#they fear their own humanity just as much as they despise it and want it back
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Imagining Valantinez fighting and like. Blood spraying everywhere. Out of their nose and eyes because they’ve been shooting too long. Them ripping the tendrils out of their ports and blood splashing on the ground while their body works overtime to clot it. Blood choking them because the tendrils are damaged where they start at their arteries and it’s backing up into their throat. Them having to rip out their own heart and hot wire it mid fight because they took a blow to the chest and it knocked a bunch of stuff loose.
#I am deliberately designing them to be violence. everything about them.#right down to the hair. it’s all messy and clotted looking. like they took a knife to it to cut it down#without caring about it looking jagged#the fact that their body is not quite correctly proportioned#because they hacked themselves to pieces and put themself back together in a grief addled frenzy#hell look how pointy and angular they are in GENERAL#PLUS the fact that they chose to turn their blood into a weapon. imagine how much augmenting themself to be able to do that must’ve hurt#despite abandoning it.#they fear their own humanity just as much as they despise it and want it back#oc stuff
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AS PROMISED I HAVE COME BACK WITH A REQUEST IN MIND. AND YES IT IS HUSK RELATED (≧∇≦)/
so you know how cats come to you immediately when you say 'pspspspsppspspsps'? yeah, that. but with husk (๑˃̵ ᴗ ˂̵)و
look at the cute little miao miao with his popcorn ≧﹏≦
Big definitely doing this. Ommgg! That pic is so precious! Husk canonically hates his cat traits but not today, beloved! Anyway. Let’s get going and play around with Husk some more! Sorry, this is a bit short!
Husk- Pootie-Kitty
It’s so unbelievably cute… the soft purring, the fur ruffling
You respect the fact your boyfriend despises his sinner form’s domesticated cat traits and the cat anatomy he is cursed with for all of time but you can’t help yourself. You know you should stay back and you know you shouldn’t do what he dislikes…
But then again, Husk is also not as mad about being extremely cat-like at your hand as compared to any other person he knows, trying to make him behave like the feline he is
“Husky! Husky! Pspspspspspspsp~!” After a few silent painful minutes of absolutely nothing whilst walking through the empty but colourful and magnificent hallways of the Hazbin Hotel, both yours and your boyfriend’s workplace, you decide to use the classic cat call to see if Husk will come out
Himself and his ‘owner’, Alastor had a big fight over being contracted to him only a little while before and it caused Husk to hide away, out of pure utter rage and a pinch of fear over how bad the confrontation ended. Husk hasn’t come out from wherever he is for hours now. It’s already nighttime and you want to bring him to the bedroom to clock out for the night
You decided to let him have some time alone but it’s been way too long and it’s becoming concerning
He hasn’t given even a single bit of response to you, despite after you begun tinkling beer bottles, cooing out his name, offering him his favourite; snuggles if he comes out. Everything that usually has Husk approaching you at the speed of light. He isn’t for it, just making your concern for him grow even firmer
He isn’t listening… so, you’re going to have pull out the big guns!
“Hussskyy~! Pspspspspspspsssppspsps! Come here, baby”
You aren’t sure where he came from or where he was but after a few more seconds, you paused in place in the middle of quite the long hallway of this redemption building and spoke out to literally the air. Husk came padding out from around the corner in a somewhat hasty pace, his cute originally sharply-thin black pupils of his glowing golden yellow irises are now wide and rounded, his tall tip-fluffed ears drawn back like his big perked-up wings, as if curious about what you’re going to do next
Just like a normal cat, Husk’s quickly padding over to you right after hearing the ‘psspspsps’ calls, as if a lightbulb was switched on for him, in a manner he could not stop. His hearing is quite strong, even at his technically elderly human-age, and whilst he could hear your voice from his little hiding spot clear as day
He didn’t want you to see him in his most weakest, vulnerable moment, out of shame, but right after he registered those sly little calls of yours, his cat instincts kicked in and he was walking out into the hallway against his own desires. As soon as he stops before you, his conscious slyly clicks back into control and his pupils shrink to ordinary narrowed state
Even if Husk is annoyed when realising he just went full cat mode, he’s purring. You can hear the purring underneath his breath, he always purrs when you’re around and he purrs happily at seeing you again once more. His cute striped feather-tufted long tail flicking side to side across the floor, almost on the verge of wagging
All of it is physical signs of how much he adores you and how deep in love he is with you. That, even whilst he despises having been courted into acting like a cat, though your intentions aren’t to embarrass him, he is most okay with you doing it
What is that you need to discuss? Is something going on? Is there snuggles involved?
“There you are, love. Is something wrong? I haven’t seen you since 1pm. I’m worried”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel characters#hazbin hotel husk#vivziepop hazbin hotel#hazbin husk#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel x reader#husk short story#husk#husk x reader#husker hazbin hotel#hazbin husker#husker x reader#cute short story#cute imagines#he really cute#cute boy being cute#cute fluff#fluff imagines#hazbin fluff#fluff#comfort#hazbin comfort#boyfriend#comforting our bf#precious boy#kitty cat#kitty behaviours#vivziepop
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As You Are, I Am Too
Summary: If we compare people to magnets, opposites attract and sames repel, so why are two stoic faces paired as soulmates?
Word Count: 15.4k (why are you surprised at this point, get some snacks)
Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Smut(r18+), NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow fic, Perfectionist! Reader, angst, arranged pairing, TW: Toxic family, unhappy childhood trauma, child of strained marriage trauma, TW: Themes of self-loathing, themes of infidelity(misunderstanding), toxic work environment, slight workplace harassment, pushy boss, slightly yandere! Alhaitham?, Soft! Alhaitham, second chance romance?, slightly bratty! reader, Dom! Alhaitham, Degradation, Heavy adult themes, attempts at comedy
Author Note: This is experimental, I want to explore if two same sides of a magnet can still attract. I want to explore the fumbles and mistakes of love.
Side Note: Here is a continuation
Do you believe in soulmates?
It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do. Because who doesn’t want to believe in it? The concept of an ‘other half’, a missing piece that completes you. Someone who loves you and only you unconditionally.
Who doesn’t want to experience that?
To be loved, to be accepted, and to feel whole are all natural human desires. So it’s no surprise society, regardless of the century, culture, or demographic all obsessed over finding that other half.
To find a hand that fits perfectly within the gaps of one’s own.
The greatest minds in all of Tevyat came together, analyzing each pattern, quantifying each data point, and testing each hypothesis until their magnum opus was created: The Akasha System.
Taking the work out of fate’s hands and into a large database.
What criteria did this wonderful system use to piece together two halves of a whole? Who knows, it’s a black box. However, the machine was quite smart, quite quick, and quite accurate.
So much so, there was no reason not to use it.
Humans, no matter how much some might deny it, despise being lonely. They fear it so much they’d rather hold a hand which strangles theirs with an equally crushing grip.
That’s why people rush toward their soulmates the moment the Akasha finds them, they fear being alone.
But do you believe in soulmates?
“No.” Alhaitham puts down his drink.
“But you still used the Akasha??” Kaveh juts a finger in the direction of an ashen-haired man.
“And?” Disinterested eyes glance at the time displayed on a clock in the rowdy bar.
“And?! What do you mean and? You just said you don’t believe in soulmates!” The slam of Kaveh’s palms on the table made a bit of beer lap over the edge of his cup.
“I don’t believe in soulmates, but I’m not ignorant to the benefits of marriage.”
“Huh?”
“It’s convenient.” The blunt statement rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he motions for the tab.
“Ugh, you know what, forget it.” Kaveh chases his heavy sigh with a hearty swig of his cup.
“Well then, I’ll call it a night.” He’s stayed out long enough.
Placing a handful of mora on the table to cover his tab, Alhaitham bids goodnight to his two workplace acquaintances and former college roommate.
He swiftly strides towards the creaky tavern door, swinging it open as he steps into the warm Summer evening. Tomorrow is another workday, better to get an adequate amount of rest.
“Still the same even after a full year with her, huh,” Kaveh sighs dryly.
“Did you really think he’d change after marriage, Kaveh?” Cyno finally chipped in from the sidelines.
“I should’ve known, someone as egotistical as Alhaitham practically married himself.”
“Now, now, his wife is nowhere as egotistical as him,” Tighnari says over the rim of his glass.
Cyno and Kaveh paused for a moment, sharing a glance as they considered Tighnari’s observation. With a shrug, they concluded: you weren’t nearly as egotistical as Alhaitham.
Still, the great mystery remains.
“How is he the first to marry?” The blond bachelor slumps further on the tavern stool.
“Life is full of wonders.” The ebony-haired bachelor gave a few comforting pats.
———————————————————————————
Unlocking the solid oak front door, Alhaitham steps into the serenity of a quiet house. Good, his ears were slightly buzzing from the boisterous conversation in a crowded bar.
Taking a few more steps into the entranceway, the man shuts the door behind his body.
The dull gossip over a few rounds of drinks made their influence known to him, he just wants to go to bed. Thus he takes a few more steps toward his bedroom.
“Place your shoes into the closet, I just mopped the floors.” A level voice called out from the living room.
Alhaitham’s movement halts, quickly glancing down at the Oxford shoes still on his feet, taking note of the spotless floorboards.
Wordlessly, Alhaitham unties the laces allowing him to kick them off with ease, placing them onto the shoe rack just behind a closet door.
It’s a habit that slips his mind every now and then despite a year of marriage; Surprisingly unsurprising when you take into consideration his busy mind.
However, times were different now, he’s no longer a kid, free to be lost in thought. He’s now a homeowner of a spacious house, a space he shares with you, and you liked things clean.
Not a speck of dust lingered on surfaces, no plates left in the sink, and books pristinely placed on organized shelves. Qualifications that he deemed exceptional for a life partner.
Now with slipper-clad steps, Alhaitham makes his way through the house, peering into the living room to spot your curled figure reading on a sofa. The warm glow of a floor lamp illuminated the soft curves of your cheek.
“Is something the matter?” You didn’t look up from the page as you addressed him.
“No, just heading to bed.”
“Okay, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The start and finish of tonight’s conversation, after all, you valued a quiet house as much as he did. His colleague’s words weren’t without merit, even Alhaitham isn’t stubborn enough to deny the obvious.
Hobbies identical to each other, books upon books lined up along numerous shelves, preferring to stay within the walls of this house unless dragged out by friends.
Your indecipherable gaze and stiff lips rival his own stone face. Perhaps that’s why the Akasha paired the two of you together. Two beings with stoic faces only another stoic would bear for a life partner, like two sides of the same coin.
Alhaitham stops unbuttoning his shirt behind his shut bedroom door, reanalyzing the previous statement. Actually, that isn’t a very good analogy.
It'd be more accurate to compare you and him to a double-sided mirror that reflected only one view.
“I don’t believe in soulmates.”
The man sitting across from the cafe table, introduced as Alhaitham, bluntly states, interrupting your sip of coffee, warm beverage just barely touching your lips.
Placing your cup back down on the coffee shop table, your gaze observed the stranger who just met you moments ago - a meeting in a small cafe arranged by Sumeru’s Ministry of Human Relations, the government body tasked with delivering the Akasha’s verdict.
After a few breaths, you decided to humor his abrupt statement with a response. Staring straight into his teal-orange eyes, you say, “What a coincidence, neither do I.”
————————
So then why did two nonbelievers follow the verdict handed to them? It’s simple really.
Two salaries combined can buy a sizable house. Two pairs of hands get chores done faster. Two signatures on a certificate save tax money. Life is simpler with a partner to bear some of the burden.
Young professionals and fresh graduates aren’t known for their financial independence; a boy eager to move out of a cheap flat and away from an infuriating roommate, a girl trying to escape a noisy environment.
The circumstances had aligned.
And that’s how it’s been for two years now, a nice quiet house. Although, you’d be lying if you weren’t thankful that the Akasha paired you with someone as handsome as Alhaitham. Silver hair, broad frame, and beryl eyes with a hint of ochre - maybe he’s an apology gift from some fickle god.
He’s a well-rounded and capable man; perceptive enough to know not to cross boundaries drawn in the air, apt enough to not disrupt the serenity, and able to take care of himself.
Although, he could learn to launder better.
Your lips tug down as your eyes scan over the deep wrinkles crimping the fabric of a freshly washed button-down. It looks too rumpled to look professional, even on him. A sigh falls from your lips.
The presence of slow steps make your head turn in their direction, connecting with Alhaitham’s neutral eyes, quirked gray eyebrow questioning your purpose.
Two bodies, two rooms, and two beds.
The only time you or he crossed into the private haven of one another was when the floors needed to be mopped or shelves dusted. Owning a house means owning up to tedious chores and dividing up responsibilities spares one’s sanity from the tediousness.
It’s best to point out the critiques now to spare your own clothes from the same fate. Picking it off the back of his chair, you show him the shameful state of the garment.
“Leaving your clothes in the dryer for too long will create stubborn wrinkles.” You advise.
Teal eyes glance at the shirt in your hands before they flick towards the closet rack, your own gaze follows, noting the numerous other shirts in a similar state. Another heavy sigh escapes you, it's obvious Alhaitham attempted to do laundry yesterday.
Wordlessly, you begin gathering each wrinkled garment.
“I’ll rewash them and hang them outside, it’s the best way to smooth them out. Heat isn’t recommended for your fabrics.” You swiftly walk past him with your arms full.
“Thank you, I’ll clean the floors then.” He takes hold of the mop against the wall.
This seamless switching of responsibilities is done with less than two sentences, the efficiency of which is only possible between two people such as yourselves.
Button-downs are much more fickle than a casual t-shirt, using the wrong detergent or leaving it unattended for too long will cause unsightly wrinkles.
Alhaitham’s laundering skills have improved in the last two years… perhaps the singing of the dryer still slips past his preoccupied mind.
The two of you are working professionals. Crucial insight you’ve learned from your parents: A nicely ironed shirt, neatly brushed hair, and elegantly tied ties are all it takes to make others believe in the white lie of a put-together life.
Alhaitham was raised by his grandmother, a detail you recall from a passing conversation some time ago. It shows.
The amateur attempts at chores, the books strewn about a desk absent-mindedly, and the afternoon naps spent on a couch underneath a sunlit window are secrets only seen behind closed doors - all telltale signs of being well-loved.
‘How nice it must be.’ You thought, clipping his freshly washed button-downs to the clothesline, allowing the Sunday morning rays to shine down upon them.
A stone-faced man was once a beloved grandson. Maybe his juvenile attempts at chores were too endearing for an elderly lady to correct.
Hidden from everyone but the audience of swaying fabric and a curious star, a bittersweet smile tugs at stiff lips.
The clinking of forks against porcelain plates accompanies the evening news. Your eyes starring indifferently towards the TV just around the corner from the dinner table; looks like tonight's topic was the annual metrics of the Akasha.
With each passing year, these metrics only climb higher and higher, a machine learning to calculate better and better.
“What’s your theory behind the Akasha?” you blurt out the question without looking away from the screen.
A pair of utensils halted their movements as Alhaitham glances at the evening news. He takes a moment to wipe the corners of his mouth before humoring you.
Technically, the two of you have yet to fill your daily conversation quota. Might as well do it over dinner.
“It’s all mathematics, the Akasha system. Pairing individuals based on collected data. Demographic, interests, and dispositions, are all factors in a pairing,” he explains in his baritone voice.
“Mmm, then again it's all just a black box, we can’t be certain unless they choose to reveal it.” You ponder aloud.
“Correct. Those factors are all key when it comes to compatibility. The Akasha simply uses probability. However, there’s the element of human variability.”
“Meaning it can’t always be right.” You know this, live it even. “Is that why you don’t believe in the concept of soulmates?” Pivoting to an adjacent question, you return your attention back to the man across the table.
“Yes, it’s an unrealistic belief.” Alhaitham sips on his wine.
“Such a brilliant conclusion, what an astute mind you have.” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe over a glass of water.
Narrowed teal eyes honed in as his glass returned to its place on the lacquered surface, unamused by your quip.
“How about you? What theory brought you to hold the same brilliant conclusion?”
“Do you know phenylethylamine? PEA?” Glancing up from your glass.
From his idle gaze and unmoving lips, you take his silence as a “no”.
“It’s a stimulant that causes your heart to beat abnormally, released when you’re around a special someone. It causes what people describe as the ‘rush’ or ‘fever’ of love.”
He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.
“But then your brain gets used to it, and the abnormality in your chest corrects itself.” You take a sip before continuing, “Nothing last forever, so why do people think love is an exception? That only one person ever will cause their hearts to flutter till the end of time?”
A dry giggle follows the clink of your water cup against the wood.
“How insightful.” Alhaitham takes another sip of wine to chase his sarcasm.
Maybe it was the amusing quip or how tonight’s butter chicken turned out to be exceptionally delicious, but a subtle smile curls at the edges of your lips. With today’s conversational quota fulfilled you focus your full attention back to the awaiting dinner.
You remain ignorant to the gaze of teal eyes, oblivious to how it fixates on the faint smile complimenting the soft curves of your cheeks and plush lips.
“...”
The front door shuts and locks behind you, your shoes are halfway into the closet before a familiar scent beckons you towards the living room.
Quickly getting into your slippers, you trek through the entranceway and round the corner. The vivid hues of pale blues and gentle violets with pops of bright yellow catch your eyes, confirming your speculations: it’s a bouquet.
The bundle of flowers were placed into a long-forgotten vase. Turning away from the blooms, you face the man currently thumbing through a book on the couch -the only other person with access to this quiet haven.
Turning back to observe the blooms, you note each species of flower. The Sumerian Rose, Kalpalata Lotus, and…Padisarah.
You observe how the pollen of the Padisarahs dusts the radius of the surface around the vase. It’s a fickle flower after all.
A fickle and potent-smelling flower.
A scowl twists your face despite your best efforts, the sickly-sweet fragrance of the capricious blooms assaults your senses.
“Please open a window.” your hand comes up to shield your nose.
“Is something the matter?”
“The smell is giving me a headache.”
A headache forms from within the deepest depths of your mind, the same visceral reaction to the heavy perfumes that plagued your childhood walls. Your mother believed the saccharine scent could cover up her infidelity if she sprayed enough.
Compared to that artificial perfume, fresh Padisarahs were much tamer, but still enough to make a bitter taste appear at the back of your tongue.
“I see.” Alhaitham sets his book down, getting up to allow the Autumn breeze in.
Swiftly, you trudge away from the vase and its potent blooms and down the hall, eager to find an untainted corner of the house. It’d be best to sleep the headache off.
In the morning when you round the corner back into the living room, you notice the vacant vase and table wiped clean of any speck of yellow pollen. Passing through into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts in the air.
As you pour yourself a cup, you take note of how the trash has already been taken out, a fresh trash bag lining the bin.
Good, flowers were a hassle to keep around the house.
———————————————————————————
“Chocolates?” You study the box of sweets left out on the kitchen table.
“I picked them up while getting ingredients for dinner,” Alhaitham answers, busy chopping carrots.
“You can have some.”
You return your gaze back to the intricately designed package in seasonal Winter colors. It’s not often that you indulge in such elegant treats, you couldn’t refuse such an offer.
Delicately picking up a piece, the glossy dark chocolate shine looks inviting, you can see the quality in these sweets. Placing the small chunk onto your tongue, savoring the rich flavor. Not too sweet and not too bitter.
Using your tongue to maneuver it towards your teeth you bite into its center, only for your tastebuds to be assaulted by a foul flavor. The distinct and sharp tang of alcohol and the revolting aftertaste of bourbon spoils the sweetness.
Refusing to allow the detestable flavor to remain on your tongue, you briskly swipe up a few napkins, spitting the foul sweet out. You frown at the stubborn tang of bourbon which threatens to ruin your appetite for dinner.
“You can have the rest.” You throw out the crumpled napkin.
“Are they of poor quality?” The tapping of the knife paused.
“They’re just not to my taste.”
“In that case, I hope tonight's dinner is.” Alhaitham resumes his task.
Taking a glass out from the cupboard, you fill the cup with fresh water before gulping it down, washing the foul tang of alcohol from your tongue, and even fouler memories of the stench of sour wine and crushed cans.
Wiping the escaped droplets off with the back of your hand, you go for a second glass. Hopefully, you can cleanse your palate.
———————————————————————————
“Do you have plans tonight?” Alhaitham’s words make you stop in the middle of the hallway.
You have a book ready in hand for a night of reading on the sofa under the soft glow of the floor lamp. You know his eyes can see that, gaze questioning his intentions.
“I was given two tickets to a movie, would you like to accompany me?” He holds out the slips of paper.
As your eyes pass over the printed font, you recognized the title, a name picked up within the chatter of coworkers at the office. It’s An adaptation of a famous light novel from Inazuma, and the reviews seem positive.
“Sure.”
You could get out of the house a little more.
…
It seems like everyone wants to see a movie tonight, the theater lobby is filled with bustling crowds, families with excited kids, and couples holding hands.
And then there’s you and Alhaitham. Standing side by side, his hands carrying two carbonated drinks, your hands holding an overpriced bag of popcorn, walking toward the room printed on the tickets.
“C5…C6, looks like we got good spots.” You settled into the plush seats, careful not to spill the bag.
Alhaitham hums in response, placing your drink in the cupholder. More and more people filed into the screening room, waves of ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s rolling through the space until all the seats were finally filled. The lights begin to dim as the opening logo booms through the sound system.
The cinematography was beautiful, the musical scores accompanying the plot pleasing to the ears, and the popcorn perfectly seasoned.
It’s been a while since you’ve last gone to a movie theater, maybe you should go more often. As you brought a few more pieces of popcorn to your lips, your eyes travel toward Alhaitham.
His arms crossed as the light of the silver screen reflects onto his skin, noticing your stare, his teal gaze connects with yours.
Moving the striped bag closer to his frame, you offer him some popcorn, he paid for the refreshments. It'd be a shame if he didn’t get to enjoy them too.
His large hand reachs over and takes a handful, your curiosity wanting to see his reaction to the snack. However, a piercing shrill snaps your attention away.
Just a few rows away, a woman stood up from her seat, throwing a bag of popcorn at the man sitting beside her. Screaming words you couldn’t quite make out as they merges with the onscreen dialogue and equally furious shouts of the now popcorn-covered man.
Their thunderous voices were only amplified by the acoustics of the theater.
They’re both standing now, still hurling insults and grievances one after another. There’s a ringing in your ears, their faceless silhouettes in the dim theater replaying a scene you’ve seen many times before. It’s as if they’ve finally developed a conscious, now aware of the stares and glares thrown their way.
Oh, look they’re leaving now, still fighting the whole way out of the screening room.
With the disturbance now cleared, a low wave of murmuring swept through the audience before dying out. The dialogue and soundtrack were audible again, the atmosphere reverting to how it was.
You didn’t feel like snacking on the popcorn anymore. Gaze focus on the fluffy puffs for the rest of the movie.
“Did you enjoy the film?” An indifferent voice resounds from your right side.
Walking out as the credit rolled in the background, following the flow of traffic toward the exit. You were walking by Alhaitham’s side, but your mind was elsewhere, a subtle frown etched on your lips.
“It was fine, just crowded and loud.” Your voice was just as flat.
“Oh.”
Tossing the unfinished bag of popcorn way into the nearest trash can, the two of you continue on the silent journey home.
Perhaps, it’s best if you just stayed curled up with a book.
“Eh? It’s been three years and you’ve never gotten your wife flowers? I knew you were cold-hearted, but not to this extent. Here, a quick bouquet of some fresh flowers I picked.”
“You should gift her some sweets, maybe then you two can talk a choco-lot… Did you get the joke?”
“Are you serious?! Almost four years and you never took her on a date?? You’re hopeless! Take these tickets and take her to the movies. By the way, you’ll have to pay for them.”
Alhaitham wasn’t sure what made his colleagues so invested in his marriage, maybe a projection of their own lack of one. To his colleagues, you were just as much of an enigma as the ashen-haired man.
Any passing comment, no matter how vague or curt, would bring forth an onslaught of unsolicited advice. And it was for that very reason within the walls of your home these details shall stay.
Alhaitham isn’t sure which was more irksome, the uninformed guidance of bachelors, or the fact he was the one who actually tested each suggestion. Regardless, at least these trials were fruitful in the sense he can gauge your dislikes now.
You despise flowers for their fickle messes and scent. You’re revolted by overpriced chocolates. You detested rowdy theaters and subpar films.
Four now going on to five years, and these were his results. Frankly, he didn’t have to subject you to such experiments for these results, because they aligned with his own preferences.
A waste of time, disturbing your peace for the sake of his own curiosity.
A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he sets the bucket of water down, one hand holding a mop as the other turns the knob of your bedroom.
It’s a Sunday, meaning the floors needed to be mopped. Your door's hinges sing as they swing open only to be abruptly silenced as Alhaitham stood motionless under the door frame.
Oh. He should’ve knocked.
You were in the midst of getting dressed in front of your floor-length mirror, glimpses of smooth skin peeking out from under baggy fabric. Before he could stop, teal eyes followed the dark fabric reaching just down to the middle of your thighs and draping low on one shoulder. Your fingers were in the middle of buttoning the clearly oversized shirt as you turned back to focus on him.
Blank gaze traveling up your soft lips set in a neutral position and meeting your deadpan stare, Alhaitham’s conscience restarts.
