He acts as a go-between, a bridge, one who is pushed and pulled until he can't take it anymore. He's a fledgling child to an undead father, he's a young queer man discovering his sexual identity with an infinitely experienced partner. He's confessing because he wants to be absolved, that human part of him that was raised Catholic, that child who believed, he wants to be saved. He wants to be seen.

Louis wants to attain a forever life that is morally pure, but he can't. He's been soiled by sin, by "the devil," as he calls Lestat, and he can never be clean again. Deep down, I think he knows this, but he can't stop trying to repent. He tries to self-flagellate by staying with Lestat and then tries to repent by killing him, but can't actually follow through. He follows Claudia to Europe to try and assuage his guilt. He sets himself on fire, attempts to burn himself at the stake, to purify his body, rid himself of the dark gift.

Louis is a man endlessly trying to account for the pain he has caused and he ultimately fails, over and over again, because he can't get rid of what he is. A monster. He's an endlessly hungry monster. He's hungry for love, for respect, for power, for forgiveness, for death. He's a hole that can never be filled. He can never truly acquire any of those things because he will always be punishing himself for wanting and needing them in the first place. He will never truly believe he deserves them and as a result, can't accept them if they are ever offered. He can never be absolved for he has damned himself by accepting the dark gift and thus has tainted himself past the point of saving.

[kwyoz]

'dragon age has gone woke!111!!'

you mean the series that has poc characters and lgbt characters in every game? you mean the series that has multiple trans characters? you mean the series that has a whole quest revolving around a gay man?

i didn't realize grifters could overlook all of that, but they draw the line at top surgery scars, but i guess they never play the games they complain about.

[codacheetah]

It's deeply important to me that Loop kind of sucks

[fromtheseventhhell]

Saying that non-conforming female characters don't face as much misogyny as their "feminine" counterparts is so funny cause literally the misogyny in their treatment is more overt because they aren't staying "in their place" like men think they should. The disdain for women + misogynistic societal ideals are so much more blatant in male characters interacting with these women. Countless times they are, in essence, told they need to sit down, shut up, and know their place but somehow that translates into them having "masculine privilege". I can only assume that people with this take haven't actually read the books and only get their information from second-hand sources.