Today was Sunday, which meant it was laundry day yesterday, and it was the ashen-haired man’s turn to wash and dry the clothes. Somehow, his button-down got mixed in with your blouses, leading to your unamused reaction.
“I’ll be more mindful next time, did my shirt dull any of your whites?” Forcing his eyes to avert, a late attempt at respecting your privacy.
“It’s fine, fortunately, the dye didn’t bleed out during the wash.” You turned away as your hand pulls the draping fabric up your shoulder.
“Just place the shirt over the chair in my room, I’ll take care of it later.”
“Okay.”
Once more your door sings as he shuts it on the way back into the hall, deciding to clean the floors of his room first and allowing you to change into your rightful clothes. It was early noon and a weekend, meaning there was no reason for Alhaitham to brush out his sleep-tousled hair. Hopefully, messy gray locks were enough to conceal burning ears.
———————————————————————————
“The Evolution of Everything.” His eyes scan over the title held out in front of him.
A newly published scientific journal filled with freshly collected data, the book's spine still in mint condition. Alhaitham takes note of the identical copy held in your hand.
“You seemed interested in this genre, so I picked up a copy for you.” You motion for him to take it.
There wasn’t a rule etched in stone that forbade the sharing of books within these quiet walls. The books on your shelves have been more interesting than his as of late. A pattern of folded corners inflecting more and more pages of the books lining your bookshelves, evidence of a certain man’s meddling.
The warning glare every time you smoothed out a creased page directed his way didn’t seem to be enough to stop the unconscious habit of his hands.
It looks like you’re trying out a new solution, getting him his own copy to prevent the infection from engulfing each and every corner of your bookshelves.
“Thank you, I’ll read it soon.” He accepts the peace offering.
With that, you made your way back to the sofa. Flipping open your own copy, fingers gently making sure to not crumple the delicate pages or crease the pristine spine. Alhaitham compares it to the book currently held in his own hands.
An older book, while not falling apart or tattered, it’s obvious the man has thumbed through its pages. A well-loved book as his grandmother would’ve described it.
Alhaitham needs to stop this practice he never corrected in childhood.
———————————————————————————
“Alhaitham.” You greet him at the entranceway.
Said man is currently placing his outside shoes away into the closet, returning from an uneventful day at his office. You usually got home before him, but this was the first time you’ve waited for him at the front door. He notes that you seem to be holding something behind your back.
“Here.” Bring your arms out from your back, the distinct crinkling of plastic was heard.
Teal eyes study the gift basket filled with bath products, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion all nicely packaged with a satin ribbon.
“It’s to thank you for helping me with errands lately,” you explain.
Recently, you’ve been asking him to accompany you to the cluttered streets lined with stalls and haggling merchants. With his towering frame and larger hands, he could carry heavier bags and part a path through the pushy crowds easier. You were using your resources to maximize efficiency.
“There’s no need to trouble yourself with this, I’m just doing my part. But thank you.” He takes the basket from your hands, eyes remaining collected.
Just as the basket leaves your hands, the distinct chime of your phone goes off as ‘Bahram’ flashes across the screen. The name of your boss.
“Excuse me, I have to take this call. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” Turning away, you walk toward the kitchen.
The he hums in response, slipping into his inside shoes. With brisk steps, he covers the distance from the front door to his room, closing then leaning against the solid oak.
Sharply inhaling as one hand balancing the basket of toiletries and the other holding his head.
You’ve always prefer to maintain the serenity of the house. Resolving strife with proactive actions or brief comments. Not once in these past five years did you ever nag him, you’re too pragmatic for that. At times it’s a curse more than a blessing, evidenced by the gift basket staring back at him mockingly.
Although Alhaitham was messy at times, he knows the importance of hygiene. Teeth brushed twice a day, a shower taken every day before dinner, and deodorant applied daily.
However, the temperatures this Summer were at record highs, even for Sumeru. The packed market streets pushing the two of you closer than usual, perhaps he’s no match for the heat this time.
Washing his hair twice and his body thrice, Alhaitham finishes his prolonged shower by gurgling some mouthwash for good measure. Walking into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes and his hair still damp. The table set with potato boat and some steak. Impassive eyes met inscrutable eyes as you motion for him to take a seat.
Your nose remained relaxed, meaning you were probably satisfied with his efforts.
Alhaitham makes a silent reminder to research some cologne after he finishes washing the dishes. One that isn’t overbearing nor too weak to linger.
How embarrassing it is, five years in and the stoic prodigy known as Alhaitham is still testing the bounds of his wife’s patience. Selfish experiments and habits he can’t seem to correct conflicting with your wishes for a clean, serene, and quiet home.
The entire reason why you bothered signing your name next to a stone-faced man who said ‘I don’t believe in soulmates’ before asking ‘How are you?’.
Flowers, chocolates, and movie tickets.
You weren’t oblivious to the sentiment behind these arbitrary actions. In a way, it was expected. A husband wants to get closer to his wife, it’s simple chemistry.
The human mind craves connection, oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin released at the sight of gifted blooms, crafted sweets, and from simply sitting within each other's presence.
A chemical cocktail the mind gets drunk on.
Alhaitham isn’t immune to it and neither are you. Even if you were able to stiffen your lips, steady your gaze, and hide those flushed cheeks. Nothing you did could quell the abnormality in your chest, was Alhaitham having the same issue?
There comes the first hurdle, the unknown which hung in the air formed over years of peaceful silence. The thought of two stoic faces peering into each other’s eyes as two monotonous voices stated the obvious would make any romantic keel over and die.
It’d be too embarrassing, especially when it’s already been awkward.
Headache caused by sickly sweet blossoms, spitting out pricey sweets, and dulled reaction to a critically acclaimed film. None of this was Alhaitham’s fault, how can you blame someone for something they don’t know?
He never asked, you never told.
No one knew what happened within that noisy house with empty bottle-covered floors of two ‘soulmates’ who refused to release their crushing grips. All except the three unfortunate souls trapped within its Padisarah-scented walls.
Still, his keen eyes didn’t miss those details, reassessing his actions before ultimately channeling more of his energy into chores around the house instead of frivolous gifts. What a proactive husband.
A sting of guilt felt as you recall his sincere attempts at trying to cross an icy bridge. What should you say? ‘Thank you, you tried.’ Sounded far too condescending, it could even lead to a huffy fight. Something you’ve been good at avoiding these past five years.
Marriage is filled with compromises, meeting each other halfway along the road of life, side by side. So you tried this time.
Curiosity guiding you as it did a naive hero towards the brilliance of a red star.
———————————————————————————
Your first attempt was inspired by an article that popped up on your phone’s feed, something about wearing your partner’s shirt to make them flush, nonsense known as the ‘boyfriend shirt’.
You still gave it a try. Swiping up one of your husband’s black button-downs one Saturday night, only building up the confidence to put it on the next morning.
Your original plan was to just casually wear it around the house as you got the Sunday morning chores done, but that got thrown out when Alhaitham suddenly opened your door when one-third of the buttons were still undone.
A moment of tense silence followed, impressively you managed to maintain a cool facade. Grasping the opportunity to leave this stale silence with an expertly crafted response.
———————————————————————————
In the end, he just wanted his shirt back. So for your next attempt, you toned it down, no longer taking advice from nonsensical articles.
Recently, Alhaitham has taken more of an interest in your bookshelf. More of the once pristine edges of your books folder here and there. If it was anyone else, you’d make them buy you a new copy immediately, but for now, you simply smoothed out the paper.
If he wants to read the theories and studies that muse you, why don’t you read them together?
However, two bodies pressed together on a sofa trying to read the small print along pages at the same time is simply uncomfortable. Plus, Alhaitham reads much faster than you.
To ensure a pleasant reading experience for both of you, two copies were the best solution.
He read it after you.
———————————————————————————
Your next attempts used thinly veiled excuses to get Alhaitham to accompany you to the bustling markets of Sumeru City. In a way, trying to make up for that lackluster movie experience.
Only for it to soon turn into using Alhaitham to carry arm fulls of bags as he shielded you from the push and pull of the busy crowd.
Perhaps you should stick to gift-giving, to spare your husband from working like a Sumpter Beast in this weather.
But besides books, what should you give him? He’s just like you, if he sees something he wants, he’d just buy it with his own money.
On the way home from work, you caught sight of a shop, one which displayed handmade soaps and fancy lotions. Huh, Alhaitham often takes your lotions, maybe you should get him his own. A bell ringing overhead announces your entrance into the cozy store.
“Welcome!” A bright voice chirped as a shop assistant with vibrant red hair and an equally vibrant smile bounded toward you.
“I’m Nilou, how may I help you today?”
“I’m just looking for some lotion.” You politely responded, trying to ignore the faint fragrance of Pardisarahs.
“We’ve got plenty of hand-made ones, for you or for someone else?”
“For my husband.”
“Oh? What does he like?”
You paused for a moment, lips pressed together in contemplation before deciding.
“Something fresh and not overbearing, nothing made from Pardisarahs.” If he liked using your lotions, then he must have the same scent preferences.
“We just got this new lotion that fits the criteria! Oh! But it pairs very well with this body wash… actually this shampoo and conditioner set is also a good fit. Oh! What if we bundle them?”
What was supposed to be a simple lotion turned into you leaving the small shop with an entire gift basket. A sigh leaves your lips, looks like you’re not as immune to sales tactics as you originally thought.
That night you handed the ribbon-wrapped basket to Alhaitham. Even if he isn’t interested in expensive handcrafted soaps, he’ll still use them out of necessity, they were a gift after all.
However, it doesn’t seem you had to worry about that. He used up the fancy soaps and lotions.
The opulent scent lingering on his skin and towel-dried hair, looks like your gift made you discover a new side of your husband.
He enjoys really long showers, evidenced by your rising water bills.
Still, the vast expanse of uncertainty didn’t shrink, not even one bit. Just like the distance between an outstretched hand toward the sun.
Books, lotions, and walks through a market, looks like it was all for naught.
The mutual agreement to not lock eyes, these cold halls, these awkward dinners filled with nothing but the clattering of silverware and plates. Where have you seen these patterns before?
Oh, you’ve seen these in your childhood home.
Ah, was this a curse passed on to you? What an awful wedding gift from uninvited parents to a courthouse office.
Clutching the straps of your bag tighter, your legs quicken their pace, wanting to get out of the crowded streets filled with the mumbles and pushes of people freshly off the clock.
With each stranger knocking into your shoulder another drop is added to a bottle. White knuckles gripping on your straps as a pressure rises within the bottle’s glass body, threatening to shatter it.
You can’t let this continue, the mounting pressure will sooner or later detonate into a hideous mess. Best to avoid that scenarios. Eyes catching sight of a small reprieve from the crowd, you direct yourself there.
The small store front provides you with some shelter for your lungs to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The pressure subsides just a bit. There’s still room in there, you can suppress a little more, you can endure a little longer.
Eyelids fluttering open, you recognized the name of the shop. It’s the fancy soap shop, one with the vivacious sales assistant.
Peering through the glass you searched for that brilliant shade of crimson. And you found it, right next to glimmering silver hair. It’s like your body forgot how to breathe.
From the rumbling of the late evening rush, all you could do was read their lips from behind a thick glass door.
Petite pink lips giggling behind clasped hands as Nilou looks up at Alhaitham, tilting her head to the side as if she asked him a question. His lips remained stiff, but teal gaze reflected crimson as they softened. Something you never witnessed within the quiet walls of your home.
Looks like you found the cause of the rising water bills, perhaps Alhaitham likes the smell of Padisarahs.
Your bottle couldn’t contain the ocean anymore.
It wasn’t an Earth-shattering catastrophic event, no tidal waves crashing down, no flood flood devastating everything in its path. Only a defeated ‘pop’ and its pathetic echo as your bottle finally overflowed.
Bitter sea-foam fizzled out as it made an unseen mess.
Listlessly, you rejoined the rolling crowd, letting the eb and flow of its movement carry you all the way to the front door of a false haven. Systematically inserting the key, placing your shoes into the closet, and shutting your room door behind your back. Staring at the clean floor with its intricate wood grain.
However, your mind weren’t processing any of it, busy with its calculations.
When did his fever start? That one Autumn night with a chaste bouquet. What day is it now? The cusp of Summer. How long has it been? In a few months, it’ll be three years.
A lecture from an inescapable past resurfaces.
————————
“Hey, kiddo.”
Slurred words made you stop in your tracks, small hands tightening their grip on your backpack straps.
You weren’t quiet enough, the careful steps of your feet were rendered useless when it came to the creaky wooden floors of this house. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t want to breathe in the stench which permeated this air.
The aroma of cheap perfume, sour wine, and cheap beer. The source of this foul smell? The freshly awakened man laying on the couch just a few inches away: a man known as your father.
Still trying to reserve your stored supply of oxygen, all you offered the drunkard was a firm hum. Not that he’d care, judging from the crushed cans and empty bottles littering the path, he’s probably too far gone.
“Did you know love is a chemical? Something called ‘phenylethylamine’?” A hiccup interrupts his sentence, but he continues, much to your dismay.
“Haha, it makes your heart beat faster and your cheeks flush because it’s considered an amphetamine, one of the most powerful drugs.” His stumbling hand blindly reached for another can, knocking over empty shells until it found one with just a bit of liquor.
“Too bad the high can only last three years.”
Your disinterested gaze trailed off down the empty hall, legs itching to break away from the lecture you’ve heard numerous times before. Lungs begging to inhale the untainted air of your room, the only sanctuary this hollow home held.
Just a few minutes was all you needed, then you’ll start mopping these foul floors.
A clink of aluminum hitting the wooden boards draws your attention back to your father who had finished moisturizing his throat with another swig of beer.
“Stay away from that drug, kiddo” A sloppy grin stretched across his face as he stared up at a blank ceiling.
The sight made your arms bristle, seeing a smile on your father’s face was uncanny. Something you’ve never seen at the dinner table, just silent scowls and disgruntled glares constantly exchanged over a subpar meal.
Wanting him to finish this one-sided conversation, you gave another firm hum, every now and then glazing back toward the hall.
“Or you’ll end up like this old man.” He wraps the conversation up with a bitter laugh, one which resonated off the blank walls.
————————
Maybe you should’ve heeded your father’s words. A brilliant scholar to the public but a pathetic drunk when within the confines of a cluttered, noisy house is still a brilliant scholar.
This was your punishment for straying away from your beliefs. You reached your hand out towards the fire despite knowing it’d hurt, and you fell in love. Now look at where you are.
How utterly laughable, you, the ever-bright Ms. Perfect, who’s broken love down to its base form of chemical compounds, fell victim to the addiction that was love.
So blindsided by it.
The fog of love is slowly running its course through him. Once the trees abandon their vibrant greens for shriveled browns in the Autumn, his fever will be over. There’s no such thing as an endless Summer.
How did you not see this coming? Covering your eyes with ignorant hands, blatantly ignoring the signs right in front of your nose.
No more flowers, no more chocolates, and no more movies.
Turning back around, you took note of a figure in a floor length mirror. Indifferent gaze identical to how your husband looks at you.
Two sides of the same mirror, what’s what you and him are. What’s the use of that? Shiny surfaces point off in opposite directions, yet only ever reflecting one view. What’s the point of having two sides then?
You don’t intrigue him, you can’t show him his blind spots, and you can’t reflect to him a view he’s never seen. Same perceptions, same hobbies, same expressionless faces, how stale it must be.
It’s much more interesting to have a wife who’ll smile at receiving flowers, a wife whose eyes light up at chocolate, and a wife who’d blabber on about a movie as Alhaitham listens intently. The beating of his heart is starting with someone new.
Emerging out of your thoughts, you stare directly at the person in your mirror.
Dull eyes stared right back, light dimmed from years of staring at a bright star grasping at its warm rays in substitution of a cold house, only for your fingers to slip pass right through.
Idiotic girl, you can’t touch the sun, not even Icarus did.
An unlovable child grew into an unlovable adult. Add that to your footnote, so you’ll never forget this lesson again. The fool in the mirror finally looks away.
It didn’t matter if Icarus smiled or laughed as he tumbled from the sky. Silly girl, did you forget what happens in the end of that tale? He drowned alone.
Drowning isn’t like what the movies show. The thrashing of limbs against cold waves, the garbled screams under the water, all accompanied by the ominous soundtrack crafted by a sound master. It’s all dramatized for the silver screen.
Muscles pushing through the cold exhaustion, mouth agape but prioritizing large and fast gulps of oxygen over cries for help, followed by the melodic lull of water lapping over eardrums until the head disappears under its surface. Never to breach it again.
It’s possible for a person to drown in a pool full of people. Just like how it was possible for you to feel alone despite having your husband just across the lacquered expanse of the dinner table. Forks and knives clacking porcelain plates.
It’s a silent death.
For once you’re grateful to attend a nugatory dinner hosted by your company. Venue filled with superficial smiles and handshakes all over food served on sliver platters. Even if the heels are killing you, you’d rather not wallow in a quiet house.
A heavy sigh leaves your lips, catching someone’s attention.
“What a heavy sigh, here have some wine to ease the burden.” A glass filled with fragrant wine was held out in front of you.
Your eyes travel up the hand which offers the vile beverage to you, sights landing on the face of your boss, Bahram. Pushy as always, always testing the limits of your loyalty to a nice pension and dental insurance.
As always you politely push the glass away, uttering a firm “no thank you.”
“Oh c’mom Ms. Perfect, you look like you could use a drink.” He pushes the glass closer.
Stares from all around the formal dinner table hone in, the weight heavy on your shoulders. Stakeholders and coworkers turn away from their shallow conversations to watch the brewing spectacle just across the table.
That’s right, you have to be professional, where was your crafted mask? Make use of all those years observing the masters of deception you knew as your parents.
So you accept the vile glass.
Before the aroma could register on your palate, you emptied the whole glass. Not a single drip escaped past your lips. It took all your strength to no scowl at the sweetly bitter and alcoholic flavor.
“Oh? Ms. Perfect is drinking tonight?” Some nameless coworker mused.
Ah, the name lightly tossed around at the office with oblivious chuckles and ignorant smiles. You despise being called that, but not as much as you despise being told ‘you’re just like your father’ and ‘you’re acting like your mother’.
Better to be Ms. Perfect, so disgruntled ‘soulmates’ can’t compare you to their flawed counterpart.
“Do you like this wine? Have some more.” Eagerly, your boss fills the glass once more.
Staring at the beckoning liquid swirling in the glimmering cup, as the weight of those stares force your hands to accept it once more.
Maybe you should’ve just stayed home.
“I should really be trying to sell you our products but… I think you’ll find a better gift at another store. Here, I’ll write the address down for you! They have the best jewels, I’m sure you’ll find something for your wife there!” Hastily the shop assistant scribbles on a notepad before pushing the slip into his palm.
“Just don’t tell my manager.” Clasping her hands in front of her mouth, signaling to him to keep a secret.
Alhaitham simply nods, examining the address in his hands. He hasn’t tried jewelry yet, but a ring would look nice on your hand. Maybe you’d think so too.
“You really love her, don’t you mister?” Nilou notes how attentively his hands smooth over the address.
Pausing for a moment, Alhaitham envisions the softness of your cheeks shifting as that tender smile spreads across your lips. Yours eyes reflecting the light off the polished and cut gem as he slips it onto your bare finger.
“I do.” Unable to stop the softening of his gaze.
———————————————————————————
A ring still left in its miserable black box, stowed away in the depths of a drawer. A sigh slips out of him just like how he let another opportunity to place the jewel on your finger pass. You’re attending a company dinner tonight, a rare occasion requiring you to dress up.
The dress draped over your figure and curves just right and highlighted the contours of your body. He wanted to tell you this earlier as you were leaving, too bad he was occupied with swallowing ‘stay home’.
There’s an annoying itch in the deepest depths of his mind. Covetous hands crawled up his spine, they tried to convince his own fingers to grasp around your wrist and pull you back into the house.
Alhaitham shakes that itch away, refocusing his attention onto your bookshelf in front of him.
You have a life and responsibilities outside these walls, he can’t overstep the boundary to block you from your individuality. Running a finger along the tops of the neatly lined books, searching for something to redirect his impulses.
Momentum halting when his finger sunk into pages when he expected the firm edge of a spine. The force crumpling the paper, immediately he pulls it into his hands, smoothing out the folded edges. Title catching his attention.
The Lifespan of Love, the only book where the spine wasn’t facing out. Flipping it to the back, Alhaitham scans the blurb, noting the portrait of the scholar who authored it.
A familiar face, a professor who’s lectures he barely attended. A distinguished researcher and mentor in the eyes of his old university.
The sight of his face made Alhaitham recall a scene he once witnessed.
————————
The halls of the Psychology department were desolate, as they always were. A much-appreciated reprieve from crowded foyers as a quiet student walks to his next exam in the department next door.
Just as his hand reached up to activate his headphones, two voices caught his attention, the high shrills of a woman and the raspy shouts of a man leaking out from an office door left ajar.
It has nothing to do with him, Alhaitham know this, but he still had 30 minutes to kill before the exam.
Teal eyes peer through the gap between the oak doorframe.
A man the student recongizes, but the scowl and flush of rage twisted his face into an unrecongizable mess. The professor juts his finger towards the woman as foul names left his mouth, the same mouth which lectured the brightest minds of Sumeru.
The woman screams back equally loathsome words, tears leaving mascara trails down her red cheeks. Suddenly, she grabs a lamp off his desk and hurls it to the floor.
For a brief moment, the scholar pauses as his eyes scanned over the broken debris scattered along the floor. Then his fist slammed into the solid oak of his desk, thud so forceful the office ratted with the poor furniture.
His shouts resume, volume escalating by the minute.
Alhaitham backs away from the door, turning on his noise-canceling headphones. He’s satisfied his curiosity enough, walking off to his exam.
————————
A peculiar sight behind the superficial mask of a respected professor with his jolly grin and light hearted jokes with students. Inspecting the name printed just underneath the portrait, a furrow forms between his brow as he scrutinizes the spelling closer.
The professor’s last name was spelled the same way as yours.
Oh. So this is the source you were citing back then. Numbers and figures published by a notable name backing your rebuttal to the societal notion of a soulmate. Inquisiveness rearing its impatient nose, inciting his hands to choose this book as his subject tonight.
You never told him, so he never asked. This was a chance to peer into a view sealed behind your closed lips.
To study, dissect, and analyze the resources which congergated together to form the you of today. Alhaitham isn’t going to deny such an opportunity.
Teal eyes glance at the ticking hands of a clock, he’s got a good few hours of reading before you return.
The distinct rumble of an engine leaking in through the living room window interrupts his peace, the slam of car doors causing Alhaitham to promptly fold over the corner of the page he has yet to finish.
The dinner must have ended.
Getting up from a cushy couch, Alhaitham makes his way toward the entranceway.
His keen ears picking up the unmistakable hearty chuckle of a man, Alhaitham stills for a brief second before continuing to the door.
Before the chime of the doorbell had the chance to sound throughout the home, Alhaitham already pried open the front door.
Teal gaze darkening as they examine the display on the front steps.
Your arm around the shoulder of another man while his arm was snaked around your waist, pressing your body against his as he supports you up the steps.
The sound of the hinges directs the man’s attention to the homeowner currently staring at him, oblivious to the way Alhaitham’s grip threatens to crush a metal handle behind solid oak.
“Oh! You must be Ms. Perfect’s husband. I’m Bahram.” The man greeted.
Alhaitham already knows him. He’s seen that name flash up enough times across your phone. He’s seen you pick up no matter the hour and step out into an empty room.
A new habit of yours which started some months earlier.
“Haha! She drank a bit too much tonight.” The jovial man continues, his hand still resting on your hip.
Drank? You drank? You don’t so much as glance at Alhaitham’s wine cabinet at home, yet you drank with this man? The begins of scowl start to set into Alhaitham’s face.
“I’ll bring her inside for ya.” Bahram takes a step forward only to be blocked by a towering frame topped with ashen hair.
“I’ll take it from here.” Alhaitham barely bit back a pointed tone, forcibly smoothing it over to make his voice pass as neutral.
Prying that hand off your hip and your arm from Bahram’s neck, Alhaitham’s strong hold supports your slumping figure against his own body.
Pulling you across the threshold of the front door, finally putting some distance between you and that damn boss of yours.
“Have a goodnight.” Venomous lie rolling off Alhaitham’s tongue as he firmly shuts the oak door, not bothering with any more pleasantries.
It didn’t take much effort to carry you into the living room. Setting you down on the sofa then kneeling down with dexterous fingers, Alhaitham freed your feet from the chokehold of those heels.
You make a mental note to throw them out tomorrow morning.
“Thank you,” you breathed out, relieved to finally be home.
Your husband doesn’t respond as he walk away to place your shoes into the closet. The lingering taste of wine churns your stomach, you needed some water to wash it out.
Carefully, you amble into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with fresh water. Praying it can finally rid you of that foul flavor.
After three glasses of wine, your stakeholders and coworkers finally turned their attention elsewhere. You’ve entertained them enough.
Granting you the freedom to push away anymore glasses your boss offered, only getting him to stop after you agreed to his offer of driving you home.
What a troublesome night, your mood sourer than it has been for the past few months.
As you fill up your glass again your ears catch the pattering of Alhaitham’s steps as he trails into the kitchen, stopping only a few paces away watching you glup down your second glass.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” His husky voice resounds from behind you as his finger taps against the marble countertop.
“No.” You fill rinse out the cup, the stubborn grip of wine not releasing your tastebuds just yet.
“Oh? It sure looks like you did.”
Your body stiffens as your turn the faucet off, glancing over your shoulder with eyes narrowing.
“What do you mean by that?” Your tone a bit more sharp than you’d like it to be.
“I’m certain you know exactly what I mean.” Alhaitham stops his tapping as he lays his palm flat on the table, teal eyes boring straight into you.
“Well, well looks like your assumption is wrong.”
“I doubt it, stop mincing your words and just say you enjoyed a few drinks with your boss.”
Your body turns around fully, glaring stare connecting with his teal one. Ticking of a clock sounding throughout the quiet kitchen.
So that’s why he’s behaving like this, partners with wandering eyes tend to project their hypocritical insecurities onto the other after all.
“Then why don’t you say you’ve been enjoying your visits to Nilou?” Something more venomous than sour wine drips off your words.
“How is she related to this conversation?” His eyes narrowing at you, unlike the same teal irises that reflected the scarlet of her hair.
“You know exactly what I mean.” You spat his own words back at him, maneuvering around him as you make your way back to your room.
At this point you weren’t sure what was the cause of the headache threatening to form.
The wine? This deafening silence? Or the thought of Padisarahs?
You don’t care, you want to go to bed. The thuds of his steps weren’t far behind yours as you trek through the halls.
“Our conversation hasn’t concluded.” His deep voice ringing in your ears.
“Yes it has.” Your room was just in sight.
“No it hasn’t.” His hand encloses around your wrist.
There you were, halfway through the doorframe of your room with the pull of his hand preventing you from getting the rest you want.
There’s no longer any space left in a shattered bottle, just a rippling ocean getting rougher and rougher with each deep breath.
“Can’t you be honest?” His ironic, paradoxical words causes the tide to crush against each other.
“Can’t you be honest? Do you think I wouldn’t notice your showers right as you come back from ‘work’? You’ve been driving the water bill up with your cover-up efforts.” Glaring right into those damn beryl eyes, frown breaking your stiff lips.
“Cover-up? What a bold accusation coming from the same person who awaits a call everynight.” He mirrors your scowl.
“Maybe its because work offers better company than this stifling house.”
Alhaitham grip tightens on your wrist as his lips press into a firm line, indecipherable stare weighing down upon your frame. His broad shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath.
“Strip,” he commands.
“Have you gone mad?” You snap back, unable to budge in his hold.
“Yes, furious even.”
It didn’t take much effort for him to make his way into your room, pulling you in as well. You could barely keep up with it all, glaring at him but it didn’t affect him one bit.
The movement causes your dress to shift. Glancing down you realize a strap of your dress slipped off, leaving one side of your breast dangerously exposed.
With swift strides, he arrives at the edge of your bed. It’s rare for you to dawn such attire, applying a lovely shade of crimson to those plush lips, and tying your hair up so nicely. Did you get all dressed up for Bahram? Why couldn’t it be for his viewing only?
Tsk, noisy nonsense is cluttering his mind, those the claws of a green-eyes monster digging into his last shred of restraint. Seizing his rationality in its ugly, greedy hands tighter and tighter the longer your soft thighs pressed against his tense body.
Crashing into those crimson lips of yours, one hand positioning your face to allow his tongue to catch yours by surprise. Letting the two muscles dance together as his other hand explored the expanse of your body, pulling up the silky fabric to grant his palm the pleasure of gracing your soft thighs.
��Oh, so this is what he wants,’ you thought as your lips moved against his.
‘Fine, might as well experience what he’s been doing behind your back.’ The fingers of your free hand tangling themselves into his hair, tugging at ashen locks with disregard.
Unfortunately, the pesky need for oxygen made Alhaitham release your lips. Chest panting as his darkened gaze observed the state of your lips. Crimson smeared over the corner of your glossy lips. You put so much effort into painting them, making sure they were nicely defined.
However, it felt so cathartic to know that he’s the one who messed them up, no one at the party saw them like this. Only him.
“I’ll ask you one last time, strip now.” Not letting go of your face.
“Go to hell,” you spat out.
And the last chain broke, dignity and self-control reduced to nothing more than ash as his hunger commanded him. Go to hell you say?
“Then I’ll take you with me,” he sneers through clenched teeth, pushing you into the mattress face down. One hand restraining those disobedient hands of yours behind your back.
Before protest could leave your lips a rip resounds through the hot air. Alhaitham knows he should be delicate with it. That he should carefully pull the zipper down your back, letting the fabric naturally drape off your frame.
However, a man who starved for six years now knows nothing about patience.
You feel the silky fabric slip off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Teal eyes honing in on the darkened patch on the thin fabric, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.
“Wet just from this? Or were you wet during dinner too?” He pulls the fickle fabric off.
You wiggle in his hold, face flushed with frustrated embarrassment at your current predicament. However, in terms of strength you’ll always lose to Alhaitham. A violent flinch jolts your body as he runs a finger runs along your glistening slit.
“What a lewd thing, has he seen this slutty hole of yours?” Alhaitham watches the way your cunt quivers with each stroke of his digit.
“Do really you think I’d sleep with my boss?” Your voice slightly muffled by the sheets as you turn your face to the side.
“I need to confirm it.”
With two fingers, he spreads your soft pussy lips apart, keen eyes observing the trail of slick starting to drip down from between them. He sees the muscles of your entrance clenching around nothing, he glides a digit in, feeling your slick walls clamp around it. Clear essence drooling out. He hums in satisfaction before sliding his finger out, you bite into the sheet to silence any sounds.
“Enjoying this?” He muses, fingers spreading your cunt again.
You don’t respond, but the glare you’re sending his way makes his lip curl into a smirk. For once he could read the emotions behind your stoic eyes, he wants to see more.
Trailing his fingers up your slit until they bump into a hard nub making your body twitch. Softly pinching your clit between two fingers, he slowly rolls the senesitve bundle of nerves as you bite harder to stop your moans.
Cunt slick but unstretched, clit throbbing but not swollen, only your essence coating his fingers. Looks Bahram hasn’t gotten the chance to taste you yet.
Calming the thrashing of a green-eyed beast just slightly. However, this wasn’t enough. Alhaitham feels the parchedness of his throat as his eyes scan over your glistening slit.
Alhaitham once believed that the touches exchanged when his fingers brush against yours while passing plates, when you pull a blanket up his napping frame, or when your bodies briefly pressed against each other as he helps you hang the laundry out was enough to satisfy him. That he could sustain off just borrowing your lotions.
Such a false assumption, a foolish one even. As the heat radiating off your body melts away another restraint he imposed on himself. Alhaitham realizes just how much he’s been starving himself.
Thumb rubbing firm circles into your clit, the pleasure making your legs close together, trying to shut him out but the grip of his hand stops your attempt.
“Tsk, stay still.” His strength pinning your legs apart, showing you just how ‘feeble’ he was.
In retaliation, he pushes your legs further apart. Exposing more of yourself to him, it was embarrassing enough to almost make your lust-hazed mind care.
Thick fingers gathered up drops of slick leaking out from your dripping cunt as your lewd hole unable to contain its greed. Allowing him more access, feeding into his greed further.
Two fingers tracing the rim of your entrance before it slowly pushes through. Instantly, your gummy walls clamped down on his fingers, making him hiss through clenched teeth.
“If you’re grasping my fingers this much, how will you take something larger?” His breath ghosting over your cunt.
Your toes curled in the air as a kiss was pressed against your throbbing clit, almost enough to let a gasp escape you. Biting back a drawn out moan as his tongue traced your leaking slit, starting with your sensitive numb then traveling up to lap at the essence escaping your stretched hole with the smooth muscle then back to flick at your clit.
You never realized just how pent up your body was until whines and moans just fell from your lips like water. Turning your head away, pressing your face into the mattress in hopes it’d catch those sinful sounds.
“Tsk.” Alhaitham escalated the pace of his fingers.
A sharp slap against your puffy clit, shooting white-hot pleasure up your core. With a gasp you pulled away from the sheets, unable to stop the moan which tumbled out. Hastily, you tried to muffle your voice again, only for a warning squeeze on your still pinned wrist stopping you.
You’ve enjoyed your silence, he’s been deprived of those sultry moans, so for tonight let him enjoy them to the fullest extent.
Your back arched, hips bucking in the air. Your little pussy finally rewarded his hard work with a rush of slick soaked the sheets and his face further. Swiftly removing his fingers again with a disgraceful squelch, only for his tongue to dip into the cavern they left. He slurped and lapped up every drop of your nectar, quenching a thirst he never knew he had.
Overstimulated clit trying to flinch away from each nerve-frying lick while your weeping walls beckoned his tongue to go deeper. The tightness in his pants was painful now, engorged tip rubbing against the fabric and soaking it in precum.
With his unyielding hold, his half-lidded eyes, and his unrelenting tongue lapping up all of your essence while bullying your poor nub, you were powerless. Unable to hide from his hungry gaze, nails digging into his unflinching hand, and chest heaving with the mounting pleasure in your core.
Scowl long replaced by a loose expression, the pleasure ripping through every fiber of your being. Shooting up from your curled toes to the eyes seeing only the back of your head, the edge growing closer and closer-
Alhaitham pulls away, your slick dripping down his chin glistening in the moonlight illuminating the room. Cruelly pulling back from the edge before you could taste true euphoria. No, he doesn’t think you deserve it yet. Flipping your body effortless on your back, wrists now pinned above your head.
His teal eyes drank the sight of your breast bouncing with each pant, puffy cunt clenching desperately, and the glimmering tearful eyes rivaling the stars themselves. A sight so sinful the devil is writhing in envy.
“What the fuck?!” You thrashed in his hold again, mourning the lost of the orgasm your body was denied.
“With this attitude, you should be grateful for what you got. I’m tired of waiting.” Alhaitham sneers next to your ear, chest pressed against yours before his warmth pulls away.
Tugging his pants and boxers down his thighs with a hand still coated in your nectar, trailing kisses and red splotches in the valley of your breast as his precum and your slick mixed with each stroke of his shaft. The wet sounds even reached your ears.
Making the mistake of looking down, your eyes widened as they comprehended his length and girth. Your restless pussy twitching but your legs closing as to preserve the last of your ego. Something thick pressed against your dripping pussy making your hole quiver and legs freeze as his tip threatens breach your entrance.
“Trying to be coy now? When you were moaning like a whore mere minutes ago.” Smug teal eyes peering down at you.
Another frown breaks onto your face at his pointed words. Your tongue is just as sharp, best to remind him of that fact.
“What a practiced line, you say the same things to her as well?” A mocking smile curling your lip as a scowl tugs down at his.
Too self-satisfied with your small victory to notice his large hand gripping onto your hips, aligning himself with you. With a sinful squelch, Alhaitham snaps his cock fully in. Your lips thrown open with a gasp as your back arches off the mattress.
“I. Never. Had. An. Affair. So, instead of spewing out anymore nonsense, why don’t you just moan instead?” Puncuating each word with thrust of his hips, feeling the vibration of each syllable in his chest pinned against yours.
Jagged words ready at the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t form a single sentence. With a broken moan your back slowly descended back onto the sheets.
Tearing a hiss from his clenched teeth and a breathless moan from you, gummy walls contracting down tighter and tighter with each girthy inch pushed as his balls slap against the slick down your ass. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Alhaitham stays there, tip pressed against the deepest part of you, a furrow between his brows.
Alhaitham knows he should be gentle. He knows he should allow your walls to grow accustomed to his girth by slowly rolling his hips against yours.
However, you just won’t stay still. Mewling and whining against his frame, nails clawing at his hand as your legs fluttered in the air. Each movement makes your pussy slurp around his stiff cock, lapping at the girth as if trying to pull him deeper than he already was.
Tempting his hunger like a lunatic testing a starved beast, it’ll only be so long before the hunger bends the iron bars containing it and devours you.
“AH!” A sharp slap of his hips rips a moan from your lips.
Alhaitham pulls you off his cock until the tip threatens to slip out, then thrusts it all back in one fluid motion. Instinctively your teeth clamps down on your disobedient lips, desperately trying to bite back those lewd noises. The slurping of your greed welcoming him over and over was embarrassing enough.
What a selfish move, trying to deprive him once more of your pretty moans. Provoking that ugly appetite within the pits of his stomach again. If you won’t behave, Alhaitham decides to fuck the stubborness out of you.
Each thrust of his hips into yours rocking the sturdy bed, bullying your poor sensitive pussy still recovering from a ruined orgasm. Hands and hips held within bruising grips. The pitched gasps every time he railed into a certain spot didn’t escape his keen ears, his hips now angled to bully that spot with each thrust.
How helpless you were to the devastating rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. Unable to ground yourself on anything, your last wisps of sanity swept away by the waves of pleasure.
A groan reverberates deep in Alhaitham’s chest, the sudden convulsions of your slick walls trying to milk him. It was almost impossible to move with the way your pussy just kept clamping down.
Unfortunately, his hips couldn’t seem to care, operating solely on selfish desire.
Fortunately, a fresh wave of arousal aided in his rhythm, relentless slams bouncing your body and bed.
Strength long leaving your arms Alhaitham releases his hold on them in favor of supporting your limp hips, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as lust-hazed eyes honed in on the frothy white ring forming on his shaft.
All your lips could do was babble out nothings as the headboard continued to beat the poor wall. Cunt thanking his cock with a contraction every time his tip knocks against your weakness.
The sweet moans caressing his ears, the filthy slaps echoing through the room, and your walls pulling him deeper and deeper, Alhaitham was at his limit.
There was nothing separating you two, he had enough sense left to know that. Reeling in the reins of his greed, he pulls back, fingers digging deeper into your plush skin. Well, he tried to pull back, but your locked ankles behind his back foiled this plan.
He felt so hefty in you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his girth and length tore apart your sensibility. Something deep inside your cunt pleaded to be fed, to be filled, pushing your limp legs to lock ankles.
He feels a bit too far for your liking, blindly your hands groped at his body. Finally, reaching his face, cupping it roughly, you crash his lips down onto yours. Tasting yourself on his tongue still, but you couldn’t care less.
As your tongues tangled together, Alhaitham reached his limit. Pressing his thick tip as deep as it’d go, thick ropes of cum start to coat your walls with each twitch of his cock. His shaky moans swallowed up by your kiss.
The slurping of your pussy milking his still throbbing cock only prolonged his hunger.
Dropping his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, he relishes in what he’s been depriving himself of. Feeling the faint shiver of your neck against his face.
Something was fogging up his mind, Autumn breeze doing nothing to quell the heat burning him.
–
“Ah! Mmmh! A-ah Ah!”
The first rays of dawn breaking through the navy sky, the light so flushed by the scene it witnessed, it’s pink hue illuminated skin into the room heavy with lust and the slap of wet skin.
“N-no more… too m-Ah!-much-ch.” Intoxicated brain sputtering out broken sentences.
It really was too much, you’ve cum too much to bother remembering, from the creamy drops dripping onto the soaked sheets, he’s also cummed too much.
Pussy overflowing and spasming with each thrust pushing more milky seed out.
Cock rubbing its red tip rawer with each quiver of your gooey walls.
Six years of starvation will make any man forget gluttony is a sin.
“Too much? No More?” A husky pant between each word as Alhaitham continues with his punishing rhythm.
“If that’s the case… then why is your pussy refusing to let me go?” His chest pressed against your back, caging you further as his breath tickles your ear.
Unable to form a sentence anymore, your head pathetically shook side to side, stubbornly denying the obvious. Looks like he hasn’t fucked out of you yet, better change that. Large fingers digging further down on bruised hips, as the pistoning of his thrusts escalated.
Bed frame pushed to its limits.
Each smack of his hips against your limp body further drowning your pride out in a flood of dopamine. It’s mounting again, that familiar pressure building up in your core, making your toes curl in painful arches.
There’s a sudden flick at your swollen clit, walls flinching as his fingers encircles around the abused nub.
“Who’s making you feel this way?” His husky voice too close to your ear.
Groundless pride preventing you from unsealing you lips, refusing to feed into his ego anymore than your wanton moans already did.
“Who are you showing this shameful face to?” There’s an edge to his voice again, why must you be so stubborn?
Once more you refused to answer. Making Alhaitham’s jaw clench and his fingers roll your clit harsher, making your bruised hips thrash.
“Who’s shape is engrained into this lewd body?” Voice dangerously low as he pushes his thick tip deeper against your beaten and painted walls, fingers never stopping their torment on your little nub.
The edge was getting closer, you knew you’ll fall off it soon, you’ll dive head first into the euphoric sea of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin and drown.
“Ah-ah Al-mmh!” You try to collect your breath.
Alhaitham quickens his fingers on your clit, feeling your greedy cunt clamp down on him again, walls suckling his twitching tip as his balls tighten. He’s close, but he needs you to say what he’s been waiting to hear all night.
“Alh-ah a-a…” Your hips shaking violently in his hold now.
Lust-glazed eyes staring straight into equally hazed teal eyes. Shaky hands slowly weaving themselves into his damp ash locks, gently pulling his ear closer to your lips, your hoarse voice just barely audible.
“A bastard.”
Self-satisfied smirk plastered over your loose face as your tear blurred vision catches the stunned expression on his handsome face.
The heat of his touch, the chemical stirring in your brain, and the pleasure frying your nerves made a delirious smile grace smudged lips. Your sight so hazed by lust you couldn’t see where your smile was even directed to.
Alhaitham wanted to etch the sight of your debauch face, smeared makeup and glazed eyes rolled back, into his memories forever.
Too caught off guard by your response to remind his hand to stop its movement before it was already too late. Eyes seeing the back of your head, back arching under his frame, you fell back into the all consuming waves of pleasure.
A hard earned victory in this veiled battle of two egos. Exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being. The pale pink of twilight dimming in your vision as the dark hands of sleep covers your eyes.
Somewhere in the middle of drifting off into a blank nothingness, you feel a hand tenderly guiding your head to rest on a soft pillow.
Your eyelids twitch and brows furrow as the brightness of the room crept its way behind your shut eyes. Unable to retreat back into the dark embrace of sleep, you begrudgingly open your heavy lids.
Greeted by blurred shapes and fuzzy colors, you slowly blink your unfocused eyes. Gradually, the shapes and colors merge into distinguishable objects: a mug left on your bedside table with vapors rising from its rim.
“It’s morning-after tea.” A husky voice followed by the distinct flip of paper tenses every muscle in your body.
Alhaitham’s still here. You wish he wasn’t, you wish he’d realize last night was a mistake created from the clashing of egos, you wish the other side of your bed was empty.
So why did the tightness in your chest melt away with the mere sound of his voice?
You drag your sore body up from the sheets, shaky hands supporting the weight of numb legs and throbbing hips. Your sealed lips refusing to give him the satisfaction of any audible ques of your current state.
Sitting at the edge of your bed, back bare of anything but your hair draping over the marked skin facing him, you took the warm cup into your hands.
A harmony of methodical sips and soft turns of pages fill the room, an open window washing away the haze of lust with an Autumn breeze. Just as the last bit of tea slides down your throat a gentle slap of a book snapping close brings an end to the heavy silence.
“It’s unreliable,” Alhaitham announces.
Peering over your shoulder with a quirked brow, freezing as you recognize the book clutched in his hands. Not waiting for a response, he continues.
“Anyone with eyes can see how his biases exude through each sentence. He only studied 15 couples, not an appropriate sample size for a world filled with millions of pairs. His experiments have yet to be replicated, it seems his status is what got this nonsense published.” He sets the book down.
“What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion.
“Your theory of phenylethylamine having a shelf life is based on nonsense.” His eyes connect with yours with that familiar indifference.
A frown twists your face, so he still wants to argue huh. Of course, what else did you expect? You and him have long gone down the bitter circular path you’ve seen travled before.
Irritation rising in your chest, like Alhaitham had jabbed his finger into a wound you’ve yet to heal.
“Oh, then your theory must be the intrinsic truth, huh?” Words leaving an acidic aftertaste on your tongue.
“I never-”
“Look at you, so correct with no data to support your vague mathematical thesis.” You cut him off, anger replacing the soreness of your legs.
Cup knocking against a bedside table as your hand casts it to the side, getting off the bed you march into your closet, pulling a random shirt on without regard of your movements wrinkling the fabric.
You just needed to leave this room, just being by his side is making your blood pressure rise. Your bed creaks as Alhaitham gets up as well, but your back was already through the door.
Two sets of steps trekking through the halls, paces mismatched as one tries to take quicker steps to counter the broader strides of the other. Alhaitham keeps pace with your escalating march.
“It’s a critique of his research, not you,” he voices.
You didn’t want to hear it, sharply pivoting into your home office, but you weren’t fast enough to stop Alhaitham from following you in.
Now a husband wants to spend time with his wife, where was this before?
“It’s an experiment conducted at the Akademiya, how is that not reliable enough? You think you can do better?” Your body whipping around with a glare directed at him, your hideous ego showing its face again.
“Are you listening to yourself right now? Do you even believe in such a shallow analysis?” He mirrors your glare.
“I’d rather believe in something with actual quantifiable numbers.”
“Fine, you want quantifiable numbers? Care to calculate along with me? Or is your mind still recovering from last night?” Alhaitham folds his arms in front of his chest.
“Go for it,” you say through gritted teeth, accepting his challenge, wanting to shush that snooty tone of his.
“The Akasha bases its pairs off demographic, interest, and dispositions, all variables we can calculate,” he states.
You straighten up your back, staring him in those teal eyes with your head held up high.
“Sumeru city is home to roughly 1 million people. Only 1/3 are around my age.” Alhaitham begins his trail.
“That brings that number down to about 333,333.” No delay in your response.
“Only 1 in 10 people have a personality I can tolerate, then suppose only 1 in 20 of those people can withstand mine.”
“ Rounding up that leaves about 1,667 candidates.” You tsk at his estimations, that number should be far greater than 20.
“Next comes shared interest, only 1 in 4 people have touched a physical book in the past year.”
“417 left.”
Perhaps the gods didn’t think cheating you out of a childhood was enough, out of 417 people you had the misfortune of staring at his stony face.
“Having to arrange 417 separate meetings at a small cafe would be much too burdensome for the Department of Human Relations. The scope needs to be narrowed further.” Alhaitham takes a step forward.
“Only 1 in 16 will have the patience to teach a grown man how to avoid wrinkles in his button downs.” Baritone voice losing its pointed edge.
“26 left.” You take a step back to preserve the space, hating how your skin craves the heat of his.
“Only 1 in 8 of those people will allow me to borrow their books even when they know the edges of the paper will be creased when its returned.” He takes another step.
As you take another step backwards, the edge of your office desk prevents you from retreating further. The sensation of the cold wood distracting you momentarily from your calculations.
“Then only 1 in 6 people will drape a blanket over a body that hogs an entire couch for a nap, placing a pillow under my head to ensure I don’t wake up with a sore neck.” Alhaitham doesn’t stop.
Reaching an arm out, he firmly sets his palm on the expanse of your desk, caging you between the wood and the risk of your skin feeling the heat radiating off his body.
“How many people are left now?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear.
“ 0.543,” You blurted out.
A deep furrow appears between your brows, something must’ve gone wrong in your calculation, it’s impossible to have half a person. In the context of the Akasha, one person, a whole person, is matched to another.
Once more your mind ran the numbers over again, then again, and then thrice trying to recompute the figures.
Each time the same number came back: half a person.
“Are you mocking me with those groundless fractions? Where did you even get those statistics from?” Your pointed gaze still directed at him, did he intentionally lead you down this illogical trail?
“Logic is neither an art nor a science but a dodge.” He peers down at you, teal gaze back to its neutral state.
“Ha! Says the man who places logic and rationality on a pedestal, what caused such a change, Alhaitham?” You laugh dryly, not bothering to decipher the most brainless qoute you ever heard him use.
No change in his expression as his shoulders rise with a deep inhale, exhaling slowly as he leans his face in, his finger digging his palm against lacquered wood.
“Instead of wasting time citing subpar research, you should’ve just been honest. Then maybe I’ll give you what you want and sign those damn papers you hid away in this desk.” Voice low but steady as his gaze never leaves your frame.
It was a strange phenomenon, the chirping of the crickets had halted as two bodies remained unmoving, not even a single grain of dust dare move. If it weren’t for the faint ticking of a hallway clock, it would’ve seemed like time had stopped.
How long has he known about the divorce papers neatly stacked away a desk drawer?
Alhaitham slowly backs his body away from yours, hand returning to his side, freeing you from the cage it created. Teal eyes carefully observes your downcast stare and stiff shoulders as guilt suffocated him.
All the emotions he bottled up, all the fervor he held back, all the desires he swallowed down. It all came tumbling out, spilling out into a murky, repulsive mess.
“Wife.” If he had spoken any louder than a breathy whisper, that word would’ve crumbled on his tongue.
“I love you.” Alhaitham finally allows the words which have been clinging on his tongue for years now to fall out of his mouth.
Every inch of you froze at those three words, the weight of his stare heavy on your shoulders.
“Do you really feel nothing from those words?” Baritone voice beckoning an answer from you.
You don’t dare lift your head, gaze downcasted and frozen. Because you know you’ll have to stare at your reflection in his eyes.
Phenylethylamine, oxytocin, dopamine.
All these hormones and chemicals should’ve ran their course through your body. The haze should’ve faded and the abnormality of your chest should’ve corrected itself. It’s been three years at this point.
So, why is your chest aching?
The wood grain of the floor began to blur together as bitter tears compensated for the painful stinging of your irises. There it is, your brain finally short-circuits as the logic which once held up your sanity has crumbled away.
Finally, you met his gaze, staring right at your reflection in teal irises.
“It’s suffocating to be with you… it’s so lonely in this quiet house… it burns me like fire to touch you… yet… and y-yet see-”
“Seeing you leave will kill me, ” Alhaitham spoke the words just about to fall from the tip of your tongue.
The last piece of evidence that shattered the hypothesis he cultivated for all his life. If soulmates don’t exist, if the concept of an ‘other half’ doesn’t exist, then why is he feeling the same agony as you?
Looks like both theories were wrong in the end. Mathematics and chemistry unable to solve the enigma known as love.
“I… I want to love… but I’m drowning… Alhaitham.” You were finally honest, you’ve been drowning all your life, thrashing hands searching for something to hold onto.
Would you be oh so kind enough to grab that pen just behind you and stab its steel nib into his chest? Alhaitham’s certain that it would hurt less than the words that left your trembling lips.
A gentle hand cradled the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Letting those bitter tears strain his shirt and burn his skin.
No one, but the audience of a curious star and capricious gods peering down behind their blanket of clouds into this quiet house.
Alhaitham once thought of himself as a good husband. Doing his fair share of chores and paying his half of the bills.
However, seeing your broken figure barely clinging onto his stiff frame, it’s clear that his overconfident assessment was a grave error.
A good husband would’ve been more attentive. A good husband would’ve noticed the tide slowly sweeping you away into the rough sea. A good, loving husband would’ve never let you sink alone in salty tears.
“Then I’ll drown with you.” His other hand grasping onto one of yours, slowly easing it away from his wrinkled shirt with soft caresses.
Only monsters live in the deep cold sea, the only creatures able to survive the saltine waters and the pitch black nothingness. But as long as your fingers wove themselves into the gaps between his, he’ll be warm even as he sits on the sandy bottom of the murky ocean.
Maybe that’s where the two of you belonged, two unromantic and prideful fools sitting at the bottom of the ocean.
Hand in hand so that the stupidity contained between the two of you won’t pollute anyone else.
Gradually, those aching hiccups of yours faded into nothing more than muffled whimpers. Allowing silence to creep its way back into the gaps. The cause of this mess in the first place.
He has to remedy this, but what should he say? All those encyclopedias and journals he had thumbed through were all for naught. For Alhaitham’s mind couldn’t recall one fact from those pages.
One hand patting a slow rhythm into your back, trying to buy the man some time.
When logic and reasoning fail to explain the unexplained, folklore takes its place.
“According to legends, people used to have two pairs of hands, two pairs of feet, and two faces pointed in opposite directions.” He began.
“Back then, humans were powerful, powerful enough to threaten the gods who created them. So the gods split them in two. Cursing humans to a cruel search, desperate to be whole again.” His other hand still toying with your fingers.
You peer up at him, head still resting against his chest, feeling the soft beating of his heart. Blinking away the tears, listening to his telling of a myth.
“That’s the origin of a soulmate.” He finishes.
A soft giggle leaves your lips, a mixture of confusion and disbelief from Alhaitham quoting a fairytale.
“And you believe in that?” Amused gaze connecting with brilliant beryl eyes.
“Yes…because I found you.” Alhaitham tenderly brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers as a glint catches the sunlight.
With a foreign sensation hugging a finger, your brows furrow. Holding your hand out toward the light again. Blinking eyes finally identify the gem which coyly appeared on your ring finger.
So that’s what he was doing, your tear stained cheeks shifting up as a smile stretches your once stiff lips.
Burying your head in the chest of the most unromantically romantic idiot you’ve ever known, a radiant laugh bubbling in your chest as it resonates off quiet walls.
But as he is, so are you: An unromantically romantic soulmate in love.
~Fin
©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.
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tw: female reader, emotional abuse, conditioning, hinted loss of voice, objectification, degradation, Adam is his own warning
Today you had to scream. You don't even remember why, perhaps you saw a bug or a spider, something trivial and meaningless, something that shouldn't have been terrifying, not to you - not after everything you've been through.
Yet you have to scream - it is but a physical reaction. And then... nothing. Nothing comes out. Absolutely no sound. Not a murmer, not even a gasp. You feel his hands wrap around you from behind - at first you think that he has covered your mouth, that he has forced his fingers deep inside your throat just like he has done so many times in the past. But no, he's simply hugging you - resting his head against your shoulder.
"Ssh, baby, it's fine. I'll take care of it." Adam whispers before his fist comes crashing down onto the poor little insect, splashing the black - green insides all over the table. You almost felt bad for your initial panic - by now you should know that to him the only answer is violence, always. You have single - handedly brought this fate onto the innocent unsuspecting animal, and all because of your stupid fear.
And even with the guilt, you still want to scream - but this time out of pity. Regret. Out of bitter realization.
"Aww, darling, don't cry." Your captor coos gently, caressing your hair. For a second you can see his long fingers flash before your eyes before they rub your sticky tears into your skin. It's weirdly invasive - you feel naked despite the layers upon layers of clothes you have on. "You know what happens when you cry-" He suddenly grips your chin, squeezing it roughly, but that's hardly a surprise. He loves to see his own fingerprints on your skin. "Don't you?"
You nod. You wish you wouldn't have to. You wish you were still the same naive girl you were a few months ago - a few moments ago, when you could still pretend you didn't understand what was happening. What he was trying to do to you, to your body, little by little; one step at a time.
"Of course you know. My clever girl." His grip softens, but never wavers, and he kisses your hair with feverish content. "You know crying leads to whimpers, and whimpers lead to-" The man smirks in that nasty perverse way you've grown to despise, reaching to fix the bulge in his trousers. "Well, aside from getting my cock fuckin' hard, they sometimes make your throat tighten. It tightens so much you think you're going to choke." His eyes return to you, black like the winter sky. "Isn't that right, baby?"
You're forced to nod again, a fresh new wave of warm tears soaking your collar as you try to ignore the very feeling he's describing to you.
"And then you need to make it unclench, so you speak - well, attempt to." Adam runs a single cold digit across the length of your neck, stopping only to poke at the dent in the middle of your collarbone. "And we both know that's a big no - no, right, baby?" He kisses your neck, a contrast to the cruel, humiliating condescension in his deep, guttural voice. It makes your stomach turn, but you can't do anything. You can't sob. You can't even shout for help - not anymore. "No, no, no." He continues, explaining it as if you're just a silly child. "Worthless little sluts who break their owners' hearts don't get to use big adult words. They remain silent, to be seen and not heard."
He keeps touching you - that's the worst part. He keeps kissing you, embracing you, holding you close just like a lover would. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It makes you want to cling onto the only creature close to you, even if it's just a monster wearing a human mask - a monster set to hurt you with everything it possesses. A monster, set to build you up every time it breaks you down.
"This little mouth of yours has only one use now - to keep my dick nice and warm." Adam mumbles, keeping you in place once it all gets too much. You struggle against him until you tire yourself out. You're dizzy. You're starving. You haven't slept in days - so realistically you don't stand a chance. But fighting means life. Fighting means you might have lost your voice, but you haven't lost your will. Your humanity. "So go ahead, doll. Entertain me. Scream for me."
And for once you want to obey him - you want to scream from deep within your lungs, so you open your mouth, and then you close it, pretending that your voice could break the fragile glass and reach someone somewhere who cares.
The silence is deafening.
#yandere#yancore#male yandere#yandere oneshot#male yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere male x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader
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Ghost x Reader who is basically his scary shadow. Like yeah Ghost is big and scary, but reader is bigger and scarier.
Simon “Ghost” Riley x male reader
Headcanons
I love big scary reader, I was imagining König sized reader (you know, the 6’10 the fandom makes him). I was imagining the reader wearing one of those sniper ghillie hoods with one of those masks that cover the lower part of the face and the neck.
They call you Hydra or Kraken as your callsign, because your big, scary, and no matter how many times you go down you come back stronger.
If Ghost is scary because of the stories about him, you are terrifying. Together the two of you make an image that would give many nightmares.
Cadets and even other high ranking military people have almost pissed themselves when speaking to Ghost and you seemingly appear out of nowhere and loom over his shoulder, staring down at them with unblinking and cold eyes.
You wear a sniper ghillie hood, so you look almost like a swamp monster with the hood up, since you also wear camo fabric over the lower half of your face and paint what little skin is visible with warpaint.
Where Ghost is scary but can be fun to be around as he likes to crack jokes and speaks to others if needed, you are a big silent shadow, mainly responding with nods, shakes of the heads, grunts or with your eyes.
The 141 don’t fear you though, they know your as much of a softie as Ghost. Though they were on edge the first time you met, and the Los Varqueros were also quite intimidated by you.
Soap calls you Nessie, since you lay low in swamps and other wet areas to snipe or do sneak attacks. It ends up sticking and becomes a nickname only your team calls you.
You regularly use your size to your advantage, be it to intimidate or harm enemies, since you can easily pick grown men up and crack them over your knee like a stick.
Gaz makes a joke about not ending up on your bad side, whilst Soap chuckles a little nervously as he sees you throw a man bigger than himself like he weighs nothing.
Ghost just hums in reply, finding you very hot as you go about your business on the mission, he loves to crawl you like a tree when its just the two of you, not that he would ever tell anyone that.
Ghost and you call each other by your real names when you are alone, wanting to separate from your callsigns and just be yourselves for a while.
He loves just how much bigger you are since you can wrap yourself around him and hold him close. Ghost also likes to be picked up and cuddled though he will never admit this.
The two of you spar together a lot and wrestle, and its 50/50 who wins most of the time. Your sparring always draws a crowd because you both are two of the best and have heavy stories hanging around about you, making the two of you almost seem non-human.
There have been multiple times where you have covered Ghost with your own body during battle, taking bullets for him or taking the brunt of an explosive. You are so large you can cover him with most of your body and keep him safe.
Ghost despises this since it means you get hurt, and its lead to arguments before and even the two of you not speaking for a while but you always end up making up and holding each other.
You both aren’t much for speaking about your emotions, but you but try to have communication in your relationship, though its taken quite a while to have gotten to the comfortable point you are at now.
#male reader#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley#cod imagine#cod headcanon#cod x male reader#cod x reader#call of duty imagine#call of duty headcanon#call of duty x male reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty modern warfare x reader#call of duty modern warfare x male reader#call of duty modern warfare headcanon#call of duty modern warfare imagine#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley headcanon#simon ghost riley x male reader#simon ghost riley x reader
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Hi hope you are doing good :3
Can you do a Oneshot or Headcanon with TFP Starscream and a fem reader that is part of the Deceptions and has a crush on starscream but is not sure if to confess because she is a human ? (Feel free to delete😅)
Confessing to TFP Starscream HCS (fem human reader)
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I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, ALL OF MY MOTIVATION JUST DISAPPEARED FOR NO REASON, BUT IM BACK!! I THINK... I'LL TRY MY BEST
btw i dont think i ended up mentioning gender in it? I just didnt know how to wrap that into this, i hope thats fine!!
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-Having a crush on Starscream while being human is... quite complicated.
-Does that make it impossible to get with him? Absolutely not.
-While Starscream may deny his affection to you, he absolutely does have a sweet spot for you.
-It all started when you first joined the Decepticons. You were simply going for a walk in a nearby forest, wanting to do nothing but relax, when you suddenly met the red and flashy Decepticon medic, Knockout.
-He was heartbroken after his conjunx endura, Breakdown, had sadly passed away. He had driven to the forest to get away from the bots on the Nemesis, just needing to cry his spark out.
-Despite your initial fear you felt when you first saw him, you still decided to approach the sad medic.
-And that's basically how it happened. He took you with him to the Nemesis, and after some convincing, you were officially a Decepticon
-One of the first bots you met was actually Starscream.
-When Starscream first met you, he was disgusted. How the frag was Knockout capable of convincing Lord Megatron to let you stay!?
-Knockout had actually convinced Megatron by explaining that he would be able to work much faster when he had a small helper to get into a bots crevices. Lucky you!
-At first, Starscream was very distant. He didn't like you, or your fleshy parts. He found it useless to have you around on the Nemesis.
-Often times, he would scoff and scowl when he caught a glimpse of you.
-The first time he genuinely had a conversation with you, he was practically forced to.
-It was after he had endured another beating from Megatron after a failed mission.
-He was filled with dents and scratches, it was incredibly he was still online.
-As he was sent to the medbay with Knockout, Starscream had been threatening the medic about his small organic companion.
-In absolutely no way did he want those organic small parts near him, much less on him.
-His protests only ended up fruitless, as he realised he was now stuck talking with the small organic, as you weren't allowed near him.
-To his surprise, you weren't that bad. Quite the opposite actually.
-It didn't take long for him to get absolutely infatuated with you.
-He hated the effects you had on him. You made his spark beat faster, and his processor run wild.
-He would still act like he despised you, but it was fairly obvious he wasn't.
-He would go to the medbay more often, usually using the excuse that old scars and such was hurting again.
-Of course, that was a lie, but he would use any excuse he could use to be somewhat close to you.
-As for you, you would probably notice his lies too.
-As you somewhat got closer to him through his visits, you would develop your own crush.
-The second Knockout even got the smallest idea that you liked Starscream, he would tease you SO MUCH.
-Of course, through his teasing, Knockout would also help you.
-Knockout could spot the crush Starscream was having on you, but he wanted you to figure this out on your own. Even if it was a pain to watch.
-Several times he would set you and Starscream up, making up an excuse as to why he had to leave you and Starscream alone in the medbay.
-You had to catch Knockout alone to explain to him that you were too anxious to confess, considering how you were... Well, human.
-Knockout really had to hold back a loud groan as you explained. He had seen Starscreams flustered faceplate when he was around you, and he knew himself that Starscream definitely liked you back.
-Instead of groaning, he just had to sigh and encourage you to at least try and confess to Starscream.
-Shortly after his encouraging words, Starscream came in.
-He had taken yet another beating from Megatron, and he was limping towards the medbay.
-When he had finally reached the entrance to the medbay, he practically colapsed onto the floor from exhaustion. He just barely held himself up, it was incredible he had enough energy to limp to the medbay.
-Knockout was quick to grab the second in command, hoisting him onto the medical slab.
-Starscream let out an exhausted sigh as he closed his optics for a few seconds, when he opened them, he looked over towards you.
-You had seen Starscream enter the medbay all broken, and it had immediatly worried you. Sure, he often came in like that after his 'meetings' with Megatron, but that only made you feel worse.
-You cautiosly walked to the edge of the table you were standing on, looking to Starscream, who was looking right back at you.
-He reached out his servo, allowing you to step onto it before moving you onto his chassis.
-This was new.
-You hadn't been this close to him before.
-Carefully, you moved closer to his helm, snuggling into it. You took a deep breath, finally confessing your feelings to him.
-It was an anxious and scared feeling you felt as you confessed, but it was now or never.
-You simply just never knew if it would be your last time seeing him. War was unpredictible, one could never know when a moment would be your last moment.
-Starscream tensed as he felt you snuggle closer and heard you confess. He stopped breathing for a moment, almost not believing what he had heard.
-Gently, he placed his servo over your frame, holding you close. With a shaking voice, he confessed back.
-He had no idea how this should work, or even if it will... but no matter what, he will stay by your side.. ♡
AAGH THIS WAS WAS FUN! LOVE ME SOME CUDDLING BOTS.
Honorable mention! @urlocalboynoah
#transformers#transformers x reader#tfp#tfp starscream#tfp x reader#tfp starscream x reader#x reader#starscream#headcanons#starscream headcanons#tf#tf x reader#hcs#starscream x reader
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Private Encounters
Pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x reader
Summary: you were tired of Cardan constantly attacking you and your friends. one day, though, Cardan asks to speak with you privately, and no good things could come from the prince of elfhame wanting to speak with you with no one else around
Word Count: 2.4k
Masterlist
✰ ✰ ✰
"Hurry up, you guys! We're gonna be late again!" Taryn whisper-shouted as you and Jude trailed behind her towards the courtyard.
Usually, you two went alone on your adventures, but Taryn decided she wanted to be spontaneous, too, and wanted to join along. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have that much fun, and urged you back to class almost as soon as you got there.
"Who cares if we're late?" Jude rolled her eyes. "It's not like anyone would really care."
"Just because they don't like us, doesn't mean I want to draw their attention. Who knows what they'll do." Taryn shifted the picnic basket of food between her hands, nervously. She was always the most cautious of you three; always fearing what they would say or do to you guys.
You scoffed, "Taryn, let's be real. Even if we were there on time and minded our own business, Cardan and his little fanclub would still find some reason to bother us."
Jude chuckled, "he's so insufferable. What I wouldn't do to wipe that idiotic grin off his face."
You laughed, "I'm right there with you. It's like his greatest pleasure is being annoying."
"I don't know." Taryn slows her speed walk to match pace with Jude and I. "I feel like Cardan mostly has it out for you, now, (Y/N)."
You rolled my eyes.
"Oh yeah," Jude agreed. "Ever since we became friends, he's like diverted the hatred for us onto you."
You laughed, "Wow, thanks guys. Who knew being your friend would make a prince despise me."
Jude laughed too. "I don't think it was all our fault. You're human, so he would have hated you anyway."
"That's so reassuring, thanks for that."
Jude smirked, "anytime."
When we finally emerged onto the courtyard where class was taking place, most everyone ignored you, save for the professor.
"Ah," he said, "nice of you three to join us. Please find a seat so we can continue on with our lessons of astronomy."
Taryn bowed her head to keep from looking at anyone. You noticed Jude did not bow her head, but she would not look at the other students.
You, however, must be an idiot to not follow along with them, because your gaze falls straight to Cardan, who is staring back at you with much ferocity.
As the even bigger idiot you are, you do not avert your gaze, but simply glare back at him. To that, and small, devilish grin grows on his face. It almost seems like an invite of this little game you play. He hates you and your friends, goes out of his way to torment you three, and for that, you refuse to back down. Sometimes, you think he likes that you fight him so much.
"(Y/N)," Taryn calls, quietly as to avoid too much attention. She waves you over. Only then do you realize you've been staring at Cardan so long that Jude and Taryn have already set up the blanket and started spreading out the food.
Your cheeks heat as you walk the few feet to where they are sitting. You can hear Cardan snicker as you walk past him and Nicasia.
"What were you thinking!" Taryn scolds as you finally sit down on the blanket. Your professor continues with his lecture, but you don't even bother to pay attention to him.
You shrug, "I'm not really sure. I just can't stand him so much it makes me crazy."
Jude laughs at that. "I'm so glad we're friends, (Y/N). I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have someone else to share my hatred for Cardan with."
You giggle, "well it's a good thing I'm here, then, huh?"
"I don't think anyone is happy you're here."
Looking up from where you're sitting, you see Nicasia and Cardan looming down over you. Seems like the lesson is over as everyone else has abandoned the courtyard.
"Oh, Nicasia, always a pleasure." You rolled your eyes as you stood up. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of Jude standing and pulling Taryn up with here. "To what do we owe you coming over here and bothering us for?"
She smirked, "I have no reason for being near you filthy mortals other than to make sure you stay in your place. You don't belong here. You're frail, and worthless, and someone needs to remind you of that."
You mocked her with a laugh, "is that really all you've got?"
Taryn let out a quiet gasp.
Nicasia narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"
You shrugged. "All I'm saying is you give the same excuse every time you come over here. 'I'm putting you in your place', 'make sure you know what a worthless mortal you are'. Blah, blah, blah. It's very redundant, Nicasia, and quite truthfully, it's just tiresome." You said condescendingly.
The fire is her eyes was hot. Her fists balled at her side as she glared at you.
Now, it's not like you were looking for trouble, or that you wanted anything bad to happen to you or your friends. You just could not stand the way she and Cardan always came over to you and caused problems.
The slap was expected. Your cheek burned as Nicasia's hand left your face. Taryn couldn't hold back the very audible gasp that left her lips. Looking back to your friends, Taryn looked utterly frightened, and Jude looked angrier than you'd ever seen her.
Right as Nicasia was about to slap you again, Cardan interrupted her.
"Nicasia," Cardan warned as he lifted his hand, "that is quite enough."
You scoffed. "Oh, and since when are you ever the peace maker?"
Cardan smirked, "Since Nicasia decided she was going to slap you. I quite like your face the way it is."
All heads turned to Cardan as he said that. Nicasia looked hurt, Taryn looked almost as confused as you felt, and Jude just looked disgusted.
You narrowed my eyes at Cardan, despite your confusion. "What games are you playing at, Greenbriar?"
His eyebrows shot up in delightful surprise. A cheeky smirk playing on his lips. "I have no games, (Y/L/N)." He spat out your last name like it disgusted but also intrigued him.
He looked between Nicasia, Jude and Taryn. "You, leave us. I have a few words for (Y/N)."
Jude and Taryn looked at each other, confused and contemplating if they should leave or not. You stood your ground though.
"I'll be fine, guys. I'll just meet you back at Madoc's, okay?" You tried to reassure them, though you weren't exactly sure what you were getting yourself into. All you knew was that you didn't want Cardan to know he frightened you.
Jude nodded her head. "We won't be far. And Cardan," she turned to him, "if you so much as touch one hair on her head, I will-"
"Oh relax, would you, Jude? Always resolving your issues with murder." Cardan rolled his eyes. "Leave us. Now."
Jude glared at Cardan before turning to you and giving you a reassuring look. Just as quickly, she turned away and pulled Taryn off with her.
"And you," Cardan said as he turned to Nicasia. "I believe I ordered you away, as well."
Nicasia looked shocked. "Me? Why would I need to be sent away? Whatever punishment you have for the way she spoke to me, I want-"
"Leave, Nicasia. I won't ask you again."
Stunned, Nicasia's mouth hung open just slightly as she looked between you and Cardan. With a 'hmph', Nicasia turned on her heel and strutted away, leaving behind just Cardan and you.
The two of you stood there in silence. You gazed up at him, trying to decipher why he could possibly want to speak with you alone. Maybe he wants to kill you. Maybe he's grown tired of this cat and mouse game you have going on.
"What do you want, Cardan?"
He smirked, and took a daring step closer to you. "I just wanted to talk with you. You're... interesting. I find you intriguing to say the least."
You raised my brow in confusion. "You find me intriguing? Now I know you're toying with me. What do you really want, Cardan?"
He scoffed. "Is it that hard for you to admit that I might find you interesting?"
"How interesting could I possibly be? I'm mortal, remember? Can't believe you would forget, not after you and your friends made it your entire personalities to constantly remind me of my mortality and how worthless you believe me to be."
Cardan's smirk only grew. "You are quite right. You're mortal. Mortals by nature are fragile, slow, susceptible to our tricks, and yet you seem to be quite the opposite."
Your eyebrows shot up, completely shocked by this sort-of compliment you just received from the Prince of Elfhame.
Cardan continued before you could even get a word out. "I dislike mortals quite a bit. I think they are weak. They have little skill that is worth anything, and they are often succumbed to the nature of our people. You, however, are quite different, (Y/N)."
He took a tender step closer to you. Your breath was caught in your throat. Cardan had never shown any type of interest in you. You thought he'd never actually shown anything other than disgust towards you, but maybe you were wrong.
Maybe all of those teasing smirks and cruel comments were him testing you, trying to figure out just how far he could push you.
"You've stood up to me. You've been given every chance to back down. I've seen how far you are willing to go to defend yourself and those little friends of yours. I find it admirable in a way."
You force out a laugh. "You find it admirable? Everything you consider so 'strong' and 'admirable' about me is what I've had to do to survive this place. You've done nothing but make living here just that much harder than it already is for mortals."
You strode closer to Cardan, persistence on your face. His eyes widened slightly, but the daring smirk never faltered from his lips.
Just as you two were chest to chest, you spoke, "answer now, Cardan, what is it you really wanted to tell me?"
"I've already told you, (Y/N). I think you're admirable. I think you're intriguing. I think there is something about you that keeps drawing me in. Something so pulling, it's frustrating how much I think of you."
No words left your mouth. How could they when your jaw laid open the way it was.
Cardan chuckled. "Now, another reason I wanted you here. I must ask: I know you mortals can lie, something we folk can not do, but how are you so good at pretending?"
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Pretending?"
Cardan's smirk only grew, "pretending you aren't in love with me, that is."
The world had stopped. It felt like your entire world had shattered. This was quite possibly the last thing you thought Cardan would get you alone for.
Anyone with eyes could see that Cardan Greenbriar was gorgeous. All of his kind were gorgeous, but he had exceptional beauty. Beside that, you couldn't find one characteristic about him that you had liked. Sure, maybe he stopped Nicasia from hurting you further than she would have. And by the way Jude recalled his cruelty before they met you, it seemed to have subsided quite a bit since you met him. That still doesn't change the fact that he is cruel, and has been for a long time.
"Cat got your tongue?"
You shook your head clear from your thoughts. "No. Just confused how you could possibly think I would be in love with you."
"You want to know how I know you're in love with me, despite what you might believe?" Cardan grinned and closed the already small space between you two. "Because I know how insufferable you find me. I know how I get under your skin, how you lay awake thinking of how much you hate me. I know this because I feel the same towards you, and despite my feelings of irritation with you, I still find myself completely infatuated by you."
"You are?" You questioned, voice so quiet you might barely have heard it, but Cardan sure did.
He grinned. "Oh, yes. I have been infatuated with you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wasn't lying earlier when I told Nicasia I'd like her to leave your face the way it is. I think you are pretty for a mortal. You give off this glow and iridescence. You are unlike any other mortal I've come across. The way you've kept me up at night, the way I am excited to see you just to have our little spat had me confused for the longest time. Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore and I’ve decided to act on it."
You couldn't take it anymore. Everything Cardan said resonated so deeply with you. Somehow he knew exactly how you felt. The way you hated him, the way you were angry with yourself when you thought of him so often, everything he said he felt is exactly what you were going through as well.
You decided, if Cardan was going to act on his confusing feelings, you would act on yours as well.
Already chest to chest, you reached up and gripped Cardan hair, tight enough to hurt, and kissed him with all of the pent up anger and hatred for him you had.
If Cardan was surprised, he didn't seem it. He gripped onto your waist and kissed you back with so much ferocity it made your knees weak.
It was hot, and it was unlike any kiss you've ever had before. Kissing Cardan was unleashing something so deep inside of you. All of your confused feelings for him wrapped up all into a long-awaited kiss.
Gasping for air, you and Cardan separated, though not fully. While you were no longer kissing, you had yet to pull your fingers from the tangles of his hair, and he had no plans of letting go of his hold on your waist.
"I still hate you," you said breathlessly.
Cardan smiled, he actually smiled and replied, "I think I hate you more."
#WOOOOO#something about the cruel prince is gonna do it for me EVERYTIME#do people read the cruel prince fanfiction#im not sure but i wrote it anyway cause i want to oh yea#also this is me coming back to life heyo#im also in a harry potter mood so im probably gonna write some more for the harry potter boys soon hehe#cardan greenbriar#cardan x reader#the cruel prince#the cruel prince x reader#the cruel prince fanfic#cardan greenbriar x reader#jude x cardan#cardan greenbriar fanfic#cardan greenbriar oneshot#cardan greenbriar imagine
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Golden Crown of Sorrow
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Princess!Reader
Summary: After sending dozens of letters begging your father to help you flee from your betrothed and his family, someone finally comes to save you
Warnings: domestic abuse, neglectful/abusive parents, sexism/violence against women, mentions of suicide, murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of getting attacked by an animal (if you get bitten by something, even a human, get checked by a medical professional), Fjerda slander, mention of pregnancy
Word Count: 4k words
Authors Note: This was originally part of A little loss of Innocence but it works way better as it's own one shot. Also, please pay attention to the warnings. English is not my native language and I didn't edit this
"Did my father send you?" You ask as you settle in the carriage, voice timid and quiet in a way that is so unlike the version of you that he knows that it throws him off for a second.
You haven't spoken at all during the ride here, contempt in burying your fingers in the mane of his horse or sleeping as he led it away from the house of the family you were promised to, and starring at the forest or the small fires he lit to cook food during the breaks.
His gaze wanders over you, taking in the way your shoulders are pulled together to make you appear smaller, the small, almost invisible cut on your left cheek, the way you keep wincing when the carriage shakes a bit, and how your eyes keep jumping around, gaze always flickering between the window and the position of his hands.
He can't lie to you, he realises. You're suspicious and filled to the brim with fear and paranoia. Whatever happened in Fjerda has shaken you to the core and thrown you right into survival mode. If he lies to you and you find out, you will never trust him with anything ever again.
Because even if you recover from this, you will always remember the fact that he lied to you when you were in your most vulnerable state. And Aleksander needs the trust of the royal family, as much as he might despise that fact.
"No"
You bite your lip harshly, teeth digging into the chapped, dry flesh before you nod, eyes finding his. The suspicion in them is stronger now, accompanied by a bit of confusion.
"Then why did you come? What's in it for you?"
Aleksander frowns. "Excuse me, your highness?"
"Why are you saving me? Why did you decide to come here instead of letting me die in Djerholm? My own family was ready to watch me perish there after all."
There is no anger in your voice, no sadness, nothing. Just this monotone, quiet, submissive voice that doesn't fit someone born into the status of royalty.
But your gaze is scrutinizing, clarifying that every question you ask is a test designed to make him trip in hopes of revealing his true motivations. You're expecting him to lie to you. In the back of your mind you're probably already planning how to weasel the truth out of him, so all he can really do to take control over the situation and reassure you into trusting him is to reveal the truth and in turn his playing cards for this specific game.
You want him to lie, and he has never enjoyed doing what the royal family wants.
"Glory"
Your surprise is like a shooting star: Visible for a singular heartbeat, then gone forever.
"Glory?" Your eyes look back down to your knees, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress while the volume of your voice drops into a whisper. "You won't achieve glory like this. You will most likely be punished for saving me, and I'll be sent back."
Your behaviour is starting to bother him. It was a welcome change when he first got you out and traveled through Fjerda with you on the saddle in front of him, but now all he wants to do is shake you until the words start falling out of your mouth.
He thought you were just quiet because you were scared of being caught, but evidently, nothing has changed for you after he led you across the border to Ravka.
Maybe it would've been better to lie? To tell you that he was some kind of chivalrous knight in shining armour who had come to Fjerda out of the goodness of his own heart to save his struggling princess?
"I doubt that you'll be send back, your highness," he responds carefully. He never thought about the fact that your family might be upset about him saving you. They did give you away after all, and he simply acted on the assumption that they love you and want you to be safe, like all parents should. He should know by now that many parents don't love their children.
"I hope you're right," you mumble, averting your gaze to look at the scenery of Ravka rushing past the window, "For the sake of both of us."
You sink back into silence after that, and the letter still stuck in a pocket of his kefta is suddenly heavy as a bag of bricks. It's a short one, written on a scrap of paper that you must've somehow smuggled out of the house of your betrothed. It had ended up in his mail one day, either through an accident or through a servant who couldn't continue to watch the king ignore your cries for help.
Please father. I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I dream of taking a knife to my throat every day. I'm not strong enough for this.
The next time you speak, you're less than ten minutes away from the town where he planned to take a break, your quiet voice piercing through the air like an arrow.
"Do you have to bring me to my father?"
Aleksander looks up from the documents he had been reading, a deep frown on his face. "Where else would I bring you, your highness?"
You mirror his facial expression. "You could hide me at the Little Palace."
"No, I can't. What if someone catches you?"
"Nobody would catch me, I promise. I would be so quiet, I would never leave my rooms I would-"
"No. End of the discussion, or I'll tell the coachman to turn around and bring you back to your betrothed."
His voice is sharp and cold, the stress from the last few days finally boiling over, and you flinch back from him so harshly that your head hits the wood behind you. Fear burns like a small fire in your gaze, your frame curling in on itself even further.
You don't talk at all for two days straight after that. The only time he hears your voice is when you scream and cry at night, probably due to nightmares.
Looking back, he probably overreacted a bit.
The next time you talk, it's only because he asks you a question.
You're both sitting in a tavern, quietly eating together, and while your gaze keeps jumping from the three other people around you to the door and the windows, his is glued to you.
He has collected a thousand questions on his tongue in the last few days, and his mind works overtime trying to discern the differences between you now and you before all of this. Before the betrothal, before your travels to Fjerda.
"What exactly happened to you in Fjerda?"
Your attention shifts to him, brows furrowed.
"The same thing that always happens when a woman of Ravka gets betrothed to a man of Fjerda."
In the back of his mind, he remembers the death of Princess Fruzsina. How her brother, crown prince Konstantin, didn't let anyone see her or her newborn daughters corpse when they were transported back to Ravka, not even her own parents.
"Nobody needs to see this. It's better to remember her the way she was when she was still here."
He feels acid rising in his throat.
You talk again a few hours later, attention flickering from the window of the carriage to him and back a few times before you finally manage to find your voice again.
"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You ask carefully.
Aleksander looks up from the book he has been reading, a small spark of annoyance visible in his eyes at the interruption.
He regrets it as soon as he sees you flinch again, his mind immediately travelling back to that young woman completely wrapped in shroud, her small babe right next to her. Just bundles of linen, not a milimetre of skin visible.
"Excuse me, your highness?"
"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You repeat, "Or one of your ancestors at least. Wouldn't that make sense? Tie you and the Darkling line to the royal family through marriage and kids, force allegiance that way?"
Closing the book slowly, he lets your words roll over in his head.
"The Darklings have been loyal to the Royal Family since the Black Heretic died."
"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to tie the families together forever? It would also help to smooth over past animosities, I think. Suddenly, the king isn't just a stranger. He's the current Darklings father in law or uncle. And the Darkling is no longer a random stranger to the Princes and Princesses either. He's their cousin."
The idea is simple and logical, he has to give you that, but he has also spent the last two centuries making sure he wouldn't be betrothed to anyone. It kind of ruins his whole "faking his death and pretending to be his own son" ruse, after all. But he can't explain that to you, can he?
"No ravkan king would ever betroth their child to a Grisha, your Highness. Not when all over the country highborn children are still drowned in lakes and bathtubs as soon as they show their abilities." The words come out harsher than originally planned, but he doesn't correct himself. "Why are you thinking about this? You've never shown interest in Grisha, me, or the politics surrounding us."
He has to wait almost thirty minutes for an answer to that question. He's gone back to reading, carefully annotating his thoughts and questions, when your voice rings through the carriage once more, almost getting swallowed by the noise of the horses outside.
"At night, when I couldn't sleep, I often asked myself if I had other options. If I could've gotten betrothed to someone else. One of the only men I could think of that were still eligible is... you. And as soon as I realised that, I also noticed that the Darklings have never married someone highborn."
There's something else, he can tell by the way you speak, slow and careful like you're holding something back, but before he can even think to push you the carriage shakes and your face contorts into a pained grimace.
He doesn't have to see the skin hidden by your clothes to know that you're probably covered in bruises and cuts, maybe even some animal bite marks.
You should rest, and he can still interrogate you later, so he slowly nods and returns to his book, his eyes gliding over the paper without absorbing a single word. His mind stays with you.
You start having an easier time moving and walking a week after escaping your betrothed and his family, but you're still visibly keyed up and stressed. Everything scares you, everything wakes your suspicion, everything worries you.
He hears you mutter under your breath sometimes, especially during the late hours of the night and the hours before sunrise, convinced that he must be asleep. He can never quite understand what you're saying, only catching a few words at a time when it happens. You whisper about wolves following your scent, of someone sending you back into the north, of shoving a knife into your neck, deep enough that not even a well trained healer would be able to save you in time.
Your lack of sleep worries him as well. The only times he has seen you truly sleep well were at the beginning of your travels. You almost slept for two days straight, sitting in front of him on his horse, his arms keeping you stable in the saddle, only waking up after he made camp for the night and forced you to drink and eat. Now, the only sleep you get is through small involuntary naps in the carriage, when the exhaustion claims you like it did in those first two days.
The nightmares that wake you as soon as you fall asleep don't help either.
You're petting and brushing the horses while the other Grisha accompanying you fill the water bottles at a nearby river, your only guard being the General himself sitting a few metres away, eyes on the forest surrounding you.
"I was surprised how much I missed you," you say after a while, your attention still fully on the beautiful horses in front of you, carefully brushing the dust and dirt out of their fur in hopes of making them a bit more comfortable, "I missed my brothers, of course, and my friends and servants as well. I missed the gardens of the Grand Palace, the beauty of Os Alta, my own bed. I missed being home and not being scared for my life. But I also missed you a lot more than I thought I would."
You don't look at him, your voice light as if you were talking about the weather.
"I kept thinking about how much time I spend bothering you, how much my own parents brainwashed me into disliking you, and how much you must've suffered because of that. I was a brat before I was sent north, I know that now, and I want to apologize for my behaviour. I can't thank you enough for coming to save me despite everything."
Aleksander is speechless for longer than he would like to admit, starring at you with visible shock on his face. It takes him a while to shake it off, to find the right words to respond to you.
"You were a child for most of it, Your Highness. It would be stupid of me to hold a grudge because of that."
He has held grudges because of less, but you don't need to know that. You're the first member of the Royal Family to actually apologize to him. Sure, you're probably only doing it because he saved you from your betrothed, but he can tell that you genuinely feel bad.
"It wouldn't be. I was a terror as a child and grew up to be a brat."
The Darkling frowns weakly, watching you carefully as you move onto the second horse to brush it.
"I was a brat, and stupid too. I heard the story of Princess Fruzsina a thousand times. I even dug through the archive to read the reports from the Healers. I know everything they did to her. I'm probably the only person alive that actually still knows, since no one ever bothers to read through those documents... and I went north anyway. I betrayed her memory. She begged in her last letter before she was murdered that they could never send another ravkan girl north, and I went anyway."
He shakes his head, responding to your words before he even realises that he opened his mouth. "You did what your parents wanted from you. They were the ones suggesting the betrothal, and they encouraged you to go through with it. If anyone betrayed Fruzsinas' memory, it's them, just like they betrayed you when they suggested the betrothal without educating you on the sensitive political climate in Fjerda and their exact traditions and rules."
"I'm a woman grown, General, and I did research on Fruzsinas murder on my own. I should've done the same with the treatment of women in Fjerda instead of blindly believing my mother when she assured me that the men in the north don't hit their wives anymore. That they wouldn't dare to hurt a girl from a royal family. I'm a stupid little girl, nothing more."
"You believed that your parents would keep you safe instead of selling your life away for a political alliance. You assumed that your family would do what they're supposed to do. That's not a sin, your highness."
"Oh, but it is!" You bite back, eyes finally meeting his. There's anger and hate flickering in your irises, but he knows it's not directed towards him. It's directed towards yourself. A weapon pointed at your own heart and soul instead of his head. "I'm old enough to think for myself, to make my own decisions. People expect it of me, but instead of using my head I follow my mother and father around and copy them in everything, playing the obedient little princess instead of developing a personality and beliefs of my own. It took a man beating me half to death in front of his men to change that, to free me of the shackles I put onto my own wrists and ankles."
Your voice is sharper than a knife, colder than the permafrost up north, and your breathing is getting harsher. Gone is the sumbissive, quiet thing he pulled out of that house in the middle of the night. "I did everything to apease my parents, to be the perfect princess in their eyes, in everyones eyes. I loved what they loved, hated what they hated, and did what they did. And for what? To be sold off like an animal to a slaughterhouse?"
A scoff escapes your lips, an unladylike sound that you would've never let yourself make before. He guesses you stopped caring. There are many unladylike noises that you've probably made while laying in your own blood, cowering from the man who was supposed to protect and cherish you.
"That's what I meant when I said that they will send me back. I had the help of two of the servant girls. They smuggled letters out for me and sent them off to my parents, but no answer ever came. The only reason why I got out is because you somehow knew that something was wrong and wrongfully assumed it was an opportunity for you to gain glory."
He doesn't mention that he knew of your predicament because one of your letters ended up with him on accident, nor does he disrupt you for any other reasons. This is the most you've spoken since he dragged you out of that forsaken house in Djelholm and smuggled you out of the city. It would be insane to cut you off now and risk never hearing of your thoughts and opinions ever again.
"It's ridiculous. Even if a miracle happens and I don't get sent back immediately, they will simply betroth me to someone else from Fjerda, like that's somehow going to fix the years of tension between our countries. I will never be safe again. I will never be allowed to stay here. I will never be free the way I was before all this. I didn't even realise how privileged I was."
There is a way to save you from that fate. Several, actually, but one of them would play right into his hands if he simply played his cards right.
Aleksander suggests it two days before they reach Os Alta while they sit in the carriage.
He doesn't do anything special, doesn't prepare anything or bothers to give a speech. It would be filled with lies and manipulation anyways, and you would probably be able to tell. He hasn't officially accepted your apology for your past behaviours, after all. He just says what he wants you to do, nothing more.
"Marry me."
Your head whips up, attention dragged away from the book you had been reading.
"What?"
He smiles. "Marry me."
The carriage is currently driving through a town, the noise of children playing and people talking filling the silence between you two.
"Why?" You finally ask, suspicion barely hidden in your body language.
He has many reasons to make a suggestion like this, of course. Tying himself to someone, an otkazat'sya no less, is incredibly risky for him, after all. It needs to be thought through carefully, which he has.
Aleksander feels like he has done nothing else other than think since your rescue.
You're popular with the people, ravkas beautiful rose, kind and sweet and obedient. If the commoners found out what happened to you, what your parents knowingly put you through with this betrothal, they would riot in the streets. It would only get worse if they found out that they sent you away from your lover.
The story basically writes itself. It would be easy to plant rumours amongst the merchants and peasants, make them believe that you were in love with him and planned to run off with him, knowing that the king and queen would never allow for your love to flourish. That your parents found out and sent you away for a betrothal to a harsh and violent man as a punishment. That he saved you because he loved you so deeply, marrying you on the road back to the Grand Palace in a small chapel, hoping that the marriage will tie your souls together forever even if he gets killed for disobeying the wishes of the king and queen.
If he does it right he can claim that your father attacked you and that he killed him and the rest of the royal family to defend you, or that Fjerdans assassinated the royal family in revenge for the failed betrothal and that Aleksander somehow managed to save you, placing you on the throne, him right next to you.
He would no longer be General, then, but king consort. Your reputation should be high enough with the otkazat'sya to balance the hatred they have for him out as well. The rose of ravka would never fall for an evil man, after all.
Of course, this plan could backfire horribly. What if you hate him after he slaughters your family? What if you don't want to be queen? What if one of your relatives manages to kill you before he can kill them? He would have to claim the throne through right of conquest, and the people would hate him for it, would turn your family into martyrs and put his Grisha at even more risk.
But the risks might be worth it. He just has to be smart.
And he'd be saving you from an awful marriage. He could be a god husband to you. He could make you happy.
Probably.
Of course, he can't confess these things to you. The best way to force you to participate in his plans is if you don't know that he's planning anything at all.
"They can't send you back if you're married. You'll be mine. I'd be able to hide you away in the Little Palace, just like you wanted."
You make a face, clearly not convinced.
"They'll just order a priest to annul it or kill you to make me a widow and renew the betrothal," you warn.
"Your highness, as much as I respect the swordsmanship of the guards, I sincerely doubt that they would be able to kill me. Besides, I don't think that they would be able to betroth you to a fjerdan man after we consummate the marriage."
The book you've been reading drops to the floor of the carriage with a quiet thump, but you don't even notice that it has left your grasp, your full, undivided attention on him.
You're probably trying to discern if he's serious, and if you should slap him for even suggesting something like this.
"There's a chapel in this town, and a small tavern right next to it," he murmurs after a while, offering his hand to you, "It wouldn't be like the royal wedding you probably dreamed of, but you would be safe. I swear it. I protect what is mine."
He watches you swallow, traces the movement with his gaze, gleeful at the visible effect his proposal has on you. He can see the temptation in your eyes, the battle you're fighting in your head.
Are you willing to go behind your parents' backs to marry him? Are you willing to become the Darklings wife, to carry his children?
You grab his hand slowly, the look in your eyes vulnerable.
His smile widens when his fingers wrap around yours, his hand moving to knock against the wood of the carriage to get it to stop.
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Thinking about how so many characters in Malevolent have this overarching goal of reaching their "best self," whatever that means to each of them.
Thinking about how some of them fail to ever reach the self they yearn for. Kayne tears through every universe, sees every possibility and alternative, and he hates every single version of himself that he finds. He kills himself, over and over, desperately trying to erase all the parts of him that aren't good enough. He cuts off each and every piece that he hates until all of "him" is gone, but the hate is still there. So he keeps searching for something that will magically make him the "best" version of Kayne, and he lives every second scared and angry, hating all the broken "Kaynes" that he wants to forget but can't ever get out of his own head.
Yellow catches himself between two opposing ideas of himself, and he equally despises both. He wants to explore humanity, to slowly learn about and grow into love and connection. But Arthur strangles that piece of curiosity and love inside him. Then Larson convinces him that he wants to become the King, to control and hate. But Yellow is scared of that identity, and he's not even sure if that's ever been or ever will be "him." He looks at Yellow and the King— two "better" versions of himself, and he hates them both. So he tries to push them both away in fear and disgust, only to find himself entangled in an ugly mess of too many identities and no identity and confusion and resentment and hate for everything that is "him."
Thinking about how some of them do find their better selves, or at least find the path toward them. Arthur spends years purposely running further and further from himself because he's convinced that if he runs far enough, he'll forget "Arthur" and completely replace him with someone better. But it doesn't work, and he only falls deeper into the parts of himself he hates the most. Until John grabs Arthur's hand and forces him to stand still, to turn back around and look at himself in the mirror and see. See the pieces that aren't beyond repair, that only need someone to care about fixing them instead of letting them rust and dissolve.
John holds the parts of himself that he hates like a weapon at first. They're sharp and they're terrifying and it hurts to hold them, but he's scared and confused and at least they are familiar, however much he hates them. Until Lilly and Arthur and humanity show him something new, something kind and soft. And they keep showing him and eventually John learns to find this love familiar too. And he now he can let go of the hate that drove him away from old versions of himself, and replace it with this love that can draw him toward the new "John." And when John has his biggest moment of self-actualization in the Hag's lair, it's the same time that him and Arthur first share their love for each other directly, unhidden and fully accepted.
Thinking about how Malevolent shows that you cannot hate yourself into healing, or growing, or becoming a better version of yourself. That we need understanding and love not just from others, but from ourselves too. That our best self is sitting somewhere in the future and waiting for us to stop reaching out to them with a fearful sneer, and to start reaching out to them with a trusting smile.
#yes i'm talking about malevolent and identity again#no i'm still not done talking about malevolent and identity#what are you going to do about it hm?#malevolent#malevolent podcast#malevolent analysis#malevolent meta#cherrys rambles
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Hello can I request a yandere indra + madara, obito, sasuke, itachi and shisui x goddess reader. The reader is a goddess of serenity, beauty, strength and healing. Thank you very much.
I just love how the Uchiha blood line has just the whole Naruto fandom in a chokehold. I have never not met a person who wasn’t at least down bad for one of them.
@shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan
Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, clinginess, delusional thoughts, threats, manipulation, paranoia, death
Goddess s/o
Indra Otsutsuki
💜Indra is one of the last people you will see bowing down to anyone after he has abandoned his father and brother. Instead he is the one who expects people to bow down to him as he is essentially a god with the powers he has obtained after having killed his two close friends in exchange for more power. It is that very arrogance that keeps him from even bowing his head to you. It is almost ironic how he has cursed his father for claiming that love would be the greatest power yet finds himself going through a similar experience when he is face to face with you for the first time. There is an ethereal glow around your body that sets you apart from the mortal humans, that sets you apart from him as he stares at you. Even after you fade away from his vision, his gaze remains fixated on the spot where you just were a few seconds ago. His mind is spinning, drowning in the images of the short glimpses he was able to catch of you. He wants to see you again. In your otherworldly presence he has finally felt something he hasn’t felt ever since he left his village and has been plagued by restlessness. He feels peace.
💜He doesn’t plan to join your group of worshippers but he sticks around them and the shrine they have created in hopes of catching a glimpse of you again. As enchanted as Indra may be, there is a volcano of twisted emotions that is just brooding inside of him. Your status as a goddess disturbs him and that disturbance has been inside of him ever since he has been humbled and humiliated by Ashura in the fight that tore all bonds he had previously held. Deep down he fears a repeat of this experience, of another loss of his, if he were to ever try to force you to join his side. He feels an overwhelming need to dominate you, to stand above you and force you via that into submission. He needs the reassurance of holding control as he would otherwise be too paranoid about you eventually beating him just like Ashura. Yet you two live in different worlds as you only rarely visit the realm of humans and it fills him with a poison called helplessness that he despises. His mind spirals into violent insanity as he will gladly burn down all of your followers and even your own shrine if you will answer the call of his obsession.
Madara Uchiha
🌑Madara has never prayed to anyone before. He has trained to stand as the head of his clan and he has achieved it all with his own strength and willpower. Yet his interest is immediately captured when he actually finds a real goddess that personifies strength and beauty. In a way he is almost instantly enraptured but don’t expect him to go down on both knees for you as Madara has never shown submission to anyone. Even your status as a goddess won’t force him to throw away his pride. Your ancient position as a goddess is still enough to earn you his respect, especially if he sees your powers in action. You carry yourself with a wisdom and elegance he would expect from someone who has existed for millennia as you have and you possess such beauty and serene composure that any mortal woman pales in comparison to you in every category. Ever since the day he has seen you, he hasn’t been able to give his attention nor interest to any women the clan has offered him as a potential bride. None of them could come even close to you so he ruthlessly rejects them all. He has only one woman in his heart he wants as a bride. You.
🌑Even if he may be blasphemous for yearning to claim a goddess as his possession, Madara doesn’t care. He has set his sights on you and nothing can stop him now. He’s persistent and stubborn, determined to marry you. Unfortunately you aren’t that easy to detect as you reside in a realm where humans can’t follow so he instead tracks down your followers and your shrine. Perhaps your subjects can be of use to help him to see you again. Now, Madara will be man enough to ask you for your hand in marriage when he sees you again and he isn’t opposed if you would play a bit hard to get so he can prove himself to you. If your opinion would stand firm that you don’t want to marry him though, things will look not pretty. In the traditional Uchiha fashion Madara’s feelings burn brighter than the sun and nothing can extinguish the fire in his heart. Once he has decided that only you will do for him, he will do everything in his strength to have you. He knows that he is potentially picking a fight with a goddess but he doesn’t fear the risk of such a battle. If he must fight against you to force you to stay by his side, so be it.
Obito Uchiha
🔥Ever since Rin’s death, ever since his innocence has been shattered, Obito has been living in hell. Life on earth has become synonymous with suffering and evil for him as his heart hasn’t known peace and joy since years. That’s when you two cross paths as he finds your abandoned shrine within the woods. As soon as he lays his eye on you, it’s like his crippled heart is healing as he feels serenity and calmness wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket. All caution and hostility melts away as the Uchiha can only stare at you in dreamy awe as you look at him with such dazzling eyes. The moment you disappear, it feels like a hole has opened in his heart that is aching. His gaze lands on the dirty and old shrine and suddenly there is a rage filling Obito as he realizes that the followers who used to care for your house on earth have abandoned it and have abandoned you by doing so. You poor thing. How must it feel for a goddess to be slowly forgotten? He starts tending to the shrine from that day on as he cleans it from the moss and visits it daily. He knows that you’re watching him whenever he feels his heartbeat calming down.
🔥He feels like the shrine is the place where only the two of you exist as your aura lulls him into a peacefulness he didn’t know that he could feel. Obito actually starts praying to you and he feels empowered whenever he does so as he likes to imagine that you bless him with the strength he needs to change this world. Soon he finds himself becoming addicted to your presence that fills him with such bliss and starts feeling stressed out when he can’t sense you. He likes to delude himself into thinking that both of you have suffered from the ignorance of the humans around you and that soon leads him to the conclusion that only you could ever understand him and he could only ever understand you. Whenever you show yourself to him, he’s talking like you are a frightened baby deer as he promises you revenge for the people who abandoned and forgot you and that he will never do as your former followers did. He will never allow anyone else to intrude in his little paradise where only him and you exist and longs for the day when you will finally allow him to show you the loyalty and love he feels for you.
Shisui Uchiha
🍂Religion can truly become a terrifying thing when it is used to oppress people. It is your cult that falls victim to Shisui on a mission as he is sent to the village they have temporarily settled down to enforce the laws of their own beliefs there. It is in the very temple they have been building by using the villagers as workers that Shisui has his first encounter with you. You have a heavy aura around you as you stare at him, as dignified and proud as a goddess standing for strength is meant to be even if your facial expression is a mellow one. Then there is Shisui, standing in the half-finished shrine of yours with the corpses of your followers lying around his feet. There is a thick silence where Shisui is silently preparing himself to be attacked by you yet he only receives a nod from you that almost looks like a sign of gratitude before you vanish. No one else has seen you yet he’s convinced that it wasn’t an illusion. Too troubled to leave the village without getting his confirmation that you were real, he steals necklace from one of your followers which is meant to help your followers to stay in contact with you.
🍂Visions and glimpses as fleeting as a shooting star haunt him from that day on and if anyone else but Shisui would have stolen the artifact, they would have probably lost their mind already. He knows exactly that he can’t tell anyone about your existence as they wouldn’t believe him and label him as a lunatic in the worst case. It’s like you are constantly observing him. Your presence is like a warm gentle rain that engulfs him constantly and the occasional brush of your hands against his skin a delicate sensation that has his whole body tingling. Until eventually Shisui finds his eyes constantly searching for you, an almost queasy feeling in his stomach when he can neither see nor sense you. You have given him your blessing and your protection after he has cleared your name of the traitors who have been abusing your image for such crude actions. Shisui wonders if you already know that his own strong feelings you have admired upon first meeting him have already been twisted because of you. He secretly builds you a small shrine where he also hides the necklace, well aware that they will tie you one way or another to his village.
Itachi Uchiha
🍡Itachi, despite his normally cold facade, is deep down also a deeply troubled person who is drowning in the sorrow of what he had to do to his own clan and family. Around you the silent ache gets soothed, even if it’ll never fully disappear. From the Uchiha clan Itachi is most likely one of the calmer ones and the one who will actually put the respect on you that you deserve without overwhelming you. He has enough on his mind already after all but he at times feels a tad bit honored that you decided to show yourself to him out of curiosity when you saw him passing through the forest with your shrine. Your presence is quite enjoyable and that isn’t only because you are a goddess of serenity and beauty but also because you could almost be mistaken as a normal human if it wouldn’t be for the halo around you. You don’t act like what he would have expected from a goddess of your caliber but instead you are curious, humble and get childishly excited when he brings you food because you normally don’t get such stuff in the realm where you live. Your curiosity about the most mundane stuff is sometimes downright amusing.
🍡As an Akatsuki member, Itachi is already put under a lot of isolation. He only has Kisame as a work partner and now there is also you with whom he can spend time with. Itachi really appreciates this. The fact that you have an entire cult at your disposal yet you only really show yourself to him flatters him more and more as time passes on. Even if he can’t see you, he can certainly sense you and even that is enough for him. It is quite ambiguous coming from him but despite the crimes that he has committed, Itachi has still morals. He got too comfortable with you, has allowed himself to delve too deep into those emotions and now he has no way out anymore. You two are so different. You are a celestial being that is essentially immortal and he is only human. He’s probably only going to be a fleeting moment in your life but his emotions has long left his control and act unreasonable. Despite applying all logic to his case, his own emotions don’t want to listen to him as they long to be with you. His determination to die at the hands of his brother waver greatly the longer he spends time with you, a gravity pulling him towards you.
Sasuke Uchiha
💙If Sasuke becomes fixated on a person, he is ready to go to great lengths and throw everything and everyone around him away to reach his goal. It applies to his desire for revenge as well as the intense obsession he develops that is centered around you. He has never believed in any celestial existence as the extermination of his entire clan has taught him that there is no such thing as a god protecting the people in his land. But your existence proves him otherwise. Even amidst his obsession, there is this burning bitterness and rage he holds against you though. Where has been your protection when his entire clan was eradicated? Why didn’t you do anything? There is pain even amongst his anger as he lashes out on you and blames you. He doesn’t care about the fact that you are a literal goddess. Your powers can’t be good for anything after all if you just allow the people in the Leaf Village to commit such a genocide. He wants answers, demands them, just to understand why it had to be his clan that had to suffer so much yet you can’t give him those answers. Instead there is a pitiful look on your face that almost drives him mad.
💙He hates how your mere presence always manages to drain all negative energy from him as he feels like his own emotions are controlled when he is around you yet it has never stopped him from approaching you. The grudge he holds against you and others of your kind for doing absolutely nothing to prevent the death of so many people. You probably think that you’re better just because you are a goddess, don’t you? Despite this, his anger almost seems to fuel his obsession with you. Sasuke yearns to have you, to be in possession of you and he is also steered by a desire to be in control of you. You are used to everyone being beneath you and as if to punish you for your ignorance about his own clan’s tragic fate, Sasuke wants to show you what it feels like to struggle and to experience helplessness. He doesn’t know just yet if he can beat you in a fight and he is wise enough to not underestimate you but he swears to you that one day he will gain enough power to keep you permanently by his side and to teach you not to pity him. And he’s getting stronger and stronger with each passing day…
#yandere naruto#yandere naruto shippuden#yandere indra#yandere indra otsutsuki#yandere madara#yandere madara uchiha#yandere obito#yandere obito uchiha#yandere shisui#yandere shisui uchiha#yandere itachi#yandere itachi uchiha#yandere sasuke#yandere sasuke uchiha
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「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 3.5✦ 」
---
Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5 Part 3 [Part 3.5]
It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!
A/N ~ I ACTUALLY GOT A CHAPTER OUT. Anyway, the next one might take... another while. I've got other stuff going on and life can be kinda chaotic sometimes. Hope you enjoy this one, though :')
Warnings: I'm not sure what to list here; slightly angsty stuff maybe, I also feel like Dottore & Pantalone are a warning of their own
Word count: 2.9k
---
More often than not, family wasn't the manifestation of perfect, unconditional love that you could foolishly rely on. Something... that would never harm you. Because this was, in the end, just what humans were like - so easily blinded by things like greed, anger and envy that they were bound to end up hurting those around them.
You'd learned this yourself a long time ago, and witnessing it again hardly should have swayed you anymore. But what it did was bring up memories; a hurtful echo that even time couldn't drown.
And this mission only served to remind you of what a 'lovely' thing blood relations could be...
"Who are they?" you finally asked, breaking the pointless silence.
Inside the cabin Dottore and Pantalone had led you into, you'd faced a young mother and her two children. Judging by how they looked, the three were undoubtedly victims of unjust fate, yet somehow unfazed even as Harbingers waltzed into their home. A certain dignity in their eyes never faded...
Then again, this was just what Snezhnayans were like.
"Well, these people here are yours to handle, miss 12th. If you please." The Doctor's words were somehow vague, and Pantalone's expression, too, implied that such a roundabout answer was probably not the entire truth.
Since it wasn't clear what anyone expected you to do, you could only test the waters.
With a somewhat polite smile on your lips, you addressed the residents. "Hello, ma'am. Hello, little ones~"
No response. Somehow unsurprising, seeing as you were a Harbinger; one half of Snezhnaya feared you, the other despised you.
And yet, they went and got involved with the Fatui anyway. How stupid!
You glanced at Pantalone. The Banker seemed oddly delighted about the situation, hence, it likely had something to do with Mora. Then again, this man always did seem like he was enjoying himself thoroughly.
As for Dottore, he was the silently measuring these people with his gaze, a sinful smile on his lips. You decided not to decipher what his thoughts on the matter were, or what, pray tell, was this corrupt heretic even doing on a field mission...
Their questionable work ethics were beyond your remit anyway.
"Now then," you sighed, "what are we sensible people dealing with here, and why won't anyone tell me?"
The woman gave a derisive scoff, finally speaking.
"Ha, it looks like Pantalone and company brought along yet another recruit this time - but she's just a little girl!~ How amusing."
"Careful there, I'm definitely old enough... And, by title, a full-fledged Harbinger. So," your smile was innocent yet subtly menacing, "...let's not get too uncivil now; we wouldn't want to upset your children."
Or maybe you don't actually care about them at all?
The young siblings stood firmly by their mother's side, observing you with lilac eyes as cold yet fragile as hoarfrost.
They're so brave. But perhaps brave for the wrong person, much like I once was. In that sense, I probably shouldn't be the one to meddle in whatever it is that's going on here... I want my paycheck, though.
Pantalone and Dottore had watched your interaction with amused curiosity while lingering near the doorway, wanting to see just how their little Harbinger would behave on her first mission.
But one slightly vexed look from you, and they deemed it best to give the situation a little push forward.
As the two men walked forward, stopping on each of your sides, both of them placed a praiseful hand on your shoulder. You hadn't actually done anything yet, but welcomed this with a content smile regardless~ These affectionate gestures hardly went unnoticed by anyone in the room, yet only a fool would have dared to make a comment about it!
"Now then, Dominika," Pantalone addressed the woman with a complacent smile. "It's high time to pay off your debt, don't you think?
A debt?
"Oh, I'm certain she agrees." Dottore commented. "Of course, there are alternative means of paying back. I could offer plenty."
You sighed. Pity those who had to do business with these two!
But this 'Dominika' woman seemed unbothered...
"Then, Lord Regrator," the lady commented, her voice as sharp as ice. "I ask that you show at least some decency. I don't have the whole sum gathered yet, so do wait for a month longer, as I'm certain that someone like you is not so short on Mora that you should have the heart to harass me like this."
Well, at least she had backbone? Though, it seemed to cover up something utterly immoral.
Pantalone entwined his fingers, the numerous silver rings decorating them clinking presumptuously.
"But, my friend, surely you realize that what you owe the Northland Bank is at least three times the amount I'm now here to collect. You've had plenty of time to pay back, too. Moreover, I surmise you have quite a profitable job? After all, when taking such monumental loans from us - 3 million Mora, to be exact - you must have been well prepared to return it. With interest, naturally~"
Ah, so that was it.
Yet, it made you frown. 3 million Mora? Something fishy was going on here!
You chuckled, patting his shoulder. "But, dear Pantalone..."
The log cabin - not even a house - was thoroughly ramshackle, it was freezing cold inside and there was an unpleasant, moldy smell in the air. And those two children looked so malnourished and sickly that it was hard to believe they'd had a proper meal or felt the warmth of a home in years, if ever.
...so then, where had all that money gone?
You gazed at the siblings, a sister and a brother, who stood by their mother's side, clearly not entirely oblivious despite of their young age yet devoted to shield their parent's crimes.
And you of all people had no right to condemn them for that.
The two Harbingers were observing you keenly, shrewd smiles on their faces, almost as if expecting you to do something unfavorable for the Fatui.
I swear, Pierro and his infinite need to test anyone and everyone!
Well, this certainly wasn't the time to question anyone's loyalties. You wanted to disclose this particular matter anyway...
"You don't have the money, then?" you questioned Dominika, cocking an eyebrow.
"No, and you don't even need it, so you damn cretins better leave us alone," she spat with such disrespect and malice that even the Balladeer would have been impressed.
"There's no need for such a violent tone-"
"Violent?" Dominika chuckled darkly. "The Fatui are the only true violence Snezhnaya has ever seen."
"Tut-tut," you scolded her. "The Fatui do NOT wish to harm the people, nor will they do so without a reason. If one of us has harmed you just for the sake of being cruel, I shall see myself that they are punished tenfold..."
"However," you looked at the kids, then at back their mother, "ma'am herself is not so innocent either, it seems?"
She threw you a nasty look. "You dare accuse me-"
"Then, does Dominika suggest the money just vanished into thin air?"
"I-I know! I can tell you," the little boy, no older than six, suddenly exclaimed. For their sake, it was better that at least somebody was smart enough to talk.
Guilt flashed in the mother's eyes before she raised her hand in a hasty attempt to silence her child. But before she could, Pantalone had moved swiftly to grab her arm, an ominous smile on his lips.
"Now, now, Dominika..."
Yet, someone was quick to follow their mother's lead. The girl was surely only eleven or so, but the look in her eyes was fierce as she slapped the back of her brother's head.
"Don't forget our promise, Lazár," she reprimanded the boy. "No tattletaling."
"I'm sorry, Liliya..."
You fixed 'Liliya' a warning look, though it quickly softened - the brave yet somehow lost look in her eyes reminded you a bit of yourself. But she desperately needed a reality check. No child should feel the need to cover up their parents' sins...
The girl didn't flinch as you cupped her cheek with your cold hand. This made you smile a bit.
"Liliya, was it? You don't have to protect your mother, you know. What has she done to deserve such devotion?"
"..."
Sighing, you turned to her brother.
"Does your mommy have... a lot of Mora?"
"Maybe..."
"And she uses that Mora to take care of you and your sister? To buy you food, warm clothes and... toys?"
Lazár tilted his head. "Mama gets us bread from the city."
"And what else does she buy?" Dottore asked with a subtle smirk on his lips, clearly in the know of everything relevant but insistent on letting you figure it out yourself.
The boy frowned as he searched for the right words (or wondered whether he should've kept his mouth shut after all).
"...Golden cans! There's nothing inside, though. You have to pay a lot of Mora to get them... Then the misters come, and take those. Liliya says they smell like foreigners - spices and the ocean. Mama gets big bags of Mora from them. But we're not supposed to know, so we don't really... know," he finally finished.
Canned knowledge? All the way in Snezhnaya?
You glanced at the Doctor, but he only gave you an amused look and shook his head, implying that he wasn't involved in this - not this time, at least.
Something still felt off, though.
"Even so, Dominika... your debt equals millions of Mora. It's clear that loan hasn't been used to take care of your family. I'm not judging you for smuggling foreign goods, per se. But then, on my travels I've also become quite familiar with Sumeru's market, and even canned knowledge isn't that expensive."
You sighed, "Well, forbidden knowledge, perhaps. Do enlighten me?"
Dottore broke his. "Marvellous, it seem Y/N truly is as knowledgeable in this particular matter as the Director claimed. I wonder why that is, hm?"
Another story, another time.
"But for what reason does she smuggle, if not to get money to feed her children?" Pantalone smiled.
Liliya had been quiet since earlier. She shrugged and spoke in an emotionless tone, "Mama has different family in a different land. They're important people. Dangerous people. I don't know. That's probably where the Mora goes, too."
"Ah, is that so?" You smiled darkly. What a disloyal woman.
The girl hesitated. "For them, she... runs all kinds of errands. But that money, too, just goes... poof."
Pantalone nodded. "Yes, Dominika here is quite the magician~"
Dottore clicked his tongue. "I suppose you would know."
"Let's try to behave ourselves..."
But really, the issue at hand was practically clear by now.
Smiling at the kids, you patted their heads and gave them two apples from under your cloak.
"Here, have some snacks as a 'thank you'... Liliya, take your brother to play outside for a bit, okay?"
Liliya just shrugged nonchalantly, taking Lazár's hand and leading him out of the cabin.
It was quiet for a while.
You stared at Dominika with a frown.
Dottore and Pantalone smiled ominously.
"You're a Snezhnayan," you pointed out, "yet your own kin is worth this little to you?"
The woman shrugged. "I do what I know I have the right to. There's nothing unholy about that."
"What about your children?"
"I never asked for them. Their father was a wretch. Hasn't my world, my Snezhnaya, already been cruel enough to me? And only a fool would to go out of their way to selflessly take care of children that life is going to treat unkindly regardless." She smiled darkly. "Plenty of people in this cold land have been on their own since childhood. I know I was, yet here I am, because I learned to survive."
Again, you could only judge a person so far.
You nodded. "I see. I'm not a saint, either. I... was not loved by my parents, either. I'm not sure if I can love like that, either."
"However," you paused for a bit, gazing out of the window at Liliya and Lazár who were busy building a snowman, "as someone who serves the Archon of Love, there is one sin I cannot overlook... a parent forsaking their child."
A wistful smile curved your lips, "For as much as Liliya and Lazár are your children, they are the Tsaritsa's children as well. And she loves all her children fiercely~"
Dominika was silent. Perhaps because she did not care. Perhaps because she did.
Regardless, the time of her retribution was nigh. And, in the end, it was also for a reason much simpler than the 'crime' of being an unloving mother...
She didn't have Pantalone's money, and that was that.
The Banker walked to stand by your side, softly brushing your cheek with the back of his gloved hand. The rings felt cold, yet the touch was somehow... incredibly warm.
"What does Y/N wish to do with those children, then?"
You smiled.
"The House of the Hearth is no heaven... but it's better for Liliya and Lazár there than out on the streets by themselves. And despite what ignorant people say, Arlecchino is not a monster - I'll personally ask her to look after these two."
And I will look out for them as well, so that they will never have to make the same mistakes I did.
Sudden anger flashed in Dominika's lifeless eyes. She took a quick step forward with her hand raised threateningly. "You witch-"
...I dare you.
But Dottore had already pulled you back a bit, a few centimeters behind him.
You smiled.
"I'm quite capable of protecting myself, Doctor~"
"Quite, but it's her I was shielding. That's a scary gaze you have there, Y/N, and as much as I'd enjoy observing just how violent you can be, Pierro specifically asked us to fetch this woman with all her limbs still attached."
You pouted. " I wasn't going to-" Not too much, at least!
Zandik chuckled, patting your head. "Yes, yes, I believe you~"
The woman didn't speak another word nor struggle when a couple of Fatui agents came in and restrained her - who knows if this was proof of the dignity of a Snezhnayan, or the lack thereof.
Dottore injected her with something that dimmed the last flicker of a flame still glowing in those dull eyes.
You frowned at this.
"Just a mild sedative, don't worry," said the Doctor and you dared not question it further - though you probably should have...
---
After Dominika was gone, and Liliya and Lazár had been sent on their way to the House of the Hearth, Snezhnaya's sun had reached its zenith.
You stood outside in the snow, a hand shielding your eyes from the cold, pale yellow rays.
Pantalone had since remained inside the cabin with his subordinates, likely discussing the distraint of the property - not that it was worth much anything.
Celestia knows where Dottore had gone...
A hollow ache was left in your chest.
Was it resentment, melancholy, indifference, all of the above, or perhaps something else that you just couldn't admit to feeling - regardless, it was there.
But who would you have shed a tear for? It would've just frozen in this frigid weather anyway.
"Shall we head back, dear?" Pantalone's soft voice came from next to you. Dottore had disappeared and then appeared again, now standing on your other side, humming to himself while resting a hand on your shoulder.
Back...
"I think I'll stay behind for a bit. I've got an errand to run nearby." Your voice was devoid of any emotion, faltering ever so slightly.
It wasn't a lie, but at most, a half-truth. You really just wanted some time to clear your head - just a little more to pull yourself together, so that your Harbingers wouldn't discover too big of a crack in your defences.
Being vulnerable was quite scary.
"No, no, that won't do at all." Pantalone looked down at you sternly yet gently. "I couldn't possibly agree to leave our little Y/N here in such a state."
"I'm fine."
"Y/N is very strong, after all."
He leaned closed, his breath fanning across your cheek.
"But I do find there is a certain irresistible charm about strong people who think they need to be tough all the time. It makes their broken parts appear all the more beautiful~"
You frowned. "Um... I-I see. Is that so, huh..."
Dottore sighed, wrapping his outer cloak around yours.
"In any case, Pierro would be quite displeased if we were to tell him that we diligently finished the job, but lost our precious little Harbinger somewhere in Snezhnaya..."
His comment actually made you chuckle a bit, along with the fact that this impossible duo seemed more than ready to (gently) drag you back to the Headquarters if you really tried to stay.
"Heh~"
The Doctor suddenly leaned closer, lifting his mask to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. Uncharacteristic, and a bit weird? Well, not really, since it appeared this really was one of his "gentler" segments. What instead stole your attention were those strikingly red eyes...
It was the first time you'd seen his face fully uncovered.
You didn't know how to feel about that. You didn't know how too feel about a lot things these days.
And, maybe... that was okay.
"Shall we go home, then?" The Doctor held your hand.
"Little Harbinger?~" Pantalone also held your hand.
You smiled. 'Home' was perhaps not the right term. Not yet, at least. But in that moment, it didn't really matter. Sometimes just trusting someone, even if not completely, was enough.
And so...
"Mm, let's go home~"
#genshin impact x reader#platonic genshin x reader#signora's sister#platonic pantalone x reader#platonic dottore x reader#fatui harbingers x signora's sister#fatui harbingers x reader#platonic fatui harbingers x reader#pantalone#dottore#fatui harbingers#pantalone x reader#dottore x reader#genshin impact
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Unpopular Opinion: Demeter Did Nothing Wrong
Alright, maybe the title isn't 100% accurate since she almost wiped the entire human race from earth, but you got the idea.
The thing with Demeter is that nowdays she is demonized/villainized all the time. And the most ironic part is that she is demonized by feminists, which leaves me quite confused, considering the fact that she would technically be a great example of female strength, especially when raporting to "Homeric Hymns to Demeter". But before discussing the myth of seasons, let's talk about her background story:
One thing that is certain about Demeter is that she had horrible experiences with almost all men from her life. Her father ate her. Poseidon raped her disguised as a horse. Zeus raped her as well (which led to the birth of Persephone). Iasion was one of the few men from her life who loved and respected her, and whom she lived with for a while before Zeus became jealous and killed him; yes, he is THAT much of a d-
The only one of her brothers who didn’t hurt her in any way at that time was Hades. And if you take into account the versions of the myths in which Hades was born before her that means that he was the one who took care of her as well during the time when they were trapped in their father's stomach. So it is pretty much implied that he was the only one of The Big Three whom she trusted the most, which makes the discovery that he was the one who kidnapped her daughter even more tragic.
Now, about "Homeric Hymns to Demeter": first of all I want to point out the fact that this myth isn't about Hades and Persephone. They are mostly mentioned in this story rather than actually playing an active role in it, because they have more of a symbolic value above it all. Wheter Persephone came to love Hades in time or despised him for the rest of her eternity is irrelevant, because this myth is not about her but Demeter.
Demeter had already faced some disturbing experiences even before Persephone was kidnapped. And considering the fact that her own daughter was a result of SA, it makes perfect sense why she would be protective towards her and raise her outside of Mount Olympus; every woman that was raped would fear that her daughter would face the same cruel fate.
About the abduction part: it is revealed to us at the beginning that Hades asked Zeus if he can marry his daughter, and he agreed. Hades only needed the approval of the father in order to wed her. Back in the Ancient Greece, especially in the Athens, people had a very patriarchal view on marriage. On short: the marriage would be usually planned between the groom and the father of the bride, her mother not knowing anything about what was going on until her daughter was already taken away from her. This myth is a representation of how the Patriarchy was a dominant system even among deities, with Zeus as its supreme figure.
At this point, the myth of seasons can be already considered a comfort story for mothers who had to endure the loss of their daughters either through death or marriage. This myth, however, has a lighter note as well, and that because Demeter, instead of accepting the fate of her daughter, left her anger free and did anything she could so that she would ultimately convince Zeus to give her daughter back, the last solution being leaving hundreds of humans dying of cold and hunger. This part basically shows how even a patriarchal figure like Zeus can be defeated by a mother's rage (or pure female rage, take it as you wish). Even though this myth is supposed to tell us just how seasons appeared, it can also be used as a moral lesson for men: it is better to consult with your wife and daughter before making a decision, or else there will be GREAT CONSEQUENCES.
And finally, one moment that is indeed very touching yet most people are ignoring for some reason is when her mother Rhea appears in front of her and starts to comfort her after she found out that Persephone ate the promeganate seeds, showing how a mother's mouring over her daughter was a common feeling among most female deities from Greek Mythology.
Now, is Demeter perfect? Absolutely not. And that is okay, because instead of that she is supposed to show in this myth a lot of humane and realistic nuances about what being a woman is like. She is a complex character, and completely demonizing her just because you ship Hades and Persephone is quite disturbing in my honest opinion. Wheter or not you like this couple (I won't condemn you because they are still one of the most stable relationships from Greek Mythology, but that basically shows just how f*cked up myths are in general lmao but anyway....), you have to understand the fact that the "Beauty and Beast" and "A mother's love will always conquer" are two tropes that can co-exist, and that things aren’t just black-and-white.
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𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆
ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴ!ʟᴇᴠɪ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴛ ғɪʀsᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ʜɪs ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ sᴜʙᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴀʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ-ɪɴᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ-ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄs, sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ, ᴍɪsᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ
Levi doesn't really know what has drawn him to you. Perhaps your eagerness to please or your fearful and awe driven gaze directed him. Maybe it was your cute smile or the elegant way you held yourself. It certainly wasn't the fact that you were born in the safety of Mitras and your weak excuse of combat wasn't it either. While you appear to be smart and talented with the ODM gear, you certainly wouldn't do fighting titans. It's that simple. Your purpose as a soldier would probably be death, giving your life for humanity. Levi hates that fact; he despises the idea of you dying. You were subordinated to him after you joined the Survey Corps a year ago and if it wasn't for him, you would have been eaten and ripped apart on more occasions than he would like to admit.
He expected you to be just that, a rich brat. Probably narcissistic and an egomaniac, having only your own desires in best interest. Most likely arrogant and always bragging about your accomplishments, like Oluo. To his surprise you were nothing like that. Your star struck eyes would always look up to him, a mixture of hope and awe in them. You would follow his every comment, much like Petra, but unlike her you were still in need of extra training.
The Captain always held you close. He would make you stay longer in training, so you could get better and stronger. After he would tell you to shower and meet him in his office to help him with paperwork, something that definitely wasn't in your range of duty. He abused his power over you, using your eagerness to help for his own advantage. Levi thrived, still does, in your attention and obedient behavior. He quite often thinks about you, wondering why a brat of Mitras would join the military. You had no reason to; a rich family, fulfilled life. And while he doesn't enjoy the thought of you with another man, you would have probably married someone of your class and bore him children. These thoughts made him realize that it might be the reason why you left. You did not want to be treated like a baby machine, did not want to marry a stranger twice your age. The Scouts made you free, or so you thought. Truth is you'd never be free, not as long as your Captain was around. It made him wonder what your life was like in Mitras. You were a late bloomer; joined when you turned eighteen, he knew that much. You probably waited to legally decide your fate on your own, without having to worry about your parents intervening. He remembers that day he looked over all of the reports of his new Cadets. You caught his interest.
"Fucking Mitras brat." He spat.
And then Eren came around. Levi was aware of his importance and upcoming changes that would occur with the moment he stepped foot into the Corps. Levi sat in Erwin's office drinking tea while he rolled his eyes at Hange’s rambling, their loud voice caused him a headache.
"We need you to pick a new squad, Levi. Your Cadets will be handed over to Miche, so you have time to prepare your soldiers for the special operation. " Erwin explained and gave them a meaningful glance. He felt sour at the thought, but eventually decided to dare his luck a little.
"Sure. Am I allowed to hand-pick my new squad?" The blonde, tall man rolled his eyes, giving him a cold facade.
"Yes. I trust you on your decisions. Do you have anyone specific in mind?" In his head, Levi screamed your name in desperation.
"Eld is a fine soldier. Petra Ral and Oluo Bozado would be suited too." He halted, glaring at him as he waited for Erwin to agree. He did so gladly.
"There is someone else." Levi noted and cleared his throat. The Commander gave him a sad look, feeling regret twirling in his gut.
"You want to drag her into this?" Erwin wondered, hoping to motivate his friend to change his mind.
"You said you would trust my decisions." Erwin stopped arguing and Levi knew he had Smith wrapped around his finger. He would give him almost anything if it meant that the Captain was happy. Confused Hange scratched their head. "Who are you talking about?" They asked directed at Erwin, they didn't expect an answer from Levi anyways.
"A Cadet from Levi's current squad." It didn't take more to form Hange’s lips into an 'O' shape as awkward silence hit them. Rumors had already spread in the upper ranks of the squad about Levi being madly in love with his subordinate. The Captain would never dare to call it love though. No, he just gets off on the idea of having control over the Mitras brat.
"Why did you choose me?" You asked him when the two of you cleaned the hall of your new headquarters, an abandoned castle. It's dirty and if there was something Levi hated more than stains on his clothes it certainly was an unclean environment.
"Are you questioning my decisions brat?" He felt good, turning the words in your mouth so you would feel sorry.
"I would never dare to, Captain!" You raised your voice in fear, looking at him with hurt.
"It's just-" You started shuddering at his cold stare, knowing you had to choose your next words wisely.
"There are so many others who are better than me." He nodded his head and agreed with you, your polite smile falling. He felt almost bad, but the thin line of feeling bad and boiling lust was conflicted within him.
"But I have my reasons. You have other useful qualities." He encouraged her.
"Like what?" Levi sighted and gritted his teeth, fletching them at her.
"Oi, shut up now. The floors don't clean themselves." Shrinking under him you held your breath and whispered a small 'sorry Sir' continuing your cleaning duties.
You didn't have dinner tonight, not enough time to eat. You relaxed in the showers and thought about your mistakes for too long. You shouldn't have lost your temper, shouldn't have raised your voice, after all Captain Levi is your superior, you don't know what has gotten into you. Petra tried to offer you comfort. "He's just stressed." She assured you, as she held your crying body in her arms. "I'm sure he only wants to talk things out with you! You mean a lot to him, I can tell." Her words were smoothing and the two of you made their way into the showers, relaxing under the warm stream of water.
In his mind the two of you got closer over the past three weeks you were at the castle. With every passing day he got more and more desperate, bombing you with training. Learning about the true purpose of the 57th expedition, he had to make sure that you were safe. The hard work made you feel exhausted and after you had to repeat the same exercise for what felt like the hundredth time you simply snapped.
"I can't do this anymore!" You screamed, while you lost your calm demeanor. Throwing a tantrum around Levi, criticizing him at the same time, wasn't the best idea, you'll admit. The Captain angrily shut you up and squeezed your arm under his tight grip. He felt pissed, angry way beyond your pathetic imagination.
"If you don't get better you will die. I can’t always be there to save your sorry ass Cadet." He was aggressive and shook your body.
"Then don't! I'm a soldier, it would be an honor to die for your cause." It was the first time he had violently touched you; the back of his hand smacking against your skin. His squad held their breaths in shock and didn't know how to react to his outburst. It wasn't unusual for Levi to get physical with people that misbehaved, but with you it was something else. Never did he lay his hands on you, except in training of course. You were quiet, other than the quiet whimpers that left your lips. It urged him to do worse.
"Are you dense? You stupid brat don't even know what it means to die in honor. You should have stayed in Mitras with that attitude. I'm in no need of suicidal soldiers." You started crying at this point, shaking under his hands. He felt adrenaline shot into his abdomen, a nice tingle made his member slightly twitch at the sight of you.
"Then why did you choose me?" He was close to hitting you again, his hand bawling into a fist; knuckles shining white.
"Meet me in an hour in my office. Clean yourself up, you smell." With that he let you go and walked past his squat, eyebrows furrowing as Petra ran to your side, offering comfort. You didn't deserve that; he thought and shook his head in anger. The two of you were too soft.
After that you dressed in your fresh formal-uniform and brushed your wet hair behind your ears, trying to appear as neat and dolled up as always, a habit that stuck with you ever since you were a little girl. Your parents made sure that your appearance would match your status as a wealthy Mitras girl. You hated it there, felt trapped and lonely. Some things that were taught to you stayed with you though, like taking good care of your body, always keeping your stuff clean or being polite. Of course, you learned to obey others, especially men, too. They prepared you to be a good wife. It scared you, made you feel sick; the thought of marrying a stranger gave you anxiety. It's why you decided to leave and enlisted in the Training Corps, making your parents disappointed. You felt guilty, as much as you do now. You displeased your Captain, the one you looked up to, the one that makes you eager to submit. You would do anything and perhaps, tonight you will.
Those thoughts cross your mind as you stand in front of his office and private quarters. The upper ranks really have nice privileges. Your heart pounds against your chest, as you softly knock on the wood. Footsteps emerge as you fitch with the hem of your dress shirt. The door creaks open, revealing your Captain to you. He takes a step to the side, offering you access to his office with a spread arm. You don't look at him when you enter, head hanging low, and eyes fixed on the ground. Your punishment might be a severe one, probably physical discipline. He did punish you twice, made you run around the headquarters for three hours or leave out all the meals once. But this time is going to be much worse, and you know it's the way he looks at you that makes you question his sanity. You should feel ashamed of that.
"You know Cadet, I could tell that you were on edge as of lately." He starts and takes a seat, making you stand opposite of his desk.
"And I get it, we all are." He places his slender hands on the wooden surface, the same hands that caused you pain an hour ago.
"But raising your voice against your Captain? Arguing with him, with me-“ he scoffs leaning forward.
"Now that's disrespectful on a new level. What happened? Did I finally break my favorite toy?" Levi mocks, a sinister expression on his usual stoic face. The last sentence got to you, eyes widening, a little displeased groan escapes you, eyebrows furrowing at the insult. Though, instead of sharing your discomfort with him, you simply answer: "Sorry Captain. It won't happen again." At that he rolls his eyes, shaking his head disappointed.
"That did not answer my question. Did I break you yet, Cadet?" You wonder if the thought of emotionally dragging you down would please him. It would make sense, he always did show sadistic tendencies around you, bombing you with dehumanizing duties. You agreed to do them with a smile, hoping it would please him and it did. Now you wonder if it just egged him on to be much harsher with you.
"I was close." You confess and fold your hands in your front, blankly returning his gaze.
"Good. I hope you know why I'm pushing you harder than the others." His tongue slightly brushes over his dry lips, as he locks his steel-colored eyes on your form. You take a moment to think and hesitantly speak up after a few seconds.
"I believe it's because I'm not as good as the others." A small smile spreads over his lips as he stands up again. You never saw him smile; it slightly starts to weird you out.
"Correct. You would die out there, I can't have that." Levi walks up to you in a slow pace, his relaxed state dominating the room. You swallow, taking a step back as he closes in.
"Captain? May I ask why you can't have me dying?" A sight leaves him, as he places a hard on your shoulder, stopping you from moving.
"Aren't you a nosey girl?" Your Captain states and places his other hand on your other shoulder as well. A bit of panic rises in your gut at the touch. The Captain was never one to show affection and this strange touch simply can't mean anything good.
"Why did you order me here?" The question lingers in the air like a heavy prayer, making Levi's hands grip your delicate shoulders tighter.
"Tch. Want me to show you?" He's seconds away from doing something stupid and both of you know it.
"Yes, please." You murmur and break the contact of your stare, allowing him full authority. With excitement his hands glide from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer. He leans to the level of your ear, warm breath and the sudden closeness making you stiffen.
"What I'm going to show you is either a reward-" you feel his hands softly roam your curves, making you start shaking at the feeling it provides you. Not sure if it is desperation or despair, you let quiet whines out, encouraging him to grip your bum.
"-or a punishment." You yelp as the same hand that caressed you moments ago gave your behind a harsh slap. Biting down onto your lip, you try to push him away from you to no use. He doesn't even buckle under your weak attempts.
"It's going to be up to you, silly Cadet." He whispers and slowly starts to move his head down your neck, placing tingling kisses at your vulnerable areas. Denying that his hands and lips feel pleasurable on your body would be a lie. It feels good, adrenaline rises in your gut as you think about how wrong this is. Superior ranks to yours shouldn't use you the way he does, after all you could report him for his inappropriate behaviors. Though it probably won't be to any good use, because Commander Erwin closed his eyes to the strange relationship of yours months ago. You know that most of the upper ranks suspect something between the two of you and yet nobody came to your help so far, because they don't want to anger Captain Levi.
At some point you are a mess; cheeks flushed, heart beating rapidly, and your flesh is painted in bite marks. His hands hold you up and keep you from falling into his erratic body.
"Captain-" you wince and grip him weakly against your heated form, allowing even more contact between the two of you.
"Hm?" He hums and lets his hand wander between your legs, making your posture stiffen.
"This is wrong Captain, please-" you finish your sentence with a moan as his fingers dance circles around your clit, a wonderful sensation erecting in your abdomen.
"Shut up, it is not." He insists and slowly takes a few steps forward, making you stumble back at the unexpected movement. The both of you crash against his table and with a swift motion it's empty, papers and pens landing on the floor. He quickly makes use of your shocked self and pushes you down onto it, hour back connecting with the hardwood. A sound of pain rings through the room and it takes you a while to register what's happening. Levi presses your body down with his, his heavy breathing catches your attention and the next thing you notice is something hard against your thigh. At first you thought it was his hip bone, but after he starts rubbing it against you realization hits you. Feeling yourself blushing furiously, heat spreads through your stomach like a wildfire. You try to push him away, brushing his hand from you, which only causes him to grind harder against you.
"No," you whine as he bites your earlobe. "Levi stop!" Your voice sounds muffled, a few tears run down your hot cheeks. He stills for a moment before resuming. Your hips arch upwards, pushing into his hardened length. He groans, mouth wide open while his eyes are squeezed shut. Moving his head from your shoulder to rest his face right below your ear, he whispers:
"You are to call me Captain, Cadet." His breath is warm against your neck, the rough sound of his deep voice sends shivers down your spine, and you let out a whimper that sounds like a plea. He smirks slightly, enclosing his hand around your throat.
"And I'm calling you mine." He decides and opens your dress shirt, exposing your bodice and skin underneath. In a matter of a minute, you wrinkle completely naked underneath him; plank panic written on your face. He on the other hand is completely dressed, only making the effort to loosen the first two buttons of his shirt. His cravat is placed in your mouth to make you shut up and he observes you with dark eyes, while he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows.
"You look so beautiful." He whispers and brushes over your cheek, wetting his thumb with your salty tears. His pupils are blown as he slowly fitches with his pants, pulling out his member to the cool air.
"Please-" you cry out, not sure if you want him to continue or to stop. He looks good that way; black hair falling into his pale face and his posture hovering over your vulnerable form.
"No, I deserve you this way." He breathes out and leans down.
"You are my subordinate, my soldier. Mine." He groans and starts to slowly rub circles between your already wet folds.
"Ever since you joined the Scouts you have been nothing but submissive-" He trails off and enters you with his finger, making you whimper.
Levi thrusts even harder and throws his head back until a deep growl rings through your ears and you feel him twitch. For a moment he thought about coming inside of you, impregnating you so you wouldn't have to attend the expeditions anymore. Eventually he decides against it, the risks of getting into serious trouble are too high. He watches as hot strings of his semen trip onto your lower bell, his face twisting in disgust. He grabs for a napkin in his pant pockets and cleans himself and your skin, making sure that not one single drop is left. He ever so slightly looks at you, trying to read your reaction. Are you scared? Pleased? He can't tell.
"But I guess people can change, hugh?" He pulls out and leads his finger to his lips, greedily tasting you. Closing your eyes in shame, you bit down on the cloth between your lips, feeling the dip of something hot press against your entrance. You can't hold back your cry when he slides it inside you, stretching you open to take all you are willing to give. His pace increases slightly after he waited for a minute so you could adjust. His hands run through your hair, tugging at any loose strands. Your heart races and your hands ball into fists as you try your best to ignore the burning pain you are in. Levi doesn't stop once. With an angry grunt he slams himself inside and you moan loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your nails into his broad shoulders. The cloth in your mouths loosens and you take the opportunity, spitting it out.
"Captain. Please-" You cry as you feel your nails digging into his flesh, breaking his pure skin easily. The harsh movements of his hips slowly start to feel enjoyable, the slapping sound of skin ringing in your ears.
"I knew I liked you better when you were quiet." He breathes as he thrusts in and out of you, faster than before. When you thought about your first time it certainly didn’t cross your mind that it would be like this; rough and full hatred. Not understanding why, you would feel pleasure with the way he treats you, you close your eyes and let the sensation wash over you. Your body shakes with each stroke of his cock and your hands start to tremble. A sudden orgasm washes over you and you scream his name, letting it flow free through your clenched teeth. He growls low in his throat when he watches how your hips jerk up towards him.
You breathe flatly, your back hurting from the hard surface underneath you. Your classy eyes watch the dancing flames of the chandelier above you with interest. You feel exhausted and lightheaded, the feeling of being empty again is weird. The sensation of your climax still lingering in your abdomen.
"Sit up Cadet." Your Captain demands and helps you into an upright position.
"Dress. Then help me with those reports." He gestures at the floor, while fixing his shirt, trying to appear not too casual.
"Yes Captain." You obey his comment, collecting your uniform and undergarments that has been spread around his table. You notice his eyes on your naked body, making you feel uncomfortable.
"Cadet." He catches your attention as your eyes meet.
"You don't tell anyone about this. And don't even get the idea of spreading your legs for anyone but me." Levi demands in a grumpy manner. You glance at him, shocked and offended. Never would you dare to do this with any other person.
"Oi! Do you understand that brat?" ‘
"Yes Captain Levi."
#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman#aot#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#oneshot#warnings in description#yandere levi ackerman#yandere levi x reader#yandere levi ackerman x reader
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Swimming with Sharks: Arlong x F!Reader
Tags: nsfw, unhealthy relationships (Reader is delusional), Reader is kept as a "pet", masturbation, size difference, double penetration, oral sex, Arlong-typical degradation
There had to have been something wrong with you.
You were enamored with a pirate, which was bad enough on its own, but the situation was even more twisted than that, as the pirate you lusted after was the man who had been holding your village captive for the past eight years.
Arlong was a horrible, terrible man.
You felt disgusted with yourself. This wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t healthy. This man had killed villagers, recruited a child to join his slimy crew, and was very open about his views on the “inferior” human race. To him, you were nothing more than a piggy bank, offering your tribute as often as he requested.
But whatever god exists is cruel and loves to play jokes.
You couldn’t help but be enchanted by him. Maybe it was his power, tall stature, or something else entirely, but you wanted him more than anything.
To be his was all you ever desired since Arlong arrived years ago, awakening something inside your teenage heart. You had hoped it was just the hormones acting up or some sort of weird phase, but no, you were in your twenties now, and the fish man still made you hot and bothered.
And as much as you wanted to hate him, to loathe and despise him, you couldn’t.
So when collection day came, you were jittery in anticipation instead of shaking and cowering in fear like an average person would. It was the rare occasion where you got to see him up close, and while he wouldn’t speak with you directly, you would hear his gruff voice ordering his underlings around.
And today, you were very fortunate as Arlong would grace you with his presence once more.
When the fishmen enter the village, the place becomes a ghost town, everyone making themselves scarce as they wait for the pirates to bang on their door.
You peek out the window, your heart racing and your head spinning as you watch them approach your neighbor’s house. You observe in interest, your eyes raking over each man before your eyes finally catch on Arlong, who seems to be conversing with one of his men.
When they head for your door, you’re on the porch before they even get the chance to knock. On the porch are several fishmen, but Arlong seems to be missing. Your face falls in disappointment.
“Well, you’re eager for us to drain your pockets,” one of his crewmates laughs, leaning in to sneer down at you, “Just make sure you hand it all over, or else we’ll have to sic our Captain on you.”
Your ears twitch at that.
You knew what you were thinking was dumb, reckless, and really dangerous, but this was an opportunity to get his attention, and it couldn’t be thrown away.
“Ah, I don’t have any money this month-“you smile nervously, “But maybe I could talk things over with your Captain and-“
As you try to talk your way into meeting with Arlong personally, the fishman you’re speaking to glances over your shoulder, seeing your purse lying on your kitchen table.
“You have nothing, you say?” He asks, clearly not believing a word, “Then what’s this over here?”
He shoves you aside roughly, and you hiss in pain, rubbing the area where he pushed you.
The man starts digging around in your handbag, retrieving enough berries for his month’s payment and then some.
You grow hot in embarrassment as he waves the cash in the air before walking towards the door, “Looks like humans are just as dumb as I thought! They can’t even count properly.”
Shit. There goes the money for food.
As the fishman passes the threshold, you hear him call out, “Hey, Arlong! This human was trying to get out of handing over our money!”
And when he emerges from the rabble of men, your heart races in your chest.
“What’s this now?” His low voice inquires, talking more to you than to his subordinate.
You try to muster the courage to speak, but nothing comes out. Arlong steps forward, crowding your space, and your heartbeat grows louder.
“And why would you ever think of doing that, little human?” The question is definitely more of a threat, and because you are clearly some sort of masochist, your insides throb excitedly.
You answer honestly, “I-I wanted to get your attention-“
His crew bursts out laughing.
“His attention?”
“It’s like a child!”
“What a strange wish!”
Arlong lets his men laugh for a while, but eventually, he raises a hand, making them quiet down.
“And why do you want my attention, pitiful little creature?” He smirks, “Maybe you plan to distract me while your fellow humans attempt to attack my men, is that it?”
“N-No sir, I would never!” You exclaim, “I-I just- well-“
Your stammering wears Arlong’s patience thin, “Out with it already.”
“I-I am entranced by you-“you confess, “A-And I- um-“
Your sentence trails off as he begins pacing around you in circles, his eyes never leaving you for a moment as if he were appraising you, which, in all fairness, he probably was.
“So,” he takes some of your hair, allowing it to fall between his fingers as he assesses you closely, “You’re entranced by me, are you? A human that desires a fishman- now that is something I have never seen before…”
Arlong hums, and you squeal as he hooks a finger under your camisole straps, sliding it past your shoulder as if examining the skin underneath. But clearly, he wasn’t; he was just hoping to get into your head.
And it was working, but in a different way than he anticipated.
“For a human,” he starts, “you’re not terrible looking… I’d even say that you are somewhat attractive.”
“T-Thank you,” your voice quivers, “It’s such great praise to hear you say that, sir.”
“Tell me,” he’s behind you now, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Do you fear me?”
“Y-Yes sir,” you choke out, “Very much-“
“And yet you are aroused by me. Your logical mind tells you to stay away from me, but you listen to your body instead. Humans are such foolish, primitive creatures.” He chuckles darkly before pulling away from your ear and pacing again so he’s in front of you, his dark eyes glued to your face.
Without taking his eyes off you, he speaks to his crew, “We’ll take this one back with us. I’ve always wanted a pet.”
He wickedly smiles at his words and motions for you to follow when he turns on his heels. You hear several fellow villagers sob when they see you leaving your house with the pirates. They must believe that you are about to be killed, and for all you know, their beliefs could be correct, but in your heart, you don’t believe Arlong will slaughter you.
You hope and pray that your instincts are correct.
The walk to Arlong Park isn’t long, and soon you’re in front of the towering structure. You’ve never seen it up close before, and the building’s intense aura washes over you; the once faraway symbol of your oppression was now directly suffocating you.
“Come,” Arlong orders, and you scurry to his side, “This will be your new place of residence. You will eat when I say so and sleep only where I allow.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
He laughs, “Finally, a human that knows their place.”
He enters the pagoda, and you try to keep up, walking briskly to keep time with his long strides. Arlong leads you upstairs to a rather large bedroom, a bed built for a man of his stature sitting in the middle.
He sits at the edge of the bed and beckons you to come close. You obey without question, standing before him, your hands placed timidly in front of you.
“Remove your clothing,” he commands suddenly, “Make it quick.”
You scramble to remove your top and slide your shorts off your thighs, kicking them to the side. You’re left only in your underwear, your bra never touching your chest today. You hesitate momentarily when your fingers brush over your underwear’s waistband.
“S-Sorry, I’m a bit nervous-“you confess, “No one’s ever seen me naked before-“
“I don’t care about your sentimentality. Although,” Arlong smirks, his eyes raking over your body, “the knowledge that I am the first to lay eyes on you is quite amusing...”
His tone’s clear hunger flusters you, and you slip your panties off, stepping out of them and tossing them aside with your other clothes.
He stands up, towering before you as he looks you over. Without warning, he roughly grabs one of your breasts, causing you to gasp.
“Your breasts barely fill my hand,” he scoffs, squeezing the flesh almost painfully tight, “but what else did I expect? Your body is so pitifully small.”
He huffs and releases you, kneeling before you to examine your exposed pussy. You’re about to cover it up, but Arlong beats you to the punch, using his webbed fingers to spread your lips instead.
“But because you’re so small, I imagine you’ll feel much better around me.”
Your face burns with embarrassment yet anticipation as he slides a finger over your slit. You let out a soft gasp, jolting upright at the touch. He lets out a booming laugh.
“How sensitive!” He mocks you, “I barely graze you, and you jump like a scared cat!”
He removes his hand from your body and stands up, humming to himself, “Yes, I think I’ll make quite good use of you.”
That’s all he says before he walks past you, approaching the door.
You stutter out, “I-Is that all?”
“For now, yes.” Looking over his shoulder, he simply states, “I have more important things that need my attention at the moment.”
And with that, he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.
You were now left alone in what you assumed were his personal quarters.
And the reality of the situation finally sets in: you were taken as Arlong’s plaything. You would probably never get to go back to your regular life ever again. You had signed yourself, body and soul, over to him.
The thought both terrified and excited you.
___
Days pass, and you slowly adjust to your situation, if only slightly. You don’t see Arlong often, and when you do, he barely acknowledges your presence. You figured the unspoken rule was that only Arlong could treat you poorly if desired and that anyone else injuring or degrading you would end in disaster.
And while you enjoyed their kind treatment, you were still chasing after Arlong’s approval and attention.
You wanted him to want you, desire you, maybe even love you. You felt stupid for even falling for a man like him in the first place, and yet here you were, throwing yourself at his feet like a dog.
You sighed as you thought this over in your bed; life wasn’t terrible here, but you wished things could be different. You had your own room but wished you could sleep in his. He wasn’t abusing you, but you wished you had his praise.
The night drags on, and you lay awake in bed, the sounds of the fishmen drinking and laughing rising from outside to your window. You didn’t attend the party tonight, the smell of alcohol and loud conversations not sounding appealing to you today.
You tried closing your eyes to get some rest, but you weren’t tired.
And your mind suddenly remembers that day.
You remember how he touched you the day he took you in, how he grabbed your breast. Your hand slides up to your chest, squeezing harshly to recreate the feeling. It’s not the same, but the sensation reminds you of that moment.
Your body grows excited at the memory.
You bite your lip as your other hand slips between your legs, teasingly sliding over your clothed slit. A moan bubbles up in your throat, and you don’t bother quieting yourself; everyone is outside at the party, so certainly, they wouldn’t hear you.
You rub slow circles into your clit, your back arching slightly as pleasure runs through your body.
Tired of the teasing, you pull your pajama shorts off your body, your underwear following soon behind, and spread your legs eagerly. As your fingers slide over your slit, you imagine Arlong above you, his fingers teasing your most intimate area.
You slide a finger inside but quickly opt for two, trying to replicate how full his fingers would make you feel.
You finger yourself, curling your fingers upwards to stimulate your g-spot. Your mind goes crazy imagining the dirty things he would say to you, and you move your fingers even faster, mashing your sensitive spot the way you imagined he would.
It doesn’t take long to cum, and you’re embarrassed when you realize the thought of him made you orgasm so quickly.
You pull out your fingers, your cum coating them completely. You go to your personal bathroom and prepare to wash your hands and clean your slit.
But for some reason, you feel as though you’re being watched.
You timidly walk back into your bedroom to check things out and jump as you see Arlong sliding open your bedroom door, inviting himself into your space.
You scramble to cover your exposed lower half with still dirty hands, your cum smearing over your pubic mound as you shield yourself, “A-Arlong- sir! I didn’t know you were back-”
“I heard you made yourself scarce,” Arlong hums in an uncharacteristically soft tone, “Everyone was asking about you.”
“About me?” You point to yourself in disbelief.
“Yes, but…” his eyes rake over you, “now I can see you were occupied…”
You shake your head, “W-What? No-“
“Don’t deny it; I could smell the filthy scent of your arousal before I even entered the room.”
His words send a jolt down your spine. You look away in embarrassment, refusing to look him in the eyes.
Arlong smirks, approaching you slowly, his fingers finding their way around your chin and jerking your head upwards so you would look at him.
His voice lowers, his eyes boring into your soul, “And just what were you imagining that aroused you?”
You stutter, unable to answer him, but Arlong expected that you wouldn’t respond in the first place.
He takes your hand, lifting it up to see the mess you had made moments prior. You want to hide it, but fighting him would only test his patience.
His finger swipes over the cum that covers your digits, the webbed appendage collecting the fluid.
He lifts it up to your lips, demanding, “Open.”
You obey immediately, taking his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue slides against his skin, cleaning his digits as thoroughly as possible.
“Disgusting human,” he smirks, “You’ll even lick your own cum off my fingers- absolutely revolting.”
Your face heats up at his insult, and despite his degrading words, you keep licking, sucking them clean. Hell, you keep sucking even when you know nothing is left on his fingers. And when he growls lowly, you can tell the sight affects him.
“Disgusting human indeed,” he hums, looking down at you in disdain, “Look how you react to the mere taste of my fingers… Do you desire more of me now?”
You nod eagerly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, “I-I want you more than anything. I’ve wanted you for so long-“
He growls at your words yet again and presses his body against yours; however, with his height, his crotch is pressed against your chest.
“Desperate thing. You spend all night with your hands in your panties, yet you still crave more.” Arlong tsks, “But it’s no wonder; you were left with only those small fingers of yours. There’s no way something so small can satisfy anyone, not even a human.”
You whine as his words rile you up, your pussy aching for more stimulation, “N-No, I need something more… m-maybe something that only a man your size could provide...”
“Is that right…?” He chuckles a bit at your words.
Your tongue darts over your lips quickly as you reach for the waistband of his pants. He looks down at you with a glint in his eye and a smug grin. He isn’t stopping you; you take that as a good sign.
And if that wasn’t convincing enough, he even says, “Go ahead, pitiful thing…”
You nod and pull his pants down along with his undergarments and gasp in shock.
You weren’t exactly familiar with the differences between fishmen and human anatomy. Of course, you knew they had gills or lungs that were different from yours; they might have tentacles or webbed fingers or things of that nature, but.. you never thought that something like this would be different.
Your mouth gapes in surprise as you see not one but two appendages between his legs. They’re shaped differently than you anticipated, the shafts slender with a slight curve. After he steps out from the discarded garments, you curiously reach a hand out and grab it, testing how the lengthy appendage feels in your hands.
It’s warm, and you gasp when you see the precum dripping onto your hands; its consistency is watery, and it seems to come out like a faucet. You blush at how it effortlessly lubricates your hands, allowing you to stroke even faster.
As you stroke the cock that is on top, you nearly forget the other shaft until it twitches excitedly, hitting your hand and smearing the cum over your wrist. You hurriedly grab the other cock, trying to stroke both simultaneously.
“Ah, I can barely get my hands around them…” You laugh nervously, “They’re huge-”
Arlong gives a cocky, lop-sided smirk, looking down at you as you struggle to wrap your hands around his two shafts.
“The sight of you struggling is pathetic, but…” You gasp as, in an instant, he grabs you, lifting you in the air, “I can’t deny some part of me finds it rather endearing as well.”
Your face lights up in a bright blush at the surprising praise. Your legs wrap around his waist as he sits on the bed, leaning back until his head hits the pillows. Your body is pressed against his, and you gasp as the slick appendages slide against your thigh.
“Go on and finish what you started,” He growls lowly in a seductive tone, “Prove to me just how badly you need me, and if you do well, I’ll reward you.”
You whimper as he takes your chin in hand, tilting your head so you look directly into his eyes, “Does that sound exciting, little one?”
Your heart stops at what sounds like a term of endearment.
“Y-Yes-” You breathe out, almost in a trance, “Yes, I’ll earn that reward, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” He hums, “Remove your shirt. I wish to see all of you before we begin…”
You nod and grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head and off your body.
You leave little kisses in your wake as you crawl down his body. Each kiss shows reverence as you worship his body, your lips trailing from his chest to his stomach and finally to the base of his first cock. When you reach it, you gulp as you ponder how to approach this. You’ve never pleased a man before, and definitely not a man with not one large shaft but two.
But you had to try.
You bite your lip as your hands attempt to wrap around both dicks at the same time. Now that your face is level with them, you realize they’re both larger than your head; you begin to wonder just how they’ll fit if Arlong decides to claim you. Will he be merciful and only fuck you with one?
You abandon the thought as quickly as it came; clearly, he wasn’t the merciful type.
You would have to be able to take both at once.
The idea terrifies and excites you.
Your grip is firm as you begin stroking them, glancing up at him with nervous eyes before your gaze flickers back to the task at hand. You moan softly as you watch his cocks jolt and throb under your touch, your pussy growing wet again as you imagine how they would feel stuffed inside you.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” He growls, but you’re surprised at how soft and affectionate it sounds. It almost sounds like a gentle suggestion instead of a command.
You nod and lean forward, taking one of the cocks into your mouth slowly. You take it a bit farther than you anticipated, but probably because of how tapered the tip is. You bob your head slowly, stroking the rest of the shaft with one hand while your hand continues coaxing precum out of the other.
Arlong hums in appreciation, and you melt when his hand pushes back your hair, encouraging you to keep going.
You switch to the other shaft, attempting to take as much down your throat as possible.
In your overzealous attempt, you gag around his cock, and you grow embarrassed. You pull off instantly and begin profusely apologizing: “I-I’m sorry, sir! I-I really am just as disgusting as you say I-”
He cuts you off, “That’s bound to happen. Keep going until I order you to stop.”
Your eyes widen in surprise; was gagging like that normal? He didn’t seem put off by it at all…
You bite your lip before trying again, this time sucking on the cock that rests above the other. You try pacing yourself for your second deepthroating attempt; even though he wasn’t angry about the gagging sounds, you didn’t want to actually throw up around him.
You slowly bob your head, ensuring both hands are full of him, and begin hollowing your cheeks, attempting to make a tighter hole for his pleasure. You inevitably gag again as his cock hits the back of your throat, but soon enough, it gets easier, and you’re able to take him down even further. You hit the halfway point before deciding not to push your luck, determining this was your limit. Soon enough, you find a rhythm, bobbing your head for some time before pulling off his shaft, your tongue swirling around the tapered head to coax out more precum. Eventually, you switch back and forth between the two dicks, trying your best to give both an equal amount of attention.
As you please him, you can’t help but sneak glances at his face, ensuring he’s enjoying himself.
Each time you look at him, his brows are furrowed as his eyes are shut tight, quiet grunts escaping his throat. Your pussy throbs as he gets more vocal, and you can’t help but to whine around his shaft, voicing your frustrations as your holes feel terribly empty.
Your needy sounds don’t go unnoticed.
“Oh,” he coos, clearly belittling you, “It sounds like you’re growing antsy… Was there something you wanted, little human?”
You pull off his cock with your tongue lolling out of your mouth. You breathe heavily, your eyes pleading as you beg, “Please, sir. I need you in me-”
He gives a cocky smirk, “I’m already in your mouth, and yet you want more? You’re a greedy little thing…”
“Please, I’m begging,” You whine, “I need you inside me- Please, sir, fuck me-!”
He hums, his interest clearly piqued by your desperate begging, “And why do you deserve it, hm? What have you done to deserve such an honor?”
You part your lips to answer, but your mind goes blank.
“Go on,” He puts on the pressure, “Speak.”
You finally stutter, “I don’t deserve them, but I’ll do anything to earn them. I-I’ll swallow all your cum, I-I’ll let you use my body any way you like, just please- please fill me up and fuck me until I can’t think-”
Your face radiates warmth as you realize what you just said; you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but god, as your slick drips onto the bed under you, you can’t lie: you really will do anything for him to take you.
Arlong makes an amused little sound; it seems your babbling has caught his interest.
You give one final push, “Please give me a purpose; please let me be useful to you, sir. I’m begging you to use my body- I want to please you- please, let me be a good girl for you-“
“Mm, what a good little human you are,” he hums, his tone patronizing as he looks down at you, “So eager to please… It would be a waste to not take advantage of your devotion and desperation…”
Your eyes light up, and your heart races, excited that he’s finally accepted you.
“Now…” He hums, “How should I take you…”
You shudder as his eyes rake over your body before he motions for you to sit on him. You straddle him and gasp when he holds your hips, his large hands encapsulating your waist. Your heart pounds as he lines one of his cocks up with your pussy, your juices dripping onto him. He laughs a bit when he feels the slick oozing onto him but doesn’t say anything, not about your arousal anyway.
“While I may be a demanding master, I am not heartless…” He says, rubbing the tip of one of his cocks against your entrance, “You’ll take just one first before I add the second…”
Your throat goes dry, but you nod, steadying yourself by planting your hands on his broad chest.
You wince and hiss in pain when he begins to lower you onto his shaft. Even though it’s barely inside you, it already feels like it’s too much to bear. But you attempt to endure it and keep your pained sounds to a minimum, not wanting Arlong to get annoyed by your discomfort.
Your thighs shake, and eventually, you feel his pelvis pressed against your mound. You whimper as you feel completely stuffed, your stomach bulging slightly as he finally sheathes himself within you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as, for the first time, you’re filled by someone else.
You’re surprised when he doesn’t order you to move immediately, giving you a few moments to adjust.
It’s almost like he actually cares about you.
As you’re seated on top of him, his hands reach out to knead your breasts, his thumbs sliding over your hardened nipples. You whine shamelessly, rocking your hips back and forth as you grind your clit into his pelvis.
“Look at you,” He chuckles, “Rubbing your needy clit against anything you can… I’m starting to think it’s not humans as a whole that are this desperate, but just you in particular.”
Your face burns in shame as he calls out your slutty behavior, but that doesn’t stop you. In fact, it only encourages you to begin riding him, sliding maybe an inch or so upwards before slowly sinking back down. You try to move slowly and carefully as you’re stretched beyond your limits, the pain still stinging as you begin fucking yourself.
And after some time, you release that it actually feels really good-
Your mouth hangs open as you take him with deeper strokes, your hips lifting up to the halfway point before slamming down. Your loud moans and whines fill the room as you fuck him, his cock hitting all the right spots. You begin to drool as his cock slams against your cervix, making your legs feel weak. You start to melt atop him, your thrusts growing sporadic and sloppy.
Arlong tsks as he watches you fall apart, your face nuzzled in his chest as you pathetically grind and frantically slam your hips against his.
“Is this really your best effort?” He teases, “I thought you said you would please me… and yet here you are, only using me for your pleasure. How selfish, little human…”
“I-I’m sorry, sir. I promise I can be useful-” You begin to babble, “I can be a good girl- I can take whatever you give me- fuck me- please- use me-”
Arlong clicks his tongue before gripping your waist and slamming into you on his own. You gasp sharply as he hits your furthest walls and begins his relentless assault.
“You are so pathetic,” He growls, “I’ll just have to fuck into you myself as if you were an object.”
And he does precisely that, his thrusts from below causing your body to jolt and jostle above him. You feel your brain go numb, every thought you could possibly have leaving your head. Your body works purely on instinct, grabbing his shoulders as your face rests on his chest, your drool beginning to leak onto his skin. The sounds of skin smacking against itself fills the room, along with wet squelches.
“I’m so close-” You say dumbly, “Please, let me cum! Please-!”
“Good girl, asking for permission,” He grunts, “Go ahead.”
Your legs shake violently, and your back aches as your cunt squeezes him tight, attempting to milk him. But he doesn’t climax, not yet; You’re the only one reaching that beautiful high, your voice growing raspy as you cry out for him. Your nails dig into his chest and shoulders as you try to grip onto something, anything, to keep you grounded. You feel as though your soul is floating out of your body.
It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, without a doubt.
As you’re left panting, attempting to recover from the intense experience, Arlong laughs at you; but to your surprise, it’s not malicious. He seems genuinely amused, even proud, at how he caused such a reaction from you.
“Look at you…” He hums, his hands raking over your body, his palms running over your hips and chest before reaching your cheeks, “You’re exhausted, and I’ve hardly begun using you…”
Your body feels limp as he lifts you up, attempting to place you on your hands and knees before him. But you can’t do it; your knees wobble, and your thighs shake as a warning before you fall forward, falling flat on your face. You try to lift yourself up, but even your arms feel boneless.
Arlong lets out an amused sound, “It seems you can no longer hold yourself up… It looks like I will have to support you myself…”
You let out a drawn-out groan as Arlong picks you up like a doll, flipping you around and holding you close to him as he stands beside the bed. Your legs dangle as your thighs are pressed to his sides, one of his shafts poking against your sopping wet entrance.
“I let you off easy earlier,” He whispers, “But you’ve proven that you can handle one, so now you will take both…. I expect that you won’t complain.”
You nodded your head; while you were exhausted, you were also more than eager to cum again. Though, as you feel them both press against your hole, a feeling of uncertainty pokes and prods at you.
But you ignore it.
Arlong is able to lift your body with one hand, balancing you in his palm as if you are weightless. With his other hand, he takes both shafts, lining them up before pressing them both inside.
At first, it isn’t difficult to accept them both; his dicks are tapered at the top, meaning the initial stretch isn’t too bad. But then he keeps pulling you down, inch by inch, penetrating you. You grit your teeth as the feeling nearly feels unbearable, your hole clinging to his shafts as you are stretched more than ever.
You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, biting your lip as you whine.
Your sounds grow louder as he lifts your hips, guiding you up and down on his cocks. He thrusts into you fast, not giving you time to adjust the way you did before. You feel as though you could split in two, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
You moan desperately into his shoulder, babbling and whining as you’re tossed around like an object. The whole ordeal is so humiliating, but you can’t deny that you are enjoying it all the same.
“I knew you were greedy,” He grunts, “But this is ridiculous; You’re stuffed full, and all you can do is whine and beg for more. You are the most shameless human I’ve ever known.”
Your lip quivers as you try to form words, but your vocal cords fail you; all you can do is whine and moan, clinging tight to his body.
He laughs at your desperation, “Though, it’ll be nice to have a toy so eager to be used. I’ll keep you for quite a while, I imagine..”
He continues his fast and harsh pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge once more. Your legs quiver, and your body grows terribly hot, sweat building on your skin. You hold your breath as you ready yourself for your climax, the lack of oxygen making your head dizzy. And, in your dazed state, you lift your head and smash your lips against his.
And, to your surprise, he actually kisses you back.
With your lips pressed against his and your fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair, you finally release.
He grunts loudly into your lips, and with one final forceful thrust, you feel your insides flood with warmth. His hips slow, and with your cavern too stuffed for anything else to fit, his cum begins to dribble out of you.
Your lips part, and you stutter, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you without your permission!”
He only rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips, “And yet I feel as though you’re only apologizing because you did so without permission, not because you’re actually sorry.”
You avert your eyes, and you feel yourself slowly lowered onto the bed, your back caressed by the soft sheets.
“I will say,” He begins, “I enjoyed your sudden display of boldness; it just shows how excited you were in the moment… I will allow it for now.”
Your eyes widen at his pardon, and you nod slowly, “Thank you, sir.”
“Now, rest easy, little human.” He says quietly, stepping back once you rest entirely on the bed.
“Wait,” You interject, propping yourself on your elbows, “You’re leaving?”
He laughs as if dismissing you, “Were you expecting me to stay with you?”
Your heart feels a pang of pain, and you visibly deflate, clearly disappointed. Of course, this entire thing meant nothing to him, and while you should’ve expected this, it didn’t make it hurt any less. Your eyes trail off, looking down at the edge of the bed as you fill with this indescribable loneliness.
His eyes linger on you for a moment and you can’t help but look up at him, trying to discern why he hasn’t abandoned you yet.
“Most masters don’t sleep in the same beds as their pets. But…” he hums, “I suppose for humans, it is a fairly common occurrence…”
You perk up at his words.
Is he saying what you think he is…?
“I will allow it just this once,” He insists, “But never again, do you understand?”
And that’s good enough for you because you knew owners who insisted on such things never kept their word.
#cream's fics#arlong x reader#arlong#one piece smut#x reader#fanfiction#it ended up being longer than anticipated#hope you all enjoy!
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Ooo the hantengu clones in heat. Especially karaku... the poor babies
Sekido
He's miserable, and not doing anything to help himself. Sekido absolutely despises everything his body is trying to do. The sudden sensitivity and urges to seek comfort are humiliating, and worse, they make him much too vulnerable. Finding some isolated corner to hide in doesn't make anything better for himself, though, nor does snarling at anyone who gets near him. It's an ordeal just to get Sekido to let you sit nearby, and he's resisting any of your attempts "help" like he thinks you're trying to trick him.
A lot of the cause for this is that he hurts. When he's this sensitive, all of his old, poorly healed wounds and self-induced stress aches go from unpleasant to agonizing, and that makes Sekido desperately defensive. He instinctively fears being hurt while he's like this, while he's unable to defend himself properly... even though the slightest relief would have him melting in seconds.
Karaku
Heats make him desperate, to the point where his usual pleasure-seeking behavior turns frantic. When he feels like this, Karaku would do anything to avoid pain or discomfort. He wants to be held and touched and treated softly so badly it hurts, but that's not an option. It's never been an option, outside of when humans had another use for him that he could be rewarded for. He's pliant enough that he won't lash out even if you approach him, too limp and uncomfortable to do anything but accept what happens.
Any kind of touch you offer is highly effective. Effective in the sense that Karaku's brain shuts off even more than usual. He can't remember why he shouldn't just crawl halfway into your lap and press his face against your shirt until everything stops feeling so awful. There's not a thought left in his head about the possibility of being hurt— just desperation for anything that feels good.
Aizetsu
As soon as he starts feeling weird, Aizetsu tries to hide. After spending so long contained with the other three and their more violent habits, his instinctive response to feeling vulnerable is to avoid any unwanted attention for fear of it turning violent. Regardless of if it's comfortable or not, he's curled up in the smallest, darkest place he can find, muffling sobs into his hands because every part of him feels wrong. The oversensitivity makes his usually fragile emotional state much, much worse.
The combination of fear, stress, and his body's overreaction to every stimuli makes him actually sick, more often than not. Aizetsu is prone to being affected by his emotional state anyway; like this it only gets worse. Even though he knows that proper care would make him feel vastly better, he's stuck in a miserable state of believing he deserves to suffer through the heat alone.
Urogi
Heats wreck his energy levels, making him lethargic, dazed, and barely aware of what's going on around him. Instead of constantly fidgeting and moving around, Urogi can barely get himself to sit up on his own. The most reaction you'll get out of him, most of the time, is twitching wings and maybe a miserable whine. He wants attention so badly when he's like this, anything so he's not just lying there and spacing out for hours at a time— it's unnerving for time to disappear like it does when his brain is barely functional.
He's too weak and limp to lash out at you, though so it's safe to get close. With his whole body oversensitive and so very responsive to anything that feels good, any kind of petting results in whimpers and full-body trembling as it gets even harder to think clearly. Especially when that restless energy shifts into arousal, he's soon desperate for more and more of your touch.
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Grand Final
Krauss, Eva, Rudolf and Rosa Ushiromiya (Umineko) vs Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion Lannister (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Propaganda under break
Krauss, Eva, Rudolf and Rosa Ushiromiya
The four children of billionaire Kinzo Ushiromiya. Every year, they return home to Rokkenjima Island for a family conference. With Kinzo's health declining, to the point where he hardly ever leaves his room, the only topic on their minds is how to carve up his fortune.
Krauss is the eldest, and Kinzo's successor. Even if he's not the smartest of the siblings, his position as heir and imposing physique let him push them around. He even used to beat his younger siblings. Now, they suspect him of abusing his position as Kinzo's caregiver to embezzle their rightful share of the family fortune.
Eva is the second child, and incredibly resentful about it. She despises the fact that despite being so much more intelligent than Krauss, he's always above her just because he's older and a man. She's devoted her whole life to usurping Krauss' position, and then devoted her son's life to becoming the next heir instead of Krauss' daughter. When not scheming against her brother, she loves finding ways to torment and cruelly provoke her siblings, sister-in-law, and the servants.
Rudolf is the third, and with little hope of becoming heir, became a conman and a playboy (though he eventually settled down as a married man and white-collar criminal). Suffering from his sibling's bullying, he turned all their physical and emotional abuse on his sister Rosa. Though unlike Eva, he's stopped being cruel to her as an adult.
Rosa is the youngest sibling, and she's had a terrible life. Even as an adult, she's still terrified of Eva and acts dumb around her for fear of provoking her. But if she was given the opportunity, she could easily make them pay for what she's suffered.
Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion Lannister
Cersei HATES Tyrion. Hes not a big fan of her either on account of her absolutely hating him. Cersei (and her twin Jaime, who is actually a good brother to Tyrion) were born a few years earlier than Tyrion, and blames him for "killing their mother," because she died in childbirth. Everyone in their family (except Jaime) hates Tyrion because he has dwarfism, but Cersei hates him more than anyone else and has wanted him dead since childhood. (spoilers beyond this point for the books and show both) When Cersei's son is killed, her immediate instinct is to blame Tyrion and throw him in jail. She does everything in her power to have him killed.
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The incest for starters. The fact that Cersei doesn’t see Tyrion as human. All the backstabbing. And that they made their own family problems everyone else’s tragic backstory and present out of their own lust for power
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here's a quote from one of tyrion's chapters: "When your sister cries, you were supposed to comfort her... but this was Cersei."
#worst siblings tournament#final#poll#poll tournament#Umineko#asoiaf#Game of Thrones#A Song of Ice and Fire#krauss ushiromiya#eva ushiromiya#rudolf ushiromiya#rosa ushiromiya#jaime lannister#cersei lannister#tyrion lannister
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